Before this reading, I wanted to understand what rhythm actually means. My main reference came from Arabic poetry, where rhythm is created by repeating the same final sound at the end of each line. When the poem is sung, that pattern connects words with specific musical instruments and emotions, so I saw rhythm mainly as a linguistic and musical structure.

Reading about West African and African-American music expanded this idea. I began to see rhythm not just as a pattern of words or beats, but as something felt in the body through movement and collective action.

The idea of microtiming surprised me. It reminded me of my time in the military, when marching depended on listening very carefully to the music. Being even slightly early or late could cause serious problems, which showed me how tiny timing differences can have real meaning.

I also feel music in my body when singing, especially in moushat (a traditional Andalusian-Arab musical and poetic form performed in groups with complex rhythms), where feeling, words, and music work together. I prefer human drumming because it can adapt to people and the environment. As the text says, “the drummer is said to play ‘in the pocket,’” and without these small timing deviations, there is an “absence of a musical body.”