You\u2019ve decided to study the shakuhachi \u2013 a traditional flute from Japan.<\/p>\n
You know that it\u2019s steeped in history and tradition, but what\u2019s really grabbed your attention is its focus on meditation, using the sound of music. You have some prior experience with Western music instruments, and you can even read the notation of\u00a0Western Art Music (WAM). But WAM’s steep learning curves and obsession with theory, history and\u00a0technique\u00a0ultimately seems\u00a0hollow, for some unknown yet deeply personal\u00a0reason you haven’t been able to fathom. In contrast, the shakuhachi appears to be nothing more than a simple\u00a0stalk of bamboo with five\u00a0finger holes and its music moves at\u00a0such a\u00a0slow pace\u00a0that there\u00a0is an\u00a0ocean of time to think about the next note. The look of the bamboo surface is mottled and \u201cnatural\u201d, unlike the gleaming machinery or stained-wood perfection of WAM instruments. And yet, despite its physical and musical simplicity,\u00a0many claim that shakuhachi is\u00a0the singular and uniquely musical voice of Zen Buddhism and\u00a0its promise\u00a0of enlightenment (kensh\u014d<\/span><\/a> \u898b\u6027)<\/p>\n The success or confusion of your first lesson will be determined by its context. Will it be conducted by a traditional sensei <\/span><\/a><\/span>(\u5148\u751f) or in a Western teacher?<\/p>\n [youtube]https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/watch?v=qM6XU0YZa9s[\/youtube]<\/p>\n If it is a traditional Japanese music lesson, then be prepared for practically no conversation. After a friendly greeting, the sensei plays a single note and then shows you the fingering. You play the note. \u201cAgain (mo ichid\u014d; \u3082\u3046\u4e00\u5ea6),\u201d he says. You play the note a second time. \u201cAgain\u201d. You\u2026Well, you get the idea. Before you realize it, you become immersed in mind-numbing repetition, and yet the teacher has an exemplary sound and an almost spiritual presence. So you persevere.<\/p>\n You’ll very likely be surrounded by fellow students, each waiting their turn. If you felt sheepish about making your first, halting sounds in front of them, your fellow students are far too wrapped up in their own concerns to give any attention to your failings.\u00a0 (Your mind might flash back to those many master classes you endured, both as player and witness, surrounded by fellow players.) As you comply over and over with\u00a0your sensei’s\u00a0constant demand for exact repetition, you might recall the regimen of karate lessons. Those martial art students make the same thrusting gestures over and over again, while counting out the repetitions, all under the steely-eyed guidance of the sensei. Those gestures\u00a0are called kata<\/span> <\/a>(\u578b or \u5f62) and now you see the same operation at work in a music lesson.<\/p>\n If you take a shakuhachi lesson from a westerner it will likely have the same give-and-take as a regular WAM music lesson, with plenty of time to ask questions and make comments. \u00a0You will have access to many turorials and internet sources that give you the rudiments and musical background, and the teacher will likely inspire you with the same magical sound and flawless technique as the traditional sensei. And yet, you feel that something might be missing. \u00a0You may sense that the lesson is missing its cultural context, its unspoken frame that provides the Zen-like (zend\u014d \u7985\u9053) experience.<\/p>\n In both scenarios, there is one huge, empty space (and I\u2019m not talking about the Zen space (mu<\/span> <\/a>\u7121) \u2013 a Buddhist background on which to place the musical meditation experience. I suppose it\u2019s possible to learn a music instrument without delving into its cultural context (such as the Western Art Music piano without reference to its 19th<\/sup> century salon roots, or Bach\u2019s cantatas without an understanding of Lutheranism) but I know from experience derived from my years as an undergraduate and then graduate music students with a minor in Buddhology that I couldn\u2019t possibly approach the shakuhachi without this ocean of knowledge.<\/p>\n You put the flute to your mouth and blow across the top of the open hole, like a pop bottle. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a sound right away.\u00a0This beginning procedure\u00a0is very similar to the first lesson on the Western flute where you are assigned the task of making sounds on the mouthpiece\u00a0detached from\u00a0the body of the flute.<\/p>\n The sensei presents you with your first piece of music.\u00a0 Of course, it\u2019s in traditional Japanese notation, but you quickly discover that it is solfeggio, where each note is actually a simple syllable that represents a specific pitch. \u00a0He then points to the first note and plays it. Then it\u2019s your turn. Again, and again. His sound is edgy and full; yours is breathy and anemic. And here\u2019s where it gets interesting.<\/p>\n You may or may not be told that your first horrible sounds are also your purist Zen sounds. Rough (wabi), tentative (impermanent), breathy (i.e., the sound of nature, like the soughing of wind in trees) You might recall the title of a famous book by Shunryu (not Daisetsu Teitaro) Suzuki, \u201cZen Mind; Beginners Mind<\/span><\/a>\u201d.<\/p>\n Once you have established a sound that can be reliably duplicated you may or may not be told to hold that note for as long as you can breathe out. Think of a half note, where the metronome marking is “quarter note = 30 BPM”. Breath, and breathing seems to be the key to success.\u00a0You\u00a0may have heard of\u00a0the same concern for breath control\u00a0in yoga classes, where you assume a posture and then breathe slowly and deeply. In both worlds, the diaphragm comes into play. In Japan, it’s called tanden<\/span> <\/a>( \u4e39\u7530), the centre of the soul (and the point of sacrifice in the hara-kiri ritual).\u00a0 To put it crudely, if your stomach (hara \u8179) is not ballooning, you’re doing it wrong.<\/p>\n So what kind of sound should you be making? Definitely not the kind that undulates with vibrato, the essence of the Western flute sound, as well as a host of other instruments. The sound should be straight, in tone and pitch. Your sound will also likely trail off after a moment or two, like a decrescendo. I think that\u2019s good, because I believe the sound of the shakuhachi was (and is) inspired by the natural decay of a ringing bell, especially the hand-bells (rei \u00a0\u9234) \u00a0played by Buddhist priests during their rituals, the bowl bells (keisu\u00a0\u00a0 \u93e7\u5b50) during their chanting, and the huge hanging bells (bonsh\u014d \u68b5\u9418) \u00a0found in their temple compounds. \u00a0Even the titles of the sacred solo music have the word bell (e.g., Reibo \u9234\u6155) in their names.<\/p>\n As your breath flows steadily out of your body, and the sound emanates simply and directly, you are asked to concentrate only on the sound, the sonic manifestation of your silent breath.\u00a0 During the time of one breath, time should seem to stand still.\u00a0The next tone, a repeat of the first, should not be played right away; otherwise you\u2019ll feel light-headed and may even faint. Take your breath in as slowly as you breathed out.\u00a0It is perferable to stand or sit up straight,\u00a0allowing an unimpeded expansion of the diaphragm. If you sit in Japanese seiza (\u6b63\u5ea7) style, kneeling with your legs under you, the one-tone exercise will turn into an unsolvable Rinzai puzzle koan (\u516c\u6848): \u201cCan I realize one-ness with my one note while my legs scream in pain?\u201d<\/p>\nA Traditional Lesson<\/h2>\n
A Western Lesson<\/h2>\n
Your First Sound<\/h2>\n
Your First Buddhist Sound<\/h2>\n