Living life in the middle.

I’m a bass player. I picked up my first bass in high school and haven’t really put it down since. I’m not terribly good, but I enjoy it enough. I’ve played in a lot of bands over the years, but mostly I plunk away at the house, practicing scales, fiddling with tunes, and enjoying the feel of it.

But there’s something interesting about being a bass player that’s unique in any band. The bassist, most often, is the musician who ties things together. Usually the drummer listens to the bassist to get the rhythm of the song. The guitarists and singers tune into the bass to catch when there are big shifts in cords. The bassist is the link between the melody, harmonies, tempo and beat. It’s an important role, but often overlooked.

See if you can do this: think of a bassist from a popular band. Unless it’s a band you know well, there probably aren’t many names that come to mind. Maybe Flea from Red Hot Chillie Peppers or Cheryl Crow. But have you ever heard of Stephan Lessard, Bobby Sheehan, Mike Kroeger, or Nate Mendel? Likely you haven’t, but the front men from those bands are, in some circles, household names.

For me, I don’t mind so much being lumped in with these musicians. Obviously, my skills are nowhere near their levels, but still, there’s comradery among bassists that‘s hard to find anywhere else.

In my view, it’s because we know how to live in the middle. We understand being in the pocket and bridging the gap. We know what it’s like to see other band members get the recognition and we’re usually OK with that.

But is there a larger life lesson here?

Perhaps.

In the book of 1 Chronicles, chapter 25 in the Bible, it talks about how King David assigned the Temple musicians. A lof of them are named and their legacy as musicians will last as long as the pages of the Bible do. But then there are the sons and daughters of Heman the prophet. His sons were assigned to play “cymbals, harps and other stringed instruments during times of worship in the temple.”

They aren’t named. Their set lists aren’t published. Their skills aren’t reknown. Instead, they just helped provide music when folks were worshiping in the temple.

But what does this have to do with being a bassist or living in the middle?

It’s like this:

On a long enough timeline, everyone’s survival rate drops to zero, to borrow a nihilist philosophy from Fight Club. That includes you and me. Before too long, we won’t be here.

Dwelling on that can make it seem like there’s really no point to life. In our times, we’re often told we need to reach for the stars and become the best versions of ourselves. But often just managing to become ANY version of our authentic selves seems a daunting task. And maybe that’s part of the point.

Think back to those nameless temple musicians. They were doing their work for the even more nameless worshipers. How many worshipers were shop keepers, accountants, farmers, carpenters or whatever vocation existed at the time? All of them, probably. But they made time in their lives to gather with their community (wether is was mandatory or not is a different matter) and celebrate being part of their nation or religion or worshipers of their deity. In each of their small ways, they were practicing the deeper parts of what it means to be human - gathering together, being of one accord, and establishing the legacy they left behind.

We are doing the same thing today. We are building our societies, moving forward and backward according to different views and values. We are all still nameless shop keepers, farmers, accountants, mothers and fathers.

In this way, we are all like the nameless musicians in David’s temple band. They were providing a link between their priests and deities and the worshipers, just as bassists bridge the gap between the drummers, guitarists, vocalists, and the audience by providing music which, like life, ultimately won’t last but will having it’s meaning in each passing moment.

In our own lives, we exist in the middle of the deep past and the far future. In this sense, I suppose one could say, we are all bassists. It may not feel like it, and some will be higher notes and others lower notes, but we are all holding that gap between the tempo, chords, melody and rhythms of life as it pulses around us in the eternal unfolding of time.