"It's mostly like I was when I started, just for somebody to show me. I didn't have nobody to show me. I bought an old guitar from another guy for $1.50. Old piece of guitar. But I didn't know the difference too much. I just knowed it was supposed to be a guitar. And I got this boy Willie Wilson to tune it up for me. And so that's the way I started myself. None of them showed me nothing but I just got the sound in my head and I'd just hit on round on it till I found the sound I just like myself."
Son House
My guitar lesson with Mike went well enough, yet at the end of the lesson I felt dissatisfaction due to the nature of the material - mostly theory and the music covered (basic blues shuffle) I learned way back when I started almost 3 years ago. I told Mike this and we discussed it for 15 minutes, and came to the conclusion that the best path would be to jam together during the lesson, minimizing the talking and learning through doing. That sounded good to me, but a couple days later I received an email in response to my CL ad, a guy wanted to jam with me, and he had the studio space downtown to make it happen. I decided that paying $35 for a 45 minute jam with Mike was not better than jamming for free for 90-120 minutes, so I emailed Mike and told him the situation, thanking him for his time and kindness. He wrote back and said he understood, and wished me luck.
I breathed easier, something about music lessons brings a hesitation and fear into me - fear of losing my freedom in relation to the creative beauty of the guitar and music. This feeling is instinctive, but is backed up by stories I have read of famous musicians who had the same problem with music teachers - loss of freedom, the things taught being too constricting and rigid. I understand where the problem arises - teaching an art requires speaking about it, analyzing how things work and don't work, and in a way, the analysis kills the spirit of the art. Joseph from Urbana told me that his gf majored in art, and when she graduated never wanted to do art again!
The next day I received another email from Mike. He understood my desire to play a longer jam session, and so offered a reduced rate of $50 for 2 hours of jamming. He ended the email by writing -
"You are a serious player. Rare and Sacred according to my value system. I am happy to be part of your musical community."
There was no way I could pass up a 2 hour jam with a master guitarist for $50, so I decided to go ahead and jam with Mike once or twice a month. I can ask questions during the jam, and I believe this is the key to learning from a teacher - playing along, asking questions when needed. I suggested getting together this Tuesday, so hopefully all will go well.
I recently ordered a guitar gig bag, when that arrives I plan to make the journey downtown to jam with the other guy.
Guitar practice is still moving in a good direction, making small steps of progress from session to session, which quickly add up. My bending is getting better due to increased finger strength and agility. I am beginning to acquire a touch and feel which gives the bend a nice flow and sound. Vibrato is ever inching closer to where it needs to be. My left wrist is getting quicker and more coordinated, and the sound isn't half bad, but still a long way to go. Guitar phrasing and licks vocabulary is expanding, I discovered last night while jamming to a Clapton/Allman studio session that hitting an out of key note one fret before an in key note and bending into the note works and sounds good. Continuing to work with the metronome for speed and accuracy.
Guitar is getting interesting - I have enough skill and knowledge to make good sounds, but have so much more to learn - the momentum I have makes it easy to practice 2-3 hours a night.
"This time I wisely shied away from organized music theory. Sounds from my head found their way to the guitar. I concentrated on playing and not learning about sharps, flats, time signatures, key changes, and chord structures. I didn't want to be cramped by words."
Stefan Grossman
Monday, October 29, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
Living and Dying
"The birth of a man is the birth of his sorrow. The longer he lives, the more stupid he becomes, because his anxiety to avoid unavoidable death becomes more and more acute. What bitterness! He lives for what is always out of reach! His thirst for survival in the future makes him incapable of living in the present."
Chuang Tzu
I just finished reading my friend Melinda's beautiful blog post about the mysteries of time, fate, and how we end up where we do, and I remembered that I have fallen behind on my own posting. It is not because I have lost the desire to write, on the contrary, after meditating from 5:00-6:30am at the Zendo, I arrive back at the studio with a mind full of clarity. Although somewhat groggy, I have a desire to paint a picture with words. Something about the early morning hour creates a beautiful inner landscape in which to create - it buzzes with energy and light, full of hope and the joy of being alive for another day.
So I am attempting to write a short story. I have noticed that my writing has become more precise and fluid over the past few years, continuing to grow and improve. The few poems I wrote while on the road this year came out better than expected, and when I read them months later, they still seem true and good to my senses. So why not expand and reach out for a further exploration of what writing can express in my life? I am approaching the writing of the story to see how it can alter time and space through imaginary sequences of events. To dig through memories of a specific time and place and write about them in a way which clarifies for myself what really happened, or, to see them from a different angle and view, learning more about myself than I thought possible. The idea of publishing, or having others read it, is a voided concept - I am not pretending to write for other's eyes, I am writing for my own. Not that the story will be understandable to others anyway - this being my first attempt at a short story, it is surely going to be a mess, if it even gets finished at all.
That being said, the writing of it is going better than expected. I have written 5 short (very short) chapters thus far, each one tracing further into a nest of memories which have been dormant for many years. Writing about such a small time period of my life has allowed those memories to breathe again. If I get no further with the story, the attempt will not be a total bust because I was able to alter my consciousness in a small way, reading deeper into my motives and visions. I find it interesting how the story flows from one sequence to another, exhibiting that words can indeed create an imaginary universe of time and space. Of course all the good books I have read through the years have already proven this to me, but it is interesting to watch the sequence unroll from my own hand.
Guitar practice is moving along. I recently put an ad on CL looking for beginning guitarists/musicians to jam with. I got 3 replies so far, one being a guitar teacher who offered to help me reach my music goals. After my negative experiences with two guitar teachers back in Urbana, I am not keen to again put myself into a volatile situation where two egos collide. While I try to keep my ego in check, in certain things, such as the setting of goals and the attempt to complete them, I don't see how to avoid bypassing a will which wants to forge its own path and way - someone who comes along after the goal has been set is going to get in the way of it. However, if I can find the right teacher, where two egos can exist in harmony, I believe I could make progress, and so I have not given up on the idea of following the advice of a music master. I therefore replied to the teacher and explained my situation, and we are going to give it a try. The odds are small that things will turn out as I hope they will, but I will keep trying because I believe in the idea.
The big change, or addition to my life, is meditation. I am practicing every day, in hopes of altering my consciousness so that I can fulfill my life in a proper and meaningful way. I can see clearly that without meditating I will be unable to advance very far. It is hard to change certain habits of the mind, actually, almost impossible, and so the journey and the quest take on the tone of Don Quixote battling windmills - attempting to see more clearly by burrowing deeper into the nature of mind and reality, I flirt with going over the edge of sanity. After adventuring about in the outer world, I now begin a more difficult and perilous task - removing myself from the shadows of the mind to reveal the true shapes and colors of the universe which I find myself living in.
"The teachings reveal to us the possibility of an astounding and finally boundless freedom, which is ours to work for now, in life - the freedom that will enable us to choose our death and so to choose our birth. For someone who has prepared and practiced, death comes not as a defeat but as a triumph, the crowning and most glorious moment of life."
Sogyal Rinpoche
Chuang Tzu
The Way Home, III
I just finished reading my friend Melinda's beautiful blog post about the mysteries of time, fate, and how we end up where we do, and I remembered that I have fallen behind on my own posting. It is not because I have lost the desire to write, on the contrary, after meditating from 5:00-6:30am at the Zendo, I arrive back at the studio with a mind full of clarity. Although somewhat groggy, I have a desire to paint a picture with words. Something about the early morning hour creates a beautiful inner landscape in which to create - it buzzes with energy and light, full of hope and the joy of being alive for another day.
So I am attempting to write a short story. I have noticed that my writing has become more precise and fluid over the past few years, continuing to grow and improve. The few poems I wrote while on the road this year came out better than expected, and when I read them months later, they still seem true and good to my senses. So why not expand and reach out for a further exploration of what writing can express in my life? I am approaching the writing of the story to see how it can alter time and space through imaginary sequences of events. To dig through memories of a specific time and place and write about them in a way which clarifies for myself what really happened, or, to see them from a different angle and view, learning more about myself than I thought possible. The idea of publishing, or having others read it, is a voided concept - I am not pretending to write for other's eyes, I am writing for my own. Not that the story will be understandable to others anyway - this being my first attempt at a short story, it is surely going to be a mess, if it even gets finished at all.
That being said, the writing of it is going better than expected. I have written 5 short (very short) chapters thus far, each one tracing further into a nest of memories which have been dormant for many years. Writing about such a small time period of my life has allowed those memories to breathe again. If I get no further with the story, the attempt will not be a total bust because I was able to alter my consciousness in a small way, reading deeper into my motives and visions. I find it interesting how the story flows from one sequence to another, exhibiting that words can indeed create an imaginary universe of time and space. Of course all the good books I have read through the years have already proven this to me, but it is interesting to watch the sequence unroll from my own hand.
Guitar practice is moving along. I recently put an ad on CL looking for beginning guitarists/musicians to jam with. I got 3 replies so far, one being a guitar teacher who offered to help me reach my music goals. After my negative experiences with two guitar teachers back in Urbana, I am not keen to again put myself into a volatile situation where two egos collide. While I try to keep my ego in check, in certain things, such as the setting of goals and the attempt to complete them, I don't see how to avoid bypassing a will which wants to forge its own path and way - someone who comes along after the goal has been set is going to get in the way of it. However, if I can find the right teacher, where two egos can exist in harmony, I believe I could make progress, and so I have not given up on the idea of following the advice of a music master. I therefore replied to the teacher and explained my situation, and we are going to give it a try. The odds are small that things will turn out as I hope they will, but I will keep trying because I believe in the idea.
The big change, or addition to my life, is meditation. I am practicing every day, in hopes of altering my consciousness so that I can fulfill my life in a proper and meaningful way. I can see clearly that without meditating I will be unable to advance very far. It is hard to change certain habits of the mind, actually, almost impossible, and so the journey and the quest take on the tone of Don Quixote battling windmills - attempting to see more clearly by burrowing deeper into the nature of mind and reality, I flirt with going over the edge of sanity. After adventuring about in the outer world, I now begin a more difficult and perilous task - removing myself from the shadows of the mind to reveal the true shapes and colors of the universe which I find myself living in.
"The teachings reveal to us the possibility of an astounding and finally boundless freedom, which is ours to work for now, in life - the freedom that will enable us to choose our death and so to choose our birth. For someone who has prepared and practiced, death comes not as a defeat but as a triumph, the crowning and most glorious moment of life."
Sogyal Rinpoche
The Way
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Chanting the Way - Dedication and Discipline, Round 2
"The thought of this completely thrilled him. It was like discovering a cancer cure. No more explanations of what art is. No more wonderful critical schools of experts to determine rationally where each composer had succeeded or failed. All of them, every last one of those know-it-alls, would finally have to shut up. This was no longer just an interesting idea. This was a dream."
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
It appears I have returned to the monkish dedication which I began when I was in my early 20's. The changes which meditation brought were startling and mystical, and the cumulative experience I still carry inside my heart. I believe now is the proper time to return to my meditation studies, and so I have been practicing in my studio, at the Garfield Street Zendo, and today, at the 40th Street Buddhist Institute. I set a walking route for the 2.5 miles, and enjoyed yet another sunny and warm day in Eugene as I sauntered through town. Earlier in the day I stopped in at the Zendo and partook in the Sunday meditation, which is at the pleasant hour of 9:30am. At 1:00 I began my walk to the Institute and when I arrived I was greeted by one of the practitioners. He explained what they would be doing from 2:00-4:00, and I was unsure if I should stay or leave. The Institute is home for Tibetan style Buddhism, and this involves a lot of chanting. When the practitioner told me I could sit and breathe and not be expected to chant, I decided to stay, with the idea that I would use the chanting as a meditative music. I took my seat inside the beautiful hall along with a small group of six or seven. I was given two notebooks of chants and prayers as I settled into a western style chair, knowing I could not handle sitting cross-legged for 2 hours. The time went by quickly, and I found myself humming and even chanting a bit, finding it to be relaxing and unforced. After the service ended I was getting ready to leave when the practitioner said that participants are welcome to stay for a meal. Seeing that the group was small, I decided it would be rude to refuse, so took my seat at a table and listened to interesting conversation. There was a bottle of wine served, but I took fruit juice instead. The topics of discussion ranged from politics, conspiracy theories, to radiant heat flooring (which my apartment has). The thing which struck me throughout was that a few of the people were able to flow into normal conversation immediately following an intense 2 hours of meditation. It was as if the meditation had not affected them in the least. I was feeling relaxed and confident due to a peaceful breathing pattern which had emerged during the time spent sitting, and did not feel the need to speak, yet I was quick to comprehend what was being shared. Later, as I was walking home, I had an insight about my meditation practice - it teaches me how to breathe, or, breathe in a way which is good for my health and well being. For some reason I do not breathe well if I do not practice meditation - maybe it is this peaceful, rhythmic breathing which leads to a good and healthy life.
I hope to attend the 5:00am meditation at the Zendo tomorrow - because I do not use an alarm it will be up to my sleeping mind to get me out of bed.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
The Way Home, II
It appears I have returned to the monkish dedication which I began when I was in my early 20's. The changes which meditation brought were startling and mystical, and the cumulative experience I still carry inside my heart. I believe now is the proper time to return to my meditation studies, and so I have been practicing in my studio, at the Garfield Street Zendo, and today, at the 40th Street Buddhist Institute. I set a walking route for the 2.5 miles, and enjoyed yet another sunny and warm day in Eugene as I sauntered through town. Earlier in the day I stopped in at the Zendo and partook in the Sunday meditation, which is at the pleasant hour of 9:30am. At 1:00 I began my walk to the Institute and when I arrived I was greeted by one of the practitioners. He explained what they would be doing from 2:00-4:00, and I was unsure if I should stay or leave. The Institute is home for Tibetan style Buddhism, and this involves a lot of chanting. When the practitioner told me I could sit and breathe and not be expected to chant, I decided to stay, with the idea that I would use the chanting as a meditative music. I took my seat inside the beautiful hall along with a small group of six or seven. I was given two notebooks of chants and prayers as I settled into a western style chair, knowing I could not handle sitting cross-legged for 2 hours. The time went by quickly, and I found myself humming and even chanting a bit, finding it to be relaxing and unforced. After the service ended I was getting ready to leave when the practitioner said that participants are welcome to stay for a meal. Seeing that the group was small, I decided it would be rude to refuse, so took my seat at a table and listened to interesting conversation. There was a bottle of wine served, but I took fruit juice instead. The topics of discussion ranged from politics, conspiracy theories, to radiant heat flooring (which my apartment has). The thing which struck me throughout was that a few of the people were able to flow into normal conversation immediately following an intense 2 hours of meditation. It was as if the meditation had not affected them in the least. I was feeling relaxed and confident due to a peaceful breathing pattern which had emerged during the time spent sitting, and did not feel the need to speak, yet I was quick to comprehend what was being shared. Later, as I was walking home, I had an insight about my meditation practice - it teaches me how to breathe, or, breathe in a way which is good for my health and well being. For some reason I do not breathe well if I do not practice meditation - maybe it is this peaceful, rhythmic breathing which leads to a good and healthy life.
I hope to attend the 5:00am meditation at the Zendo tomorrow - because I do not use an alarm it will be up to my sleeping mind to get me out of bed.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Reflected
The Way Home
I am settling into my new life in Eugene. I have a few goals which keep me busy morning noon and night. I have begun to meditate at the Eugene Zendo. Wednesday I woke at 4:36am and walked the mile to the Zendo soon after, missing the first session of the 5:00am zazen. Later that afternoon I was wiped out from the early morning rise and fell asleep in the easy chair while reading. I skipped Thursday's zazen but awoke today at 4:15 and made it in time to do the full 90 minutes. The session ends at 6:30, just as the sun is rising, so the walk home is quite the enchantment. I brought my camera along and made a few pictures - I see better after a long meditation. The morning was cold - ! - I had 4 shirts and a mid range jacket on (which I bought at Goodwill for $7) but my hands were shaky with the camera and my feet went numb. When I got home I took a hot shower and then ate a breakfast of sushi, yogurt, and tea. When I got out of the shower I noticed my reflection in the steamed mirror and was inspired to make a photograph - not everyday I make a picture of myself, and more rare when I do it without clothing on!
I have been spending my afternoons walking, running, and exercising. This week my energy hit a low point, I almost feel like I did a few years ago when lack of energy made me too lethargic to want to do anything. I stopped taking B12 when I got to Thailand, so maybe my body has run out of it again - time to get to the vitamin store to buy B12.
In the evenings I read and play guitar. I have made more progress, the speed work with the metronome is making my fingers and sense of timing stronger and more accurate. I was jamming last night and created a speed riff which was faster and cleaner than anything I have done. It is ridiculous how much progress I am making, as I don't really deserve it because I practice only 1-2 hours a night, and sometimes not at all. Oh well, I won't complain about my good luck!
Monday, October 1, 2012
The Absurdity of Walking Alone
"The truth cannot be contained by any word whatsoever. The truth can only be experienced. The truth can be lived, but there is no way to say it". Osho
My first day in the studio - moments of excitement, wonder, and surprisingly, waves of nostalgia which trigger memories of Chiang Mai, Urbana, Chicago, most of which elicit a bittersweet sadness. Perhaps this swift moving sadness is a result of untying the anchor to Illinois and the people who remain there. Memories of Rachel resemble a rich tapestry, a piece in a museum which I return to, each time finding details which I had missed from the previous visit.
I am still without a key because the local hardware store clerk cut it sloppy, so for now I live as if in Portland, leaving the door unlocked and wrapping positive thoughts upon the house. On the walk to the hardware store I cemented a bucolic route which will lead me to Woodfield Plaza (Market of Choice/Sunrise Asian Grocery), parts of which lead me through quiet allies and byways.
Stepping outside the door to throw out the trash, I find this at my feet
My first day in the studio - moments of excitement, wonder, and surprisingly, waves of nostalgia which trigger memories of Chiang Mai, Urbana, Chicago, most of which elicit a bittersweet sadness. Perhaps this swift moving sadness is a result of untying the anchor to Illinois and the people who remain there. Memories of Rachel resemble a rich tapestry, a piece in a museum which I return to, each time finding details which I had missed from the previous visit.
I am still without a key because the local hardware store clerk cut it sloppy, so for now I live as if in Portland, leaving the door unlocked and wrapping positive thoughts upon the house. On the walk to the hardware store I cemented a bucolic route which will lead me to Woodfield Plaza (Market of Choice/Sunrise Asian Grocery), parts of which lead me through quiet allies and byways.
Lawrence Alley on the way to Woodfield Plaza
Odd sensations to be living in solitude once again. Spending no time alone in a house for 30 days caused me to alter certain habits and routines which I am looking forward to returning to - the afternoon nap, getting up before 7:00am, making meals with slow deliberation, sitting in late afternoon dusklight pondering the days activities. Having stepped out onto the ledge of otherness, it will be a relief to return to the quiet safety of my being.
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