But sounds don’t worry about whether they make sense or whether they are heading in the right direction.  They don’t need that direction or mis-direction to be themselves.  They are, and that’s enough for them.  And for me too…

A sound possesses nothing, no more than I possess it.  A sound doesn’t have its being, it can’t be sure of existing in the following second.  What’s strange is that it came to be there, this very second.  And that it goes away.  The riddle is the process.

from Where the Heart Beats – John Cage, Zen Buddhism, and the Inner Life of Artists by Kay Larson