I recently uncovered further evidence that if you want to make god laugh, tell her your plans… Thrilled to have focus and mission to my mostly contemplative life, early this year i embraced a plan to go to graduate school. GRE prep books were purchased, universities researched, professors contacted. I was looking for a program in which i could study the oh-so-fun field of neuro-psychology where thought, emotion, feeling, behavior, and chemistry come together. Though no single event has acted to derail this plan, it has become apparent that while the subject matter entertains me greatly, the rigidity of academia might not fit my nature and lifestyle which, these days, has little if any structure. If I were one to focus on the outcome and marshal on I might be able to convince myself that the PhD would be well worth the pain and suffering but I gave up choosing to suffer some 6 years ago and now only end up in that unhappy state when I stumble upon it unconsciously. It’s a practice, to be sure.

More and more I find myself reveling in the wonder of discovering where I am, which at the moment, appears to be as the member of a band. I did not plan this yet it is most evident I was meant to end up here. Whether I will stay here is no longer my concern having relaxed into the understanding that I am really… not… running… this show. How I came to choose my musical instrument is detailed in an earlier essay dated august 10. The events laid out clearly seemed to be indicating that I was to buy a harmonium. Curious. I decided to do so as soon as I could find a buyer for my home of 10 years - one which served me well but had quit me as a source of comfort and delight. On September 26th I bought the most beautiful red signature23 from keshav das in new york. When it arrived I discovered I had absolutely no idea where to start to learn to play it. Through the patient indulgence of my good friend and violinist Mehu (meee hooo) I quickly recalled how very much fun it is to play music WITH people… any music, any people.

This simple realization propelled me forward and soon Melissa (mehu’s real name) and I were sticking our big toes in the kirtan pond. Kirtan is an indian practice of devotional chanting that has inspired me from my very first experience of it in yoga classes despite my fears & judgments regarding its flake factor. The physical effects (check affect?) were undeniable and so beat out any resistance I had to the practice though it was some time before I admitted my love of chanting to friends and family. The unknown plan continued to unfold when Melissa and I were joined by a percussionist well-versed in indian classical music who just happened to marry an amazing singer from Kerala, bringing her to us here in Baltimore in February. Scott and Rei, short for Resmi (ray shmee ) so became the 3rd and 4th members of our little baltimore kirtan posse.

I must emphasize that our union has not at all felt like our own doing. Music simply began to pour out of us when we played together and so we were drawn to give ourselves a name. Anyone who’s tried to name a cat, much less a band, knows that the difficulty of the task grows exponentially with the number of people participating. But there again, it was delivered. As I trolled around the web, googling and digging through wikipedia I came upon the most wonderful word sruti.

Oh sruti! The word just keeps on growing in richness for me. The first couple definitions I’d stumbled across were “an single musical note in indian music” & “that which is heard by the innermost ear”. This would have been enough but I soon discovered it is also the term for divine revelation. The Upanishads and other classical Indian spiritual texts are considered sruti. “That which has no author” is the most recently discovered definition that simply could not be a more perfect way to describe the melodies that have written themselves.

I recently returned from a 10 day silent retreat with my teacher, Richard Miller. During this rich and beautiful silence some of his most rewarding lessons have started to really take up residence in my cells. I have begun to trust that I always know the appropriate response or action in every moment f I am willing to stop and listen to it and that this is… sruti! Admittedly, this requires a fearless practice of emptying out, of not co opting the experience, task, or story as mine. I have begun to feel as if I am being played as an instrument in this life. That I need only vibrate when plucked.

Sruti is available to us all. It’s in the attractions & aversions, the likes & dislikes, the criticisms & judgments, the joys & indulgences. Give yourself permission to listen and stop pretending you can’t hear it.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 31st, 2007 at 3:10 pm and is filed under meaning mining, music. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.