Renegade Yogi

A fantastic musical experience

I subscribed to Friends of Music this season, and I’ve only missed one concert (back in October). Last night, we heard the Pacifica Quartet. They were simply amazing.

I got a little distracted during the show, as I usually do since my day is so filled with information. When the lights are dim and the music good and calming, I start to process what I’ve learned during the day. But of course, that is not the same as enjoying the music. After a rather long spell of wool gathering, I thought to try to use my meditation practice during the piece.

And it was brilliant. As thoughts arose, instead of trying to kick them back down so that I could listen to the music, I just noted them. They often just receded back into the depths from which they came. Sometimes, they were interesting tidbits about the music itself, though they were not the music itself. Those, too, came and went. But the music stayed. And between those thoughts came waves of immediate experience. Joy, terror, anger, they all welled up inside me as the quartet played.

It was not only an emotional experience. The elegant tricks of Brahms and the challenging rhythms of Bartok became clear in a way I have trouble describing. I’m no musician, but I peered into the structure of the music and how it achieved its emotional effect.

I guess this all goes to show that both the listener and the musician take credit in the experience.

This is not the first time I’ve had intense musical experiences. It’s not the first time I’ve used a meditation technique off of the cushion. But it has been a long time.

Some people can have those kinds of experiences all of the time without any help from eastern practices. I don’t think I ever would have them if it weren’t for meditation. I get lost in thought much more easily than I get lost in emotion. Mindfulness lets those thoughts surface and recede without having to get rid of them, nor having to get lost with them. I am truly thankful for meditation.

Because I think it lets me see the beauty in anything–not just music. I was once sitting in the coffee shop of a Barnes and Noble in the suburbs of New Orleans. The suburbs of New Orleans have the reputation of being less educated and cultured than the folks in the city. So a thought arose (and I don’t really believe it, but it arose) that these people are so unsophisticated. And as I sipped my coffee, I just let the experience of the place enter into me–the ads for giant, sugary coffees; the hundreds of huge cars parked outside; the crappy music playing, designed to increase purchases. And after not long after I began opening up and not resisting the experience, I saw just how beautiful the place was. It was filled with life, humanity, and a love of reading.