Meditation

When I started this blog I was itching to get out seven years worth of thoughts on insight on just about every aspect of music that I could imagine. I felt like I was discovering a whole new harmonic and melodic language and that it would be firstly beneficial to myself to document that journey and explore in a public forum the ideas that were occurring to me even though most have gone unread. I think there are some genuine insights in these pages and articles, some of a more technical nature, some more philosophical or pedagogical.

My output began to taper about the same time I left music school, realizing that I was not a classical composer or an academic musician, that I was not enjoying myself, that I didn't particularly have an urge to play anything typically labelled jazz although the music has informed my style. For a few months I barely played. For a few more I dabbled, working on the odd idea, writing songs but feeling largely uninspired. A couple of months ago the flood let loose at the same time that I came back to the acoustic guitar. I have become engrossed in the process of songwriting and recording. Yet I also find myself returning to the guitar purely as a musician when I'm alone. It seems my priorities have shifted.

I've tried meditating but my mind is scattered and I can only very weakly adhere to a regular routine. It is a struggle that I tend to lose. But when I am alone and I pick up the guitar, I sink into it. Ideas that are days or years old flutter up and interweave, the drone of the bass serves as an agent of self-hypnosis, and I find myself sink into a place that is very peaceful and cathartic.

What comes out is a bit aimless, returning to some themes and abandoning others, going through sections of clearly driving rhythm and others that meander.

I often get into playful arguments with people who have a largely electronic relationship with music or more generally those who are overly preoccupied with either non-improvisational performance or composition, because it is this direct and therapeutic musical experience which I have a hard time creating through a more structured process, which seems to me inherently filtered. I wonder if they are achieving this state of mind as well, if they are aware of its existence or are even interested in pursuing it. Although I may very well be wrong. I think much of the more philosophical articles I have written boil down to this notion, of how to eliminate filters in one's musical experience, how to have the most direct relationship possible with what is in this very moment flowing out of you, how to enjoy the culmination of years of study and introspection and bonding with your instrument.

So, I've decided to share such a moment. And I've decided to explain what it means to me. What does the very moment when you hold an instrument mean to you?