"It's useless to play lullabies for those who cannot sleep"

John Cage’s words explore the limits and relevance of sharing comfort or wisdom with those unready or unable to receive it. The lullaby, an emblem of reassurance and tenderness, loses its purpose when the listener is fundamentally restless or unreachable. The overall image evokes a scene where gesture and need simply do not align: no matter how sweetly sung, the melody cannot achieve its expected effect.

This perspective extends into broader aspects of communication and human connection. Sometimes, even profound kindness, encouragement, or instruction can fall flat or remain inaccessible if the recipient is closed off, distracted, or caught in inner turmoil. Just as a lullaby cannot induce sleep in one who is adamantly wakeful, efforts to soothe or guide may stagnate where openness is missing. The metaphor highlights a divide between giving and receiving, affection or help is not merely something one offers; it must also be welcomed.

There’s also a subtle invitation to recognize futility and acceptance: when faced with obstacles that stem from another’s readiness, persistent well-meaning efforts might not only prove unproductive but could become burdensome or irrelevant. Cage’s reflection asks us to reconsider the urge to fix, soothe, or rescue by force of will alone. Sometimes, wisdom means understanding that our gifts, words, songs, acts of care, find their place only where the soil is fertile.

Implicit, too, is a respect for individual rhythms and struggles. The insomniac’s wakefulness is a reality, not a flaw to simply be hymned away. Empathy lies in witnessing rather than insisting. Cage suggests a gentler patience: recognizing when presence or silence is more compassionate than action. True support may mean waiting until lullabies are needed again, until sleep is once more possible.