All the Information Was Not Put in One Place

Dear Friend,

I came across something recently that I haven't been able to stop thinking about, and it made me think of you—especially after our last conversation about what it actually means to show up for each other in these complicated times.

I was reading this piece by Srinija Srinivasan about jazz and improvisation, and honestly, it cracked something open for me. You know how we've been talking about feeling exhausted by all the "what not to do" messaging around social justice? Like, yes, we need to dismantle white supremacy, yes, we need to be anti-racist—but then what? What are we actually building toward together?

Srinivasan points to jazz improvisation as a model, and here's what stopped me cold: She describes watching a panel with members of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, including the late Muhal Richard Abrams. He said something so simple and so profound: "All the information was not put in one place." Nine words explaining why diversity matters, why we need each other. And then she pairs this with RuPaul (of all people!) saying to Oprah, "There's only one of us here."

Think about holding both those truths at once. All the information isn't in one place AND there's only one of us here. That's what improvisation is really about.

What moved me most was realizing how misunderstood improvisation is. It's not just winging it—it requires "severe, rigorous initiation and preparation." Jazz musicians spend years developing their craft so they can show up on the bandstand ready to collaborate spontaneously. And here's the key: an improviser doesn't ask "What do I need to do to have power or control?" but rather "Who do I need to be in order for you to be whom you're meant to be?"

That's power as love, not domination. As Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice."

What surprised me was how this reframes everything we're struggling with. We're living through what Srinivasan calls "a global practicum in uncertainty," and uncertainty is just another name for possibility. If we're all going to survive this—climate crisis, racial reckoning, economic collapse—we need to become improvisers. We need rigorous self-determination AND radical support of others' development. Everyone is needed and no one is centered.

I keep thinking about how jazz—this transcendent art form born from oppression—shows us "making a way out of no way." And how America has this incredible cultural inheritance but can't fully embrace it because to do so would mean reckoning with the hypocrisy and oppression from which it emerged. Jazz is the honey that could help the medicine go down, if only we'd take it.

So here's what I'm sitting with: What if we approached our daily lives, our work, our relationships, like improvisation? What if we spent as much time developing our own voice as we do supporting others to develop theirs? What would change if we truly asked ourselves, "Who do I need to be for you to be who you're meant to be?"

I'd love to hear what this brings up for you. Want to grab coffee and talk about what our own "rigorous preparation" might look like?

With love,
Your friend