The Music Between Notes – A Conversation Between Peter Witz and Dr. Graves

Peter Witz: Dr. Graves, we talk so much about doing—building, fixing, changing. But lately, I’ve been thinking about the spaces in between. The rests. The pauses. Do they matter as much?

Dr. Graves: More than most realize, Peter. A song is not made of notes alone, but of the silence that holds them. Without rest, music becomes noise. Without pause, life becomes chaos.

Peter Witz: So you're saying it’s not only what we do, but when we don’t?

Dr. Graves: Precisely. In the stillness between actions, the soul can breathe. In the space between thoughts, the heart remembers who it is. It is there—not in the sound, but in its absence—that meaning is made.

Peter Witz: That’s difficult in a world obsessed with momentum. Even resting feels like something to optimize.

Dr. Graves: We have forgotten how to be unproductive. But the tree does not grow taller by constantly reaching—it grows by resting through winter. The moon does not rush to be full. What if our stillness was not failure, but rhythm?

Peter Witz: That’s beautifully put. And in a strange way, the pauses make the action more powerful.

Dr. Graves: Exactly. The archer pulls the string back, not to delay—but to strike with clarity. So too, we must learn to hold our breath before the dive. Not every silence is emptiness. Some are sacred.

Peter Witz: Then what would you say to someone afraid of the pause—someone who fears what they might find in the quiet?

Dr. Graves: I would say this: the silence is not your enemy. It is your invitation. What rises in that silence is not something to fear—but something to meet. Within it may live the truest parts of you.

Peter Witz: Then let’s leave this thought behind like a final note in a fading song: dare to listen not only to what life says—but to what it doesn’t. The rest, the breath, the space between—these too are your teachers.

Dr. Graves: And perhaps your most faithful ones.