Where is the Edge?

Today I had a luxurious morning of reading, journaling, Qi Gong, and sitting which inspired my thinking about habits.  Afterwards I had a  leisurely breakfast with my wife.  We spent some time together, and then she departed to be with friends for the weekend.  I relished the precious time I had with my guitar in the afternoon.  So invigorationg to be rested and feel that there is an expanse of time in front of me to devote to music.  I worked on the fingerings for the opening section of Clouds Never Die, and then worked on the progressions in the second section.  Then a new take on the third section materialized.  A light lunch followed by a brisk walk in the bright sunshine.  Such a treat to have done all of this by 4pm.  Back home for reading and a nap.

While reviewing the revised second section, I was still not satisfied with how this develops.  Brian Eno's Oblique Strategy - Where is the Edge? came to mind.  The logical initial answer is where the music stops flowing for me.  A bit deeper thinking about the edge however led to the possibility of the issue being earlier in the section. That the harmonic development was dictating a particular direction.  Or is the edge a result of my guitar technique or knowledge of music theory?  Perhaps I had reached the edge of my imagination in this musical situation?  Maybe the space that the piece is creating had an edge that needed a broader view?

As I played more I asked myself - Do clouds have edges?  Are edges distinct or fuzzy?  Not surprisingly, as the initial inspiration of this piece arose when I was playing around with Haiku's last month, this arrived:

                            Edges leading where?
                    Clouds obscuring then uncover
                             Music whispers by.

I decided to play the piece from the beginning and listen for the musical edge that needed to be explored.  As I began playing and I came to the end of the first section, my hand moved to a chord from the third section.  Suddenly a new take on the first section was unfolding and I was moved by what I was hearing.  After playing with this for about 40 minutes, I was unable to find the chord that would resolve the section and my left hand was fatiguing.  A little house ordering, and then I decided to do an AT lie down.  My back was happy for this and after a few minutes I heard a possibility of the resolution.  When I returned to the guitar this new chord completed the section.  The issue still resides in the next section, but I'll leave this for tomorrows work.


Ever so grateful for the time and space to devote to the guitar.  I could get used to this.

What edge are you exploring? Describe it, poke it, expand your view field of this edge, of all edges.

Gentleness Yields

Tonight we had Qi Gong class.  Over and over the instructor reminded us that Qi Gong is gentle, that it is not about forcing; just gentle movements coordinated with our breath.  At a few points, I began to sense I was being overwhelmed, and I just paused, directed my thinking, and let go of an emotional reaction.  No need to be frustrated, just be gentle in my learning the new forms. 

Arriving home I recalled the thought that arose during class, of how gentle can I be in my approach to the guitar?  So little effort is required to hold a string down with my left hand and to pluck this with my right.  As I began to visit where the musical idea had led to last night, I recalled the line of " float on the air of ambiguity."  Could I be gentle as I explored the possibilities of this new section, which has a structure and a harmonic direction?

After 15 - 20 minutes of playing with the notion, the idea began to unfold.  When I pushed I lost it.  Pausing to direct via AT, I found the path again.  Slowly exploring, releasing my hold on finding the "answer," and maintaining a sense of myself.  Gently probing, moving in an area that did not come to fruition, and then trusting I explored more.  Employing this gentle trusting process a new section arrived.  I played this a few times, and then rested a few minutes before notating what I had.

While notating the instruction to proceed gently arose again.  I paused, checking in with my body, and again directed with AT.  Smiling I completed the notation, played the part, and then put my guitar away. Tomorrow is another day to live, work and play.  But tonight I saw that gentleness yields results.

How can you be gentle in your pursuits? 


Photo by Salva Barbera

Clouds Never Die

Last night I ended my practice with learning the first section of a sketch I made based on the Haiku form earlier this month.  Tonight this was where I began my practice.  After learning the first section, I began working on the transitions in the B section.  A thought arose of extending the A section, I played with this and was happy with the results.  I gave this piece a working title of "Clouds Never Die."

After completing my session, I enjoyed the company of my wife.  As I was preparing to go to bed, I reviewed the A section in my mind.  I'm still not familiar enough with the B section to hear it without playing.  While making notes in my journal, I reviewed the A section again.  The thought arose to return to the A section after B completes and to invert the second chord of the phrase.  Then just follow, allow, and float on the air of ambiguity.  Now I know how I'll begin tomorrows session.

How will you begin yours?


Photo by Petrov Escarião

Unwind

Unwind and then don't rewind.  How might I state this positively.  Unwind and then stay present with my use.  That was easy, at least the wording.   "Staying present" is an ongoing aspiration, that is fortunately supported with practices and the loving support of others.  The actuality of Being present remains elusive.

Today I did unwind at last.  The stresses and strains of the past months melting under the loving and skillful hands of Robert True.  Come November as the holiday season begins, my professional duties ramp up in response to the season, as well as the ongoing family celebrations and preparations.  We also enter the "survey window" where I work.   Our annual licensure inspection becomes due, and this is a time when all the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed.  The anticipation mounts within each department and individual, and with this anticipation, anxiety builds in otherwise good people.  Toss in the added reports to wrap up our fiscal year on December 31st and I am in over my head.

The days and weeks become long.  The end of year paperwork was filed and then the state arrived the last Monday.   Rising early to practice Qi Gong and my sitting kept my emotions pretty much at bay, and allowed for a calm and centered demeanor.  But I was eating lots of sugar and holding in and onto certain reactions.  All of which is fine for the short term, but is not the way I wish to live my life.  When the state left on Friday, the relief was palpable.  However my body was wound up. Yesterday I phone Robert and set an appointment for today.

At one point during the massage Robert asked me if I was stubborn.  An emphatic yes was my reply.  Then I attempted to soften this and restate that I am persistent.  Both are true.  Not only did he release my muscles, but offered me an area to explore.  Always something.   I came home and napped, waking to the wonderful aroma of an eggplant and potato curry my wife had made.  After lunch I read and dozed off again.  As I thought of moving to my guitar, I reflected on the opportunity I had in front of me.  My body, mind, and emotions were all relatively calm and neutral.  Obviously this has not been the case for some time.  How to allow this neutrality to generate new information on how I use myself when I play?  In a sense to remain unwound.

I began with an "exercise" or practice taught to me by Pedro de Alcantara of using my hands on my hips to generate a simultaneous downward release of my legs and an upward release of my torso.  After putting on my guitar, I worked with the Alexander Technique directions to invite in length and width.  Playing Gathered Hearts, I thought " I am free," when the music came to a rest.  From here I moved onto working with Kinnara, a piece with many rests and alternating slow and faster sections.  Again giving the directions and thinking " I am free."  While looking at a photo of the Zen Master Thich Naht Hahn, I thought " I am free when in motion," then " I am free when I play."  The latter a bit loaded perhaps as a striving and non-accepting of where I am.

As I played I allowed the rests to be longer than usual and worked with my thinking.  At times removing my hands from the guitar and giving the AT directions again.  No hurry, now where to go, just be with the guitar.  I began working with inhibition during the first fast section and arrived at a wonderful place where I was affectionately holding the guitar as a dear friend.  I played the fast section slower than usual, pausing to direct, and then faster than required.  Observing a slight tensing of my neck, I paused for a lie down.  An area that Robert worked on extensively in my back earlier today,  releasing into the floor. 

Resuming my playing I moved onto Stepping Stones.  How would Thich Naht Hahn play this piece I wondered?  Listening to the notes, releasing my arms, neck and legs.  Returning to Pedro's "exercise" again to invite in opposition.  Noticing the occasional pull of my neck, I would pause.  Direct, release, inhibit and begin again.  Just enjoying the act of playing, I found the tone sweetening.  That elusive moment when the guitar sings beneath my fingers, is what keeps me coming back.  I realized that in the fifty minutes I had been practicing that a lot fewer notes than normal had been played.  My presence with the notes, the sections, and perhaps with music was greater than usual. Now that is I think is "good use of the self."

How are you using your self in your practice?  Why?

Of Course it's the Neck

This morning when I woke, I felt as if I had been run over.  A long stressful week professionally, ending with an 11 hour day Friday.  The sonic assault of my professional environment seems to take a great toll on me these days.  After rising I wrote briefly and read a few pages from Thich Nhat Hanh's Breathe, You Are Alive: The Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing, which  I've been studying since October.  Grateful for the day off, I was in a place where I just did not want to decide what to do today.  Fortunately I have my morning routine, and my loving wife with whom I practice.

She reviewed the Blue Heron Walking form from the Qi Gong class which I could not attend this week.  Becoming confused with the form, I wanted to let go of Qi Gong altogether.  Fortunately, she continued and I followed.  Taking us through forms which I am familiar, slowly my body let go of the stress and found release.  Towards the end of the session, we were standing and pausing, allowing the Qi to consolidate.  I found myself in a slightly unfamiliar stance, that had a sense of rightness.  I savored this moment for a bit as she began moving through the word for the day.  Smiling I began to move again, knowing that I can not hold onto anything, and just must continue to arrive in each moment.  An extremely pleasant contrast to the last couple hours of work yesterday.

Later in the day I was unclear with what to do next, so I rested.  After waking from my nap, I stayed in bed and meditated on the body.  Finding again the area of discomfort on my right forearm, I noticed a tightness below the right shoulder that appeared to be working to "hold" the shoulder in position.  As I just now tried to locate this area, I noticed the relationship between this "muscle" below the shoulder and movement I found myself doing while playing tonight.

Revisiting an exercise from Pedro de Alcanatara's excellent book Indirect Procedures: A Musician's Guide to the Alexander Technique (Clarendon Paperbacks) I was putting a rest in during the second beat of a measure.  This brief inhibition of my regular playing, has proved illuminating when I worked with this previously.  I was also playing the piece slower than usual, focusing on observing the use of my right hand.  As I approached a section that I generally play with great intensity, I found my head slightly scrunching down and to the right.  Certainly not a surprise that a poor use of the neck would impact my playing from an Alexander viewpoint, but I was fascinated with finding this particular quirk on my own.  As I continued working in this manner, I noticed this again in relationship to a "mistake."  Subtle and as I write this I sense a dropping in my shoulder for some reason.  Pausing to inhibit my typing and thinking through the AT directions.  As I scrunch the neck and slightly lift the shoulder, I sense the "muscular holding" previously referred to.  Playing with this again there appears to be a habit of this "scrunch of neck and lift of shoulder " in my use.  No idea how this habit developed or why.  Now at least I have a sense of what I am working with. 


                           Photo by Luca Biada.

A Day's Symmetry

                               Photo by Pedro De Alcantara

At the end of my Qi Gong session this morning, I noticed stiffness in my lower back.  Instead of my usual morning sitting, I decided that an AT lie down might serve me better.  During the lie down, I contemplated my body, giving the AT directions and hoping the stiffness would release. When I rose from the floor the stiffness was still present. 

After dinner and rest, I moved to the basement.  Beginning with an AT lie down, I recalled last week when I choose to not move to the guitar immediately after the lie down.  I thought it might be good to disrupt this habit again.  Then a thought arose of where to take the musical idea I was working with last evening.  Ah, the ever shifting mind, generating excuses - real and imagined.  After completing the lie down, I choose to run through some Qi Gong forms.  Something about the symmetry of lie down to Qi Gong in the morning, coupled with the reverse in the evening seemed right.  A few minutes later, I put on my guitar.

 Improvising with the idea, I enjoyed the exploration.  Nothing definitive arrived, but the musical landscape was broadened.  As I thought of my friend, Mal, a haiku began to form.  I took a break to play with this and then returned to the guitar.  Enjoying the freedom to move between and explore, music, movement, and words.  Gently untangling the stories I tell myself, the habits that for better or worse serve me, and the possibilities of my life.  May their energy serve the Creative.

To exist is a habit I do not despair of acquiring. - E. M. Cioran

Kindness

Kindness was the word for the day I chose as I completed my Qi Gong session this morning. My body happy to be moving with ease again, after four days of illness.  Hopeful that I might not be totally wiped out after work, like the past two evenings.  Grateful that I was kind to myself during the illness, rested, and yet did enjoy 15- 20 minutes of playing each evening.  This playing was without demand, just the simple act of enjoying my instrument and flirting with music.

As I went through my day, a few opportunities arose to reflect on my actions related to kindness.  After all the Dali Lama has stated " My religion is kindness."  Such a simple way of thinking, just difficult to live. Good stuff for me to think about.

 As I began to play tonight I was improvising, a sweet extended melody arose.  Another flirt with the muse, another opportunity to learn.  Thinking about our friend Malcolm Davis who recently departed this life, I began exploring to see if some notes might speak to me of Mal.  A melody arose and flowered a bit; sweet, short - like life.  Tomorrow I'll visit this again, provided I wake up.