Tacet

“All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” -Blaise Pascal

In high school I spent many hours in the percussion section of various musical groups: drum set in early morning jazz band and winter pep band, tenor drums in the fall marching band and, of course, the wide array of percussion instruments in the main wind ensemble. But my favorite, the rehearsal I looked forward to most, was symphony on Tuesday nights. Some of the string instruments from the orchestra would walk down the music hall and join some of the brass and woodwinds in the large band room. And I, the sole percussionist, would be alone in the back, behind the massive timpani, capable of making the loudest sound of anyone.

But Tacet was a word I read often. A musical term (as the titles of my posts have been this year) which directly translates as “it is silent”. In short — don’t play. Whole movements I would sit out, on my stool, and instead of being a performer I would become the main audience member. I can recall one rehearsal where, because of the section of music the director chose to work on, I didn’t play a single note for the entire two hours. So, I found myself bringing a book to read or a Sudoku puzzle to complete to pass the time. But other times I would just sit and listen. 

Life at home occasionally composes tacet parts for us. Waiting for the service technician, a package or a friend to arrive. Unexplainable middle of the night awakenings or early morning risings. Or anticipating a phone call that may contain bad news (or the relief of good news). These, like my parts in the symphony, can be moments we are gripped with silence, unable to play, and forced to wait until the next movement. And once again, there is the choice the reach for a distraction (a book or puzzle) or remain part of the performance.

There is a musical composition entitled 4’33” that explores the depths of tacet. In this piece, by John Cage, all performers are instructed to not play. While mistakenly interpreted as four minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence, it is actually intended to explore the sounds of the natural environment. Supposedly the idea occurred to Cage after a visit to a completely sound-proofed chamber, in which he was expecting to experience total silence. But inside the room he could hear two sounds. Later the sound engineer told him the sounds were his nervous system in operation and his blood in circulation. He was the sound.

And so, when the high school symphony would take the performance stage, no books or Sudoku were present. When the movement of the piece came, in which I was to be tacet, I remained a performer. Standing still, keeping silent, alone in the back. And while I have not been a part of a symphony or wind ensemble or jazz band in over a decade, the choice to accept my tacet parts in fullness is still there. Inviting me to be still, be silent and pay attention.

May you interpret the moments in which you are to play and those in which you are to be silent. In those tacet times may you listen well and hear how your being is still a part of the song. May you never feel alone in the back, but always be aware of the grand symphony you are a part of. And may you, my friend, remember the loud sound your part might carry.