Miles Davis’ advice to keyboard player Kei Akagi reminds me of something about reading certain kinds of writing, like Fred Moten’s poetry, or in psychotherapy sessions listening to people speak. I sometimes manage to read, to hear ‘it’. I’m not trying to work out what ‘it’ means. I’ve no idea what ‘it’ means, but if I notice ‘it’ things happen, for sure.

I find myself getting somewhere with whoever, or whatever (a book, a poem) I am supposed to be with. An emphasis. Something comes across, and I get it. So when someone like Miles Davis tells you to mean it, what do you do? You’d better be listening, looking out, sensing what’s coming to you.

Freud’s id, the unconscious, sounds like Miles Davis’s it. Or Kei Agaki’s, which would need to be together with but not get lost in Miles Davis’. I read things about ‘change in psychotherapy’ that seem so unmusical, so unresponsive. You can’t write about this stuff, and you won’t be able to do your job (musician, psychotherapist, writer) if you don’t get

it.

There’s also silence. You’ll find it there, too.

Kei Agaki also said this: ‘Early on, Miles came over and grabbed my left hand and put it behind my back. Piano players tend to play a phrase and use the left hand to fill in.’

You’ll find it in space.