Listening lesson: silence
Photo by Freestocks, courtesy of UpSplash
The day starts naturally. Sunlight creeps around the edges of the blinds and I wake gradually, luxuriating in the warmth of soft bedding and the start of a new day. Padding quietly to my kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee, open my windows to the world, and sit in silence as I watch the day come alive. Perhaps I read something inspirational. Or perhaps I simply let the optimism of a fresh morning open my eyes and my heart to wonder.
The day starts with a ding that wakes me, letting me know that I have a message or notification waiting to be read. I roll out of bed, pour myself a cup of coffee, and open my windows to the morning while simultaneously staring at my phone. The world pours in through news updates, notes from friends, and a series of reels or memes. I read all the problems and tragedies and outrages of the day, and before I’ve finished the coffee that I’m too distracted to truly taste, I’ve closed my heart to wonder.
Both of these examples come from my own life. Guess which one leads to better days and more inspired music making? I’ve embraced slow, quiet mornings for decades—even when I was working piles of hours and needed to set an alarm to get myself up early in order to have some quiet time. Yet even with all my good intentions, I still have days when I follow the lure of the outside world before I have a chance to get in touch with the world inside myself. If I start too many days this way, my quality of life and mental health suffer.
Being scattered, depressed, and frantic makes it impossible to make music. Musicians are in the business of creating beauty, and when we’ve filled our minds with noise, we rob ourselves of the stillness we need in order to offer something worthwhile to ourselves, others, and the music we play. When we fail to nourish ourselves with silence and inspirational life-affirming things, we are, in effect, poisoning ourselves. And if we keep consuming soul-killing things and refuse to settle into stillness, we begin to see joy and meaning drain out of life.
Outrage sells, and there are many reasons to be outraged. Algorithms are written to keep us hostage to our anger. Click bait and never-ending news cycles demand our attention. To choose disengagement and reflection over engagement is an act of resistance. It doesn’t happen naturally. Guarding the sacred ground of our lives requires us to remember that we alone are caretakers of our own minds. Only we can choose to consume what will make our lives richer and to keep out what robs us of joy and mental autonomy. We can’t block all of it, of course, but we start with what we can control.
This year, I’m choosing to make silence my autumn project. I’m starting each morning quietly and filling my mind with nourishing things before I let the rest of the world rush in. Each day, I’ll ignore the lure of my phone. I’ll read something inspirational, sit in contemplation, send love to those I love, and absorb the sensory details around me—colors, textures, views, sounds, and tastes. I’ll ground myself in the extraordinary ordinary each morning. I’ll gather myself back to myself, and in doing so, I’ll begin each day as a whole person, not a fragmented one.
Perhaps you’ll join me with a silence project of your own. Perhaps you’ll sit by a window each morning and watch the world wake up. Maybe you’ll read some poetry or meditate. Perhaps you’ll simply make space for mental wondering and wandering. This is your time. Only you know what feeds you and reminds you that no matter what is happening in the world, you’re connected to people who love you, a community that nurtures you, and ideas and beauty that make life worth living.
None of us is so important that we need to be connected all the time. We can choose to drop out for a bit. The world wait for us and when we rejoin it, we’ll do so not as frantic, fragmented people but whole humans who have something of value to offer that world through our music and through our lives.