LISTENING FOR A CHANGE

     I'm really excited about our Underground Sounds concert next Saturday night, when we'll be celebrating the Fall Equinox at one of my all-time favorite performance venues, the Cave Without a Name. The lineup of musicians is particularly stellar this time and I can't wait to play with them in this magical space, especially during the second half of the performance, when we'll be making music in total, pitch-black darkness.

 

LISTENING VERY CLOSELY

     I know from past experience that we won't be able to see our own fingers, even if they're just in front of our eyes, much less see the other musicians, which makes for a thrilling experience. Because, not having any visual cues whatsoever, we're forced to listen to each other with our hearts and our guts, as well as our ears. In order to do so, we've also got to let go of our preconceived ideas of where the music "should go" and listen deeply to where it "is" in the moment. Otherwise, the whole song could literally fall apart in the dark, and things could get discordant, quickly. On the other hand, presuming we're able to really listen closely, I know we'll create something fresh and special, and literally light up the darkness for everyone present.

 

LISTENING TO LEARN     

     I mention this because it feels important to do so at a time when the tone of this year's national election season seems to be becoming more bitter and divisive by the day, as is the public discourse surrounding it. This is about much more than just one day of voting; this is about a fundamental shift in the social norms of how we address each other. There is so much anger in the air, it's easy to feel hopeless, or worse yet, join in the chorus of indignant voices. 

     But I prefer to make another choice:  I affirm that the very same sense of aliveness, creativity and connection I've experienced repeatedly while making music in the Cave is available in everyday life, too, each time I listen deeply to someone else. This is especially true if they're telling me something that's unfamiliar or uncomfortable to hear, or using a tone that offends me. If I'm willing to let go of how I think the conversation "should go" and simply listen instead, it not only helps me move beyond my fears and limitations, it allows brand new possibilities to emerge in the space between us that I couldn't have imagined on my own. As I let go of my position, long enough to hear the sadness and fear that inevitably lies beneath another person's anger, the energy in the interaction almost always changes. Like my friend and teacher, Arnold Patent, often says, "It takes two to tango, but it only takes one to change the dance."

In the spirit of Peace,

     Rudi

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