It's a party

Just a nice, relaxed gathering of friends. (Bergen Public Library, Norway)

Long before the pandemic ruined my musical and social life along with everyone else's, I decided on a Thursday to invite some people over that Saturday to play music.

With so many musical friends, there was sure to be someone available. I even reached out to some of the families who took lessons at my music school, including some that I didn't know very well. I figured it would be an opportunity to build relationships and have fun. You know, a party.

One person I invited sent a message back. "My daughter has a commitment on Saturday night already. We would have appreciated more notice for this event."

I was annoyed, but then I laughed. I had tried, in my invitation, to convey that this was not an official school event. It was a party at my own home. Fine, lady, I won't invite you next time.

Given the choice between not having the party or having one on short notice, I picked the latter. It's interesting to me that this created a problem for someone who couldn't attend.

I've observed that, as projects get more formal, the expectations for them go up.

A young and scrappy person or company can get away with a lot. Fewer people are paying attention, and those who are tend to be the early adopters who are comfortable with experimenting and figuring stuff out themselves rather than needing clear answers.

As things progress, things like onboarding tutorials and bylaws and customer service representatives are added to help people find their way around and learn what the rules and regs are. This only helps to a certain point. Now, people are upset that the tutorial is unclear and they have to wait for the customer service rep. The thing that began as a gift is now taken for granted, which heralds a certain level of maturity but also a loss of the spontaneity and adventure that once existed.

When I play music with my friends, there's no plan. We take turns calling tunes. We switch instruments frequently. We make up the words we can't remember and fake the chords we don't know. It's pure joy.

It works because we're agreeing on a bunch of principles we didn't need to discuss, and we are okay with uncertainty.

Some well-meaning person might join our group who would want to print out lyric sheets, decide on songs ahead of time so that everyone could practice them, and ensure that each person got to choose an equal number of songs.

For me, the joy and fun would be sucked out of the experience. That's not a party. That's a rehearsal. Both are acceptable, but you've got to know which thing you're intending and attending.

A coffee date needs no agenda. School recess doesn't need to be organized. And a spontaneous party, by definition, can happen on short notice. If you want something else, that's fine, but that doesn't mean anything is wrong with the initial proposal.

Meanwhile, there are all kinds of opportunities for growth and exploration if we take ourselves less seriously and show up willing to tolerate a bit of uncertainty and even confusion. You don't know what's going to happen at a party, and that unpredictability is one of the things that makes it interesting and fun. A lot like life.