November Rose

 Sending prayers, love and music on Mom's Birthday.

Mom found my first guitar teacher,

bought me my first guitar,

Loved every note I played,

absolutely loved them all.

She loved me too.

All of me.

Especially when I didn't.

What more could I ask for,

hope for.

Certainly more than I deserve.

Matka Boska.

Yes ...  Yes

Matka Boska - Blessed Mother.

Patient Progress

   Why did this photo attract me?  Why does a piece of music?  Or writing? 

Be it intrigue, wonder or just a sigh of relief,  art certainly helps me make sense of myself and our world as I process this life.  Many thanks for all those who put themselves out there day after day, taking risks, learning and moving our world forward.   Much hides from me, just like this photo loading improperly into the blogging platform.  Yet the different photo retains the taste of the old and also something new.

Thus look, listen, learn and create.  Share without remorse and do so every day.  Patient progress is its' own reward.  Then when your work touches another you too are touched.  In Guitar Craft we say that music makes the musician.  I now know this to be so.   What is making you?  Go to your work, now. 

Photo by Peter James

Heart Strings

Music should go right through you, leave some of itself inside you, and take some of you with it when it leaves. - Henry Threadgill

Sounds like the action of love to me.  As a musician do I cultivate the ability to play in such a way that the heart is stirred?  How might this be?  Do I have a connection with my own heart might be one answer.  Do I have a connection with the listener?  Do I have a connection with something greater? 

May I have the discipline to develop these connections today and always.  If not music, may I at least bring a little love into our World.

Photo by Xanna Ziskey

Matka Boska

Seems like only yesterday since the phone call in the middle of the night from my Father.  He did not know how to say it, nor did I know how to hear him.  Yet he said it, and I heard him ever so deeply.  I'll never forget my Mother.  Later today, my wife & I will gather, light a candle, sit quietly.  I'll play Matka Boska, Blessed Mother, for Mom, for me, and for all Mother's and children.  I am ever so grateful for this life and the gift of Music that enlivens us all.  Mom bought me my first guitar, one much better than I deserved, but she could never say no to me.  What a gift she gave me - life and how to live with love.

The Wonder of Gratitude

Philosophy begins in wonder. Plato

As I completed my practice session playing Matka Boska, a tribute to my mother, to all Mothers,  a sense of gratitude overwhelmed.  Gratitude for life, gratitude for the love my Mother gave me, gratitude for the gifts of living, laughter and art that so many have shared with me. 

Gratitude as the frame for my day, keeps me present, grounded, and awake to the presence of so much that life has to offer  Grateful that my body still has fine motor control to play, that my mind can recall what to play, and that my heart still cares.   One precious breath at a time I can wake up and listen for what life needs.

The new day is upon me.  Time to go and marvel at the beauty and wonder of another opportunity to watch the sunrise from the bottom of the sea.

For the Love of Sound

Photo titled "Magic Light" Created by robokow

Tonight I was a bit wary about playing as my shoulder & neck were still tight this morning. After a lie down I picked up my dumbek. I have not played this lovely drum in some time, yet I always enjoy playing the dumbek when I do. Just listening to the various timbres I can produce on the drum and the always fun placing the hand inside of the goblet to modulate the sound. As I set it down I was reminded of how much I love sounds. Love listening to birds, insects, machines, the fade in of an approaching train as it enters the valley around Harpers Ferry.

Yes, the love of sound. And I love what the sound of music can do to me and to others. So tonight I pick up my guitar and just listen to the sound of seconds being lightly played up and down the neck. So lovely. On to a few different brief improvisations, holding onto nothing, letting the vibrations in. A certain measure of needed freedom.

Some gentle play throughs of material known and some in progress. All for the love of sound.