Last night
at Young Urban Zen, Hannah turned 29, and played us a beautiful piece by Bach
on her cello. Following this we sat
zazen, after which she played the same piece again. She was curious to know if and how it was
different to listen to her music before and after meditation.
I don’t have
the right words, but yes, there was a difference. I was present the first time, more so the
second. I truly, deeply appreciated her
music both times. The second time, I
felt more with her. But the language to describe that heightened
sense of being-with evades me.
When my descriptive powers fail me I sometimes imagine scenarios. If she had
botched it a dozen times, I still would have enjoyed the second time around more
than the first. I find it interesting that my enjoyment of her music after zazen comes not only from the beauty of the music, but from this heightened sense of being-with: from that heightened sense, I would enjoy the music more, even if it is of 'lesser' quality. In the zendo, I sometimes feel the same way about the sounds coming from the street, the smell of the incense, and my other perceptions. The second time, I was seeing
and enjoying a bigger picture than just the sound of the music. I heard the music, but more importantly heard
her, was very aware of her being and of her being moving through the music. At one point I felt like I heard tension in
her, but I wasn’t holding onto to any perceptions, just feeling what arose. I also heard more of myself. There was more feeling and less thinking, and
with less thinking, more available to feel.
If Hannah
had botched it all up and felt badly about it the first time, I think I would
have felt badly as well. Or if I had
looked up and seen her lost in a musical ecstasy the first time, I would have
had some visceral reaction: wow! But if
she had botched it up the second time and felt badly, I would not have felt
badly with her – I just would have seen her and been present with that, but it
wouldn’t have transferred to me.
Similarly, if I had seen her in some musical reverie the second time, I
wouldn’t have had any wow! kind of reaction – I simply would have seen it and
loved it.
My
experience of zazen is that it strengthens the integrity of my being: zazen
helps me be very much myself, helps me see things clearly and be close to
things without getting stuck to them. It
gives me a deeper empathy that does not involve getting pulled into someone
else's world. I felt this empathy while listening to Hannah
play the second time. This evening we
also read Suzuki Roshi’s Burn Yourself
Completely – along those lines, I would say that the various internal
reactions I had while listening after zazen left less traces.
Thank you for your reflections, Lynn. It's really interesting to hear the differences for you between your first and second listening, and the kind of receptivity you felt each time.
ReplyDeleteSomething that never ceases to surprise me is how different the emotional experiences of performer versus audience can be. Often when I've heard from people in my audience that they were particularly moved by a performance, it was a performance where I felt less emotionally involved. And sometimes the reverse is true as well.
I realize that my own emotions can get in the way of the flow of the music- that if I can quiet my "self" and my feelings about the piece (and certainly my feelings and judgements about how the performance is going), I remove obstacles, and the music can flow that much more freely. For me that's a big part of what's coming up as I reflect on "leaving no trace".
Allowing my "self" to be more still and quiet paradoxically seems to mean increasing my awareness of my self, but on a physical rather than a mental level. If I keep a part of my awareness on my physical sensations while I'm playing cello (or speaking, or listening to music, or listening to someone speak), I'm actually getting out of the way more than if I become completely absorbed in the activity.
It sounds as though your experience the second time was similar to that- you listened empathically without taking on my emotional state.