Celebrate the Space Between
“It's not the notes you play, it's the notes you don't play.”
“It's not the notes you play, it's the notes you don't play.” I've long been aware of this famous quote by Miles Davis. Up until recently, however, I think I had completely missed the point.
For a long time, I have been fascinated by the choices we make and the intention behind why we do what we do. Especially in art and design, I gravitate toward work that exhibits clear ideas with strong intentionality behind the decisions made when crafting the end product. The careful photographic compositions of Stephen Shore, Rineke Dijkstra, or the Bechers; the deliberate color studies of Joseph Albers; the considerations of use behind the designs of Dieter Rams or Alvar and Aino Aalto.
But back to Miles. I used to think his statement meant it was important to carefully select your notes and mean every one of them. But that was an obsession with the tangible. In fact, it has more to do with the things that never happened, the actions we choose to not take.
We so often celebrate those things that we can see or that someone does—accomplishments like running a fast race; getting married or having children; the creation of something new and (often) big like a skyscraper or monument; work projects and promotions. However, there are so many things that exist in the space between what we can observe: dark matter in science; the soul in spirituality; rests in music; white space in design. Why shouldn't this idea of the space between extend into our everyday? Isn't the time between celebrated events essential? An object cannot exist without the space around it.
In running, I would like to celebrate the time spent not running as much as the race itself. It is often the hardest part of the practice. We crave the act of running. We feel pressured to run longer, faster. We compare ourselves to others who always seem to be doing more, and so we either push ourselves beyond what we are ready for or we criticize ourselves for not doing enough. Sitting still; rest and recovery; running less; running slower. Let's acknowledge how difficult these things are.


Love this, Alex. Makes me think of waiting, and the seasons like advent that think of waiting as a spiritual discipline. Thanks for writing.