Space for Silence

I’ve had the privilege and punishment of taking in tons of art, news and commentary this week. The news has been devastating. Mind-numbingly, logic-defying, devastating news. Horrifying evidence of our systemic bias and the families it tragically affects, from the Philando Castile verdict that allowed a cop who shot an innocent man at point-blank range in front of his girlfriend and a four-year-old girl to go free, to the ACLU case in defense of Anthony Promvongsa, who was beaten by police, to Charleena Lyles, a pregnant woman killed by police in Seattle. Misconduct by Senators creating devastating legislation under wraps, only to reveal that their new health care bill will set us all back decades and threaten millions of lives.

So I’ve counteracted, as I do, with the arts.

I was fortunate to attend Fun House, an impressive musical about a lesbian girl and her family including her father who was also gay. The portrayal made all too clear what happens to our souls when we live in fear, in hiding, afraid of our very nature.

I listened to Stevie Wonder, I played my “FUN” playlist, I tracked Lin-Manuel Miranda’s upcoming star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

I binge-watched Queen Sugar, an absolutely artful TV series by Ava Duvernay and directed by a string of female directors.

Tonight, I need space for silence.

I rewatched a few episodes of Queen Sugar, and appreciated a nuance that a viewer pointed out: the masterful use of silence. The way that breath, space and honoring the beats in between create an even more powerful experience for an audience. It reminded me of my music studies, when we carefully honored every rest in the music with the same reverence as the note we sang.

Silence reminds us that we do not have to rush to make sense of the non-sensical. We do not have to hide from the rush of emotions that naturally accompany the topsy-turvy world we occupy. We do not have to avoid taking in the information, we do not have to shy away from educating ourselves.

We simply must make space for silence. To honor the spaces in between, to make time for our reactions, be they complex, overwhelming, or all of the above. To observe the silence between, to take stock of it, and to speak again when it’s time.

So here’s to space for silence, and to not shying away from the many situations in which we must raise our voices. We can’t have one without the other. Thanks, Queen Sugar, for the reminder of both.