Tuning

Music creates the Musician. 

Guitar Craft Aphorism

Those four words encapsulate my experience to date.  Music also heals this Musician and for that I am grateful.  May a listener find something of value in what I play and find the juice to carry on another day.  Some days life is hard; I feel off track.  Though I may not feel like practicing, the pull of Music is there; calling me gently, surely.  Sitting still, I tune and then caress her strings.  As the vibrations swell my heart expands and the path clears.  Slowly the musician is tuned, ever so slowly; doing nothing but playing. 


Photo by Skeletelmess

Tuning to Joy

Bringing order to the shelves in my practice studio.  Memories abound as I shift books, files, CD-R's, cassettes, & floppies around.  A stack of photo's & cards from some other unresolved encounter with entropy grab my attention.  One particularly favorite photo is of my granddaughter and I on a karoake stage in Penang, Malaysia.  So much joy captured in this photo, as we were playing around on this empty stage with enough vigor that you might believe we were actually performing until you notice there is no mic plugged into the cables.  In a sense we were performing though, for the camera and for the rest of our family.   Entering into a creative moment with what talent we had and plenty of innocence, joy and love in our delivery.

May I carry this day onto the stage with me again and again.  One thing from my experience as a performer and as a listener, is that when the heart is tuned to higher aspirations, everything changes.  How to tune my heart remains an ongoing practice.  How to touch the innocence and sincerity of a child and tune my concerns to these wavelengths?  How to be spontaneous and free in my playing?  How to bask in the sunshine of love?  A wise man once told me to begin where you are.  Breathing in ...

What Tunes Me to Love?

The heart is the thousand-stringed instrument. Our sadness and fear come from being out of tune with Love. ~ Hafiz

What tunes me to love?  Meditation, prayer, contemplation, insight, sangha, music, the touch of a dear one.  As Hafiz so eloquently expresses "sadness and fear come from being out of tune with love. " I wonder if it is also from being out of time with love?  My fear is seldom in the present moment, nor is my sadness.  To bring my instrument into tune, I must be there in the moment listening, just listening.  Sadness and fear are powerful emotions, watered by family, community, country, and life itself. Yet as one wise sage has said "in the end there are three things that last - faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love." So again I ask what tunes me to love?  When do I tune?

When a piece of music touches someone, this becomes part of their memory, life, and being.  One of a multitude of subtle shifts and insights forming one life, yet forming all of life.  Seek truth in yourself, and  truth will manifest in your art.  In the ocean of my heart there are depths that words cannot touch.  The language which expresses that which is inexpressible - music - can stir these depths, bring them into light, and allow them to heal and blossom into understanding.  And as I have been taught in the Fourth Awareness - "We are aware that understanding is the very foundation of love." 


As cycles of suffering surround us, we pause, tuning our instrument carefully with the breath.  Finding the present moment, finding love, tuning and turning towards love.  There is no end in mind.  There just is.  So I breathe, I tune, I play my notes listening to the melodies of life, pausing to tune as needed.  Becoming lost in the flow, distracted, and then the muse reminds me to tune again, to begin again, to connect again with life.  Will I ever stay in tune?  What a question as I smile. Never will I stay in tune, so I practice.  To tune a thousand strings takes a lifetime, needs a craft of loving care, requires help from a Sangha, and beyond.

Tuning

Catching up on some tasks after a long day at the office, I see the time is 7:45pm.  Thinking that I better get practicing,  I wash my hands.  I notice I'm rushing, my breath is shallow, my body tired, and my back has a little ache.  Slow down I hear myself thinking.  If I want the results like I have had a few nights this week, I need to bring my body and mind into the same space.  Not rushing in my thought nor my body, but as one being.  An Alexander Technique lie down seems to be the way to begin tonight.  Tune my primary instrument, my body.  Let go of the stress and strains of this day and begin again.

When my back contacted the floor there was a bit of a surge of ache in a familiar spot. This passed quickly as the muscles began to relax.  Then the noise of my mind increased, or perhaps I was just able to hear it better.  My mind, or my body, or both wanted me to get up from the lie down.  Too much to do, what about this, and tomorrow, oh I forgot - mindless yammering going on and on.  Slowly as my back began to relax , the roar of my mind lessened, and as the chatter slowed, the muscles lengthened and the mind slowed and ...  My chest appeared to let go of something and my feelings began to calm.  Slowly my being was becoming integrated once again; rather than this overdriven mish-mash of twitching muscles and beguiling thoughts.  Slowly flowing towards harmony, I became content with the process, though the occasional thought to get up and begin playing did arrive.  I simply ignored these thoughts and continued to allow my body to relax, lengthen, and widen and for my thoughts to slow down. 

As I rose from the floor I was tempted to resume this blog post, but instead a simply moved a bit in a playful manner and then picked up my guitar.  Improvising a simple melody, while I enjoyed the sound of my Godin guitar.  "On a journey to nowhere" as the song goes, I was enjoying this simple act.  I recalled an intention I formulated earlier today and smiled.  I may have arrived at the form to support and explore my practice for the coming days.  Playing around with improvisation,  I was happy that I did not move directly into playing a piece.  No need to trigger potential habitual responses in my self as I begin to play.

Pausing to reconnect, I then moved onto playing Here We Are, which always brings joy to me as it was inspired by my granddaughter.  From here I played through Gathered Hearts, Dancin' Free, and Stepping Stones.  An hour had passed, one in which through the simple technique of an AT lie down, and doing what I loved, had changed my day for the better.