1
" A jellyfish, if you watch it long enough, begins to look like a heart beating. It doesn't matter what kind: the blooded Atolla with its flashing siren lights, the frilly flower hat variety, or the near-transparent moon jelly, Aurelia aurita. It's their pulse, the way they contract swiftly, than release. Like a ghost heart-- a heart you can see right through, right into some other world where everything you ever lost as gone to hide.
Jellyfish don't even have hearts, of course-- no heart, no brain, no bone, no blood. But watch them for a while. You will see them beating. "
― Ali Benjamin , The Thing About Jellyfish
5
" Which made me think about a musician Aaron told me about: a composer who wrote a piece with no notes whatsoever. When the piece is performed, a musician comes onstage, opens the piano, sets a timer, and plays nothing. Aaron said the first time the piece was performed, the audience got nervous -- they whispered to one another and shifted in their seats, and some even walked out. Now when it's performed, people expect the silence. Instead of getting mad or nervous, they hear other things: the rustling of programs, fabric sliding against seats, polite coughing. They hear themselves, which they wouldn't hear otherwise, even though those noises were always there.
That piece is called 4'33", because the performer sits quietly for exactly four minutes and thirty-three seconds. "
― Ali Benjamin , The Thing About Jellyfish