The Pause Between Notes

The Power of Silence

Silence — and knowing how to arrange it — can have an incredible influence on human relationships. It shapes how conversations feel: full or empty.

There’s a kind of silence, supported by presence, that can outshine a hundred words.

I remember when a few of my friends tried to help me understand how to play guitar. I didn’t know I could play music, so they introduced me to it in the way they understood it.

They were brave. I interrupted them probably 50% of the time.

Instead of focusing on what they were trying to teach me, I wasn’t really hearing them. I was tuned into:

“Look — this is how I play. This is how I know it. How do I use it?”

— “So, first you could understand that there are notes like C, D...” — “Yeah, but look, maybe...”

And even though I was hearing them, I wasn’t listening. I didn’t learn anything.

There was pressure — not to seem like I knew nothing — so I tried to say something like:

“So yeah, I get it — this is green, that’s red.”

But I didn’t really get it.

In silence, there’s emptiness.

But that emptiness isn’t hollow — it’s potential. And it can be filled with something meaningful, if we listen.

The Power of Listening and Receiving

We all have our own stories and experiences — a lot to share, a lot to exchange.
But a good ear picks up more than words.

Are they happy? Maybe now’s not the time for deep reflection.
Are they sad? Maybe talking about your recent win doesn’t suit the moment.
Are they quiet and thoughtful? Maybe a nostalgic joke works better than an energetic one.

When you really listen, you start to sense what someone else needs.
Not because you have to change yourself —
but because there’s a certain responsibility that comes with being with others.

If you can lean your ear in
you might catch the subtle message:

“Ah… this isn’t just about horses.
This is about a long-lasting will to solve something deeper.”

And then — maybe —
you can guide the conversation toward something better for both of you.

Give Them the Space

It feels respectful now, when someone shares something, to forget for a moment what was popping into my own head.

Someone tells me: — “I ride horses.”

And instead of jumping in with: — “Oh man, I never did. We never had vacations around horses...”

Maybe, with a bit of silence, they’d go on to say: — “I had my first horse at 16. Took care of it myself. It shaped me. I’ve had 30 horses in my life...”

The door to deeper stories — full of sentiment, humor, and meaning — is right there, within reach.

Listening doesn’t mean disappearing. It means offering space — so someone else’s story has the room to unfold.