Arriving, Leaving and Coming Back

In the practice handed down to me by Thich Nhat Hahn there is a gatha  for meditation:

Breathing In - I have arrived, breathing  out - I am home. 

Because Thay knows we become habituated in our thoughts, words, and actions a couple years ago he changed this to I have truly arrived, I am really home.  How many times a day do I need to come back and find the present moment, only to begin leaving life again by having my attention to my breath, my body or the action I am undertaking waver?

Fortunately I find my way back again, but for how long have I left?  Arriving again, how is it that I miss the leaving?  I must admit there are times when I notice that I'm leaving the present and go about my merry way anyhow.  It really does take a whole village to raise a child and it take a whole Sangha to guide me, strengthen me, and inspire me to come back.   To be right here, right now, truly present is a miracle.

The very miracle of life.

Photo by Sunlight Cardigan

Standing on the Earth

In Qi Gong there is a suggestion to stand on the Earth, not on your feet.  You are invited to allow the Earth to support you, to sense your body extending into the Earth like the roots of a tree while also extending up and out from the Earth, blossoming beautifully where you are planted.  As my morning practice moved to the guitar the thought arose to sit on the Earth, not on my buttocks.  Again to sense the support, the rootedness and extension.  To sense and allow the freedom in my arms, hands & fingers to sway like a tree in the wind. 

Since the Earth is always in motion rotating about her axis, than I too remain in motion.  Is my motion free and directed following the principles of the Alexander Technique?  Or am I unaware of my support, unaware of the possibilities available through my musculoskeletal system when right directions are offered to the pyschophysical domain?

My guitar is of the Earth - her wood harvested from trees, her strings and frets mined from ores deep within our planet.  I am of the Earth - carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen and other elements combining and recombining as my needs change.  Since we both are of the Earth, we are one.  But I must work to recognize my unity, work to allow the freedom to sustain this unity.

Our air circulates freely about the Earth.  May I allow my breath to do the same.  Just breathe in, then out, again and again, without any hindrance of anticipation or holding on in fright.  May the breath let go of past errors as easily as the wind goes round or over a mountain.

The Earth is ever changing as am I.  Even when I am not aware of the changes they transform us, over and over and forever.  May I be able to dwell within this impermanence with peace and oneness of mind.  Just sitting on the Earth,  just playing.  Happy to be sitting and happy to be playing.  Dare I nourish the seed of happiness while playing? 

photo by NASA

Breathing Through Mistakes

A long time ago, I noticed that if I could not keep my breathing relatively free while playing a piece of music, I could not properly play the piece of music.  What the psycho-physical reason is for this I am not sure, but as my ability to breathe through a piece improved so did the music.  Is it unnecessary tension involving anticipated mistakes or difficult sections?  Is it fear?  Is it hearing critical voices from the past?  Hearing my own judgemental self?

Just breathe.  That simple.  Easy - not actually.  These past days I've been working on difficult passages in four different pieces that may be recorded tomorrow.  Yesterday I began playing with the idea of being free to breath through my mistakes, be they real or anticipated.  Today as I was practicing I decided to introduce a recovery period.  I'd play through the difficult section, then give myself a few breaths to recover, rather than push on.  At firs this was easy, but then my tendency to end-gain kicked in, so I had to breathe through that also.  I even gave myself the recovery breaths when I played the section well, just to keep my breathing free and my approach balanced.

I'll have to work with this a bit more to see if it becomes permanent, but my sense is that it will.

Photo by Adam Baker

I Will Die Tomorrow

I will die tomorrow.

One day this will be true.

What if it was tomorrow?

What would you then do?

Photo by Norhafydzah mahfodz

Connection Found

Last night I was able to return to my Qi Gong class after missing two sessions after a week of flu.  After an hour & fifteen minutes, I was so connected.  My body relaxed, mind focused, and energy freely moving throughout the system.  If only I could live in this space.

Tonight I did a few minutes of Qi Gong before practicing guitar.  Always a good way to warm up my hands, bring my body/mind together, and to get my energy moving.  I was working on two difficult passages from two different pieces this evening.  After good progress was made on the first piece of work, I took a brief break and turned my attention to the second difficulty.

This section has plagued me for sometime.  Part of my problem is that as pieces are evolving I am developing insufficient knowledge of fingerings as the piece is not complete.  Frequently by the time a piece is complete, I have some habits that need addressing.  This is the case with this section.  As I was working on this tonight, I noticed I was lacking connection with myself, the guitar, and with the music.  I removed the guitar and sat for a few minutes to establish the connection with myself.  Then returning to the guitar, I directed with the AT directions, and considered how I might approach what I was doing.

I decided to play just up to the transition that is problematic and then inhibit playing the next notes.  As I worked with inhibition, I sensed a greater connection with the piece, noticing how the energy was building and needed the proper execution of the next part to allow the piece to "take off."  One time I spoke instead of playing; another time I lifted my feet; and I made other gestures, all the while paying attention to what I was doing.  Then as I was leading up to this one more time, I noticed myself catching my breath, so I exhaled but continued to inhibit the playing.  Beginning the section again,  I followed my breath and began to exhale just before the problem part.  I played the notes beautifully.  A few more times of just staying with my breath, not attempting to time the breath with the part, but remaining connected and allowing the breath to support myself and the music.

This is not the first time I have learned this lesson, and possibly not the last.   Just happy to be learning, breathing, and making music.

Cycles of Learning

 It was a balmy 41 F, as we set out for our Qi Gong session in the park at 7:45am.  Overcast, like my mood.  I was tired this morning, up late last night after attending a performance of the BSO accompanying the 1928 silent film - The Passion of Joan of Arc.  The oratorio Voices of Light by Ricard Einhorn was as beautiful as it was intriguing.  The emotional power of the actors facial gestures were very moving for me.

As I woke at 6:30am, I had my ready-made excuse to blow off Qi Gong.  But why?  The practice outdoors with Nianzu Li and others  is always so good for me.  The collective energy of the practitioners and Mother Nature supporting my individual effort.  As we arrived, I noticed that there were more birds singing to the early morn than last week.  Tree buds were exploding all around us and the cycles of life continuing.  As were the cycles of my thinking.  Negative judgmental thoughts of myself and others kept arising as I worked with the exercises.  Where was this coming from and why now?  Recycled  patterns that serve no useful nor higher purpose, but are part of me.  The movements are so simple; Nianzu so focused and giving, and I stuck in my thinking.  Have I learned these particular movements well enough that now they are moving into the realm of the automatic & habitual and not requiring the active attention that new learning requires of me?

I have seen this drifting attention pattern many times before.  An activity moving into habit and lacking the spirit.  Yet Qi Gong needs the active participation of both my body and mind to be with the movement to fully reap the benefits of this work.  True for every activity, I suppose.  When learning a new piece of music, the time arrives when the mind drifts from the playing as a certain level of automaticity enters my hands, my being.  Then like this morning, when I notice this drift I need to bring my attention back.  How to wake up to this moment I am living; be it doing Qi Gong, making music, or just being with another?  Finding and observing my breath is a steady ally and part of our Qi Gong efforts.  But today, a pattern of distracted thinking had taken root in my mind and was affecting my efforts.

Despite wanting to walk away and most likely increase the intensity of negative thoughts about myself, I persisted.  I paused a few times, to let go of the trying and come back to the doing with varying degrees of success.  There were moments of presence within, but today some olde, possibly inherited patterns of thinking were flourishing.  I was gentle with myself and this cycle, kept to the practice and know that this too shall pass.  And I am grateful for that knowing.

No great happy ending, but at least I was not burned at the stake like Joan.  An hour can appear to be an eternity or a glimpse.  Thoughts come and thoughts go, do I attach myself to them remains key.  The practice of gently working through the various states of mind that arise is the journey.  Practice like this in one activity affects all activities.  As the Zen saying reminds us - The Journey is the Path.

The bulk of this was written this morning.  Nearly eight hours later with a nap and much rest, my energy is still amiss.  Perhaps a microbe is highjacking my biochemistry.  The negative thinking pattern of this possibility is daunting and eliciting despair.  Can I water the seed of happiness in me and accept what comes?  Please be gentle with your good selves on your journeys.

Photo by PhOtOnQuAnTiQuE

Returning

Where is home?  The venerable Thich Nhat Hanh teaches me that home is in the present moment.  Where am I?  Am I in the present moment or wandering about in my mind?  When I notice that I am wandering, how do I find my way back home?  While the noticing is key, there then comes that moment of choice.  Do I continue to allow whatever habit du jour is distracting me - usually my mind; though this can also be my emotions, or my physical cravings?  Or do I gently turn my attention back to the task at hand?


How do I turn my attention back to the present moment?  Throughout the day - my breath - is my most frequent ally in noticing where I am and bringing me back to the present moment.  This is very useful when my monkey mind has begun to race while I am playing, as I do not have to stop playing but can just find my breath.  In a sense I suppose this may take me a bit further out of the act of music making, but only until I can establish my connection once again. When I find my breath, the breath flows through the music.   Listening is another way I can bring myself back.  This sense should be an active part of making music, yet my mind can be such a powerful distractor that I am merely mechanically playing the notes, and not hearing what I am playing.  With my listening engaged the music comes alive, as do I.

Connecting with myself through the Alexander Technique has also proven to be a powerful way to bring me back.  As I direct my use via AT, I am harmonizing my body & mind in a manner similar to meditation.  When I first met David Jernigan and he referred to AT as a mindfulness of the body practice, was when I really began embracing the technique. 

Frequently I intersperse any of these actions with my playing.  Noticing the body or the mind provides an opportunity to engage my consciousness with what I am doing.  From this notice I may make a choice to more fully enter into what I am doing, be it making music or washing dishes.  Present moment - only moment.

The Value of Playing

I am increasingly finding that the moments that I spend with my guitar are very precious. Listening with my heart and soul, just playing; right here, right now.  These Moments change me and the world.  What more could I ask of myself, of my guitar?  Right practice serves to lengthen these moments, to better prepare me to respond to any moment; to be in this moment. 

As Homer so eloquently asked the muse - "Sustain for me this song, make this tale live for us in all it's many bearings."  Echoing this prayer, may I play my notes unfettered by concern, and be free to listen, to follow and to learn. Then these moments of freedom expand and they serve.  May I embrace this moment, resting in the understanding that there is no other.  May I Listen, play and just be.

Giving myself permission to improvise, I venture into the unknown.  I may uncover myself for fleeting moments; or yet again see myself in habitual manners of use; or I may touch my feelings in a new way.  What happens in these moments? A harmony within, reaching out to hold and reveal.  As the moments pass, do I devolve into end-gaining, holding onto what was?  Or can I sustain my freedom to explore, lengthening in each moment to what is?  Maintaining the freedom of how I use myself now appears key.   Say yes to this musical moment and connect with all that I am.

May I connect with this moment, bringing my desires to rest.  In doing so, I release who I was and open to the possible. Slowly my muscles lengthen and widen to the freedom and lightness of being.  All begins with the breath, with awareness of the breath.  Connect, breath out and release the note into this present moment, into all moments.  Connect, inspire and release who I am meant to be.

A Breath Away

So easy to have my palm rest on my strings to quiet them.  But to quiet the strings of my thoughts, requires more practice, an ongoing practice, with any slight discomfort amplifying their frequency.  Neither good nor bad, just my reality of being alive within my body.  Thoughts come and go, feelings come & go, the body moves through space with and without awareness.

The breath comes and goes, in and out, from the moment I first screamed my way into this life.  The breath is always with me, as is my body.  The practice is to remain with the breath, to remain with my body.  From this awareness, I have a chance for music to flow in me, through me, into the world.  Am I aware of the sound of my guitar as I am playing? Am I aware of the words I am using, of the tone of my voice while speaking?  Am I aware of the feelings, oftentimes causing bodily reactions, that habitually rule me?

Present moment, only moment.  Now is when I can be with the music, be with myself playing music,  just be.  Where do I go, again and again?  The power of habit, my own, my ancestors, and my society's run rough over noble intentions.  Freedom from habit is gained in tiny moments of tuning my body, mind, and spirit.  Qi Gong in the morning slowly bringing me into the moment as my body slowly moves in space, small energy blockages being cleared.  My sitting allows my mind to calm a bit deeper at times, or allows me to see how far I am away from this moment.  Breathing in I find the past pulling me; breathing out the future unnerving me; and the path to now is distorted in waves of thought.  Finding my breath again, I calm.  Over and over, returning and forgetting. 

Present moment, only moment.  The breath remains the door through which I may enter.  The Alexander Technique provides me another door to develop awareness of how I am moving, and where am I moving from.  With this disruption of my habitual ways of using myself, I find small freedoms,  a more effective way to be in this moment.  Slowly as one habit dissolves, it is replace by another one.  Hopefully one that aids our ability to live this moment, and further our reach to live in all moments. 

None of this is possible without the community of practice that guides me and supports all of our efforts.  The sangha that practices harmony together, is another challenge to form and sustain, but vital in maintaining my practice.  The practice of one supporting the practice of all; the fruits shared and the bounty overflowing.

Fifty-five years ago today, my parents were happy as I emerged from the womb.  My brother and sister, aunts and uncles all celebrating my birth. Today I am exceedingly grateful for my family, friends, and teachers who have shared this life with me.  I am reminded of the scream with which I entered this world, and as one author has mused - I wonder what life would be like if they had tickled me at my first breath instead.

Present moment, wonderful moment.

Noticing

Noticing once again that when I begin talking to myself while playing mistakes happen. A definition of mistakes that I like is that a mistake is information. While I have harvested this information repeatedly and continue to be playing along and the internal dialogue begins, I engage and then flubbed notes. At times I notice the dialogue beginning and I do not engage, the chatter does not pick up enough momentum to distract me.

We begin again constantly. The basic instruction in meditation is - Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in. Breathing out, I know that I am breathing out.  Perhaps for my time devoted to guitar practice I can work with - Breathing in, I know that I am playing guitar. Breathing out, I smile. Are you breathing?