A Musician's Musings On The Mystery Of Music

Observations on life in music from the inside out.

Music is profoundly mysterious.

Through music, I have glimpsed the Tao that cannot be named or spoken.

According to the Tao Te Ching, that inexhaustible fount of wisdom:

The Tao begot one.

One begot two.

Two begot three.

And three begot the ten thousand things.

The ten thousand things carry yin and embrace yang.

They achieve harmony by combining these forces.

To hear the unseen. To feel the unheard. To know the intangible.

Artists working in other mediums have physical proof of their artistry. 

Sculptors sculpt sculptures, painters paint paintings, authors write books: creations that can be picked up, held and seen.

As for the performing arts, their creations are only alive in the moment of its presentation. 

Then it is gone. 

Though we have the technology to capture a facsimile of a performance, it is not the thing itself. That is the magic of live performance, the preciousness of its impermanence.

Sheet music, recordings and videos – these are mere trappings and echoes of the performance that was alive then and there in that moment.

This is the mystery of music.

Why have I dedicated my life towards music?

It is a personal study of reality, a perfect vehicle for the tripartite confluence of self, other and world. It is the pursuit of mastery, excellence and virtuosity on the one hand; relaxing into humility, surrender and naivety on the other. It is the marriage of disciplined practice with the freedom of creative expression. It is the individuation of emerging self-confidence tempered with attunement to self and others; self-promotion contrasted with self-effacement.

Music simultaneously requires and demands the cultivation of a plethora of qualities and attributes. It fosters presence, openness, spontaneity, attentiveness, deep listening, entrainment, suspension of judgment, feedback, intuition, expertise, attentional management, situational awareness, cooperation and generosity.

Like all people, musicians are motivated by several factors, not necessarily exhaustively, exclusively or in this particular order: approval from authority figures like teachers or parents, the satisfaction of imitation (learning and performing our first sounds and songs, or replicating our favorite artists), individual expression for its own sake, and validation from peers and audience. However, at a certain level of musical maturity, we ask, “What would best serve the music?”

Though I am neither famous nor particularly noteworthy as a musician (as of this writing) save for my immediate social circle, some of my fondest memories, opportunities and experiences have come through music. For this, I am profoundly grateful. 

In mere moments, I can flash through decades of my life and there they are.

As a teenager, during a high school’s battle of the bands, I felt a profound sense of aliveness performing a guitar solo while connecting with a friend in the audience at my high school’s battle of the bands.

I recall the adolescent joy of band practice in garages; the importance of juvenile camaraderie, brotherhood and belonging cannot be understated.

In my early twenties, watching my parents dance at one of my first gigs at a local bar while bringing together old friends from high school. 

On another familial note, connecting and performing with my sister through music was an important bond. On one such gig, I reconnected with an old guitar student by happenstance and found my way into the personal growth community of which I am still involved.

While I completely forget the song, the emotional significance lingers, of writing and performing a song for my mother during a Secret Santa exchange on a family vacation in Mexico. A recording of it may survive somewhere on some forgotten hard drive. I hope that is the case.

There is a special place in my heart for the sheer spontaneity of jamming – totally unplanned arisings that come together like a movie scene or flash mob. These are some of the greatest sources of vitality I have and continue to experience. In no particular order: jamming out one of my own originals with friends for the first time in a dingy rehearsal space. To witness it come to life from my laptop, share it and have it be pleasantly received. Or the time I jammed with a shaman in the wee hours of the morning after the closing of a plant medicine ceremony. I later learned that he was a musical prodigy as a child.

Or the time I jammed with a stranger at a public piano on a lunch break during my yoga teacher training.

Other highlights including attending jam sessions during my travels, from the caveaus of Paris to the Bimhuis of Amsterdam; from Berlin’s A-Trane to New York’s Birdland.

And of course, the countless sets I played while working aboard cruise ships for several years. The opportunity to see the world while performing remains a personal and professional highlight.

For now, I close with this reflection inspired by occultist and author Donald Michael Kraig – music isn’t something you do, music is what you are. From the rhythms of your heart, brain and breath to the circadian cycles of sleep and wakefulness, music is intrinsic to life itself. From weddings and funerals to graduations and celebrations, there is a type of music for the occasion of each life milestone. 

Like life, some songs are short, others are long, but each has a beginning, middle and end.

Like a kind of magic, music has perhaps brought me closer than anything to the True, Good and Beautiful.