To listen to a longer riff on this essay, go to the latest Ordinary Mediation.
In recent years, many of us have opened ourselves up to the benefits of individual meditation, but as the holidays approach and everything starts vacillating between hyper-speed and slow-motion, what would it look like for us to practice the ancient art of communal meditation?
The Jewish tradition of sitting shiva, the act of comforting a family who has lost a loved one simply by sharing space with them, is communal meditation. When people sit shiva they make purposeful visits to each one of the senses. They embrace each other, tell each other stories about the one who’s passed on, cook meals for each other, and, at times, perhaps most profoundly, sit in silence alongside those who are mourning. During those moments, there is no script, there is no performance, there is only nuance: subtle shades of meaning, expressions, and sounds.
Jazz is also communal meditation, a nuance-saturated act of group creation and group listening, In jazz, there is no veil between performer and audience. Everyone is participating, whether their fingers are on an instrument, tapping lightly on the tablecloth, or pairing a sip to a sound in harmonious agreement. Jazz is the ritual of temporarily releasing our sense of individuality and control for a sense of collective uncertainty, an invitation to collaborative surprise. As the jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis mused, “Jazz music is the power of now. There is no script. It’s conversation. The emotion is given to you by musicians as they make split-second decisions to fulfill what they feel the moment requires.”
Proximity. Closeness. The sacrament of togetherness are the mediums we’re invited to generously play with.
Here’s to more unrehearsed sitting next to. Here’s to jazz.