The Music Lesson

by Victor L Wooten

  After retrieving our Popsicle sticks, we didn’t speak another word all the way back to the car. When we arrived, Michael broke the silence.

  “Watch,” he said.

  I hadn’t noticed, but he had picked up two small pieces of wood. One was a straight, thin, round stick about fourteen inches long. The other was a short flat board, a little thicker than the stick. He knelt down on one knee, placing the flat board on the ground. Holding the board down with his foot, he held the longer stick between his palms, perpendicular to the flat board (forming an upside-down T ).

  By rapidly rubbing his palms together, he rolled the thin stick back and forth. With his body leaning over his hands, providing downward pressure, he caused the stick to rub and spin back and forth against the board creating friction and heat. Within a few seconds, the wood started smoking. A few seconds later, he stopped rolling the stick.

  “Look,” he said.

  I looked down, and there was a red hot coal lying beside the flat board. After allowing me a good look, he transferred the coal onto a pile of dry grasses. Then he gently picked up the pile and blew on it three times. During his third breath, the whole thing burst into flames right in his hands. It was both amazing and beautiful to watch.

  Michael told me that what he’d used was called a hand-drill. I’d seen someone make a fire using that technique once before on a television show, but I’d never seen anything quite like what Michael demonstrated. The whole process took less than one minute, and if he hadn’t stopped to let me watch, it would’ve probably taken less than thirty seconds. (A year or so later, I practiced making fire using the hand-drill and bow-drill techniques. It was not easy to do. To make a fire in that short amount of time still seems nearly impossible.)

  After holding the flaming bundle for a few seconds, Michael tossed it on the ground and looked at me.

  “Your turn,” he suggested as he stamped out the flames.

  “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

  I knelt down and did my best to repeat what I’d just seen, practically mangling the two pieces of wood in the process. The stick in my hands kept wobbling back and forth, slipping off the flat board on the ground. After about two minutes of struggling, I was exhausted. I dropped the stick and sat back, tired and sweaty.

  Michael chuckled, picked up the stick, and had the wood smoking again within a few seconds.

  “How’d you do that?” I asked, still out of breath. “Are you using magic?” I was only half joking.

  “Yes, I am. It’s called technique,” he answered. “Without proper technique, nothing can happen.”

  “Can you teach me the proper technique for making a fire?” I asked, forgetting one of his first rules.

  “No, I can’t,” he answered with his familiar sly grin.

  “Why not?” I asked. “Oh, right. Will you show me the proper technique, please?” I was slowly adapting to his style of teaching.

  “I would be delighted.”

  We knelt down and he showed me how and where to place my hands and feet. He told me that the reason the stick, made of horseweed, was wobbling against the cedar board was that I was favoring my stronger hand.

  “Use both hands equally,” he instructed. “Most musicians favor their stronger hand. They may never realize it, but if the problem is not corrected, it will surely hinder their progress. And here,” he said pointing at the sticks, “if the problem is not corrected, you will never make a fire.”

  After a few more starts and stops, corrections and adjustments, I had smoke. It wasn’t much, but it was smoke. Michael laughed and told me that I was sweating so much while attempting to start a fire, I would likely put out my coal before I could ever ignite a flame. I fell back on the ground, spent and breathing hard. Michael spoke so that I didn’t have to.

  “To play Music, good technique is a must. You can know all the notes in the world. You can have the best ideas in the world, but you need good technique to get them out. Your technique can even be unorthodox, but if it is inadequate, you will not be able to express yourself freely; you will frustrate yourself instead. Good technique allows you to use all the other elements of Music at will.”

  He knelt down and proceeded to make another coal as easily as he’d made the first. He never stopped talking during the process. I relaxed on the ground, watching and listening.

  “Your technique should be at such a high level that you can forget about it. Eventually, you will even forget about your bass. Only then can you remember how to play Music. Think about talking. When you talk, the words are your notes. Your tongue, diaphragm, mouth, teeth, lips, and so on are your instruments. How you use them to push air across your vocal cords and through your lips to form words is your technique, but you rarely think about that.”

  His coal was still smoking, so I threw some grass on top of it. The grass was moist, which almost put out the coal, but Michael came to the rescue. Blowing on it with a couple short breaths, he had it smoking again within seconds.

  “When you were a baby,” he continued, “your technique was not adequate enough to allow you to speak like everyone else. You would babble on and on trying to work it out and be understood. Not having the proper control of your instrument caused you to cry.”

  He frowned comically as if he was an upset child. I had to laugh.

  “After many months, you finally developed the control allowing you to say the things you wanted to say. That made you happy. The feeling of joy encouraged you to learn more.”

  He stood up smiling, raising his hands into the air.

  “Notice you did not develop your speaking technique through diligent practice, at least not the type of practice you are familiar with. Your parents didn’t lock you in a room and make you work on it three hours a day, and they didn’t make you take lessons. You learned to speak through a natural process. Musicians could benefit from looking at this process.

  “When learning Music, we think we need to concentrate really hard on something until we achieve success. We also think we should lock ourselves in what we call the ‘woodshed’ for at least a few hours each day and focus on what we are doing. We practice our scales, modes, and techniques over and over until they become second nature. This, we think, is the only way of attaining the level of master musician. I propose a different path.”

  He bent down over the coal and waved his hand one time, creating a breeze. As he stood back up, the grass burst into flames. My eyes widened. He didn’t react.

  “Do you have to concentrate to speak English?” he inquired. “When you are playing Music at your best, are you concentrating? Do you want to have to concentrate every time you do anything well? No, you don’t.”

  I was tense, but he seemed at ease. Concentrating hard, I tried to keep up with what he was both doing and saying. Between listening to his words and watching him manipulate the fire, I was getting left behind. He began to speak again, so I did my best to pay attention.

  “If a policeman walked up to you right now and commanded you to walk a straight line, you would probably have a hard time doing it. Why?” He stood up and acted as if he were walking on a tightrope. “Because you would start concentrating on doing it ‘right.’ ”

  He fell to the ground as if losing his balance. Looking up at me he continued. “You don’t have to concentrate to walk. So when you start trying to concentrate, your body does not like it and you lose your balance. If you were to do that in front of the policeman, you could end up in jail, and that is exactly what happens to most of us when we try to play Music. We allow ourselves to be trapped in the jails of our own minds.” He clenched his fists in front of him pantomiming being behind bars.

  "There is a time for concentrating and a time for not concentrating, ” he said. “Concentration is similar to focusing the rays of the sun into one point by use of a magnifying glass. Amazing amounts of heat can be produced by using this method. You used to do it as a kid. Am I right?”

  I smiled but didn’t answer. Of course he was right
. I thought about the few times I’d played with fire as a kid. I’d always enjoyed starting fires with a magnifying glass. There was something about focusing the sun’s rays down to one point that intrigued me. I thought about the possibilities of doing it with one’s mind. Michael sat down in a full lotus position before continuing, interrupting my childhood recollections.

  “Concentrating or focusing is great for projecting your thoughts or your will. This usually means closing down the mind in a way that shuts out all other factors, except for the one thing you are attempting to achieve.”

  Resting his hands on his knees, he turned his palms upward touching his thumbs and middle fingers together. Closing his eyes, he continued speaking.

  “Miracles can be produced through concentration of this type, but it takes control. If the proper method or technique is used, the mind can produce much more heat than the largest magnifying glass, but depending on the situation, that may not be the most productive use of the mind.

  “When it is time to receive information, opening the mind works best.” He opened his eyes to stress his point. “It is like taking the power of your mind and opening it up to whatever information is out there. The mind cannot achieve its true potential until you have mastered each of these techniques. Like yin and yang, they work together to complete the whole. If you do not want to have to concentrate every time you play your bass, you should not have to concentrate every time you practice.”

  I should’ve realized that myself. I hated having to concentrate just to make music. I knew that whenever I was performing at my best, I wasn’t concentrating at all; I was in the “zone.” Still frustrated at how much I was having to concentrate at that moment, I kept quiet and listened.

  “Kids know how to do it instinctively, but most adults unintentionally do their best to rob them of this beautiful quality. Children learn faster than most adults ever will, because their minds are open. They may not realize what they’re doing, but by opening their minds to all the information available to them, their power of imagination and creation becomes limitless, which means their potential is limitless. You don’t get an imagination like that through concentration.”

  Michael was usually like a kid himself, never sitting still for long. Though he used his arms to gesture, this was as long as I’d seen him sit in one position. Still sitting in lotus position, he removed his hat and used it to fan the coal that was still smoldering next to him. It appeared as if he was sending smoke signals. Now, using his hat to gesture, he continued speaking.

  “Like this smoke, knowledge is in the air. All the knowledge that ever existed, or ever will exist, is here already: right here, right now. If you can tune in to the correct frequency you can pick up any information you want. We think the brain creates knowledge, but I am here to tell you that the brain creates nothing. The brain receives, or more accurately, it discovers. It would be a miracle in and of itself to think that everything in this world came from the brain, a jelly-like mass the size of a grapefruit. The brain can receive information and then use it. But create it? No!” He lowered his head, shaking it back and forth.

  Then he quickly waved his finger through the smoke, and it swirled, slithering around like a snake. The smoke slowly danced its way toward me. I leaned back, imagining a forked tongue tasting the air and testing my comfort level.

  Once the snake dissipated, he placed his safari hat on the ground completely covering the coal. It caused his hat to start smoldering. I was confused by his actions once again. Enjoying my confused look, he smiled and continued talking.

  “Music comes out of a radio, but is Music inside the box? No! Music is in the air. The radio has the ability to tune in to the proper frequency and pick up whatever Music it wants, but it does not create it.

  “Imagine if the radio could open up and play all Music at once. The result would be chaos. Unless it’s ‘tuned in’ to what we want it to receive, it’s not really working at all. Many people lose control in Life by doing exactly that. They open up to the ‘All,’ without the proper control necessary to assimilate all the information. The result, unless prepared, is chaos. Remember, all knowledge is in the air, and since you breathe in this air, all knowledge is also in you. The radio demonstrates what I am talking about perfectly.”

  As he finished his monologue, he placed the still smoking hat back onto his head making it appear as if his head was on fire. From his cross-legged position, he smiled proudly. Again, I found myself marveling at just how childlike the strange man’s actions could appear. I got the feeling that he was using the radio technique right then to receive the information that he was feeding me. He seemed too crazy to come up with it on his own.

  I could use this skill. It surely would be nice not having to keep all of my knowledge in my brain at all times. I thought I could feel my head smoke as well.

  All of a sudden, I realized something about my own method of learning. I usually tried to block out all other things so I could cram new information into my head. It rarely worked. My brain, being cramped already, would usually spit the information back out. I could imagine a “No Vacancy” sign posted on the door of my brain. No more information please.

  As if reading my thoughts, Michael asked, “How does this pertain to technique?”

  “I think I know,” I answered.

  Michael placed his hat on my head. It was still smoking.

  “Now,” he instructed, “don’t think; either you know or you don’t. Tell me what you know.”

  “Okay, when I play at my best, I’m not thinking. I’m in the ‘zone.’ Music is flowing through me, but this flow is broken sometimes when I make a mistake. My mistakes are often caused by frustration, and making mistakes often causes me to become frustrated. Many times, poor technique is at the root of the problem. Poor technique robs me of free expression. It’s like I hear what I wanna play, but my technique doesn’t allow it to come out.

  “Now,” I continued, “in order for me to play freely, I need good technique, but I don’t wanna be thinking about my technique while I’m playing any more than I wanna be thinking about my mouth when I’m talking. So, when I practice, I use ‘concentration’ to learn what the technique is. Then I use ‘not concentrating’ to get completely comfortable using the technique. Combining the two concentration methods allows me to get a complete grasp of the technique.”

  I surprised myself. Somehow, I was finally getting it. I didn’t know where the information was coming from, but I was open to it and it was flowing through me. I wasn’t ready to stop. Feeling the energy, I kept talking.

  “If ‘not concentrating’ is where I want to end up, I need to add it to my practice routine. Combining ‘concentrating’ with ‘not concentrating’ is necessary to complete the circle. This, like you said, is yin and yang. Both parts are needed to complete the whole. We know how to concentrate and we know how to practice concentrating, but do we know how to practice ‘not concentrating’? I need to figure that out for the circle to be complete.”

  “What can you use to practice ‘not concentrating’?” Michael asked as he removed the still smoldering hat from my head.

  “Television,” I replied. That was an easy one for me.

  “Do you think that television can be of any assistance?”

  “Of course, it can,” I responded. “If I practice my techniques while watching a television show it might allow another part of my brain to be activated. This would simulate ‘not concentrating’ while playing music.”

  “I thought television was a negative thing,” Michael said, raising both eyebrows.

  “Well, then, that’s what you thought,” I answered with complete authority. I didn’t know where my newly found authority was coming from, but I had it and was running with it. I sat down trying to form my own lotus position. My legs screamed, “No!” Hearing Michael chuckle under his breath, I scrapped the lotus idea and decided to display my authority with words instead.