When someone first asked me how I knew I was playing music as a spiritual
practice, I thought this was a pretty good question. Anybody can declare
that this is what they are doing, but what makes it so? How is it different?
The answer for me is that
playing as a spiritual practice means that for the player, the playing
is done in the personal context of who he/she was before being born
and where he/she is going after leaving this life. That is what is different.
If one is playing just to see how good one can get in this lifetime,
then this is a craft, not a spiritual practice.
Regardless of the cultural
style or tradition, this underlying approach will be found in all music
described as sacred, that the music connects one with the greater universe,
both in space and time. I note that in my own journey, there was a point
after about 25 years where I realized that what I was after might well
take many, many more lifetimes. This was fine by me, as by then - with
the arrival of Earthgate, my first real composition - I had tasted the
reality of deep connection, and had gained patience.
A thousand lifetimes?
No problem, that's fine, I can wait....
~
In one of the deeper medicine ceremonies I participated in, I was
shown a dynamic that has remained with me: the requirement to discern between the singer and the song, and then choose the song.
Especially when one becomes proficient at playing, it is easy to "fall in love" with the art of playing music. The better one sounds, the more one can feel good focusing on how beautiful the performance is. However, if one is focusing on the singer - how beautifully the music is played - the way is lost.
Think of it this way: in 40 - 60 years, what will the singer be? Likely a pile of dust, right? But the song? The song holds the connection to the eternal, as if it were made of of infinity itself. That is where one's devotion has to be aimed.
All kinds of good things flow out of this approach - one becomes less nervous, listens better and flaws in the playing become much less daunting, leading to the kind of playing where the flaws sound just as good as the "perfect" notes.
Several people asked me to elaborate on the context of past-life and after-life references in the last newsletter. To be clear, I have no recollection of a past life, but rather, I assume there is a connection out of pure logic - everything here is currently interconnected, so I see no logical reason why before and after conception should be any different. As for an after-life reality, well... if you deny that, playing as a spiritual practice is sort of... off the table, nest-ce pas?
~
The transformation I experienced through my long practice and the help of the medicine ceremonies had many aspects, some which happened almost instantly. One thing that changed in this way was my experience of performance and performance anxiety. In the space of a few minutes, I shifted irrevocably from approaching performance with a mixture of joy and terror to an approach where both these were completely absent. It became so crystal clear that judgments, whether my own, or others', were irrelevant to the music. It was as if hearing the music for what it was - our purest audible expression of who we actually are - meant that further determinations about style, timing or relevance were absolutely unnecessary.
I had known of this intellectually for 30 years, but that is not enough. The heart and body and creativity must also become convinced of this, and no words can accomplish that, only actions and experience.
There is a great relief in no longer having this emotional charge associated with playing - it allows one's full self to be focused on the music, and after performing there is no hunger for compliments or reassurance. And to be clear, it does not mean that one plays without emotion, rather, the mixed feelings of joy and fear associated with approval and disapproval become replaced by full, all-encompassing waves of gratitude that power the music.
~
All the world's spiritual traditions involve ceremony - the repeated actions developed over generations to present some form of understanding or connection with the forces around and within us. Though interested in their form and content, I never practiced ceremonial actions while I was seeking and waiting for the music - I had no sense of clarity around how to do so, and thus abstained, preferring to simply forge ahead as best possible.
I have now begun incorporating some aspects of ritual into playing music now that I feel I have a sense of real connection to it - I always smudge or blow tobacco before playing publicly. I am not doing this to invoke some kind of outside spirit. Rather, it is to ensure that I and others present remain aware of where the music I am playing came from.
The classical hero Odysseus made the mistake of ignoring this observation, forming a key moral of the Illiad and the Odessy. After Neptune sent a spirit to give him the idea for the Trojan Horse - and it worked - he took all the credit and made no offerings or declarations. Thus began the downhill slide from hero to loser, 20 years adrift, finally alone in the sea, ship sunk, crew dead, crying out "Why, why give me so much just to take it away from me?"
Neptune appeared and replied:
"Because we want you to learn, Odysseus, that without the Gods, Man is...nothing..."
Amen.
~
It has been clear to me that the access I gained to the worldview of an indigenous culture's spiritual traditions, and the music that resulted from the engagement, were greatly facilitated by my long grounding in the spiritual foundation from my own culture - the western world. The majority of my twenties was spent seeking and incorporating this foundation, through many means, but particularly through the work of Alejandro Jodorowski. You may know his movies, El Topo and The Holy Mountain.
Alejandro's deeper work is teaching, which he still does in Paris, as when I met him in 1975. Through working with him, I accessed an understanding of a body of spiritual knowledge that has been carefully preserved in the western world for 5,000 years... I recognized at the time that this was a foundation I could build on for the rest of my life.
I met nobody else with Alejandro's particular capacity to intervene directly into the core perceptions of another person until I encountered Guillermo Arevalo, 25 years later. And I recognize that what I learned from Alejando allowed me to experience Guillermo's teaching in such a fruitful way.
I have prepared a small website that outlines the principles taught by Alexandro. It is not yet complete - I may need another ten years to feel ready to speak to the final component - but you may find it interesting. I can only assure you that if you engage with it in a deeper fashion, it will bring balance and insight. Please pay extra attention to the opening page on 'disconnecting', it is essential. Bon Voyage!
~
"Sometimes I'd like to lay my head down and sleep, forever and ever.
Then this thought, my longing arrays;
I shall be doing that, one of these days." - Piet Hein, Danish poet
Who hasn't felt the weight of discouragement and sense of hopelessness in the face of ever-changing challenges placed in the path? They never end! If it's not your money, it's your health, if not that, your love life, if not that, existential angst... Even when you have achieved something truly great, the moments of satisfaction and peace can be so short.
Woody Allen made the comparison to an old joke: two little old ladies in the retirement home at dinner, and one says to the other "The food here is terrible!" The other replies " Yes, and they give you such little portions..."
His take was that life was like that, full of incompleteness and pain, and yet its all over way too soon...
Yet this oncoming end somehow makes the incompleteness of life somehow tolerable, and eventually, cherishable. This same perspective can help one in music, when the instrument seems to refuse to put out anything slightly pleasant. Perceiving it up against the reality of limited time, one can pull the focus into the present moment, where life turns into sound. The instrument sounding crummy is very often the result of not being able to access enough energy to get one's true feelings into play. Focus!
Using this knowledge is like having access to a source of fuel that never runs out. At least, not until one lays down one's head to sleep forever and ever!
~
" If you have a mind-blowing talent, you want a million bucks for it, don't you?" That line, if you don't know already, was said by John Lennon. It is beautifully phrased as a question, leaving intact the possibility that the conclusion is false... but also allowing it to be the logical conclusion.
" If it's spiritual, it should be free!" Who has not heard or felt that sentiment? Yet, of course there is no real logic at work. Spirit by definition means free, unbounded. What people might mean is that time spent in spiritual pursuit or expression should be free, and many cultures have traditions of keeping their core spiritual instruction free.
How does one then resolve the issue of charging for attendance at their spiritual practice? Does this not contradict or debase the practice?
For myself, what matters is the approach. If there is no mis-representation, and one is true in one's approach to the art as a spiritual practice, then it becomes inconsequential whether one's time is being paid for, in terms of the art. The act of engaging in the spiritual practice removes oneself from those parameters. However, one is in a certain place at a certain time, and there are conditions set that allow others to be in close proximity!
The quote that captures this reality best was ( I believe..) made by Chuck Berry when someone pointed out that three thousand dollars was a lot of money to get paid for on hour's playing. " Playing?, said Chuck. " Man, I don't get paid for playing, I get paid for showing up!"
~
Who are you playing music to? When you sit by yourself and play, and when you have an audience, is it different? If so, why... really?
Spend a few days rolling this query over as if it may have an answer beyond your current response. It is always possible that you have been operating under some assumptions that are not tested, but rather are more like habits. In the light of a steady inquiry you might find some new territory, and that new insight could well loosen a creative surge. Change is the essence of creativity, and a change in approach usually does this.
One of my favorite expressions of insight in this area is a Buddhist aphorism: 'When in the company of kings, act as though alone, and when alone, act as though in the company of kings."
This is very much a restatement of Shakespeare's Polonius quote on 'To thine own self be true'; it reaffirms the need to become independent of assessing oneself from the point of view of others.
In this way, it is equally true to say that when playing music, one is playing to God, or to oneself. Either works for me :-)
~
I have only found two really useful books about dying. In the seventies Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote "On Death and Dying". As a medical teaching researcher she investigated the lack of training for doctors regarding their patients personal experience of dying, and how to relate to it. She identified the five typical stages of this process as being Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance, and had a huge impact on millions with this insight.
More recently, Ganga Stone's hands-on approach "Start the Conversation: The Book About Death You Were Hoping to Find" comes from the personal experience of being a dedicated consultant to the terminally ill, their families and caregivers. She has powerful insights into the psychology and emotional pathways available to each of these positions, and focuses on the practical and achievable steps in reaching Acceptance. Her book is here.
There is no better point of reference for a musician wanting to go deeper into their art than to incorporate it with their personal demise. It puts all else into perspective, and engages the heart towards courage and truth.
~
Occasionally I will describe my concerts to someone as primarily 'opening up a window into the land of no troubles'. As simplistic as this sounds, it is likely the most apt description I have heard, in terms of the why and the what...
It is possible to think of spirit as only enthusiasm - often a welcome approach to those with grave misgivings around organized religion. A deeper look will find that the roots of the word give it a context - 'en' means 'within' and 'thusiasm' is coming from the Greek 'theo', meaning God. So, enthusiasm means to have God within...
It is very much as if playing music with enthusiasm is all one need do to make it a spiritual practice. Of course this means never getting bored or frustrated while playing, as these states are only possible in the absence of enthusiasm...!
So how to avoid these lapses of enthusiasm? Since my own approach has been led by the heart, my own way could be described as 'chasing beauty'. If one listens closely while playing, one will always hear if it sounds beautiful or not. And from here, it is a direct step to only playing if it sounds beautiful, even if it means playing just one note, then two, over and over, as long as it maintains that beauty.
If one perseveres in this approach, eventually the obstacles of self-judgement and impatience will be surpassed, and everytime one plays, it will open up a window into the land of no troubles.
It might be referred to as the fine print to mention that the only way I can see to harness the personal energy required to maintain this focus long enough is to commit to living a good life in a spirit of gratitude and service to your community. :-)
~
Like many, I was greatly influenced by Carlos Castaneda's writings in the 1970s. My first mentor, with whom I travelled for 10 years, had translated his books into French, and worked closely with him. I found the practical philosophy of his 'warrior's approach' to be very universal wisdom, in synch with other cultural expressions of deeper truths, and completely applicable to my own life.
In particular, I liked the portrayal of the four obstacles a warrior faces on the journey to self realization. First, fear - it must be overcome, and if it is, the warrior gains clarity. Then clarity becomes the second obstacle. A warrior then must learn to act with abandonment - not to be always restricted by the controlling clarity of a mental plan. If successful, this brought the warrior to power. There was now real charisma and the ability to influence, but this ability becomes their third obstacle, and a warrior has to learn how to withold their strength, and to be humble enough to pass as a simpleton if the situation called for it.
If this obstacle was overcome the warrior could then face the final challenge..... old age!
These all apply directly to playing music. It can become something that gives no fear in performance, does not require a fixed plan, and can be played as though one were an absolute beginner. The old age part, now that is a worthy challenge - Don Juan said that if it was overcome for even a moment it was worth all the effort.
So here is to playing out of time :-)
~
How to work with discouragement? There are bound to be plenty of times when you sit and play, and are clearly presented with the most mournful and pathetic sounds coming from your instrument. What's the point? This sucks... why bother? At the time, it feels impossible to deny the message imposing itself in your face. Any attempt to do so is met by your own mocking, since its you who has made the original observation in the first place. Confusion ensues.
I have learned that while denying the misery does not work, ignoring it does. The reason is that denial is an act of aggression, and it locks one into a struggle with oneself, where no winner can emerge. The act of ignoring the self-judgement provides a very different set of options. It is very similar to influencing children by not only being patient with their mischief, but also offering them something interesting to do to relieve their boredom. If one accepts the inner critical voice's right to exist, but patiently ignores it ( since, after all, mental judgements are in fact irrelevant to the actual music, which needs no validation ) then one will eventually notice it tiring, and even becoming interested in some new sound that may emerge from the distant quietness. At this point the fruits of patience might be recognized.
In many ways, discouragement is a sign you are on the right track, as it means you are taking on something more difficult than your current capacity, and therefore will learn by it. Important, however, not to bite off more than chewable amounts at a time. Having taken 20 years to be able to compose a piece that was a true expression of my heart, I will assure you, hurrying is not useful :-).
~
Most players will recognize that sometimes they will be playing alone or in a group and all of a sudden everything comes into cohesive focus - and the music never sounded better. It might surprise you to know that some cultures build this dynamic right into their practice and performance.
The West African cultures (Mali, Guinea, Burkina Faso etc) have a tradition amongst their players when playing balafon music; there are certain notes, or combinations of notes that will not be played until this cohesion arrives. They refer to it as the 'spirit' of the music arriving. The moment it does, the leader will play this note or rapid combination, and everyone in the group hears it.
Whether this is a telepathic harmony or a physical harmony or the manifestation of a supernatural being, it declares something that all musicians in the West come across, no matter what their context. Playing music is a process, and within that process is the opportunity to align with something, and the alignment makes for great music and highly satisfying playing.
It is also a reminder that the cultural context that you have been raised in has great impact on the way you are playing music. It is always worth investigating this dynamic when trying to push ahead into greater harmony. You can also adapt this tradition - find a chord or note or phrase that you keep aside until you hear the balance arrive, then play it as an acknowledgement of your lucky state. The truth bears repeating!
~
"Your best music is made without your instrument." Is this true? I find it so, both logically and experientially. It may well sound like nonsense. If one approaches music as if it were an external thing, like a car, then it does sound like nonsense to say 'your best driving is done without the car'..!
However, playing music is an internal process first, then an external one. The music has to come from somwhere before it can be anywhere, and a musician's task is to make that process open, natural and truthful. One's feelings, desires, ideas, reactions, positions and choices are all involved in the recipe that is going to produce the sounds coming out of the instrument. They have to be accounted for, and if they are developed into a harmonious balance, the music will express this.
It is possible to develop some parts of one's inner world and produce impressive music, but until all the components get included, the music will still retain that sense of 'trying' or 'not-quite-there'. I am guessing, but I think it likely that Mike Oldfield would describe his trajectory as following that arc, with brilliance in all his work from twenty onwards, but only recently having brought in a sense of overall mastery, expressed in the deep tranquility and perfectly calculated soaring of his composing now.
It is the process of practicing your life that builds the beauty in the music. The level of appreciation for every day is ultimately what moves one to echo the world by making music. In this way, the life you are living is your best music, and when you take your instrument, then you have a chance of replying to the world. If you are like me, you will note that even when it comes out at its best, it remains somehow an echo, even if a true one. And so perhaps it should be.
Given Suzuki's statement at left, why would anyone in their right mind strive for something that they understand will lose its elevated status once they attain it? Is it like Groucho's famous " I wouldn't want to belong to any club that would have me as a member?"
Perhaps it is more like becoming familiar with something - something that does not easily give such familiarity. The daily practice - and for a musician playing in a spiritual context this would not mean playing every day, rather it's more like an acknowledgement of the path they are on, every day - gradually forms the familiarity, sometimes producing no noticeable change for many years. In my case, it was twenty years before I wrote my first real music, Earthgate.
As Suzuki states, it is something wonderful, and at the same time, by its very existence, nothing special. To make more of such a gift than it actually is would take away from it. To diminish it would also reduce the attainment. It may perhaps best be conceived as having reached sanity, which, while clear and untroubled, is indeed a challenge to capture in a world which not only continually informs you that you are not in charge, but also continually puts you in situations where you must make a choice or die.
Carlos Castaneda was given an excellent teaching on this point: his teacher Don Juan described to him the human experience as consisting of the Tonal and the Nagual. The Tonal was like an island containing everything one could conceive of, surrounded by the great infinite mystery of the Nagual. A warrior's task was to 'clean' their island of the Tonal and have it so well tended, with nothing pending, that they could then slip off into the infinite Nagual and nothing would go amiss during their absence. All would be waiting for their return. Otherwise, he said, such an experience was either unavailable, or very dangerous in terms of sanity.
One can 'leave the island' through playing music, as the song takes us somewhere we have never conceived of. The essence of the daily practice, then, is to prepare the ground for the return, a seamless shift where once again one becomes nothing special.
I met Ram Dass on two occasions - when he presented in a cathedral in Paris in the mid-seventies, and a decade later after debating with Timothy Leary at Harvard on the 20th anniversary of their ejection for doing LSD research with divinity students. In all the swirl of celebrity and social perceptions surrounding him, he held out one thing his spiritual teacher had said as a constant; if you want enlightenment, serve others.
I have been a webmaster by profession for a decade, and a few years ago the opportunity to do some volunteer work led to my involvement with BeadforLife. Amazingly, one month after we built their website, O Magazine (Oprah) included a few words about the project and what is now a spectacualr poverty eradication project was born. This month, after playing 'catch-up' for four years, we launched their new website - www.beadforlife.org.
Along with the experience of visiting the beaders to record their music, the daily involvement in helping this project succeed has been a blessing for me. In helping North Americans assist the Ugandan women in such need, I find a lot of meaning in the mundane, and a sense of connectedness that runs deeper than 'just a job'.
Ram Dass heard right. If you want to move deeper in your music, there is one way absolutely guaranteed to produce results - serve others!
The quote in the margin (attributed to me) stikes me as a clear explanation of why we have such a thing as spiritual inquiry, philosophy and existentialism. These would not be needed if nothing was in our control, or if everything was in our control. But it appears that only some things are in our control, and we do get to chose which of those things at what times.
It makes one feel a bit like a rabbit at a shooting range. When will fate zap me next? Yet, when one is in sych with any creative process, with any of the physical, emotional or intellectual arts, there is this clear sense of effortless control. It is often expressed not so much as guiding the process, but as of being in tune with the process itself, as if one's controlling effort was all used to get to the position of acceptance of what is. Thus, and so far only thus, in my experience, are the two dynamics to the left resolved.
The problem, as a head monk in a Burmese monastery pointed out, is one of stability. Once you gain this insight, how to avoid loosing it in periods of stress? A monk in his retreat once famously meditated for fifteen years, and upon discovering his elevated state of mind, prepared to leave the monastery. On the way to the door in the evening light, a shadow across his path suddenly appeared as a snake and he felt a twinge of fear. Understanding what it meant, he turned back and remained another five years.
Few people are called on to focus on the issue at this level, but for us in the normal world, the same dynamic remains a part of our daily life. It would seem the best approach is the same as getting to Carnagie Hall;
Practice, practice, practice :-)
I am preparing for my next solo CD recording, and have a demo of one of the pieces - Mind Bandits - to offer. Please feel free to send this link to friends or to copy and circulate the mp3.
This composition is the final in the wave of composing called acoustic Psychedelic Chill. I am currently composing in relation to the second of two songs received after twenty years of practice "G for Goddess".
One of the most influential works I have read is Winston Churchill's 'History of the Second World War'. This may seem odd coming from a spiritual-musician type. But, with Churchill being an accomplished writer, and having spent time in the field in the Boer War, his capacity to relate what was happening, and to give cohesive sense to such vast events, is unmatched. Rather than a leader, he saw himself as a Knight, fighting the forces of darkness, and it becomes clear on reading that faith and fate were part of his daily staple.
The art that eased his burden was painting, which he declared himself a failure at, but which was the only thing he found that could ward off the depressive fits he suffered from.
Harpo, below, was also involved in politics, and once smuggled a missive for the American Ambassador into Russia, taped securely to the inside of his thigh.
The world outside seems so removed from the inner world of creating sound, but we all know they intersect within our lives. Do they have to be at odds? Are they not able to inform each other? Conviction and sensitivity in notes can be translated into the same approach in politics. Freedom and innovation in style of composition can influence how one goes into a meeting. Determination and patience at drawing out a melody can inform one on how to develop a negotiation.
There are no specific guarantees in this, rather, like in playing, the experience itself is the reward, and the final product belongs to no one. The music, if approached correctly, can help guide one through the politics of life.
In his will, Harpo donated his harp to the nation of Israel.
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 become 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 last month's article, Winston Churchill, while leader of England, signed all his letters to King George with this statement:
And with my humble duty.
I remain,
Your obedient servant,
...Kabir!
What is mastery? It evokes images of grey-haired sculptors, of sleek martial artists, of Yoda-like secret powers that only show up in the crunch, and of Moses prevailing alone against the elements.
I long wondered about this, and investigated every aspect I could find, ever mindful of Socrates description of the difference between the craftsman's mastery and his own - " Having mastered one thing, they would invariably assume they had mastery over many things, and so I afford the higher place to philosophers, who see clearly the difference between what they know and what they do not."
What I am sure I know about is that I get a sense of mastery from people who are able to become 100% engaged with their art. Not 99% engaged.
It does not seem to be a state that can be conferred by certification. And no matter how many people insist it is so, if an artist is not 100% engaged, the artist will know it, and covers this truth at his or her extreme peril, as Boy George and many others will attest.
Mastery appears to be an internal state of balance, where all forces within oneself serve in support of the art or craft at hand. I have seen this change come over me in composing and playing music, as if the previously unruly senses suddenly heard the approach of the Master, and quickly lept to their posts, attentive and ready to help.
I chose a young person ( again, the last one was Kinobe) to highlight this time because of this factor. When I hear Georgia's most recent composition, it speaks to me of an unyeilding search to express beauty through music. I hear no place where the condiments of the style try to take the place of the main course, and no compromise to any clichés so easily appropriated from the hip-hop community - "I am cool/tough/disenfranchised/broke/pissed."
It is very possible that we all live moments of mastery without giving them their due recognition, due partly to the cultural stereotyping around us. In the end, however, there is only one person that will be able to know that...
Yo, I mean you!
I was completely surprised to discover during the course of my last composition that there is actually a technique available that ensures that each creative work you make is at or above the level of your previous work.
I would likely have argued against such a statement prior to this, on the grounds that creative work is in its nature not subject to the rule of technique, and must always contain an aspect of 'wildness' that leaves it free from such determination. As Rumi said " The Mystery is not made clear by repeating the question, nor is it bought by going to amazing places."
But it turns out that there is, as usual, a loophole to such a hard and fast rule.
The way to absolutely guarantee that your latest creation is at or above the level of your previous one is to not finish it until it is!
The piece I am have just finished is called The Little Teacher, and it has been nine months in the making. Even though I could see the pace of composing was so slow, with weeks passing before any new element would show up, something in me warned against any worry or sense of need to move it forward. As it was, almost half of the composition arrived in the final month (along with the understanding that it was a piece reflective of my eldest son, Ariel).
I had been so taken with the previous composition, The Farmer's Cathedral, that I secretly doubted I would hit those heights anytime soon, but by the time The Little Teacher was finished, I could see that it had built on the strengths and gone even deeper in some areas.
So now, of course, I am aware that the next composition may have to be five years in the making! Who's in a rush?
Since the large majority who have remained on this list must at least be serious ( or newly listed, and will remove when they wish by clicking the link on the banner) about the subjects I am writing about, next month I will start to describe a deeper layer of awareness that can be part of giving life to the creative embers that may be awaiting a spark....
