I have mentioned before that the way I would distinguish approaching music as a spiritual practice is that it involves coming at the music within the personal context of from before you were born until after you die. If you are playing to see how good you can get in this lifetime, that would be called a craft ( and there is everything good to be said for this approach as well).

To approach music ( or any art) in the context of your entire trajectory through life leads to many new and singular views on the subject. Who is one playing to? Why is one playing? What matters about one's playing? These are all quite different if asked against the backdrop of mortality and some assumed connection to before and after.

In particular, this approach will foster humility, no matter if one is lauded or ignored. Kabir's poem in the margin, in which he caught a glimpse of his yet-unborn soul, states the impact perfectly well - he became a servant. He does not even say to what, and this speaks to the nature of gaining a clear view of this context - it is one's state of being that matters, not the nature of the infinite unknown that one is being ushered towards. One has no control over that, only over how one faces it.

As well, there is the factor of permanent change - something I experienced directly in adjusting my approach in 2004 - where the clarity of the new view simply renders the previously held beliefs as understandably limited. It is not that one will never change again, rather that one cannot go back, just as when you found out there was no Sanata Claus...

Oddly enough, this humility is a major asset in overcoming fear, as in performance anxiety. It is one thing to try to convince yourself that the audience is all human too, and you can imagine them naked till the cows come home, and still that heartbeat and quiver inside tells you that fear has not been left behind.

One would not easily equate this with being proud. Yet so it is. Just as I am certain that none of my readers fears losing possesion of the Eiffel Tower, or of losing the respect of Napolean Bonaparte, I am keenly aware that one only fears losing something one believes one posesses. This is the illusion made real by limiting one's music to within a lifetime.

Kabir saw the reality of his soul growing beneath the waters, once his calm had allowed the pool's surface to bcome still and transparent. He saw the continuation beyond this lifetime, and knowing there was no possesing of a mortal life, could not fear losing it.

To tie into my last article, Winston Churchill signed all his letters to King George:

And with my humble duty.
I remain,
Your obedient servant,
...Kabir!

I had the great fortune to see Paco play in Paris in the late seventies. His recent recording 'Luzia' is pure mastery in flamenco, with his own style - no compromise, and a deep joy in the complexities to be found within a tradition.

The Spanish culture can lay claim to the guitar like no other, both for their folk music - ballads in their style - and for their classical achievements, like the incredible Concierto de Aranjuez.

Watching a player like Paco is guaranteed to keep you humble as a guitarist!