Courtesy

Courtesy may be one of the most musical virtues I can think of.  Sometimes when it is rush hour and it seems necessary to push and shove in order to get to work on time, I try to remember to be more musical.  And in doing so, I realize that I give myself and the people around me more time and space.  I exercise courtesy for their presence, and the living that surrounds them.

When we play, we must have courtesy for every note, to give it room to breathe and live.  It is one of the traits of a great musician that they can control time in this way, can make it stop, make it hang in the air, because they have so much respect for it.  They defer to it, live within it, and become it, and so can take on its form and dance in its being.

So many times I've sat on stage with a wonderful pianist, playing the cadenza of a concerto, the stage lights reflecting and consumed by the black shine of the instrument, the audience silent, everyone clinging to each sound.  The disparity between my lived reality of time and the one being spun was so great that I feared I would scream or an alarm hidden somewhere on my body would suddenly go off.   But it never happened.  Only the moment, from one to another.  The crush of living in the present.

Musicians can do this.  Anyone can do this.  We can learn to respect the present and in so doing, control it in a new way.  When it is rush hour, or any hour, we can choose to have courtesy, to be more musical in our demeanor, to see the people around us and trust that others will see us.  We can live in our time, whether it is late, or early, or imperfect, or punctual.  Regardless of the time or space we occupy, regardless even of our feelings about it, we can exercises and express courtesy for ourselves and others.  And in so doing, can open new possibilities for living.