by Richard
A few months ago, the ABC had a series called The Piano. The premise was everyday people playing street pianos at train stations in Melbourne and Sydney, unaware that they were being judged by two famous musicians just around the corner. Although it was heavily edited on personal backstories, the pianists still had honesty and heart that showed through.
At one point, a 12-year-old finalist was being coached by one of the famous musicians. The child could play with technical precision, but the coach sensed that something was missing. So she asked the little girl to get up, run around the room five times, and then play again- but this time, feeling the flow of the music.
This gave me thoughts on music and our practice, and over the years, connections between them have been reflected upon by many in our group. At our recent discussion, a quick show of hands revealed that many of us play instruments – with others including our teacher Geoff Dawson.
Charlotte Joko Beck, the founder of our School, was a trained piano teacher. In one of her talks, she discusses how a consistent foundation is important for both playing piano and holding the practice. Forms such as key and time signature provide structure in music, while posture and breathing provide structure in practice. And in writings by Dogen, there are precise instructions for sitting, placement of feet and hands, cooking, washing and so on.
However, playing strictly to sheet music would sound mechanical, as though it were being played by a computer. What the pianist brings, is life. By adding subtle variations and emphasis, depth and feeling are conveyed.
So once the foundation is established, you start to feel the song. This is wonderful, but it doesn’t necessarily mean the song is always uplifting. Sometimes it’s happy, sometimes peaceful, and sometimes melancholy or stormy. I was reminded of this while watching the pianists and their stories on TV, and it brought to mind the sense of connection: when there’s a strong feeling sensed in music, it’s as though the performer is part of us.
In our modern world, we often try to understand things by categorisation into parts: you and I, us and them, left and right, gain and loss, right and wrong. On the other hand, there is emptiness: nothing exists alone, everything exists as flow and change.
Music may be a way to help understand this. For instance, a single note could be isolated and analysed, but alone it has no life. It’s only once you listen to the flow of music, that it can be understood. And there is no objective to reach by the end of a song- we don’t practice for any particular goal.
Just run around the room five times, and appreciate the song in and of itself.