Darkness is to space what silence is to sound, i.e., the

Hear the profound words of Marshall McLuhan, seer of media and prophet of perception, who declared: “Darkness is to space what silence is to sound, i.e., the interval.” In these few words, he reveals a truth that spans both the cosmos and the soul: that absence is not emptiness, but the necessary pause that gives meaning to presence. Just as silence frames sound and gives it power, so too does darkness frame the stars and grant them their majesty. Without silence, there is only noise; without darkness, there is no wonder in the light.

The origin of this wisdom lies in McLuhan’s lifelong study of communication, culture, and perception. He saw that meaning is not found in abundance alone, but in the spaces between. To understand music, one must cherish the rests as much as the notes. To see the heavens, one must embrace the blackness that allows the stars to burn. By naming darkness as the interval of space, he elevated the void itself, declaring it not a curse but a gift—a balance, a counterpoint, a rhythm that sustains the universe.

History gives us echoes of this truth. Consider the ancient mystics of the desert, who sought solitude and silence not as deprivation, but as doorway to the divine. They knew that silence was not nothingness, but the womb of revelation. In the same way, astronomers who gaze into the black skies know that darkness is not absence, but canvas—the infinite backdrop upon which the galaxies write their story. What seems empty is in fact the interval that gives life its shape.

Think too of Beethoven, who, though deaf, composed music of thunder and glory. He understood that the pause between notes—the silence—could carry as much emotion as the sound itself. It is the interval that gives music its drama, its anticipation, its breath. Without silence, music would be a flood without shape, overwhelming and meaningless. Just so, the darkness of space allows the glory of suns, moons, and comets to shine with awe. The pause is as vital as the expression.

McLuhan’s words carry deeper weight for the spirit. In our lives, we often fear silence and darkness, imagining them as signs of failure, loss, or emptiness. Yet in truth, they are the intervals that prepare us for renewal. Darkness allows the seed to sprout, silence allows the heart to hear. The interval is not the enemy of life, but its secret partner. To reject it is to live without rhythm, without depth, without rest.

The lesson is clear: embrace the intervals. Do not despise silence, for it is the soil of wisdom. Do not fear darkness, for it is the canvas of vision. In your work, in your relationships, in your days, allow space for pause, for reflection, for renewal. Just as music depends upon rest and the heavens upon night, so too does the soul depend upon silence and stillness.

Therefore, O listener, walk in balance. Rejoice not only in sound but in silence, not only in light but in darkness. Let the intervals of your life be sacred, for they give form to your days and depth to your joys. Remember McLuhan’s words: darkness is to space what silence is to sound—the pause that grants meaning, the stillness that births creation. Cherish it, and you will learn that absence itself is part of the eternal music of the cosmos.