PEACE WITHIN YOU

The semester is finishing up; this coincides with MU236’s (Honors Intro to Music History) and the World Music Projects. This is a component to the curriculum I was challenged to build upon arriving at JSU’S to keep Accreditation as part of NASM standing.

 

At first I was a little overwhelmed at the idea of building curriculum that was not a major part of my own studies at Indiana University. Nor was there a substantial amount of World Music in the textbook, The Enjoyment of Music by Forney and Machlis, our required text for the class (unless you count Zydeco, Mariachi, or a little Chinese Traditional). Music most of the students were familiar with from eating ethnic cuisine.

 

I must admit, although we are a global community I was still naive to the relevance or the impact it would have on me.

One day while researching lecture notes on the Whirling Dervishes in Islamic Sufism I had a student knock on my office door. I was listening to the music while writing, in an effort to stay inspired. The student inquired what I was listening to and why. After I answered, the student, who is a member of ROTC programs, said “so when I hear this I am supposed to shoot.”

And like all moments of Fate’s Intervention in my life, the relevance smacked me in the face. For all those who do not know me personally, please note- I support all of our troops. My comment stems from my own fear of war and the use of music/art as propaganda.

With new vigor I continued my research. The library took on my challenge and purchased music from around the world so students could research and peer teach about cultures they discovered just as I had.

This fall, in my continued research I spent a considerable amount of time with music from Africa. The music from the countries Congo and Sudan, war torn lands, not always popular in media discussions. I did well with the Congo, focusing on Soukus and the development of the Rumba, dance that has become popular in the West.

But the music from Sudan left me a little personally shaken. The considerable

government censorship made finding the tribal music difficult to locate. And when I did locate tribal music the text “When the elephants fight the grass gets trampled”, made reference to the civil war in Sudan from the years between 1950 - 2005. Call me tender hearted, but it left me a little raw.

This coincided with the beginning of the holiday season, a time in our culture of generosity of spirit, and the goal of “Peace on Earth”, a concept difficult to locate while researching guerilla war fare and imprisonment/murder of artists for not adhering to an 11 pm, no music making curfew.

Through my continued meditation, I was able to tap into my greater self and a small sense of peace. I realized maybe if we all create a little peace within ourselves we step closer to the dream of peace on earth. So this year, I wish for all to be one with the “Peace within You”.

For all the creative entrepreneurs who are curious where my inspiration for this blog came from:
Listen to a sample of the Sudanese music Daloka bet el Mal

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

A few days ago I had A DAY, not just any day, but a day that started out as “One of those days…” My printer broke, reeds broke, I had the wrong directions to a gig, and when I stopped to get gas (and directions)- the pump was broken (which I only found out after it had taken my credit card info. It was an Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day kind of day.

 

Usually I try to counteract these kinds of days with coffee, with a trying-to-get-through-it attitude, and with a sigh. And in all honesty, (typed in a whisper) a lot of silent swearing and throwing my hands up in the air- almost like a sign of defeat to the Gods.

 

But this day, I tried a new approach: I let go. There was too much happening that I couldn’t control, sending me in new directions, and the tighter I gripped to my own agenda the worse I felt.

 

As I let go, a sense of tension in my body was released, my breath returned, and my ability to live in the moment returned. I laughed at my own “up tight nature” and that lessons appear in odd shapes. It seems that this lesson was: nonattachment.

 

I’d recently been reading the magazine Yoga Journal and there was a snippet by Kate Holcombe where she explains the ancient wisdom of Ishvara pranidhana: nonattachment.

 

This is wisdom I struggle with as a performing artist. I spend weeks preparing, practicing, creating reeds for the moment of the performance only to release the outcome of the performance: aka nonattachment? Deep breath.

 

But then I had the wisdom of my mother to help balance it out. As a child my mother said that art is like a bird that one holds in their hand. If you try to hold it too tightly, it is crushed and dies. But if you keep your hand open it can rest there and inspire you.

 

So I let go of trying to hold to tightly to the day and my own agenda. I’m working on letting go of creating the perfect performance but allowing it to BE, just as it is - and maybe that is perfection.

And I keep opening my hand so that I might be visited by the creative spirit, giving it a safe place to land.

 

For all the creative entrepreneurs who are curious where my inspiration for this blog came from:

“When faced with a challenge a helpful mind set can be found in the concept of Ishvara pranidhana or nonattachment to the fruits of one’s actions. As the ancient sage Patanjali says in 2:1 of Yoga Stura, Ishvara pranidhana can be powerful practice that affects the way we approach every action we take. Patanjali advises us to focus on the quality of the act rather than on its outcome, leaving the “fruits” of our actions to something greater. From this perspective, everything we do becomes an opportunity for practice… Regardless of the outcome, the mind is calm, clear and present because our joy comes from the act itself, rather than the outcome.” -Kate Holcombe

THE TEXTURE OF SILENCE

It’s been over a month since my last post. It is not for a lack of thoughts or inspiration. I have been caught in the texture of silence.

 

As a musician, I spend almost all of my time making sound. Bright sound, Rough sound, Quiet sound, Sensual sound… But as my art progresses I have become increasingly captivated by the texture of no sound, the texture of the rest or breath mark.

 

This lack of sound has always been a topic of discussion. Throughout my studies it has been referred to as silence, or pause. But as I was canning tomatoes this summer (a Quiet and Meditative time for me) I realized that silence has texture, just as sound has texture.

One of my tomato plants silently blooming.

This has provoked new imagery for me. A rest is no longer a pause. And a breath mark is not just a space to breathe. There is texture to the rest and to the time of the rest. Rests can be Arrogant, Questioning, or Robust- an emotion so strong it feels tangible. And the emotion can give way to texture; a moment so Thick it feels like a humid summer day OR maybe it is Rough like gritty sand paper.

During my last solo live performance, I realized all of these moments of textured non-sound are heightened by the human experience. By the human experience, I mean- the camaraderie with the audience in an onstage moment, the adrenaline that alters the perception of time and texture- and the texture added to “silence” by the audience.

I have a feeling that this is only the beginning of my thoughts on non-sound but I break my Blog silence to open my thoughts- and find the texture of sound and non-sound equally.

For all the creative entrepreneurs who are curious where my inspiration for this blog came from:

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.”

-Mother Teresa

A MUSICAL MUTT

I am not from Alabama, nor as a child did I ever say, “When I grow up I am going to move to Alabama.” How I landed in Alabama is usually the first question people ask me when they realize I don’t have a Southern Drawl. So for all the curious people I haven’t had the pleasure of explaining myself to, this seems an appropriate first blog.

 

Put Simply, my family is full of artists or as I call them creative entrepreneurs. (Yes, I’m snobby about the term artists. Because we aren’t cutting off our ears or starving as the modern romantic theory would have us.) Together we cultivated a belief that I would travel and move with my career. I would blow around in the wind like seeds from a dandelion, landing where I belonged, for as long as I continued learning and growing. I, as all members of my family, was and am still encouraged to seek adventure and destiny.

 

So when Jacksonville State University offered me a job to teach double reeds and music history in 2007, I uprooted from my tenure track job in the high altitude mountains of Utah’s Snow College to become a seed, planted in the rich red dirt of Alabama.

 

It is only fair to say that I moved to Alabama with expectations. Expectations that were born and cultivated through hours of reading novels. My vision was romanticized into THE South, a land where the air and politics were thick, where people drank mint juleps and used colloquialisms daily like “give me sum sugah”.

 

These expectations remind me of people’s expectations about my life in THE West. Upon meeting new people I am usually asked- how did I survive and travel? At this point I look a little shocked as they reference fording rivers, hunting game and the large levels of dysentery. It appears The Oregon Trail computer game was played in schools all over the United States, not just Oregon.

 

Societal expectations aside (because I could go on for hours about the affinity for Football, Southern Beauty Pageants, Baptist zeal, and the phrase “bless their hearts”), I also moved to continue to grow as an artist and cultivate my sound.

 

I find music from each location has a unique sound (timbre) and their use of rhythm and phrasing differs based on their speech. As a society, we reference these linguistic differences by saying, “they have an accent”. My desire was to create a musical global accent, to create sounds that are universal, adaptable, and resonant with a broad audience of all cultures and backgrounds. For this reason, I have taken every opportunity that came my direction; performing in Mexico with less than 2 days notice, jumping on a bike to perform in chapels on the coast of Spain, and taking artist residencies in the wilderness of Canada. When the offer came to move to the Deep South, I believe it was the next step in adding colors and textures to my art. In my inner thoughts this sounded like, “I’m going to learn how to play bassoon with a Southern Drawl.”

 

The realistic follow up question is- have I learned to play with a Southern Drawl? I can only say that at my last Northern gig (about a month ago) I was asked why I had an accent, yet my students would argue I don’t sound “Suth-an”. Maybe I have landed a bit in-between, a mix of all of my global adventures. Or, as my inner thoughts say- “I’m becoming a veritable musical mutt.”

For all the creative entrepreneurs who are curious where my inspiration for this blog came from:

 

“Do you have the patience to wait ‘til your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving ‘til the right action arises by itself? The master doesn’t seek fulfillment. Not seeking, not expecting, she is present and can welcome all things.”

-Tao Te Ching