Marcia noticed it before I did.  In deep thought, seeking answers to difficult problems, I tap out intricate percussive patterns by clicking my fingernails or by tapping my fingers, often to subtle swaying of my body.  I think thoughts by making music, percussive music, tying together the different mental threads.  I seek assimilation of the feelings in my body, the sounds that those feelings make and the words in my mind representing ideas mating to create unique progeny solutions.

My son, Elia, noticed that he and I both unconsciously, constantly, tap out on the steering wheel percussive riffs that seem to reflect unconscious mental activity.  Marcia has noticed how often he and I engage in evidently unconscious rhythm patterning.  She’ll observe us both quietly standing and tapping fingers to a hidden dance, occasionally both of us listening to the same invisible tempo, unaware that we’re both moving to an identical flow.

There was a point in my life when I practiced sensory acuity.  I was training to become a practitioner of Neuro-Linguistic Programming.  I remember sitting in the back of a bus headed down Broadway in winter Chicago.  I placed myself in a trance while observing the shoulders of maybe 40 bus commuters, letting my peripheral vision receive and sort the information coming in.  After a couple minutes I was able to simultaneously see almost 40 people from behind, breathing, as I was observing slight rhythmic elevations in each person’s shoulders.  Music emerged, the silent symphony of the body rhythm of an orchestra of humans.  The scene was complex and beautiful; I felt elevated by the journey.

I’m not surprised that it’s Marcia that usually notices I’m clicking my nails.  She’s amused.  I’m deep in thought.  Inevitably, when she asks me what I’m thinking, I’m sorting through information seeking integrations.  For me, rhythm is necessary to make something new.


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