Where From?

I heard a man say today - It's not so important what I am listening for, rather where I am listening from?  

Photo by Paul Bica

Listening to Now

A note has a beginning,  a middle, and an end.  Some notes and pieces of music are so exquisitely played that we never want them to end.  But they do - impermanence - everything changes. Do we so yearn for the music that has been played divinely that we dwell in the past, thus missing our present moment?  Or do we fret about how to repeat that experience in the future, again missing our present moment?

Can I listen to every note, every sound, as a bell of mindfulness inviting me to wake up - Now?

Photo by Kenny Louie

A New Take on Listening

This afternoon I attended a performance that is part of the 66th American Music Festival - Personal Visions at the Nation Gallery of Art in Washington, DC.  Here was the program:

 

 JACK Quartet
Eric Huebner, pianist
David Felder, guest composer Lewis Nielson, guest composer
Morton Feldman (1926 – 1987) Intermission I (1950)
Lewis Nielson (b. 1950)
Le Journal du Corps (2010)*
Roger Reynolds (b. 1935) imagE/piano (2007)*
David Felder
Stuck-stücke for String Quartet (2007, revised 2008)*
Stefan Wolpe
Form for Piano (1959)*
John Zorn (b. 1953) The Dead Man (1990)* 


The Feldman, Reynolds, and Wolpe works were for solo piano, and the other works String Quartets performed by the Jack Quartet.  Challenging music at times, played with superb musicality in a lovely setting. My ears relish the opportunity to hear new live music, especially pieces I may never have a chance to hear live again.  Of course sometime the pieces are a challenge to listen to, but today for me these works all had that magic within.  

Le Journal du Corps by Lewie Nielson used the String Quartet in very imaginative, almost playful ways.  I had my eyes closed for a few minutes at the beginning and then began to watch the performers.  As I watched, I heard myself saying how could anyone hear this kind of music, let alone be able to notate it for others.  I was mesmerized at the technical abilities of the players and their concentration.  And I became distracted, now unable to listen.  What had happened?  The wandering chatter also happens when I'm practicing at times, and throughout my life.

But here I was listening to an amazing effort, all that was required was to listen and I was not.  Thinking of the Alexander Technique and my recent and ongoing experiments with "negative directions" I told myself.  I am not listening to this piece of music.  By the third direction, the mind had quieted.  I closed my eyes taking in this art for the ears.  A couple more times during the performance the direction was used again.  So simple. So powerful.  May I continue to quiet the voices and be able to respond.

Photo by Bill Strain

Listening

What do I hear in Silence?

Do I listen?

 

 Pause?

Photo by Stephen Andrew Rick

Keep On Stumbling

In the brush doing what it's doing, it will stumble on what one couldn't do by oneself.
- Robert Motherwell

Same holds true for fingers and why improvisation is important.  The mind can lead, as does the heart; but many times it is that stumble of the fingers that finds the chord or notes the mind would not choose.  Keep listening to the stumbles.  Plunge in.  Expect nothing, but listen.  When it's there, be grateful.

 

Listen Listen

Listen, Listen.  The sound of the bell brings me back to my true home.  Thich Naht Hahn

Listening, one of the most important senses a musician employs and develops.  The same might be true for all of us as we strive to bring harmony into our world.  While reflecting on how to begin my practice today, dynamics arose as an area to begin and focus on.  I always love to play with dynamics and the fourth primary from Guitar Craft.  This simple and beautiful arpeggio, not only returns me to moments of innocence, but provides an ongoing challenge to the independence of the thumb and fingers of my right hand.  I can simply alter the dynamics as I play the arpeggio.  Building a crescendo or decrescendo or use a loud and soft combination of any fingers.

The sea in front of me provides an example of effortless change in dynamics with the breaking waves.  As I begin to tune my guitar, I invite the low C string to sound.  I am immediately captivated by a richness and heretofore unknown intensity of the Ovation Guitar I have with me.  Suddenly I smile as I realize that this new found power is the result of an ocean going vessel heading out to sea and sounding it's fog horn.  A glimpse of what a master might sound like, I return to tuning.

My listening sharpened by this experience, I begin with a simple piece that has been unveiling herself to me recently.  Inspired by the Muslim call to prayer, I intone these notes with respect and awareness.  Reflecting on this now I realize that  my aspiration is that all notes should be invited in this way; better yet - all the words that I say to another.  A distance wider than the four oceans, awaits me on this particular journey of sound.  So be it.  Like music, the journey will unfold in time; either I will be present to the journey or not.   Knowing this, I cultivate my practice of awareness and insight daily, as often as I remember,  when a bell of mindfulness invites me back or when Nature in all her Glory simply demands that I pay attention to truth and beauty before me.

Playing through a piece, Senseless Loss, the fog horn which is close to  a C sounds again.  Harmonizing with the low E, I am playing, another smile blooms.  Two more times over the course of 30 minutes the fog horn resounds & blends with my joy and with the sea around us.  What a gift this life is, what a gift that music bestows upon me, on all of us.  Wake up, wake up now; listen!  On my own I need help, and the Universe continues to provide this help.  All I need do is to welcome the invitation and practice with what is offered.

As I return to the guitar,  I decide to address the primary with attention to dynamics that I had originally intended to begin my practice with.  While playing these notes, sensitive to the use of my right hand fingers, I notice a flock of small birds joyfully flying by.  Their flight hampered, bolstered, and guided by the wind.  Smiles returning as the birds and I practice taking flight together.   Smiling again as I recall this day is still quite young and many more opportunities await me.

Photo by Yazir Yacob

Am I Listening for the Whispers?

Am I listening for the whispers I heard myself stay after another false start with the new piece.  Tonight the recording device was annoying me, or I was annoying me, or my grappling with the unknown had me on edge.  When the question arrived - am I listening for the whispers - I still had difficulties playing but now I began to hear why.  The judgemental whispers in my mind coupled with the subtle yet unrealistic expectations that something profound would emerge from my repeated efforts with this musical idea were robbing my attention.

Now at least I was listening.  I returned to stillness, opening my hearing to the sounds of the AC, the chirps of the evening insects, and then to the sound emanating from my strings.  Difficulties presented themselves, but I returned to the listening; and then I let go of the playing.

What was my goal in recording?  To learn about this piece that is developing.  Then let go, play with all that I am, and keep listening and learning.   Once again I see that I have to love the process of practice and all that goes with it.  The drudgery, the repetition, and my feelings of not having what it takes this time.  I hear the whisper of let go, let go, let goooooooooooooooooooo ...

I press record and play. Ninety seconds in I have arrived somewhere unplanned and pause.  Perhaps a new way to begin the piece.  I press record again, follow the form and and in a later part of the piece arrive at another new area.  Record once more and let it rip.  Intensity in one section nearly derails me, but I hang on.   An idea from listening yesterday that I thought I wanted to explore did not happen but arrived a few bars later.  Time once again to let go. Let go and listen.

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.

Sounds of a Day

                                 Photo by Tj Mathews

My day began gently enough, with Qi Gong and my sitting.  The morning was still cool enough that the windows were closed, but I could hear faint sounds of the birds awakening as I sat.  My sitting was distracted to a degree, but I persevered until the end.  The drive to work was uneventful, as I enjoyed listening to some new pieces by my friend Jim Landry.

Thursdays are always demanding professional days for me and today was no different.  The usual sounds of a professional kitchen at work, provide a sonic annoyance on most days and the cumulative effect of this on me seems to be taking a toll.  Today a repair being made to an area of the kitchen, conjured up the delightful sounds of hammering, busting pieces of wall, and the occasional sawing of metal.  Most of these sounds were generated during the time when the kitchen is relatively quiet.  By the end of the day I was beat, and my ears needed a break.

At home I read a bit and then napped.  Dinner in the backyard with the sounds of the breeze followed by 40 minutes of reading to complete Ilium.  What a story!  I was about to move to the basement to practice when I noticed the tightness in my body.  The sun was still up and I knew our local cherry blossoms around the corner were still blooming so out the door.  Immediately I smiled as the birds welcomed me in full force with their evening song.  As I walked through the cherry blossoms, the birds serenading me, welcoming me back to life.  Some of the delicate blossoms have begun to fall from the trees, leaving a pink and white carpet on the roadway and lawns which reminds me of snow.


I paused to look and listen, meditating on the birds.  Then I noticed that my body was letting go, as if my neck was releasing and my spine lengthening, during AT work.  But I was not giving myself the directions, just standing.  This moment was almost as if the Alexander Technique was doing me, except that the body's releasing was then guiding my thinking.  I've noticed similar moments in between Qi Gong exercises or sometimes when standing, but never quit like this one. Marveling at the sensations, I began to slowly walk back up the street and through the trees a second time.  I began thinking how I much prefer the sounds of bird to the sounds of the kitchen and wondered about the difference.  Certainly I am not alone in this preference, but why are some sounds refreshing and healing, while others are alarming?  Intensity, timbre, and rhythm have their role, as does intention I suppose.  Feeling relaxed I walked a bit further and returned home.

Part of me was ready to play guitar, yet I knew I still would benefit from a lie down before playing.  I also wanted to begin playing soon so that I might get to bed sooner.  Recognizing this as a subtle form of end-gaining, I took my books and found the floor for a lie down.  I noticed the sound of my breath exhaling through my nostrils.  Why was this so loud right now?  Perhaps my heart rate was up from the walk still.  Slowly my back relaxed into the floor, and my body let go to this simple but powerful process of the the lie down.  Our home and neighborhood were quiet allowing my ears to rest.

I began playing a pattern of seven on two open strings, the D and A strings.  The lovely sound of fifths resonating and drawing me in while the pattern required enough of my attention to keep me awake.  I altered the pattern and then moved onto the first cross picking exercise I learned in Guitar Craft which still strikes me as profoundly beautiful.  Now, firmly rooted in these moments of playing, I moved onto the tremolo piece.

I played through the first four bars and then paused to give myself the AT directions.  Noticing just a slight build up of tension in my right arm, I let it go.  I moved through the piece four bars at a time and then pausing to direct for a total of three times.  Then I really wanted to play through the piece in its' entirety to see if I could do so effortlessly.  Laughing, I moved onto an idea that surfaced last night.  Then after playing through a couple pieces before taking a break to write.  Back to playing.

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.

Timbres, Tempers, & Tone

My day began with wonder & joy.  Rested and feeling like myself again, after my recent bout with the flu.  I moved into a energizing Qi Gong session, noticing how since I worked on some of these exercises with David in AT class, that the energy continues to flow more freely. 

During my commute, I was listening to some of my live takes to determine where I am in the process.  The car was not an ideal situation for this, but this did immerse back into the project.  At one point, I paused the music and arrived at a traffic light.  Connecticut Avenue was my cross street and this is generally full of traffic in the morning.  Today the northbound lane, which I was closet too was fairly sparse.  As traffic approached, and my Prius was quiet, I marveled at the sounds the tires were making on the pavement.  I realized that I had been listening intently enough that my ears were focused. Various drones at varying tempi, continued to delight me until the light changed.  Arriving at the next major intersection, a truck changing gears caught my attention.

Onto the clamor of managing a professional kitchen, my listening dulled to hearing at best.  Just as I was about to leave, an interaction with a customer service manager, got me steamed.  Good timing has not been a part of their performance this week, and seems that once the initial mistake was made days ago, the reverberations continued to grow.  An hour later I was able to leave, not totally confident that they will come through.

Listening to rock & roll from my youth, was aggravating my mood so I choose to listen to Agnus Dei, a collection of classical choral music, given to me as a present years ago.  My usual time to listen to this is in the morning, but today the power of this music, calmed my emotions and allowed me to turn my attention to greater thoughts.  Listening during this day has triggered delight, wonder, anger, calm and reverence.  And I still need to play my guitar.

Responding to Listening

My old friend and musical partner Steev Geest contacted me today regarding recording.  His timing was impeccable, as I was pondering the very thought the past two days of how to invigorate the live recording project.  Tony and I are so close to completing the recording, but I still need a couple more pieces.  Now that my professional demands have lessened, the opportunity arises.  We decided to meet this Sunday to experiment with the equipment.

I was excited to get to practicing after a nap and dinner.  Beginning with the Alexander Technique, I came into a relationship with my body.  Allowing my body to release and my mind to quiet.  As I began to play, my guitar sounded so sweet.  Part of this was switching from my practice amp to my Genz Benz, but the tone had a certain presence.  Listening as I played, I was a bit surprised at how easily I had arrived in the moment.  As a rest would arise in the piece, I would think "let my neck be free and everything else."  This simple focused thought allowing my body and mind to release into my playing.

After working Gathered Hearts for 15 minutes, I moved onto Lost Balloon.  Just listening as I played, again using the thought "let me neck be ..."  I worked on the two sections of this piece that needed addressing; just enjoying the movement of my fingers and the freedom in myself.  I played this through twice and then paused. 

I began improvising, and immediately heard a beginning.  Playing with this for a bit, and then I needed a bathroom break.   Returning to the guitar, I was excited about the potential piece that was coming out.  No longer quiet in my mind, and feeling the anticipation in my body, I decided to inhibit my impulse to continue.  Instead I did a lie down, allowing myself to rest, and contemplate my body.

Returning to the guitar, there was still a bit of anxious anticipation.  Had I disrupted the creative flow? Perhaps, but I also knew that the place I had arrived at, needed to be released.  As I begin to play with the new idea, I was thinking about listening, but was not.  Taking time to run through the AT directions, I began again.  My listening was actual now, and I experimented with various musical directions and moods.  I did a quick recording to capture the idea.

Then I returned to play through GH and LB again, this time with the tape running.  Again I found myself thinking or talking to myself about listening.  But this is not listening, so the fingers stumble as I was not present with my actions.  Pausing to begin again, I used AT to come back to myself .  As the piece began, I was simply listening and playing; integrated once again, if only for a short time.  Over and over, I must return to the present moment, using the Alexander Technique, my breath, and sometimes even my ears.  In this moment is where life is lived, where music lives.  Grateful for the paths, and those on the path that point the way to this moment.

Every Note - My Teacher

We are always on the path, yet I am frequently blinded to the path.  Why?  The elusive quality of presence, due to my wandering mind.  But then the sound of the surf, the birds, or my guitar brings me back to this moment, if only for a moment.  Thus I practice, again and again, finding the present moment and wandering away.

Looking through the windows of life I sense beauty and truth.  Coming alive while seeking, I am touched by the creative spirit and music appears.  Daily, devotional listening for the whispers, while practicing the instrument.  Every note I play is my teacher - am I present or wandering away?  When I am present I may hear the notes the Muse is offering to me.  Every note I play is a gentle teacher; yet I can be hard on the student, hard on others.  And in this hardness I move farther away from the moment and deeper into negative habitual reactions.  Every note I play is a true statement of my condition.  How then to harmonize my condition?  How to bring body, heart, and mind into the act of playing the note, the act of being alive? 

Through practice - sitting, Qi Gong, Alexander Technique, Mindful Walking all serve to bring me back to this precious moment.  Any activity of daily living can be approached mindfully and bring me into the present moment - cooking, cleaning, listening to others, or even listening to myself.


How do I listen to others? As if everyone were my Teacher, speaking to me his cherished last words.
 - Hafiz

Suppose I could play my notes as if they were my "cherished last words?"  Suppose I could listen "as if everyone were my Teacher, speaking to me ... ?"  How do I  listen?

Sounds of Gratitude

As I woke this morning I could hear the sound of a train in a distance; softly below this drone I heard my wife's gentle breathing. Her breath especially poignant today since yesterday my favorite resident at work and then later a dear friend both drew their final breaths. For this moment her journey remains tied to mine on this earth, to dream another dream, to serve another day.

Later in the day amidst the clatter of my staff at work, I paused. Grateful for the quality of the work they perform and the grace in which they undertake their duties. I glimpse the lives we touch and brighten during difficult transitional times. Their voices gentle and kind, their hearts full of service.

I listen to the sound of delight from a man grateful that his request was remembered. The whisper of hope as encouragement is offered to a suffering woman. Even the habitual "thank you's" of our professional day give voice to the value our cultures place on expressing gratitude. Suddenly I am grateful that I can still hear, still give voice to my thoughts and feelings, still pause and take note.

During my lunch the tinkle of my fork against my plate draws attention to the sounds of our kitchen at rest. Enjoying the rare relative quiet as only the low hum of the various compressors fans rise & fall as the kitchen breaths. grateful for the relief from the usual sonic assault that accompanies my day. I hear my teeth at work with chewing a broccoli cheese casserole, the taste of thyme slowing me to enjoy this  precious moment.

"California Dreaming" wafts into my listening field and associative memory transports me to 1969 and an auto accident in my brother's black GTO. Why do I remember that this was playing on his car radio when we were struck? Another memory jolt to "Leaving on a Jet Plane" playing in my fathers car in 1981 as my mother bursts into tears. They were taking me to the airport as I was moving to Colorado. Smiling with gratitude that my brain still makes these connections.

Leaving work as I hear my footfalls on the stairwell, gratitude stirs that I still walk. Around me wheelchairs and walkers focus my attention to this activity frequently taken for granted. Soon I hear the grateful cheers of neighborhood children saying "daddy's home," their joy being echoed by a yelping dog. The sizzle of dinner on the stove joins the chorus of my wife welcoming me home. Such simple acts amplified to sacred depths when I pay attention.

I end my day with the sounds of joy. A young woman expressing gratitude for living fully against the odds. Grateful friends surrounding and expressing their support, this very act supporting  their path. I am grateful that these same people are my friends.

I suspect I missed other sounds of gratitude on this day. But when I did listen, I came into the present moment. In doing this I became aware of my body, my thinking, my feelings, &  memories; I became alive. For Life is lived in the present moment.

Will I be grateful if I wake tomorrow? Will I notice another's breath? Will I be listening?

Voice Leading

At the end of our Qi Gong session this morning I selected "Listen" as the word for today. Influenced by RF's Diary which I read prior to my Qi Gong today. Part of his post he described his practice of listening to himself while speaking. I have heard him describe this practice before and it is also one of the mindfulness trainings in Thich Nhat Hahn's tradition. While I take it on for a brief time this is not an ongoing practice of mine. My wife has mentioned the 'tone' of my voice as recently as last evening and at least one other time in the past days. If there is one person that I always want to sound beautifully to she is the one. Yet frequently I speak automatically, unaware of what I am saying; historical, familial and cultural patterns asserting themselves.

When I see or feel that one is distressed I listen deeply. Then from this place I tend to speak mindfully. But an ongoing practice of mindful speech eludes me. I tune my guitar before inviting her voice to sound, why not tune my own voice?

Various tuning practices that I have are a simple breath or three taken with awareness, sensing a part of my body, or by practicing the Alexander Technique. These compositional devices inform this musician, offering me a choice in my vocal melodies. These practices are a part of my everyday life but  am I capable of maintaining them throughout a day? Focusing them just as I finely tune my instrument? Impossible? For me certainly, but with the intention to begin a practice the possible embraces the impossible. With practice the possible is realized and moves forward. By constructing  this exercise in 'voice leading,' I can practice the discipline of my being aware of when I am speaking, Then I may choose my tone, dynamics, and the 'feel' of the spoken lines I offer to the world.

As my exercise in 'voice leading' unfolds, the other musicians that I am improvising with might respond harmoniously. And when the dissonant chord is sounded, the skills of a musician tuned through practice may take the verse to a new and beautiful chorus. And at the times when the cacophony arises with the vocal music turning dark, may we find rest in the measure of our being and begin tuning again.

Practicing Silence

Soon I'll be increasingly quiet for a couple days. Some might say silent, but practicing silence is a better description. As the silence settles in about me, my body will relax, my thinking slow, my heart soften and maybe even open. The practice of silence has taken on more importance for me over the years. An opportunity to let go of my habitual manner of living and perhaps receive an insight to guide me. Sometimes I have let go of long held attitudes or emotions that were clouding my vision. Always the practice strengthens and nourishes me to continue practicing.

As the silence approaches, I listen. What am I doing or thinking in this moment that deafens the silence? Just as I listen when tuning a string, I can hear the "beats" as the two strings approach unison. Taking care to bring the two tones to a full bodied unison resonance. What are the "beats" in my mind as I approach silence? The breath tunes the mind while silence supports the tuning.

What does silence have to do with playing guitar? Everything ...

When Do I Begin to Listen?

Musicians listen deeply.  Any note can be invited to sound in a myriad of waves. Play a  note ponticello and you invite your listener to a different place then the same note played tasto; pianissimo offering a different state than forte. When my listening is attentive the quality of my playing changes. So when does a musician begin to listen during a practice session?

I asked myself this question as I approached my guitar this evening.  Then I heard the sound of the clasps that secure the case as I opened them. I listened as my strap slid over the strap buttons. I noticed the strap brushing against the fabric of my shirt as I brought my guitar to my body. I reveled in the beauty of the bringing my C string into tune. The bright attack as I secured the cable in the jack. The snap of the switch on the amp and the subsequent slight hum. I heard my body settle into my stool.


And then I noticed that already my mind had begun to quiet from the distraction of my day. I heard my nails touching the strings as I began playing Dancin' Free. A short but active run through of Dancin' Free, Kinnara, & Stepping Stones ensued. I wanted more but had to honor an obligation this evening. I was able to collect the joy generated from this brief session and take it with me. We got into the car, I heard the engine roar, and then I was lost.

When will I begin to listen again? Will it be with my beloved guitar or with a person? Suddenly I hear myself say "don't criticize" as a man begins to share his voice. That one thought the coda to my day. Here I was - Alive again. I was improvising my response to the theme that was actually stated, harmonizing in a new direction, rather than falling back on my habitual historical rendering of old melodies that did not fit this music. Yes musician listen deeply; listen to the sounds of life.  Allow your listening to be in service to the muse. Regardless of the instrumentation, the style, or the ensemble be present to the music that is being played. Be it the sound of  a string or of a string of thoughts, I know I will get lost again. So when do I begin to listen?

A Mornings Listening

Awakened by the pouring rain as I slept this morning. The sky was dark and I returned to dreamland. The next sound I was aware of was the bell calling me back to the present moment, the sound so rich and full of life. I listened to the rain as I began my meditation, various sounds arising as the rain fell on different surfaces. The same sound source taking on timbres colored by leaves, aluminum, concrete, & plastic.

The occasional drone of an automobile; its’ engine cycling, tires sounding the wet pavement as drivers negotiated the curve of the road. Brief beautiful melodic bursts from the local birds. A plop here, a ping there; life echoing to those who would but listen.

The sound of the bathroom fan inviting me back to the present moment. Where have I been? Now I can hear the towel rubbing against my toes, my foot striking the floor, the deodorant rubbing against my skin. Even now the clatter of the keyboard as gutters drip outside my window. The hum of a compressor winding down.

Soon I will begin my guitar practice. Will I continue to listen? My chair creeks as I sit back with this question. My chair again creeks as I shift,  marveling at the sounds of the ice clinking in two glasses as I negotiate climbing the unfamiliar circular stairs. My feet vibrating this metallic structure, the beverage sloshing, the ice chiming. I listen to the delight in my wife’s words as I hand her a flavored seltzer. So joyful this attentive listening to the sounds of my day. More drones, more flutters of birds; distant conversations, keyboard clacking, sounds of my wife drinking. I must pick up my guitar. May this quality of listening inform my playing.

As I begin my AT lie down I hear the sounds of my body rubbing against the carpet and my head encountering the books. I hear my breath go out; was this a breath or a sigh? As my body relaxes, I notice quieter sounds from the outside. A tiny dog yammering in the distance, small birds chirping, and then again the drip outside my window. The steady pulse of this drip framing my lie down, like the metronome can frame a practice. Has the drip slowed since the last time I noticed it? Suddenly I want to get up to write, but remind myself that the intent is to listen, not to capture.

As I write this now, nearly 40 minutes later, I notice that the drip has stopped.

As I opened the case the sounds of the clasps welcomed me. Noticing how the strap sounded as it went around the strap button, the other end of the strap slapping against the inside of my case. I choose to play through the first piece that came to me in my early days of Guitar Craft. So simple and still so beautiful.  I then moved on to improvising on just the D string. This limit pushing serving to develop melodic sense. A found a six note scale that I explored C E F# G Ab B. From here I moved on to playing through Kinnara & Gathered Hearts. Listening as I played with the occasional thought competing for my attention. Noticing that my right hand nails were just above the quick enough to impede my playing I paused.

I returned to practice and then noticed some of the sounds of our lunch preparation. Listening to Pascal Comelade Haikus for Piano as we ate. Particularly delighted with his subtle and clever arrangement of 96 Tears. Soon we shall walk. Will I be listening? Will you be listening?

Listening for Guidance

The third day of a three day weekend. One where I was home and no guests; pretty much a luxury for me. I have had more time to relax, play guitar, and to take care of other life projects. Today I was awakened  early by the newspaper delivery person riding around with his car stereo on loud. Unfortunate on a night when most people had their windows open.  Must be my karma catching up to me for the ungodly hours I blasted music in my youth.

Plenty of time to practice Qi Gong, sit, and have time to reflect in the back yard on a very beautiful cool morning. Even had a leisurely breakfast with my wife as I listened to see if the birds would return today that I heard yesterday. They had a particularly high pitched melody, and  both their timbre and their song were new to me. Alas they did not return, perhaps a transitory evenings rest in the local trees.

Last night as I ended my practice I played a set of seven pieces straight through with the tape running. I do this often lately, but rarely have the time to listen back. Today I needed to bring some order to my practice space. I decided to play the tape while doing this. I knew this might not be the best listening circumstances but would still be useful to guide my practice. Sure enough I found three sections in three different pieces that have recurring issues. Now I had my practice session mapped out.

But first an Alexander Technique lie down. Then relaxed and ready with my plan I tuned my guitar. I spent 20 minutes on the first problematic section in Dancin' Free, took a brief break, and then played through the piece in it's entirety to place the section in context. I then used this same strategy for Kinnara and Lost Balloon. Then it was time to visit with friends, enjoy a workout, and have lunch. Smiling I told Joann that I could get used to this lifestyle.

Returning home I decided to play through these three pieces as the beginning of a set. I then added four more pieces to the set and taped the session. Dancin' Free and Kinnara both felt better played after this mornings work. Lost Balloon while improved still needs some work in the higher positions.
Perhaps I can listen for more guidance with this recent taping before the day is done. But for now I feel a nap is in my immediate future.

Photo Collage by Ignacio Gracian

What Can I Learn From Listening to the Birds

          http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/3525789310/

One of the joys of living in an "urban forest," is the amount and variety of birds that we attract. As we approach the summer solstice their song is loud enough to wake me at 4:30 am when the windows are open. Their song so lovely with crescendi conducted by the almighty. I am content to listen with wonder, frequently surprised at the melodies that take the forefront.  The occasional train or plane in the distance providing a drone to support the harmony. Then when I think their play has come to an end, I am pleasantly surprised as new song begins.

One morning a few years ago, during a period of financial concerns, I was listening to the birds. Delighting in the days musical selection, a small useful insight emerged. The birds were singing joyfully with no idea where their next worm would come from. With nothing more than a hodgepodge of twigs and vines for shelter and their lovely song as warning to steer clear, the birds were just being birds. Singing away, distracting me from my concerns, and still surviving.

Looking up I see one struggling with a longish thin leaf that has dried. He is resting on the fence and trying to take this precious housing material to the nest. After his third effort he lets go and returns to his perch just above me to sing of his trials. Or perhaps to celebrate still being alive in this moment. The trio of squirels dancing in the tree tops not ruffling his presence.

I  marvel how such a small animal can produce such volume of sound. I envy how effortlessly the prized possession for the nest was let go of. Can I let go so easily? Sing my song so confidently? Just be who I am?