“Mujushinkyoku”
December 13, 2009
“As for the exercise of sitting until one does not hear, at the extreme of quiet stillness, the mind is not drawn into movement by the ears. One hears only sound, not tone. This is not hearing”—The Spirit of Tao (trans Thomas Cleary).
“Brought to life” by Jin Nyodo in 1937, who did not regard this piece as a “composition” but rather a shokyoku (“born piece”)—a sort of transcription of music that emerged naturally by itself. The title derives from a passage in the Diamond Sutra: “Just at the point when one has no place to dwell (muju), such a spirit (shin) is born.” The piece, implying “a heart with no abode,” or “an unattached spirit,” is reminiscent of the komuso’s prescribed reply to a question concerning destination: “I have no resting place.” Jin Nyodo is said to have remarked that this piece conveys the spirit of a person who has lost everything, and in so doing, has found his true self. Put another way: “For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the gospel’s, the same shall save it” (Mark 8:35).
Meditation #14
December 6, 2009
“Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?” Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet.
A shakuhachi improvisation. Meditation #14
Meditation #13
November 29, 2009
“The spirit of profound anarchy […] is at the root of all poetry”—Antonin Artaud, The Theater and Its Double.
A shakuhachi improvisation. Meditation #13
“Kumoi Jishi”
November 22, 2009
Meditation #12
November 15, 2009
“The temple bell stops
but the sound keeps coming
out of the flowers”
—Matsuo Basho
A shakuhachi improvisation. Meditation #12
Minyo Medley #1
November 8, 2009
A selection of Japanese folk songs (minyo), from north to south:
“Esashi Oiwake” (Hokkaido)
“Iso Bushi” (Ibaragi)
“Komoro Mago Uta” (Nagano)
“Itsuki no Komori Uta” (Kumamoto)
“Asadoya Junta” (Okinawa)
Meditation #11
November 1, 2009
“The shored Pacific makes perpetual music, and the stone mountains
Their music of silence”
—Robinson Jeffers, “Meditations on Saviors.”
A shakuhachi improvisation. Meditation #11
“Mukaiji”
October 25, 2009
”There is a poem that says, ‘When the bird calls, the mountain becomes more mysterious’. Imagine you are in a mountain valley and everything is silent; suddenly, somewhere off in the distance, an unseen crow caws. You do not know where the crow is, but its cry emphasized the silence and heightens the sense of mystery”—Alan Watts, Eastern Wisdom, Modern Life: Collected Talks: 1960-1969.
Here’s the story: Around 1255, the monk Kichiku, in order to embark upon a pilgrimage, took his leave from Koyasan. He soon arrived at the Kokuzo-do Shrine atop Mt. Asamagatake in present-day Mie Prefecture. He spent the night in deep meditation. Falling in and out of sleep between his prayers, Kichiku had a vivid dream in which he saw himself afloat in a boat on the ocean. Suddenly, while admiring the moon, a dense fog covered everything and blocked out the moonlight. Through the mist, Kichiku heard the forlorn sound of the shakuhachi. The beauty of the music was indescribable. Kichiku awoke from his dream with the sound of the shakuhachi resonating within him. He soon memorized the music he had heard in his dream. The music must certainly be a gift from the Buddha.
The piece became known as “Mukaiji” which roughly translates as “mist-sea-flute.” It is one of the three classic pieces in the shakuhachi repertoire (with “Koku” and “Kyorei”).
Meditation #10
October 20, 2009
“…a tone
in silence
breathing
the dark”
—David Gitin, Rites (2008).
A shakuhachi improvisation. Meditation #10
“Murasaki Reiho” (Live)
October 14, 2009
An impromptu performance of “Murasaki Reiho” recorded October 10, 2009, at Fushimi Inari Shrine, Kyoto, Japan. Performed here by Kurahashi Yodo II and Houser Keido as part of the commemorative festivities marking the founding of the shrine—1298 years since a god first alighted on the sacred site. The messenger of the god, as well as the icon of a shrine dedicated to successful business, is the fox. As is often the case in Japan, various activities occur simultaneously during a festival. The drum heard here, for example, was located some distance from the stage and accentuated the prayers of the devoted. Families, pilgrims, and tourists can be heard strolling about, conversing, munching on snacks, inspecting religious and secular wares for sale, and generally enjoying the day (the weather, following a typhoon, was beautiful, sunny, and warm—unusual for Kyoto at any time of the year). We feel the our performance reflects the merry mood of the celebration and corresponds to the robust character of the alleged composer of “Murasaki Reiho,” the beloved musician, poet, artist, tea master, and zen monk Ikkyu Sojun (1394-1481).
Here’s a poem by Ikkyu:
A single shakuhachi laments sorrow difficult to bear;
Blowing it, one enters into the song of a barbarian flute at the frontier.
In the city, at the crossroad, whose tune is it?
Among the students of Shao-lin, I have no friends.
(trans. Sonja Arntzen)
