An oft-repeated bit of advice in musical circles is to “leave space” in the arrangement. Particularly in group and improvisational settings, it’s important not to clutter the canvas with superfluous notes or step on your fellow musicians’ toes. “The notes you don’t play can be as powerful as the ones you do,” goes one common saying. But how is one to know when, where, or how to “leave space”? After all, laying out for the sake of laying out is no different than playing notes just for the sake of playing notes; neither adds much to the overall dynamic of the ensemble if it isn’t motivated by purpose and contextual understanding.
There must be a reason a player lays out -- to accentuate previous notes, set up an entrance, create a harmonic or dynamic effect, highlight another instrument, or draw inspiration for their next idea. Therefore, “leaving space” can be better understood as actively listening and responding to a changing environment. Doing both of these things simultaneously isn’t especially easy, but the skill can be cultivated through practice and its impact can be transformative for both the music and the individual.
This kind of listening requires you to pay close attention, make thoughtful decisions, and take intentional action, and teaches you how to be comfortable with silence, trust yourself and others, and accept what you can’t control. When everyone in the band orients themselves in the same direction and allows the music to lead the way, the experience becomes transcendent.
This idea has been on my mind a lot lately, and not just when it comes to playing music. Last month, when I visited Branan Towers retirement community with a group from Glenn, I asked a wise and kind woman named Louisa what advice she would give her 28-year-old self. Her response echoed what I’ve heard from other elders to whom I’ve posed this question: “Listen to others,” she said. “Don’t just wait for your turn to speak. Listen to understand the other person.” She went on to talk about the importance of asking questions and not making assumptions about people’s thoughts, feelings, or beliefs, because people are more complicated than we think.
Though I lack Louisa’s life experience and wisdom, I’m inclined to agree with her. I find that when I really make the effort to listen to others, I become more curious, less judgmental, and more receptive to other points of view. I’m able to question my own viewpoints, think more deeply, and ultimately make better decisions about what I believe. (It also makes life more fun! Any activity that involves human interaction -- making music, playing basketball, having a conversation, driving, you name it -- becomes more interesting and rewarding when I attentively engage with the other participants and to the environment.)
Just as improvising musicians take direction from their environment, we can cultivate our attention and attune ourselves to the world around us in order to be more receptive to how God might be trying to direct us. Particularly in an age of shrinking attention spans and incessant competition for attention, I find it liberating, when I’m able, to turn from the frenzy of distractions and let my mind wander freely. With no external stimuli to keep me busy, I can observe my thoughts, explore the ones that feel worthwhile, and listen for what the spirit might be trying to say. This process may steer me toward some profound realization, or it may simply allow me to declutter my mind and entertain myself for a few minutes (once I push through the initial boredom). In any case, it’s a better use of my time than wallowing in bad news or passively inundating my brain with trivial information.
On a communal scale, I believe that listening to each other is inherent to our Christian duty to love one another. If one cannot hear another as they themself would want to be heard, how can they love another as themself? This doesn’t mean that we must all agree on everything, or that merely tolerating different opinions will vanquish the many evils that plague our world. But curiosity slows the path to anger while judgment quickens it, and in a time of great division and animosity within our society, the consequences of genuine, empathetic listening could be significant for our communities, families, workplaces, and politics. How might our social fabric be strengthened if everyone decided to be a generous, active listener? What bridges might be built (or rebuilt) if all people felt heard and understood? What would happen if we left a little bit of space in our lives, so that we might be led toward something new?