11.08
After I made the last entry, I saw the robin hopping outside the kitchen door. I saw him later feeding off the bread crumbs from yesterday. The blackbird has also been around. Both have partners. And from the bathroom I hear chirping from outside the window. Perhaps there is a nest under the eaves.
This morning's reading: completed a book left unended during the Crim tour: Rabbi Nilton Bonder's "The Kabbalah Of Food: Conscious Eating for Physical, Emotional and Spiritual Health" (Shambala 1998). I have been honouring the spirit of Rabbi Bonder's book over the holidays by pumping down delights from the Polly Tea Rooms in Marlborough.
Now, to "Discipline And The Act Of Music". My Diary Notebook for November 30th. 1984 to December 1986 is open beside the computer. In addition to notes on much the same subject in preparation for the first two Guitar Craft courses (which began on March 25th. 1985 and ran consecutively), the notebook contains a highly interesting (subjective assessment) series of notes and comments from the period my life changed, irrevocably.
This period covers my second abandonment of the world and Crimson, when I allowed the future to present itself. The period covers becoming President of the American Society For Continuous Education, the beginning of Guitar Craft, my Father flying away on April 13th. (the day after I returned from the second GC course), and meeting Toyah. The future did indeed present itself.
14.41
The alarm on the house next door went off at lunchtime. I joined the keyholder from the cottage opposite, plus Hugh, in going over to make sure the house was safe. Fortunately it was. Now, after tasty soup, a crust of village granary & a salad of local produce, the drafting the lecture continues. Today I'm considering the energy supply to the three "human instruments": the hands, the head and the heart.
20.23
My brain is dribbling gently.
Excerpt One from draft:
Sometimes, music leans over and takes us into its confidence - music calls on us. When we have known this for ourselves, our lives are never quite the same again. The question or the aspirant musician is then: how may I be embraced by music once again? This is the beginning of a proper musical life: when we begin to call on music.
Discipline is how we continue to call on music, through many long & quiet years when it appears to have deserted us. From one point of view, this is a test of our persistence, our commitment to music, and to accept nothing less than what we know is real. In Guitar Craft, this test is sometimes referred to as Crossing The Great Divide.
Discipline is also how we keep ourselves alert, with open ears, for when music might visit. We never know when our Friend might call to visit us. This visit is outside our control or volition: this is in the gift of our Friend. What is possible for us, is to prepare a welcome. But if our home is full of noise, we won't hear our Friend knocking. If we fall asleep, we won't know our Friend is visiting. So immediately, we may begin to turn off the noise, and set alarm clocks in every room. Then, we may be sure that we'll hear the knock and be ready to open the door when our Friend calls. But if our Friend is repelled by the stench from the inside of our dwelling place, we'll miss even this opportunity. So, we move to clean up the inside.
Discipline is also how we do nothing.
Excerpt Two --
What do we do to become a musician?
The musician has three instruments: the hands, the head and the heart. Taken together, these comprise the human instrument that the musician must learn to play in order to place themself at the service of the musical impulse. It is not strictly accurate to suggest that we learn to play our human instrument in order that we may then play our musical instrument. In practice, we learn to play ourselves in the context of applying ourselves to acquiring executant, conceptual and musical skills. For example, when we tune an instrument we are tuning ourselves.
Each of these three human instruments, or distinct centres of experiencing, has its own particular discipline: the discipline of the hands, and by extension the discipline of the body as a whole; the discipline of the head; and the discipline of the heart. Taken together, these three disciplines are a harmonised discipline: a discipline of understanding.
Each centre may be considered an instrument of function, each with its own distinctive kind of doing.
Each centre may also be considered a seat of insight into different kinds of experience. That is, each of the three centres is a focal point for different kinds of experiencing.
Each centre, working properly, acts in its own particular field or dimension.
Each of the instruments, the hands, head and heart, operates at different degrees of intensity, different levels of efficiency, and with different degrees of effectiveness.
Each centre experiences its own "version" of the other two.
Everyone of us has the tendency to be more functionally active in one, or two centres. Part of this is our personal type, part is genetic endowment, part is cultural - the influences of home, society and education. To be firing on all three centres, without training, is unlikely. Even with training, this is unlikely.
Each of the centres impacts upon one of both of the others, constantly. In everyday life, with disharmonic consequences. A prime aim of discipline is to co-ordinate and harmonise the functioning of the centres.
Three words describe the functioning of the hands, the head and the heart: doing, thinking, feeling.
Doing, in the sense of acting in and upon the material world.
Thinking, in the sense of acting in and upon the world of the imagination, especially the re-presentation of prior sensory information.
Feeling, in the sense of participating in a world where we are not apart from each other.
In musical vernacular, these three areas are often simply referred to as technique, ideas, feel. The player who tends to give precedence to each of these might be described as an executant, conceptualist or artist (this is not precisely accurate, but it suggests the feel of what is involved).
Each centre experiences its own "version" of the other two. That is, the technique of a qualified executant will have efficient physical action, formal economy and graceful movement. Taken together, this is a callisthenic: beauty in motion.
The physical action is effective - nothing is wasted, the form that underpins the action is natural and beautiful, and the movement "feels good". So, the technique plays good, thinks good and feels good. A developed callisthenic presents itself as effortless effort. To an onlooker, even difficult passages will appear to be easy. This is not enough, but is it already quite a lot. And as I get older, my respect for mere competence increases.
21.42
Response To The Guestbook:
John CollingeRobert: U.K. correspondent Mark Powell is willing to reschedule the interview you failed to attend recently. The readers, your fans, would appreciate that as well. Best wishes for the holidays! -- John Collinge, Publisher, Progression
RF: An interview with Progression was not scheduled with me, nor was any interview proposed. Mr. Collinge is a brave man to speak on behalf of his magazine's readers, and their possible appreciation. My own informal surveys of fans suggests that like and dislike balance somewhat more nicely. And I thank him for his good wishes.
It is exceptionally rare that I miss scheduled appointments, and my scheduled appointments with Progression are even rarer than that. Mr. Collinge is generous in his sentiments and interest, but I do not feel that I deserve to be included in his magazine.
"Music is the cup which holds the wine of silence.
Sound is that cup, but empty.
Noise is that cup, but broken."
