The Music Lesson

by Victor L Wooten

  It felt bizarre being in such a trance while at the same time being so aware. Taking hold of my awareness, I expanded myself even more until I could sense the plants and trees. I got the feeling that they too were listening to the music. I wondered if my aura could get poison ivy. A strange thought, I know, but it went along with the strange experience I was having.

  After relishing the music for a while, I opened my eyes and thought it was daytime. That was my first impression because everything was so bright, but then I noticed that the light I saw was a glow. I could see a bright glow surrounding everything, and I was part of it.

  I looked at Michael. He was still sitting there with his eyes closed, singing. I could see the music coming from him. It appeared to be mostly emanating from his mouth, but I noticed that it was also coming from his whole body while at the same time entering his whole body. The music was connected to everything and everything was connected to the music, including me. I could see vibrations bouncing off and passing through everything, allowing me to know that all things were alive and connected. I knew where all the animals were. I didn’t have to look; I just knew. I’ve never felt that way before or since. It’s hard to put into words, but I felt like I cared so much about all things that I didn’t care.

  I closed my eyes and sat inside the music. I listened to all the sounds around me and noticed how they fit in. Like different instruments in a band, each sound served a purpose. Each animal made a sound that somehow supported the other sounds while leaving enough space for all to participate. The music sounded and felt so wonderful. I knew that the best thing I could offer was silence. So I sat quietly.

  As I sat there listening, the orchestra grew stronger. It seemed as if more and more animals and insects were participating. I may have been the only animal in the forest not making a sound, but I knew that I was not the only animal listening. All the animals had to be listening in order to make a collective sound as beautiful as what I was experiencing.

  More than ever, I understood the power of listening, just listening. I wondered what music would be like if musicians listened like that?

  “Only through the power of listening can you truly know anything.”

  I didn’t know where the thought had come from. It felt as if it came from the music, as if the music were speaking directly to me. At that moment I understood the connection between listening and feeling. I knew that they were the key to understanding everything, especially music. I’d been calling myself a musician for years, but at that moment, sitting in the woods, I was sure that the animals knew more about music than I did.

  For a while, I’d forgotten that the core of the music was coming from Michael. Even though his voice clearly provided the baseline of the sound, it was in no way more important than any other voice.

  Months later while playing with a band, I thought about my experience at the lake. I was able to use it to remind myself how to listen and fit in with other musicians. My new-found listening skill was one most other musicians neglected. It wasn’t that they couldn’t listen as well as I could; they just didn’t. I noticed that most musicians seemed to reserve their ears for themselves rather than open up their ears to the rest of the band. I found that when I listened to the other musicians more than I listened to myself, I played better. I realize that listening is a choice. The same is true in conversation. When I listen to other people more than to myself, I know how to respond and support them in a better way. It also helps me know when to remain quiet.

  Listening with my whole body became a huge benefit at my gigs. The few times I’ve tried to explain this concept to someone, it proved to be too much of a struggle. Most people can’t understand. They approach it as a hypothetical concept, not as a reality. I will have to bring my musician friends into the woods and let them figure it out themselves, I guess.

  At the lake, I could feel the presence of all the animals around me. I opened my eyes again and to my surprise, there were about fifty animals of all sizes, not counting the frogs and other small rodents sitting or standing around us. There were deer, coyotes, foxes, bobcats, rabbits, raccoons, opossums, squirrels, beavers, birds, bats, snakes, otters, minks, mice, and more, all co-existing. Some of them were in the trees and some were in the water.

  Michael sang for a few more minutes before slowly fading into silence. Soon after, most of the other animals also became quiet while the insects continued their chorus. I sat there in awe, realizing I might never hear anything like it again.

  Michael reached over and grabbed a snake that was curled up asleep in my lap. I hadn’t noticed it was there. I was so shocked at the sight of all of the other animals that I didn’t have time to be afraid of the snake that was now crawling down Michael’s arm to the ground.

  As the animals calmly went their separate ways, Betty hopped up and again perched on my left leg. Thinking about the snake, I commented, “You almost joined your brother.” I reached down and took my turn petting her belly. She seemed to enjoy it.

  We sat there for awhile as Michael walked around petting the remaining animals. They came up to him wanting to get closer to the vibrations I could still see emanating from his body. It made me understand the effect some pop stars have on their fans. Do the fans just want to touch them, or do they unconsciously want to connect with their vibrations?

  The whole experience seemed surreal. But it was real: real vibrations, real energy, real music, and I could feel it! I could see it! I could hear it!

  “Now,” Michael whispered, “that is how you listen to Music.”

  I don’t know how much time had passed, but by the time we reached the car the sun was almost up. I sat in the driver’s seat with my head against the steering wheel.

  “What was that, Michael?”

  “Don’t try. You can’t fit it into words.”

  We drove home in silence.

  THE LAST MEASURE

  The Dream?

  In all your musical years, when have you ever

  truthfully said ‘Thank You’ to your bass guitar?

  I was sitting there "practicing” on my couch. The next thing I remember, I was walking down a crowded street pushing a shopping cart. I don’t recall whether it was day or night. I don’t even recall being able to see myself, but I know that I was dressed in rags as if I were a bag lady collecting my prize possessions and pushing them around in a cart.

  The main difference was this: I was not collecting physical things. I was collecting thoughts. I could hear people’s thoughts, and because there were so many, I could not keep up. I couldn’t process them, so I carried them in my overflowing cart.

  All the people on the street made fun of me and called me names. The thoughts they projected were even worse. They didn’t know I could hear them.

  I thought about all the so called “crazy” people I’d ever seen walking the streets. Maybe they weren’t all crazy. Maybe their minds were just open, too open for their own good. Maybe they just didn’t know how to process all the information they were receiving.

  At that moment, I made a vow not only to change my views about “crazy” people but to listen to them as well. It was amazing to think about the possibilities, of all that could be learned. The possibility of being able to help them was also interesting to me. Maybe I could somehow help them gain control of the information overload.

  It was that thought that caused me to realize I was living a duality. I was simultaneously in two different places. I was the bag lady pushing the cart of thoughts, and I was also somewhere else, watching and thinking about it all.

  I tried to see if I could get a handle on some of the thoughts that were coming in. Could I help that person (me) control and maybe organize some of the thoughts that were overwhelming me?

  I tried to focus on some of the thoughts. The energy in my head and in the cart was swirling, blending together. It was a very confusing mix of information, but there was one force that seemed to be prevailing. I can’t explain what it looked like or how I could
distinguish it from the others, but I could feel that particular energy was different. I felt it was beckoning to me, so I reached out and tried to grab it. It grabbed me instead. It was a gentle tug to which I immediately surrendered.

  I found myself in another place or, more accurately, another space. I can’t exactly call it a room because there were no walls, floor, or ceiling. Colors enveloped me and, looking back on it, I realize the colors were constantly changing. I was surrounded by an energy that I somehow sensed was alive. So I decided to speak to it.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Music,” she responded.

  Her voice was sweet, the type that you could melt right into. I don’t know why I attached a female gender to it. Maybe it was because of the gentle nature I felt emanating from her.

  “Music?” I replied. “I never realized you were really alive.”

  “I know. You have chosen not to realize it, and that is why your musical Life has never been alive. It is also why mine is fading.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Your approach toward me has been as if I am not real, like I’m a dream. You feel that I do not exist until you create me. And even then you feel I am a creation that is separate from you. Most musicians in your time feel as you do. Because of that, I am dying and in need of your help.”

  I could tell that she was not well, but I hadn’t focused on that thought because I hadn’t realized Music was alive until then. I could tell there was a difference in the way my new friends spoke about Music. Now I knew why. Music is alive and real, but how could she be sick? And why was she asking for my help?

  “How can I help you?” I asked.

  “When you were young you weren’t afraid to dream, and it was those dreams that gave birth to your reality. You knew that I was alive and inside you. You could feel our union and would express it anytime and any way you chose. As you grew older you yearned to know more about me, but through lessons and books you abandoned your own experience for someone else’s. The more you learned, the less you felt. The more you opened your eyes, the less you dreamed. The more you practiced, the less you played, and soon you forgot about me. There is no one to blame for this. Your parents and your teachers did what they thought was best for you, but it was that way of learning that diminished a lot of your natural gifts.”

  “What were my natural gifts?”

  “Knowing has always been one of your best attributes, but it is one that you are now afraid to use. You do not trust yourself the way you once did. When you were a child, you knew what you knew and didn’t question what you knew. There was no need for others’ justification or approval. Your experience, coupled with what you felt, was your truth.

  “If you felt me inside you, you would sing, play, or dance. You did not need an outside reason for doing it, you did not need instructions on how to do it, you did not even need an instrument. And you surely didn’t care what anyone else thought if he or she saw or heard you doing it. It was beautiful. Everyone who was near you would be pulled into our world and, for a little while, they too would feel their connection with me. They would feel the realness of Music.”

  I could remember doing that as a child. I would get a feeling and, without thinking, just let it out. I’d start singing at the top of my lungs or, sometimes, quietly to myself. I’d dance to a tune playing in my head or to the one floating through the trees. My parents always said that I’d drum on everything I could and that I’d make instruments out of anything that was around. I don’t know when or how I’d lost the gift, but Music was right; I had lost it.

  “How can I regain these natural gifts?” I asked.

  “You must recognize them,” she answered. “You never completely lost anything. You just buried those gifts way down deep inside you. You must recognize them and bring them back to the forefront of your being before I will become enjoyable to you again.

  “Music lessons were not enjoyable to you as a child because you could already play. Your Music teacher forced you to play scales, fingerings, and rudiments but did not allow you to play freely, and that, you felt, held you back. Therefore you did not enjoy or benefit from those lessons. You approached each lesson with a sense of dread.

  “Even now you feel that way about practicing. You don’t want to practice; you just want to play. So if you feel that practice is necessary, it would benefit you to figure out how to practice while you play so that you can make the most of both. You have not been smart enough to figure that out yet. But know this: As your days approach their final numbers, you will not spend one moment wondering whether you’ve practiced your bass enough.”

  Thinking about my final days was a bit disturbing, but I knew that what she said was true. I would never again allow myself to waste precious time worrying about something as trivial as practicing. Even though I understood the benefits, I knew that practicing never took me as far as when I would allow myself to completely let go while playing Music. I loved that feeling, but it only happened on rare occasions. How could I make it a frequent occurrence? Music responded to my thoughts.

  “In your mind, Music is not a part of who you are. It is something you have to go somewhere else to do. Whether it is the ‘woodshed’ or the nightclub, you feel that you must go to that place to find me. You do not carry me inside you at all times the way you once did. Actually, there are few who do anymore. This lack of union is causing me to die.”

  “I will work on it, I promise.”

  “It does not take work; it takes remembering, enjoying, rejoicing, recognizing, playing, and knowing. It should be easy. When you were a child it did not feel like work, and it should not feel like work now. If it does, you know you are going about it the wrong way. At that time, take a moment to go ‘inside.’ Remember what I truly feel like. Then you will know where to be and what to do next.

  “Regain your knowing of me. Books and teachers can be of assistance but you should never let them take the place of what you feel and what you know within yourself. Only use these outside aids as tools to confirm, challenge, or show you more about what you know and feel inside. That is all. Never let them take the place of your natural gifts.”

  What she was saying was true, and I knew it. There was a time when our connection was so natural that I didn’t have to think about it. I knew that was one of the gifts she was talking about.

  “Give me five words to describe me,” I felt her say.

  As strange as it was, having a conversation with Music herself, I accepted it completely. And now she was asking me to describe her. Feeling her energy all around me, it was an easy task.

  “Love. Emotion. Beauty. Expression. Harmony. Communication. Spiritual. Natural. Vibrations. God! I know I gave you more than five but I feel like I could go on forever.”

  “Yes, you could go on forever, and all of your words would be wonderful. The words you gave are beautiful ones that describe me perfectly. That should remind you that you do know who I am. Why is it then, that when it is time for you to play, you choose to forget?”

  I didn’t know what to think or say.

  “Notice,” she continued, “that you didn’t choose the words technique, scales, modes, theory, notes, tapping, thumbing, major, minor, or key signatures. You didn’t even use the words bass or guitar. But those are the words you choose to think about when it’s time for you to play. Inside, you know that that’s not who I really am. If all your attention is directed toward those words, when will you ever get to play Music? I suggest you take a good look at the wonderful words you used to describe me and learn how to play them. If that is what I am to you, that is what you should be playing.

  “You have spent years learning how to play the bass, so long that you have forgotten that it is Music you should be playing. The bass is just a tool to help you express yourself through me. Why then, after all these years, do you continue to focus on the tool? You have forgotten. I patiently await your return.”

  Her vibrations pierced my flesh in a way tha
t made me feel both guilty and refreshed. I knew she wasn’t judging me, just telling the truth. The fact that she spoke through energy, not words, caused me to hear her with my whole body. And these vibrations were exactly what I needed; they seemed to touch my very soul.