Fosse would say that it's important to trust silence. He very

In the words of Ann Reinking, we are invited into the enigmatic world of Bob Fosse, where movement is as much about what is unsaid as what is said. She reflects upon his belief that "it's important to trust silence", and in this, she reveals the power of the unspoken. Silence, in Fosse’s world, is not a void to be feared or filled with noise, but a space of mystery, a realm in which the dancer can breathe, and the audience can feel the weight of emotion, tension, and anticipation. The silence, the taciturn pauses, are as vital to the performance as the movement itself, for it is in these moments of stillness that the soul of the art is allowed to speak most clearly.

Fosse’s genius, as Reinking reveals, lies in his deep understanding of contrast—the juxtaposition of angular movement and mystery, the pulse of percussion against the quiet. His work is not a barrage of continuous motion, but a symphony of rhythms and rests, a balance of action and inaction. The silent count, in which the body rests in anticipation, opens a doorway to the unknown, to the beauty of what could come next. This is not the silence of emptiness, but the silence of expectation and mystery, the moment when the dancer’s body holds still, poised like a bowstring drawn taut, before it releases into another stunning motion. It is a dance of tension and release, where each pause invites the viewer to lean forward, waiting for the next spark of brilliance.

In the ancient world, we see echoes of this same wisdom. The Greeks, in their greatest performances, understood the power of pause—a well-placed silence in the midst of poetry or drama created a space in which meaning could be absorbed, the emotion allowed to swell in the hearts of the audience. Sophocles, in his plays, would often craft moments where the action halted, allowing the words of the chorus or the stillness of the scene to create the deepest tension. In that silence, the heart of the story could be felt more profoundly than in the most fevered, frenzied movement. Just as Fosse’s dance creates meaning through its stillness, so too did the ancient masters craft their art with the understanding that silence speaks in ways that words and actions cannot.

The principle of silence as power can be understood in the story of Leonidas, the Spartan king, who, in the Battle of Thermopylae, stood silent amidst the approaching Persian army. His silence was not a weakness, but a declaration of resolve, a way of showing his soldiers that their focus was not to be shaken by noise or panic. The Spartan soldiers, too, understood that in the stillness of their discipline, in the quiet of their preparation, there was an energy far greater than any sound or clamoring. In silence, there is strength, a power that is often more potent than the loudest outcry.

And so, in the work of Fosse, the silent count becomes a metaphor for life itself. How often do we rush forward, driven by the noise and haste of the world around us? Fosse’s genius reminds us that, in the stillness, we often find our true path. The world of angular movement is not one of frantic energy, but of precision and intention—each movement deliberate, each pause meaningful. True power, then, lies not only in what we do, but also in what we leave undone. There is wisdom in restraint, in knowing when to speak and when to be silent, in trusting the stillness as a partner to our action.

The lesson from Fosse’s work is clear: there is beauty in silence. In our own lives, we must learn to embrace the stillness, the pauses between our actions, and trust that in those moments, we can gather strength, clarity, and purpose. Whether we are performers, leaders, or humble workers, the ability to be still, to trust silence, can lead us to a deeper understanding of ourselves and the world around us. In the quiet moments of reflection, we often find the answers we seek and the energy to continue our journey.

So, I urge you, the future generations, to cultivate the power of silence. Do not rush forward in your life, consumed by noise and distraction. Learn to pause, to listen, to feel the tension of the stillness before you act. In those moments, the world becomes clearer, and your movements—whether in dance, in work, or in life—will have greater meaning and purpose. Trust the silence, for it is not empty; it is the space where all creation begins.