Do you make a sound?

The question has always been, if a tree falls in a forest and there is no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? I always found this kind of lame. My logical brain tells me that physical presence has no bearing on what occurs when a huge hunk of wood hit’s the ground. Of course it’s going to make a sound. It’s the only answer that makes sense.

My question has always been, if it does make a sound, who is the sound for?

People have looked the original question and only thought of it as some magic trick that God or Mother Nature could play. Remove sound during the crashing of a tree to the Earth. But, what the question is really asking is if an act needs a witness to be real and viable? I would say yes. Although the act wasn’t seen or heard, the ripples from it’s occurrence will still travel across moments to touch something/someone somewhere. Again, the question comes down to whom it’s for and why, doesn’t it?

I remember, years ago, reading a story in a Philadelphia newspaper about a man who weekly would put an envelope with twenty dollars in it in various places of the city where the homeless would gather. He would write on the envelope; “Pray for me.” After a few years of doing this, someone brought it to the attention of the reporter who researched the situation to try and figure out who was behind this act of buying prayers. It seemed such a selfish thing to do. The reporter spent weeks trying to figure this out, talking to groups at homeless shelters and soup kitchens to see if anyone had spied this person leaving their prayer request and donation. After about a month, the reporter was sitting in his office when a dirty, scary looking man walked off the elevator and into the lobby. The reporter’s phone rang and he was called to the front, being told that someone was there to see him. When he spoke to the obviously homeless man, he learned that this man read his column every day. That he had been following the story of the mysterious benefactor. He told him he thought there was something he should know. He then pulled a dirty envelope from his pocket and handed it to the reporter. Written on the outside were the words, “Pray for me.”

“Open it up. Look and find what you need to know.”; said the homeless man.

He pulled out a crisp twenty dollar bill. He flipped it in his fingers and looked at the man with questions in his eyes. He wondered what more he was supposed to see. The story was the same as it had been. Nothing seemed different, nothing new.

“No, man…look closer. Really look.”

The reporter brought the bill up closer to his face to really see and inspect it. In very small print, written on the border of the government ink, were the words, “And I will pray for you.”

The envelopes being found would have to be the tree falling in the forest. No one saw him put it there. And the story seemed odd. Those who heard of the story assumed this must be some guilt ridden person trying to make something he or she had done right with God.

The bill and what was written on it were the ripple. A seemingly hidden action, making it’s way out into humanity. Although it had taken people this long to realize that these two acts were linked, once it was reported, it was only then that people started to understand the effect. Think about it. Once the bills were spent, how many people would have the chance to see those words printed on a bill? How many would think or so desperately want to believe that they had been placed there just for them? And the true magic of it all is his or her hope that no one would link the two events. They didn’t want credit. They only wanted the ripple.

I have carried that story around with me for a very long time. I have tried very hard to remember the thought process of the person who would take the time to distribute these envelopes.

And it has always occurred to me that it isn’t about whether or not the tree makes a sound. It’s the silent effect of the ripples that it causes that have all the power. And in those ripples we find the best of ourselves. Even if no one ever hears. Even if they never know for sure.