Notes from the Field

I have had my share of tragedy and sadness in life. Not significantly more than most and much less then many. My point is not to get sympathy, but to share a few things I have figured out.


Limited resources due to unforseen life events taught me at a relatively early age that experiences are better things to pursue than possessions. Experiences cannot be stolen by thieves or lost through carelessness, or divorce, or destroyed in a hurricane, or repossessed by the bank.


So I continued on in smugness, acquiring many really great really cool experiences and feeling accomplished.


Then I was hit over the head by my experience with elderly family members. I learned, with a real shock, that even experiences are vulnerable, and can be lost. One well traveled family member told me, as dementia knocked on her door, that instead of family and travel pictures from her past, we should show her cool pictures of all kinds of exotic places and just tell her she was there.


But we are not left with nothing. We have the moment. The infinite moment. And in that moment we have it. That the moment is not permanent or indestructible does not subtract from the infinite joy we can have in that moment.


Being loved is such a moment. Coffee with a friend is such a moment, and if you don’t like your blissful moments dependant on the arbitrary and capricious behavior of others, there are the moments available in great literature.


Well, getting around to the point, and its about time too, we musicians have some unique access to infinite moments. We can play music just about whenever we want, and conjure up a kind of indestructible wealth. A wealth of sudden beauty, and sudden joy.


A tune is a kind of adventure, with wonderful moments. We can hang on a dominant seventh chord waiting seemingly forever to be resolved, and after coming back to earth with the tonic we can just get back on that water slide again. And again.


We can play music with friends, and share the immersion. To collectively dissolve into the whole ensemble, momentarily losing our selves, and becoming one with the tune. To suddenly realize that the duality of self and other is and can be a myth. An infinite moment in a finite amount of time.


And there is no better moment than in a heated jam to be surprisingly capable of raising a smile on another musicians face, suddenly sharing an appreciation. Or even to raise a smile or even a tear from an audience member, and create a momentary connection with total stranger, every bit as meaningful as any other connections but for its duration. Impermanent beauty like that of an ice sculpture.


And we can surprise ourselves with sudden competence, realizing suddenly we have not consulted the sheet music for half a page, or that we nailed that fast part without thinking about it, or looking down and seeing our left hand fingers doing such amazing gymnastics we wonder if it is our own left hand.


Or the otherworldly beauty of a new tune just learned, just captured, just achieved. Being there while the tune is reincarnated into the sonic dimension, by our own arm and heart and brain.


Look, it is real hard right now for many of us. Not just the loss and struggle, but indeed philosophically - deciding what is concrete and what is sand, deciding where to put our treasure, if not our hearts.


Let me recommend the "here and now" we can access through our unique status as musicians; the myriad of moments our music playing can create for us. The “be here now” moment often referred to, but clear eyed and sober this time.


OK, it is not a stable economic situation, it is not a promise of health, or housing or love or security. But, of all the things we have, it seems me it is all we really have.