I love writing in a busy place. I can't figure out why exactly, but I think it has something to do with the way it makes me feel invisible. Like right now, I'm sitting in Starbucks at my favorite table, typing away with my headphones on. In the last hour, probably twenty or thirty people have walked in, ordered their coffee, chatted with a friend, and walked out without ever acknowledging I’m here. It's like I'm hiding out in plain sight. It's a weirdly safe feeling, but something about it keeps me dialed in to my writing. It's like background noise, only it's visual noise rather than audible.
I've been thinking quite a bit about noise this morning. Most often, when we think of noise, we are thinking of unorganized, audible sounds, like pots clanking together or anything by Nickelback. The operative word here is unorganized. Random pots clanking produces a purposeless, meaningless sound. It's something that ultimately doesn't mean anything. In a word, it's forgettable.
Now contrast this with a symphony. A symphony also involves banging things together, but it's organized and moves to a very specific tempo. It's purposeful sound, sound in a direction. Symphonies impact people; noise is easily ignored. Nobody gets moved to tears listening to their dishwasher.
This principle applies to more than just music. When you take stock of everything that makes up your life today, which does it resemble more, a symphony or noise? What's your direction, your aim? What are you trying to say? If your life was a song, would people have it on their iPod? Would anyone say it meant something to them?
Far too often, we clutter our lives with things that don't matter. We lose sight of the big picture and make decisions that play out like a poorly timed guitar solo that makes you cringe. If you feel like your life doesn't make sense, take a look at the way you spend your time, your money, and your resources. Want to know what you value most? There's your answer. What you value is expressed by what you love. And when we lose sight of what our lives ought to be about, things begin to get out of order, confusing. Disordered loves never produce beautiful lives, just as disordered sounds never produce beautiful songs.
Living a life that amounts to more than cluttered noise is a lot like writing a song. It takes intentionality and passion. Certain rules and boundaries apply. You need more than just a few good instruments; you need to find a way to make those instruments work in harmony with each other. Ultimately, it's about saying something that counts, something that makes a difference because it exists. It's about making something beautiful.
