Towards dusk, after a heavy rainfall, I am walking past a woodlot burned over a year ago by a brushfire. A sudden cracking noise and I see a large cluster of blackened branches crash to the earth. “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, is there a sound?” Suddenly (a little sheepishly) I realize the import of this old philosophical question. If “I” am not here, does the universe go on? The sound in the forest — any sound — is a frequency wave of energy that depends on the creature for aural interpretation. Otherwise, there is a profound silence. And this silence is the silence of the universe, palpable and real, as real as any “sound,” real regardless of whether the little wave on the sea called “I” is present to heard its sound and fury.