Meditation for Musicians
A couple of summers ago, while doing research for Music and the Soul, I decided to read the ancient Hindu scriptures called the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita. I carefully sorted through the available translations at a local bookstore until I finally settled on those by Sri Eknath Easwaran (1910-1999).
Easwaran was a professor of English literature in his native India and came to this country in the early 1960s, where he eventually founded the Blue Mountain Center of Meditation, in California. I enjoyed his translations of the Upanishads and the Gita because they read like great poetry and contained a great deal of spiritual wisdom, which Easwaran rendered more practical than esoteric in his excellent introductions.
It was only natural that I would eventually become curious about the form of meditation he had orginated and taught at the Blue Mountain Center, named for a mountain range in Kerala state, where Easwaran grew up. I bought his book Meditation: A Simple 8-point Program for Translating Spiritual Ideals into Daily Life. Since then I have not only recommended the book to numerous clients and friends, but have also read just about everything by Easwaran that I've been able to get my hands on.
I did a lot of deep reading in the Indian classics and yoga philosophy while working on Music and the Soul, which allowed me to recognize how well grounded Easwaran's meditation program is in the basic teachings of Hinduism, his native religion, and Buddhism. But Easwaran has also read widely in world mysticism. He constantly draws examples and quotations from the mystical literature of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, demonstrating the nondenominational basis of our yearning for oneness with the divine and how meditation can not only assuage, but also fulfill that yearning.
Best of all, from my perspective, was that Easwaran had all the loving charisma of a true spiritual teacher without any of the cultish tendencies so common among Eastern gurus and their followers, and so alarming and confusing to us in the West. His teaching was a form of personal empowerment through meditation, embracing all faiths, and motivated by a selfless desire to achieve peace in the world through finding peace in the self.
Easwaran's eight-point program is simply summarized:
1) Meditation on an inspirational passage from the treasury of world mysticism.
2) Inward chanting of a mantram, a sacred phrase or name of God from any of the world's religions.
3) Slowing down the mind, which begins with taking one's time in word and deed.
4) Developing one-pointed attention through doing one thing at a time, with full presence and focus.
5) Training the senses through recognizing and subverting the control that our likes and dislikes tend to exert over our freedom of choice.
6) Putting others first, which involves sharing time, energy, and attention with those we love and not withdrawing from opportunities for loving interaction with those we find difficult or trying.
7) Spiritual companionship, which means hanging out with other spiritual seekers for support.
8) Reading the mystics, whose perennial philsophy ("We are all one") may be one of the best cures for the ills we see portrayed every day on the news.
For a somewhat more expanded explanation of these points, check out Easwaran's website.
My interest in writing Music and the Soul was to create a yoga of listening, a spiritual practice based on the composition, performance, and hearing of music. I've found that Easwaran's eight-point program was easily adapted to my needs as a spiritual musician, as follows:
1. Instead of meditating on a literary text, I've used the music that I was composing, practicing, or listening to as my focal point for meditation. In the yoga of listening, the best music for such a purpose is that which touches the seventh (expanded consciousness) or eighth (cosmic consciousness) chakras. (See my review of The Love Window, a CD of Sanskrit chanting in contemporary settings, for a list of the expanded states of consciousness targeted by each cut and a description of how I use this CD in meditation.)
As a pianist, I always include something by Bach in my practice sessions, usually from The Well-Tempered Clavier, for much the same purpose. Each repetition of a phrase or piece is like repeating an inspirational passage from the literature of the mystics in Easwaran's program.
When composing, I try to place myself in a state of expanded or cosmic consciousness, often through listening to pieces that produce such states. I then try to replicate these states by recalling how they feel as I approach the piano or computer keyboard to begin composing. The eighth center's cosmic consciousness (compassion, grace, union) is harder for me to reproduce in this way than the seventh center's expanded consciousness (awe, love, or praise of the divine), just as the higher states of meditation are often difficult to achieve without continual practice. The goal is clear, however, and I'm always working to achieve it.
2. Of the eight points in Easwaran's program, the mantram may be the most difficult to translate into the practice of music. I suppose that if I were attempting to memorize a piece of music for performance, I could practice running it through in my mind in great detail, and achieve something like the clarity, focus, and relaxation that comes from inwardly chanting a verbal mantram. But I've also achieved enormous benefit from the verbal mantram.
I use the "Hare Krishna" mantram, Easwaran's own, which he learned from his maternal grandmother, his spiritual teacher. I repeat it inwardly, rhythmically, without pitch. But there are sung versions as well--for example, the second track of The Love Window. Sometimes, much to my amusement, this mantram fits itself in my mind to the bass line of the Pachelbel Canon, a piece which I used to find more annoying than spiritual. I never dreamed it could become an aid to meditation.
3. Slowing down can be applied in every area of life, to make more time and mental and emotional space for composing, practicing, or listening. In practicing, I've benefited greatly from slowing down passages that are technically difficult or a challenge to hear properly. Doing so gets them under the fingers and in the ears, making them easier to reproduce in concert.
As a composer, I've found that slowing down means focusing on only as much of a piece or passage as I can effectively take to the next stage in a period of 60-90 minutes. Beyond that point, I lose my focus. Not only does it take longer to get less music, the rest of my day can be thrown off by spending too much time at the piano or computer keyboard. If I allow myself to become obsessed with finishing something, rather than simply taking it to the next stage, hours will go by, I still won't be finished, and I'll end up either in a hurry or too exhausted to do anything else.
Slowing down as a listener can best be achieved by listening to slow music, such as the symphonies of Bruckner, even if it seems boring or likely to put one to sleep. Slowing down the mind to be receptive to such music can free us from our addiction to hurry and speed. It's amazing how the moments open up and yield far more richness and depth when the mind slows down enough to be fully present with whatever is going on.
4. As a composer, I've found that one-pointed attention means putting myself into a trance state in which I'm able to hear what comes next and the piece seems to compose itself. The quickest way for me to enter this state is to ask myself the question, "What would happen if," as I consider the passage I'm working on, and then listening inwardly for possible ways to proceed.
As a performer, I've found that one-pointed attention means focusing on the passage and piece I'm practicing or performing, while eliminating all other thoughts, including concerns over how my playing may be affecting my audience.
As a listener, I've found that one-pointed attention means constantly bringing my awareness back to the piece or song that I'm listening to, a practice that parallels Easwarn's method of meditating on a sacred text.
5. My nonphysical guide, or spiritual teacher, Charles, often speaks of what he calls "flexibility of consciousness," by which he means creativity, adaptability, and susceptibility to altered and expanded states of consciousness. Easwaran's system of meditation provides an important key to the development of flexibility of consciousness. For him, training the senses means learning how to loosen up the ego's rigid adherence to likes and dislikes.
In music, this rigidity often shows up in our preference or taste for certain kinds of music over others. Since writing Music and the Soul, I've developed an appreciation for many kinds of music that I used to turn up my nose at. The same states of consciousness, from drama to celebration to spiritual ecstasy, turn up in music the world over. If I were to reword the quotation from Sa'adi at the bottom of this page, I would say: "Every piece of music becomes a page of sacred scripture once the soul has learned how to hear."
6. As musicians, putting others first means reminding ourselves that composing or performing is not merely a means of self-assertion or expression. Such activities can also be means of serving others.
My goal as a composer and performer is to create transcendent musical experiences (TMEs)--peak or mystical experiences that move a listener emotionally or spiritually. My belief is that such TMEs open people up to the presence of the soul within them, awaken the soul's yearning for oneness with the divine, and propel them along the path of spiritual growth that may allow them to achieve that sense of oneness. Such service requires a rigorous monitoring of the ego's desire to draw attention to itself, especially in displays of compositional or technical virtuosity.
7. One of the most satisfying forms of spiritual companionship for me is playing chamber music with others. I've had wonderful experiences of playing the Brahms Sonatas for clarinet and piano, Op. 120, and nearly merging consciousnesses with my accompanist. I think professional musicians leave far too little time in their schedules for playing for pleasure or spiritual communion.
Listening to spiritual music with others can also be a source of spiritual companionship. One of Boston's churches is famous for its five-year weekly cycle of Bach cantatas with soloists, chorus, and orchestra, every Sunday. The coffee hour after the service is an excellent opportunity for spiritual and musical fellowship.
Perhaps you remember getting together with friends in high school or college to share your favorite music--another potential form of spiritual companionship. Whenever I visit my friends in Germany, we spend many an evening, just before going to bed, coming together over a glass of wine to listen and discuss our reactions to the pieces of spiritually moving music we've discovered since our last visit.
8. For musicians, reading the mystics translates into listening to music that targets the seventh and eighth chakras, such as Bach, the late works of Beethoven, sacred music, gospel, certain songs by Yes and Led Zeppelin (e. g., "Stairway to Heaven," which expresses the seventh center state of transcendetal longing), jazz (such as Coltane's A Love Supreme), New Age music (such as The Love Window and other contemporary settings of Sanskrit chants, or that by Enya). Music and the Soul contains many suggestions for exploring the great mystics of Western music through listening.
If you're a spiritual musician interested in developing a meditation practice, you might want to consider reading Easwaran's book on meditation, checking out the website of the Blue Mountain Center, attending one of the center's residential programs or outreach workshops, and perhaps tailoring your program to your needs as a composer, listener, or performer by using the suggestions listed here or in Music and the Soul.
Easwaran was a professor of English literature in his native India and came to this country in the early 1960s, where he eventually founded the Blue Mountain Center of Meditation, in California. I enjoyed his translations of the Upanishads and the Gita because they read like great poetry and contained a great deal of spiritual wisdom, which Easwaran rendered more practical than esoteric in his excellent introductions.
It was only natural that I would eventually become curious about the form of meditation he had orginated and taught at the Blue Mountain Center, named for a mountain range in Kerala state, where Easwaran grew up. I bought his book Meditation: A Simple 8-point Program for Translating Spiritual Ideals into Daily Life. Since then I have not only recommended the book to numerous clients and friends, but have also read just about everything by Easwaran that I've been able to get my hands on.
I did a lot of deep reading in the Indian classics and yoga philosophy while working on Music and the Soul, which allowed me to recognize how well grounded Easwaran's meditation program is in the basic teachings of Hinduism, his native religion, and Buddhism. But Easwaran has also read widely in world mysticism. He constantly draws examples and quotations from the mystical literature of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, demonstrating the nondenominational basis of our yearning for oneness with the divine and how meditation can not only assuage, but also fulfill that yearning.
Best of all, from my perspective, was that Easwaran had all the loving charisma of a true spiritual teacher without any of the cultish tendencies so common among Eastern gurus and their followers, and so alarming and confusing to us in the West. His teaching was a form of personal empowerment through meditation, embracing all faiths, and motivated by a selfless desire to achieve peace in the world through finding peace in the self.
Easwaran's eight-point program is simply summarized:
1) Meditation on an inspirational passage from the treasury of world mysticism.
2) Inward chanting of a mantram, a sacred phrase or name of God from any of the world's religions.
3) Slowing down the mind, which begins with taking one's time in word and deed.
4) Developing one-pointed attention through doing one thing at a time, with full presence and focus.
5) Training the senses through recognizing and subverting the control that our likes and dislikes tend to exert over our freedom of choice.
6) Putting others first, which involves sharing time, energy, and attention with those we love and not withdrawing from opportunities for loving interaction with those we find difficult or trying.
7) Spiritual companionship, which means hanging out with other spiritual seekers for support.
8) Reading the mystics, whose perennial philsophy ("We are all one") may be one of the best cures for the ills we see portrayed every day on the news.
For a somewhat more expanded explanation of these points, check out Easwaran's website.
My interest in writing Music and the Soul was to create a yoga of listening, a spiritual practice based on the composition, performance, and hearing of music. I've found that Easwaran's eight-point program was easily adapted to my needs as a spiritual musician, as follows:
1. Instead of meditating on a literary text, I've used the music that I was composing, practicing, or listening to as my focal point for meditation. In the yoga of listening, the best music for such a purpose is that which touches the seventh (expanded consciousness) or eighth (cosmic consciousness) chakras. (See my review of The Love Window, a CD of Sanskrit chanting in contemporary settings, for a list of the expanded states of consciousness targeted by each cut and a description of how I use this CD in meditation.)
As a pianist, I always include something by Bach in my practice sessions, usually from The Well-Tempered Clavier, for much the same purpose. Each repetition of a phrase or piece is like repeating an inspirational passage from the literature of the mystics in Easwaran's program.
When composing, I try to place myself in a state of expanded or cosmic consciousness, often through listening to pieces that produce such states. I then try to replicate these states by recalling how they feel as I approach the piano or computer keyboard to begin composing. The eighth center's cosmic consciousness (compassion, grace, union) is harder for me to reproduce in this way than the seventh center's expanded consciousness (awe, love, or praise of the divine), just as the higher states of meditation are often difficult to achieve without continual practice. The goal is clear, however, and I'm always working to achieve it.
2. Of the eight points in Easwaran's program, the mantram may be the most difficult to translate into the practice of music. I suppose that if I were attempting to memorize a piece of music for performance, I could practice running it through in my mind in great detail, and achieve something like the clarity, focus, and relaxation that comes from inwardly chanting a verbal mantram. But I've also achieved enormous benefit from the verbal mantram.
I use the "Hare Krishna" mantram, Easwaran's own, which he learned from his maternal grandmother, his spiritual teacher. I repeat it inwardly, rhythmically, without pitch. But there are sung versions as well--for example, the second track of The Love Window. Sometimes, much to my amusement, this mantram fits itself in my mind to the bass line of the Pachelbel Canon, a piece which I used to find more annoying than spiritual. I never dreamed it could become an aid to meditation.
3. Slowing down can be applied in every area of life, to make more time and mental and emotional space for composing, practicing, or listening. In practicing, I've benefited greatly from slowing down passages that are technically difficult or a challenge to hear properly. Doing so gets them under the fingers and in the ears, making them easier to reproduce in concert.
As a composer, I've found that slowing down means focusing on only as much of a piece or passage as I can effectively take to the next stage in a period of 60-90 minutes. Beyond that point, I lose my focus. Not only does it take longer to get less music, the rest of my day can be thrown off by spending too much time at the piano or computer keyboard. If I allow myself to become obsessed with finishing something, rather than simply taking it to the next stage, hours will go by, I still won't be finished, and I'll end up either in a hurry or too exhausted to do anything else.
Slowing down as a listener can best be achieved by listening to slow music, such as the symphonies of Bruckner, even if it seems boring or likely to put one to sleep. Slowing down the mind to be receptive to such music can free us from our addiction to hurry and speed. It's amazing how the moments open up and yield far more richness and depth when the mind slows down enough to be fully present with whatever is going on.
4. As a composer, I've found that one-pointed attention means putting myself into a trance state in which I'm able to hear what comes next and the piece seems to compose itself. The quickest way for me to enter this state is to ask myself the question, "What would happen if," as I consider the passage I'm working on, and then listening inwardly for possible ways to proceed.
As a performer, I've found that one-pointed attention means focusing on the passage and piece I'm practicing or performing, while eliminating all other thoughts, including concerns over how my playing may be affecting my audience.
As a listener, I've found that one-pointed attention means constantly bringing my awareness back to the piece or song that I'm listening to, a practice that parallels Easwarn's method of meditating on a sacred text.
5. My nonphysical guide, or spiritual teacher, Charles, often speaks of what he calls "flexibility of consciousness," by which he means creativity, adaptability, and susceptibility to altered and expanded states of consciousness. Easwaran's system of meditation provides an important key to the development of flexibility of consciousness. For him, training the senses means learning how to loosen up the ego's rigid adherence to likes and dislikes.
In music, this rigidity often shows up in our preference or taste for certain kinds of music over others. Since writing Music and the Soul, I've developed an appreciation for many kinds of music that I used to turn up my nose at. The same states of consciousness, from drama to celebration to spiritual ecstasy, turn up in music the world over. If I were to reword the quotation from Sa'adi at the bottom of this page, I would say: "Every piece of music becomes a page of sacred scripture once the soul has learned how to hear."
6. As musicians, putting others first means reminding ourselves that composing or performing is not merely a means of self-assertion or expression. Such activities can also be means of serving others.
My goal as a composer and performer is to create transcendent musical experiences (TMEs)--peak or mystical experiences that move a listener emotionally or spiritually. My belief is that such TMEs open people up to the presence of the soul within them, awaken the soul's yearning for oneness with the divine, and propel them along the path of spiritual growth that may allow them to achieve that sense of oneness. Such service requires a rigorous monitoring of the ego's desire to draw attention to itself, especially in displays of compositional or technical virtuosity.
7. One of the most satisfying forms of spiritual companionship for me is playing chamber music with others. I've had wonderful experiences of playing the Brahms Sonatas for clarinet and piano, Op. 120, and nearly merging consciousnesses with my accompanist. I think professional musicians leave far too little time in their schedules for playing for pleasure or spiritual communion.
Listening to spiritual music with others can also be a source of spiritual companionship. One of Boston's churches is famous for its five-year weekly cycle of Bach cantatas with soloists, chorus, and orchestra, every Sunday. The coffee hour after the service is an excellent opportunity for spiritual and musical fellowship.
Perhaps you remember getting together with friends in high school or college to share your favorite music--another potential form of spiritual companionship. Whenever I visit my friends in Germany, we spend many an evening, just before going to bed, coming together over a glass of wine to listen and discuss our reactions to the pieces of spiritually moving music we've discovered since our last visit.
8. For musicians, reading the mystics translates into listening to music that targets the seventh and eighth chakras, such as Bach, the late works of Beethoven, sacred music, gospel, certain songs by Yes and Led Zeppelin (e. g., "Stairway to Heaven," which expresses the seventh center state of transcendetal longing), jazz (such as Coltane's A Love Supreme), New Age music (such as The Love Window and other contemporary settings of Sanskrit chants, or that by Enya). Music and the Soul contains many suggestions for exploring the great mystics of Western music through listening.
If you're a spiritual musician interested in developing a meditation practice, you might want to consider reading Easwaran's book on meditation, checking out the website of the Blue Mountain Center, attending one of the center's residential programs or outreach workshops, and perhaps tailoring your program to your needs as a composer, listener, or performer by using the suggestions listed here or in Music and the Soul.
1 Comments:
Hi Kurt, Matt here. I found your description of nearly merging consciousnesses with other musicians especially interesting.
Someone on the old astral pulse forum wrote about watching a string quartet and seeing a gold ball form above their heads as they played like maybe they were merging chakras 7 or 8, could that be related to this?
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