does your landscape need better nothing?

I found a wonderful form of magic on a blustery November night at the toasty Wisconsin Union Theater. The golden hued lobby was packed and the theater was jammed with an eager audience. My husband and I wound our way up and settled into our nearly nose-bleed seats, just as the lights dimmed and silence fell. And, in the darkness without warning, it started: the slow sliiiiide, rat-a-tat-tat-tat, sliiiiide, swack, bibity, pop, tat….tat…tat…. pop…sliiiiide. I closed my eyes, and reached for my husband’s hand; my breath slowed and I sunk deeper into my seat.

The artist was Savion Glover, and he captured my complete attention the moment he took the stage with his effortless molding and shaping juicy chunks of silence. He created unusual and inspiring sounds, not to mention demonstrating incredible athletic ability. But more astounding was the way in which he used his physicality to masterfully create sounds that made all sorts of… space; and the true “music” lay in that area between the sounds his feet created. It was in those places of silence that the music moved inside of me; that time slowed, or sped up; that I held my breath or exhaled and relaxed. That night he was in the business of creating loud silence: the spaces… in… between… the… sounds…. And it was magical.

Imagine a continuous stream of notes minus rests, a vocalist who takes no breath, a written story without punctuation, or an orator making no pause for eye contact. Even when these and other art forms are expressed by masters, the most memorable and moving have something in common: rest and space.

Space for nothing to happen is critical in the physical places of our lives. Meaningful and soul enriching spaces, even those we encounter daily – our kitchen, bathroom, front porch, walk to the garage, evening tea on the porch, not only have this but do it better. For rejuvenation and fulfillment to happen, we need places for our bodies and minds, eyes and ears, hands and legs to rest. And what’s more: the space where nothing happens accentuates those places where something does. Take a moment to think about it: maybe the landscapes of your life need better nothing, not more something?