In this week's podcast episode (#66, "Stripping Away"), musicians Carly Simon and Heather Maloney share interviews with RockOm. Carly talks about stripping down her hits for the new album Never Been Gone and singer-songwriter Heather Maloney shares about the stripping away process that occurs in meditation.
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At the age of 21, Heather Maloney began her musical career performing as a jazz singer alongside Grammy nominee Hui Cox in Manhattan. Her varied musical interests over the years (Joni Mitchell, Bobby McFerrin, Billy Holiday, The Beatles, Phillip Glass, Ravi Shankhar) began to shape a sound that would become distinctly her own. After studying classical operatic vocals, classical Indian and jazz, she booked it up to the woods of Massachusetts to focus on her growing interest in meditation. Heather has been living at a meditation retreat center for the past two years, where her current album, Cozy Razor's Edge, has slowly brewed in her solitude - a compilation of folk/indie/pop-rock songs directly affected by her experiences in meditation.
Featured Track: "Let It Ache"
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"I was sitting a week long silent meditation retreat and my heart was aching. For a couple of days I was coming up with a number of stories as to why it was aching. Then came a moment when I said to myself, 'Oh this is just heartache. I can be with this. I don't need to figure it out to make it go away.' This song serves as a reminder that suffering and pain is part of the human experience and it's OK. Not only is it OK, it's fertile ground to grow from." (Heather)
Carly Simon needs no introduction. Since 1971 her music and hits such as "That's the Way I've Always Heard It Should Be", “Anticipation”, “You’re So Vain” and many others have been part of the soundtrack of millions of lives around the world. Her 1973 album No Secrets rocketed to #1 on the US album charts and held firm for six consecutive weeks, eventually going Platinum and receiving a Grammy Award nomination. One song from that album, "You're So Vain", was also nominated for Song Of The Year and Best Pop Vocal Performance and as of 2008 was listed at #72 on the Billboard definitive list of the Top 100 songs from the chart's first 50 years.
In 1988 Carly won an Academy Award, Grammy and a Golden Globe for her song “Let the River Run” from the Working Girl motion picture soundtrack. Only one of two artists to ever accomplish such a feat (the other being Bruce Springsteen for "Streets of Philadelphia"), Carly hasn’t rested on her laurels, instead she has continued to write not only more great songs, but film scores and children’s books as well.
Now Carly has a new album out entitled Never Been Gone which was produced by her son Ben Taylor on his Iris Records label. Never Been Gone is a collection of Carly’s hits, re-recorded this year with minimal backing instrumentation, allowing a refined, sultry, autumn sound to emerge. This fresh take on classic favorites also includes two news songs where we hear Carly continuing to evolve and grow as an artist. RockOm recently had the extraordinary opportunity to sit at length with Carly to discuss her new album and also explore music and healing, chant, meditation, the beauty of the human voice, prayer in its various forms and much more.
Tom: Your new album is entitled Never Been Gone and is out now on Iris Records. I think I speak for millions saying through your music I never felt you had been gone. The great songs on this album are timeless, yet simplistically and beautifully refined. Which songs surprised you the most in how they spoke to you after you re-recorded them?
Carly: I’m glad that you said that because I don’t want anybody to think this is a compilation. There have been quite a few compilations of my albums but this is really a reinterpretation as if I were singing in a foreign language. I limited myself to certain instruments such as not allowing myself to use drums except for on one song. My hits were always marked by my love of the huge tom-tom fill [laughs] and since we didn’t have any of those fills I feel much more exposed on this album. On songs like “Loving You is the Right Thing to Do”, I’m not awash in production. I also feel very exposed in “Coming Around Again". Certainly in the original the emotion came across but not in the way it does on Never Been Gone. When I listen to this album it affects me more, hurts me more, elates me more; it gets back to the core of what the emotion is of the song. When I was listening and mixing "Coming Around Again" it seemed very much like a chant in a way. It sort of moves you vibrationally sometimes like when you sit and chant. I’m not sure which organ it affects - whether it the spleen, the heart, or the liver - but there’s something about it that puts you in a “hum” mood.
Tom: I agree. It’s a liberating listening experience. I imagine it must have been the same for you doing these songs in an entirely different way.
Carly: Well, yes it was and certainly my son Ben [Taylor] had a huge hand in that. He wanted to know how I originally wrote them and then he wanted me to move from there, to take my toys and do them bare and stark. You know, it’s not that I’m not very much helped by Ben and David Saw and [other musicians on the album] but there’s something so different about this album. We’re all older; we’re all approaching it in a different way. There are some new musicians who were never in on the songs before. David Foster certainly put a very new spin on “Let The River Run.” I find that song can be sung in any way. It’s a hymn, so it cannot be sung as a sultry love song, but in terms of whether it’s chorally done or [performed] by one voice or by a duo or trio; it’s very versatile. We sang this in a beautiful and simple choral way, although there are aspects of my solo voice that come through. But it’s largely a guitar-based song; it doesn’t have the thrust of the original version that I did for Working Girl.
Tom: Since we’re talking about “Let The River Run”, your Academy Award-winning song from Working Girl which became somewhat of an anthem after 9-11, what do you think it’s going to take for us to find the “New Jerusalem” and create more harmony between each other on this planet?
Carly: Oh, what a good question. I think that if we all chanted at the same time, everyday, from country to country to country, without any time zones interfering that we would all be vibrating on the same plane, which has always been a great healer. Music has always been used to heal because it makes people feel a lot better. Not all music does; there are certain songs, intervals and chords which don’t make you feel very good. Pythagoras freed the minds of his disciples from the worries of the day by playing music, which would calm their minds and would also produce deep sleep and prophetic dreams. In the morning he would banish the lingering effects of sleep by playing stimulating melodies and rhythms. Major chords will do one thing to your mind and body and minor chords will do something else. Suspension chords will do something else. Then there’s the Devil’s interval which does something. So music and its properties are just fantastic the way they can alter your state of mind.
Tom: I think that’s why we come back to our favorite music over and over again when we want to recreate that original experience.
Carly: Yeah, when you think of it the ancient Hebrews or the prophets foretold the future through chanting and the sister of Moses was said to have immense visionary powers which were conveyed through chanting. Shamans cured diseases and mental anguish by coaxing the evil spirits into leaving their victims through the powers of chanting. There have been all kinds of enlightenment through music, but healing the sick is also a major [attribute]. There are so many curative powers in music. I think that music is the strongest of all the arts in terms of being able to cross all the boundaries and being able to do so many things, especially vibrationally to the body. Looking at a piece of art is very effective and impressive, but I don’t think that it does the same thing if you’re not also the participant. There’s something about the way music brings people together in a communal way; it's such a terrific thing. And it seems to me that the most powerful thing about church or temple for me was always the music.
Tom: Do you use music in meditation to relax? It’s widely known that you have some issues with stage fright and it’s ironic that you create this beautiful music and yet you have stage fright before going on. Does music help you to calm yourself?
Carly: [Laughs] I would love to be on stage and perform music - just the vocal aspect of it - with a whole lot of other people. I would love to sing in a choir or as some of the Irish folk musicians do; they’ll sing while being held from the back by another singer, and that person will be held by another person, and that person by another so that it’s like a chain of singers who are holding each other and they feel each other vibrationally. I would love that. When I’m singing by myself I feel incomplete a little bit. I wish that I could actually feel the warmth and the vibration of another human being right next to my body while I was singing.
Tom: Well you certainly have the vibration of millions of fans that you’ve performed for over the years supporting you. I hope you feel that at times.
Carly: Oh I do, I do! I love it when the audience sings with me. What I don’t like is the very stillness of a room and then just my voice. That’s what sort of scares me. I jump at the sound of it, it’s so solo. I think there are some people who really feed on that and feed on the complete solo-ness of their voice as a lone instrument in the dark. I like the togetherness of the community singing.
Tom: Let me ask you about the creative process. I know that besides being a musician you’re also a very successful film arranger and children's author. Can you explain where all the magical melodies and lyrics, the ideas and words for your books and music come from?
Carly: Oh I have a thousand stories and as I was explaining to somebody the other day, I think I was born with a faucet in my mind. It’s always dripping a melody but there are other things that will be in the way of it. For instance, I’ll be talking to you and I won't necessarily be thinking of the melody, but as soon as I’m still again the melody will come. So anytime I want to tap into it I can and then I‘ll go from there. I go from whatever melody I’m given to a lyric that will seem to go with it or to a better melody or to a chord that I play on an instrument. There's always a starting place. It happened to be with my children’s book that the starting place was in telling my own children stories that I would be making up, because it would be easier to put them to sleep when the lights were out and I was not reading a book. So I would turn off the lights and I would make up a story. Everything that I write has to be very real to me or I have to be able to identify with it.
Tom: Who do you turn to musically for inspiration?
Carly: It’s usually classical music. To be specific I would say the music of Debussy, Poulenc and Gershwin, who's obviously not just classical but he’s the modern composer who I’m most attracted to in terms of melody. There are so many people in pop music and in jazz that it would be to hard to limit myself. If I go to my CD collection it’s almost impossible to chose one myself. It’s easier to turn on the radio and see what happens by accident. There’s always something that I’m fascinated and/or moved by.
Tom: Included in the new album is your song “Coming Around Again.” You write about coming back home to Martha’s Vineyard:"I know nothing stays the same / But if you're willing / to play the game / It's coming around again / So don't mind if I fall apart / there's more room in a broken heart." The music has changed this time around but the words still hold a simple truth that is unchanging about a space - in this case your home - which holds peace and serenity. Other than your home what sustains you when all else fails?
Carly: I think it’s prayer, in its various forms. It’s prayer, where I stay quiet and see whether I can hear the voice of God and how the voice of God comes to me. If it’s in the form of music, then there’s some kind of spiritual prayer which is more sacred than it is secular and that can be any number of things. There’s a requiem by Fauré I happen to love. My thing is I have to remember to [pray]. When I’m not being sustained or when I lose myself or when I’m angry or when I’m in the wrong space I have to remember I can click it off. I have to remember that I can pray if I choose to do so.
There are many things that are meditative for me. Painting is meditative; I love to paint. I love to garden and to look at my beautiful trees that I’m so lucky to have. My son’s music is just exquisite. I listen to that; I listen to the beauty of his voice. Just the beauty of the human voice is really something; it’s a meditation all of its own. The voice of my daughter… there are so many beautiful voices that I just love. My favorite tenor is Yussi Beurling and some of the beautiful music that he sang, just that voice in itself can pull me in a whole different direction, as can various pop songs. I listen to a lot of Motown, especially to Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye and Sam Cooke. And dancing... I would be a whirling dervish if I lived in that time. In fact, I might start a little group of my own right here in my apartment. [Laughs] That would be fun!
"For we are gathered here to celebrate and explore the music of Winter, the season of frosts and long dark nights."
So writes Sting in the liner notes to his latest recording, If on a Winter's Night..., a concept album centered on the darkest and most contemplative of the four seasons. What began as a suggestion to create a Christmas album has evolved into a collection of pensive songs - both original and borrowed - that survey that most spiritually reflective time of year.
Sting continues,
"Like all early creatures we seem pre-wired to recognize and respond to the polar archetypes of light and dark, of heat and cold as they are encoded in the rhythm of the days and nights and the perpetual cycle of the seasons."
And while most of Sting's popular work - if not lyrically, at least in tone - has rested more in the realm of light, If on a Winter's Night... plunges into the darkness and stays there for 50 frigid minutes, never budging from its stoic, frosty soundscape.
To get a sense of this album, one has only to look at the cover art: Sting walks alone in a snowy woods, accompanied only by his icy-whiskered companion named Compass. There is a silence that whispers from within the photo, only presumably broken by the sound of crunching snow collapsing beneath rubber soles.And this picture, in its simplicity, sums up the album perfectly, as if the audio from these 15 tracks had coalesced into a single image. Both Sting and his marketing team have done a fantastic job "setting the stage" for this album, carrying out the concept and vision to its fullest potential: Pictures in the album's liner book include a heavily bearded and deep-eyed Sting, blustery landscapes, sweaters and coats, candle-lit living rooms and musicians in wistful meditation. Wintry words spill out from the pages of Sting's personal commentary such as mentions of "hot mugs of tea," scarves, ghosts and coal fires... he's certainly attempting to paint a picture. And he has, quite successfully.
PARALLEL STORIES
You could go so far as to say that a Winter-themed album that ignores the reality of Christmas would be in error, as the two have become so intertwined in Western culture. As the large portion of Sting's borrowed material stems from British and Scottish sources, it's no surprise that the album begins with a song singing the praises of Mary, the mother of Jesus. In fact the story of the "God-child come to earth" makes repeat appearances on If on a Winter's Night..., appearing also in the recordings of the 15th century German carol "Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming," the touching fable-song "Cherry Tree Carol," and beyond. Despite Sting's self-professed agnosticism, he shares that "the sacred symbolism of the church's art still exerts a powerful influence over [him]."
Don't for a minute believe this is a Christian-centric album, however. Alongside hymns singing the praises of "the root of Jesse" are hints of something more ancient, medieval, folksy, ritualistic, natural and even pagan. In his own words, Sting says that it was "important to draw parallels between the Christian story and the older traditions of the winter solstice."
Spiritually and metaphorically, Winter's Night draws you inward through sonic themes related to winter such as reflectiveness, introspection and stillness. In order to fully "get" this album and its overtly subtle tone, one almost needs to understand Sting's motivation:
"...there is something of the Winter that is primal, mysterious and utterly irreplaceable ... as if we somehow need the darkness of the winter months to replenish our inner spirits as much as we need the light, energy and warmth of summer."
He goes further, acknowledging that Resurrection and light are just around the bend as Winter soon makes way for Spring. In truth they are two sides of the same coin:
"We are reminded that there is light and life at the centre of the darkness that is Winter - or conversely that, no matter how comfortable we feel in the cradle, there is darkness and danger all around us."
THE SONGS
Those longing to hear a new offering supported by Sting's Fender P-bass, electric guitars, synthesizers and a trap set need look elsewhere for herein we experience the folk-inspired sounds of harp, classical guitar, Melodeon, cello, Northumbrian Pipes, and fiddle. Fans of the Sting who penned Brand New Day, Mercury Falling, Ten Summoner's Tales and the majority of the Police's material will have to be remarkably open to other styles of music in order to include this alongside their favorite of his albums. This is not because this latest release is less than his previous offerings, not at all, but rather that it is so extraordinarily different from them. If On a Winter's Night... was released on the Deutsche Grammophon label which is both appropriate and telling, for this collection of songs belongs more suitably alongside your classical CDs (or even his own 2006 album Songs from the Labyrinth) than it does next to your Peter Gabriel or Paul Simon discs.
Sting begins with "Gabriel's Message," singing "Most highly favored lady, Gloria!" over the gentle instrumentation of a nylon-stringed guitar, muted horns and tight vocal harmonies. From there the album slowly and intentionally bubbles forward like a frozen-over brook, presenting classical and folk pieces including a Celtic begging song, a folk tune from Sting's home of Newcastle, a number from Henry Purcell's King Arthur, a reference to Schubert's Winterreise and more; as well as two original pieces, the beautiful "Lullaby for an Anxious Child" and a new arrangement of the previously recorded "Hounds of Winter."
CONCLUSION
If on a Winter's Night... is almost "application music," or music for the purpose of introspection, mood setting, or direct listening. It most likely shouldn't be considered for enlivening your holiday party with yuletide cheer and may not even be - if I may be so bold - for entertainment. Like most music with depth, it requires a certain conscious presence to fully appreciate and experience, coming to grips with it over time like slowly warming beneath a freshly applied sweater.
There's a mystery in the dark of winter that is both unsettling and strangely comforting, as if everything remains unanswered and yet is perfect as it is; If on a Winter's Night... resides in that mystery. It isn't music for everyone, nor will there be any signature Sting hit singles emerging from it, and yet for those brave enough to look within and meditate on what lies in the heart of darkness, it is a welcome companion to the bleak seasons, both in nature and in the soul.
"If I have a spirituality at all, it's about music. I play and I listen to music as if it really matters to my soul, to my eternal being." [Sting]
I’m a beginner with the bass guitar. I bought an inexpensive Ibanez bass the January before last and took about four months of lessons, but then stopped as I got more involved in writing my book on Christian mysticism. Now, over a year later, the book is on my editor’s desk and I’ve resumed working with the bass. Thanks to a rather lucrative freelancing job I had earlier this year, I’ve upgraded my gear and am now learning with a Rickenbacker bass (I am not worthy to be playing such a wonderful instrument, but when we say “life’s not fair” sometimes that works to our advantage). I’m going to start back on my lessons, and who knows? Maybe some day I’ll be good enough to at least pluck along with a church praise band. Or not. We’ll see. My commitment to the bass is entirely to have fun.
But of course, learning a musical instrument in midlife is about a lot more than just having fun. I’m facing all the demons of insecurity and low self-esteem that prevented me from picking up the bass (or some other instrument) 30 or 40 years ago. Yes, I can say that my parents never encouraged me to play an instrument and without that kind of external support/discipline, I probably wouldn’t have made it very far; nowadays I can be my own “parent” and pull the self-discipline up from within me. I suppose that’s true (although every professional musician I know had the self-discipline at age 13; in fact, usually they got in trouble with their parents because they were more interested in playing the guitar than in doing homework, but I suppose that’s another story). However we slice it, the bottom line is that I’m doing something now, rather awkwardly, that many other folks pull off successfully before they learn how to drive. I suppose there’s some humility in there.
But there’s also all the “I’m not good enough” stuff. “What’s a guy with gray hair and a less than svelte physique doing trying to learn a rock and roll instrument?” that snarky voice whispers within me. “Isn’t this just some weird midlife phase?” “Sell the bass, act your age, and invest the money. It would be a wiser thing to do.” Every time I try to learn a new riff and I make a loud buzzing noise or a string of flat notes, I have to breathe through the temptation to get angry or feel defeated. “I’m doing this for fun,” I keep reminding myself. “This isn’t about becoming a professional musician, or being cool, or proving anything to anybody. It’s just about having fun.”
And I’m discovering that, for me and my Rickenbacker, “having fun” means taking baby steps. By the end of my fourth month of classes, I was just barely beginning to be able to play eighth notes without totally screwing up. Over a year later, that’s still where I am. Baby steps? Hah! I’m still crawling.
The other night on PBS there was footage from the Crossroads festival a few years back, and Jeff Beck performed with an amazing young Australian bassist named Tal Wilkenfeld. Fran and I both were amazed at her playing chops; I looked her up online and discovered she was born in 1986, meaning she was barely 21 during that performance we saw (indeed, we made the apparently common error of thinking she was Jeff Beck’s daughter). Watching her fingers fly over the fretboard, I felt all my “I’m not worthy stuff” flow up like some sort of psychic acid reflux. But then I remembered that it’s all about fun, and I don’t have to worry about comparing myself to someone less than half my age who had already “made it” in the bass world. After all, I’m not trying to “make it in the bass world.” But, still, the snarky voice mumbles in the background, because part of me is toxically ambitious and feels like anything I do I should be the best at, period — or else I’m just a worthless pile of you-know-what.
Reflecting on these silly but persistent inner dynamics, I had a flash of insight the other morning. Isn’t the practice of contemplation a lot like learning a musical instrument? Perhaps many other people will see this as pretty much a no-brainer, but for me, having never seriously pursued a disciplined study of an instrument before, it came as a revelation.
I can only speak for myself, but I certainly do the same silly things with my meditation practice that I do with my bass playing. I sit to be silent, and I attack myself for how lousy I am at it. I come up with all sorts of excuses to undermine my discipline — and then, my discipline having been undermined, I accuse myself of bad faith. When I play my “eighth notes” of rather short and not-terribly-focused meditation experiences, I judge myself as unworthy because I am not engaged in the kind of consciousness alteration that (I assume) characterizes the practice of a “true” master.
Practice makes perfect. If at first you don’t succeed, try try again. These may be little maxims that parents use to keep their kids at their daily hour of piano playing, but they also are solid pointers to the reality of contemplative practice. Of course, the kicker here is this: contemplation, like my approach to the bass, is not meant to be anything other than its own reward. Even if we feel like we don’t “succeed” in contemplation, we’ve succeeded anyway. Of course, success is a not-very-useful category by which to describe contemplation, but since we live in a culture that worships the idol of success so pervasively, we (or at least, I) can’t help but see contemplation as something we might or might not succeed at. So what is success in contemplation: feeling God’s presence? Noticing deeper serenity and calmness throughout the day? Making it through 20 minutes of centering prayer without a single distraction? (yeah, like that is going to happen!)… we can evaluate our contemplative practice any way we want, and if we try to evaluate it, chances are we’ll just stack the deck so that it comes up lacking. Sigh. So we try not to judge ourselves — even our judging self — and we try, try again. We take baby steps. We play eighth notes and we try not to wince when the string buzzes. And somewhere in the midst of it all, we have fun.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Carl McColman is a blogger and author of several books on Celtic, earth-based, and contemplative spirituality. He is just beginning to learn to play the bass, and having all sorts of fun with it. Visit his blog at www.anamchara.com or his Facebook page at www.facebook.com/carlmccolman
This article was originally posted on Anamchara.com HERE.
RockOm Round-up is a quick glance at what's going on around the world in the areas of music and spirituality...
What music would you choose to die to? - "Ghoulish question, I know, but someone asked me the other day and I keep wondering. The concept of music to die to was introduced to me as a child by Gervase Hughes’s essay on Beethoven in his book Fifty Famous Composers, still the best short introduction to classical music." (blogs.telegraph.co.uk)
Derek Webb's new album pushes some hot buttons - "Some have accused [Christian Musician] Webb of using profanity to grab attention — not unheard of in ministry. Webb defends the use of the word as an effective use of his primary tool: language. And he's willing to be at the center of controversy, something the former Caedmon's Call member is used to." (kentucky.com)
American and Muslim, Sufi mystics band goes global - "With a discombobulating mix of blonde hair and ecstatic cries of "Allah, Allah!", the members of Islamic band Debu sway on stage at a strip mall on the edge of Indonesia's capital. Led by a clutch of American siblings, the band of adherents of Sufi Islamic mysticism have become a perennial hit during the holy month of Ramadan here in the world's largest Muslim-majority country." (Google/AFP)
Hip-hop innovator Russell Simmons seeks world change - "Russell Simmons may not change the world single-handedly, but it sure looks like he's trying. At 51, the hip-hop pioneer, entrepreneur and philanthropist has opened his wallet to causes from funding art and meditation in schools to promoting Muslim/Jewish dialogue to empowering youth to create social and political change in their communities." (chron.com)
"George Harrison of Counting Crows" Releases Solo Album - "Counting Crows founding member and longtime bassist Matt Malley describes his first solo CD, 'The Goddess Within,' as 'intentionally Beatle-esque.' 'I was always considered the 'George Harrison of Counting Crows,'' Malley said. 'I was always flying off to India to meditate and learn Indian music during breaks from touring or recording. This is the result.'" (reuters.com)
Stop now, quiet your mind and anticipate the sound. Regard your instrument with respect and may I say, love? Hold it in your hands, feel its weight, smell its scent, experience its being and texture, your familiar friend. If Zen is the sound of one hand clapping, then how much greater of an event is about to take place? Fill your heart with the expectation of the first note, the last note, the only note. Allow your heart to be surprised by this attack of sound, as if by the appearance of a long lost love. Listen as it fills the air, stay with it as it dissolves until nothing is left but the air it occupied. Feel your heart’s hunger for the sound to return.
Now. Play. Not with your mind, but return your hands, your ears, your creative voice to the divine from whom they are on loan. There is a song to sing, and it is worth hearing. It is good to allow your being to fill up with joy, love, and light. Watch and listen, be a mind-full witness to this miracle. And when the song is finished, linger for a moment, breathing in the air that was blessed by this heavenly thing called music.
A caesura is "a break or interruption in music, notated by two diagonal lines often referred to as railroad tracks. The break can be of any length at the discretion of the conductor." (Source)
There's power in the pause. Cessation often makes that which follows the silence punch with more pizazz.
A musical caesura is just that - a moment when the music stops, when the conductor holds his arms in the air and all the players wait with anticipation for the baton to drop. The silence is charged with expectancy. Furthermore, the quiet of the pause stands in stark contrast to the dynamic, forte blast of the music's reentrance.
Herein lies two more good reasons to participate in meditation, prayer or other such "stilling" practices.
First, in shutting down our senses for a time and then reemerging from the silence, the world then seems brighter and more dynamic. When we never step "outside" of the world and its activity, it is quite easy to take it all for granted. In choosing to deny the physical world for a spell - if even for a morning quiet time - we return to see it again in all its glory and wonder.
Secondly, in the retreated quiet, our senses long for stimulation. You and I experience it as restlessness and a desire for the session to be over. Many meditation practices seek to eliminate that craving and agitation through the practice. That's fine and good. But occasionally it may make sense to meditate on your "wanting" and then just consciously enjoy the feeling of satisfying those antsy urges upon the end of your session. Anticipation, by definition, waits for a resolution. Instead of just wishing the anticipation would go away, take some time and enjoy seeing your desire come to fruition!
Either way - to more fully experience life by momentarily retreating from it, or by consciously playing with anticipation and resolution - writing in regular caesuras on your life's sheet music is a profound and enjoyable practice. Will you find power in the pause?
In Eastern spirituality it is believed that the whole universe, in its fundamental form, is made up of vibrating, pulsating energy. “Om” is considered to be the humming sound of this cosmic energy with no beginning and no ending. In his book, The Call of the Upanishads, Rohit Mehta writes about Om and Anahata Nada, or “the sound that is unstruck.”
“This word [Om] indicates the coexistence of the articulate and the inarticulate sounds - of the heard and unheard melodies - of the sound that is struck and the sound that is unstruck, the Anahata Nada. Sound may be described by its three-fold nature - the Audible sound, the Inaudible sound, and the Imperishable sound. The audible sound is the one which the human ear can hear. The inaudible sound is one which belongs to such octaves as either too high or too low for the human ear to respond to. But there is a third category of sound which is imperishable. Sound obviously consists of vibrations, and all vibrations have a beginning and an end. But if there could be a sound which is unstruck - the Anahata Nada - then surely there could be no end to it as there is no beginning to it. To talk of a vibration-less sound is indeed to indulge in a paradox. In the sacred word Om, there is such a paradox. It is both heard and unheard, struck as well as unstruck. It is both perishable and imperishable.”
The Upanishads can hold no unique claim that sound energy is fundamentally the creative force which was never originated and is never ending. The same can be found in the Bible, in the Book of John 1:1 - “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Have you ever heard the saying, “We are made of the same stuff as the stars”? It’s a beautiful quote that sets my mind to dreaming. If indeed as scientists believe we are made of the dust of stars, then one could ask, what is the dust of the stars made of? We all know the human body is comprised of billions of cells, but what makes up the structure of the tiniest, unseen sub-atomic particles holding the cells together? (After all, no one has ever actually seen an atom although the concept - introduced by the Greek philosopher Democritus - has been around since 400 BC.) How can we know the parts of what we can’t even see? Could sound potentially hold a clue as to our very nature? The yogis and saints seem to intuit so.
And how did these yogis and saints come to realize vibration as the foundation for the material world? Through scientific measurements and calibrated laboratory instruments? Of course not. They came to realize primal sound energy through stillness, internal reflection, meditation, prayer and surrendering to a universal presence - a universal vibration - that only seems to make itself known when, as songwriter Trevor Hall puts it, we "turn down the volume."
I guess the thrust of what I want to communicate here, and it's a theme I come back to often, is that when we take time to be still we can come to know our "calibration" is naturally in tune with the essence of God. When we take time to "tune in" and resonate with the Om of the universe, we come to discover the hidden aspects of our nature (like overtones we can't hear but, nonetheless, exist). And if we practice enough, we may begin to discover, much like the yogis and saints before us, that at our very core we are the essence of Anahata Nada.
"We could say that meditation doesn't have a reason or doesn't have a purpose. In this respect it's unlike almost all other things we do except perhaps making music and dancing. When we make music we don't do it in order to reach a certain point, such as the end of the composition. If that were the purpose of music then obviously the fastest players would be the best. Also, when we are dancing we are not aiming to arrive at a particular place on the floor as in a journey. When we dance, the journey itself is the point, as when we play music the playing itself is the point. And exactly the same thing is true in meditation. Meditation is the discovery that the point of life is always arrived at in the immediate moment."
In this week's podcast episode (#66, "Stripping Away"), musicians Carly Simon and Heather Maloney share interviews with RockOm. Carly talks about stripping down her hits for the new album Never Been Gone and singer-songwriter Heather Maloney shares about the stripping away process that occurs in meditation.
by Heather Maloney
Carly Simon needs no introduction. Since 1971 her music and hits such as "That's the Way I've Always Heard It Should Be", “Anticipation”, “You’re So Vain” and many others have been part of the soundtrack of millions of lives around the world. Her 1973 album No Secrets rocketed to #1 on the US album charts and held firm for six consecutive weeks, eventually going Platinum and receiving a Grammy Award nomination. One song from that album, "You're So Vain", was also nominated for Song Of The Year and Best Pop Vocal Performance and as of 2008 was listed at #72 on the Billboard definitive list of the Top 100 songs from the chart's first 50 years.
Tom: Since we’re talking about “Let The River Run”, your Academy Award-winning song from Working Girl which became somewhat of an anthem after 9-11, what do you think it’s going to take for us to find the “New Jerusalem” and create more harmony between each other on this planet?
Tom: Let me ask you about the creative process. I know that besides being a musician you’re also a very successful film arranger and children's author. Can you explain where all the magical melodies and lyrics, the ideas and words for your books and music come from?
To get a sense of this album, one has only to look at the cover art: Sting walks alone in a snowy woods, accompanied only by his icy-whiskered companion named Compass. There is a silence that whispers from within the photo, only presumably broken by the sound of crunching snow collapsing beneath rubber soles.
I’m a beginner with the bass guitar. I bought an inexpensive Ibanez bass the January before last and took about four months of lessons, but then stopped as I got more involved in writing my book on Christian mysticism. Now, over a year later, the book is on my editor’s desk and I’ve resumed working with the bass. Thanks to a rather lucrative freelancing job I had earlier this year, I’ve upgraded my gear and am now learning with a Rickenbacker bass (I am not worthy to be playing such a wonderful instrument, but when we say “life’s not fair” sometimes that works to our advantage). I’m going to start back on my lessons, and who knows? Maybe some day I’ll be good enough to at least pluck along with a church praise band. Or not. We’ll see. My commitment to the bass is entirely to have fun.
Stop now, quiet your mind and anticipate the sound. Regard your instrument with respect and may I say, love? Hold it in your hands, feel its weight, smell its scent, experience its being and texture, your familiar friend. If Zen is the sound of one hand clapping, then how much greater of an event is about to take place? Fill your heart with the expectation of the first note, the last note, the only note. Allow your heart to be surprised by this attack of sound, as if by the appearance of a long lost love. Listen as it fills the air, stay with it as it dissolves until nothing is left but the air it occupied. Feel your heart’s hunger for the sound to return.
A caesura is "a break or interruption in music, notated by two diagonal lines often referred to as railroad tracks. The break can be of any length at the discretion of the conductor." (
And how did these yogis and saints come to realize vibration as the foundation for the material world? Through scientific measurements and calibrated laboratory instruments? Of course not. They came to realize primal sound energy through stillness, internal reflection, meditation, prayer and surrendering to a universal presence - a universal vibration - that only seems to make itself known when, as songwriter Trevor Hall puts it, we "turn down the volume."
"We could say that meditation doesn't have a reason or doesn't have a purpose. In this respect it's unlike almost all other things we do except perhaps making music and dancing. When we make music we don't do it in order to reach a certain point, such as the end of the composition. If that were the purpose of music then obviously the fastest players would be the best. Also, when we are dancing we are not aiming to arrive at a particular place on the floor as in a journey. When we dance, the journey itself is the point, as when we play music the playing itself is the point. And exactly the same thing is true in meditation. Meditation is the discovery that the point of life is always arrived at in the immediate moment." 
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