“No, that’s Fleetwood Mac, Future Games,” Michael said. “Right era, wrong group. Choose again!”
How he knew which CD I’d fingered from across the room was a mystery to me. I put the disc on the floor so I could check it later. I tried again.
“Joni Mitchell, Shadows and Light. Good Music, wrong CD,” Michael stated.
No way! I peeked at him from under the hat. His eyes were still closed, so I looked down at the CD in my hand. He was right. How could he have known without looking? I glanced back at him and saw him smile.
“No cheating,” he said, wiggling his finger. “Again!”
I tried three more times to no avail.
“Give me the hat!” Michael ordered, sounding a bit disgusted.
From his chair, he reached for the hat. I threw it at him. Without opening his eyes, he caught it and put it on, pulling it down over his eyes as I’d done. Rising from his chair, he spun around three times and then proceeded to walk backwards over to the bookshelf just to assure me that he couldn’t see. Reaching the shelf, he pulled out whatever CD he wanted. It wouldn’t have been that easy for me if I’d done it with my eyes open.
"The Beatles, Abbey Road,” he stated with complete confidence. “Prince, Dirty Mind, Return To Forever, No Mystery, and Debbie Gibson, Electric Youth. You have a very diverse musical palette,” he added with a touch of sarcasm.
He held each disc up so I could see it. I stood there stunned with my mouth wide open. He was correct each time.
“And last but not least,” he said, reaching down to his right. “Curtis Mayfield, Superfly, the soundtrack album.”
My mouth opened wider. I was more than amazed at what I’d just witnessed. It was way more astonishing than the rocks. Remember, he was blindfolded with his back to the CDs. How he knew which CD was which was beyond my comprehension.
“Shall I continue?” he asked.
Why did he have to find my Debbie Gibson CD? I knew I would never hear the end of that one. I was also secretly afraid of what else he might find. “No, no, that’s enough,” I answered. To feed my curiosity and hide my embarrassment, I quickly asked a question. “How did you do that?”
“I did it very well,” he answered, removing the hat and taking a bow.
“Very funny. But really, can you give me a hint how you did it?”
“I can tell you exactly how I did it,” he told me.
I sat on the edge of the couch poised and ready. He took his seat across from me and laid the hat in his lap. Then, folding his arms and pausing a moment, he finally began speaking.
“Earlier, when you found your rock, you tuned in to the emotions stored inside it. These were your emotions and because they were fresh, the dynamics were powerful, like a fresh scent to a bloodhound. With the CDs, I did the same thing, except that the emotions were not my own and the dynamics were much less then they were in the rocks; therefore, I needed to turn up my own dynamics. Emotion is stored inside Music on every CD, and even if the CD is sitting on the shelf, it can still be felt. Learning to discern the emotions of each artist is the trick.”
“You tuned in to the emotions of the artists on the CD?” I asked in disbelief.
“Exactly! Have you ever noticed when you hear a song such as ‘Amazing Grace,’ it makes you feel different? You can tell there is something special dwelling within that song. Well, there are tons of emotions stored in there, and if you knew the origin behind that particular song, it would make complete sense to you.”
I’ve always known that that song has a special effect on me. Every time I hear it, I feel quieter and calmer. It’s similar to the feeling I get every time I take a walk in the woods.
I once heard about the composer of the song being on a ship, lost at sea. While looking at the stars, he had a revelation of some sort. That was all I knew. I wanted to know the rest of the story, but I would have to do some research. Maybe it would help me get a better understanding of what Michael was talking about.
“I am talking about vibrations and how strongly they can be felt,” he said. “Most people would say that the man wrote the song, when actually, the situation he was in created it. He just happened to be aware enough to pick up on it.”
"The situation wrote the song? I’ll have to think about that one. What about the man? He had more to do with it than just being aware, right?” I asked.
“Of course he did. All vibrations need a conduit before they can be born, and he was it. A vibration is nothing until it has something to bounce off of. This, again, is yin yang. In order to have something, you must first have something else. The song already existed. He was the ‘something else’ that allowed it to exist then and there.”
Whenever he talked about vibrations, I knew I would have to work hard to understand. I usually needed to revisit the information before I could completely get it, but right then, he was not waiting for me.
“Have you ever had an idea you didn’t act on, only to find out later that someone else did? In other words, someone stole your idea?”
“Of course I have, many times,” I answered.
“Well,” he continued, “your idea is never yours alone. It’s in the air for anyone to pick up. Actually, when you think about an idea, it grows stronger, making it easier for others to feel it too. Ideas create vibrations, and these vibrations can be felt in Music. ‘Amazing Grace’ is a perfect example.”
“You can still feel the original vibrations from that song?” I asked.
“Yes. The dynamics of the original vibrations are very faint, but because they’ve been upheld by other people for many years, the vibrations are still here. It is much like looking at a photograph of someone who is special to you. The age of the photograph does not matter; the person’s vibrations can still be felt. Sometimes, the older the picture, the stronger the vibrations.”
He walked over to the bookshelf and instantly pulled out a CD that included the song “Amazing Grace.” Once again, I was surprised at his ability. Pointing to the disc, he continued speaking.
"This song is still sacred, but it doesn’t mean the same thing to people that it once did.”
“I do feel something from that song,” I remarked, “and I know that there’s more to it than a simple melody. How can I learn to be as sensitive as you are?”
“If you knew how to go inside, how to go within yourself, it would come very quickly and easily to you. That is why I urge you to pursue meditation and mind exercises. You already have a great deal of sensitivity; all people do. Maybe not enough to do what I just did, but enough to understand what I am talking about.”
“I already have a great deal of sensitivity?” I asked, pointing at myself. "Then can you show me a way to develop it, please?”
“I already did.”
“You did?”
“Yes, with the rock,” he answered.
“Oh yeah.” In the wake of Michael’s astonishing exhibition with the CDs I had quickly forgotten about my own feat with the rocks. I did have a good start already. I didn’t know anyone else who could do what I’d done.
“So you see, you are already well on your way.” He walked back to his chair. “Practice that, and I will need to show you nothing else. But since I know you won’t practice, I will give you another example.”
I didn’t know if he really knew me that well, or if he was just baiting me to start practicing. Either way, it didn’t matter; I was going to get all the information I could.
“Okay, show me,” I said.
"The hands,” he began, rotating his open palms in the air. "The hands have a tremendous amount of sensitivity. What is the first thing you do when you get injured?” He didn’t give me a chance to think of an answer. “Before you think, you touch it with your hands. It doesn’t matter if it is your injury or someone else’s; you just feel the urge to touch it. Why is that?” Again, he didn’t wait for an answer. “It is because of an ancient memory, an instinct you have about your hands. This memory knows that your hands are sensiti
ve and that they have a healing ability. So your hands immediately spring into action as soon as, let’s say, a bee stings you. It happens before you think.”
“Ancient memory? Healing? My hands have instinct? What is this nonsense you’re talking about?” I cried out.
Michael quickly picked up the skull cap from his lap and threw it at my face. Without thinking, I reached up and caught it with my left hand.
“Wow!” Michael shouted. "That was awesome! How long did you have to practice catching hats like that with your left hand before you—”
“Shut up, Michael! I get your point.”
I fell back on the couch and thought about what had just happened. My left hand had just responded, instinctively, and I’m not left handed. Maybe my hands do have a memory, and if they can remember how to protect, maybe they can remember how to heal. I liked the thought even though I was a little upset about Michael being right again. I looked at my hands and then over at him. He was leaning back and smiling as if he were enjoying my thoughts right along with me. When I was finished, he continued speaking.
"The hands seem to have a desire of their own. They also react when you are in love. You have a desire to touch the person you are in love with. You also have a desire to touch the one you hate. Albeit in a different way,” Michael chuckled, “the desire is still there.
“Children desire to touch everything too. They touch with their feet, noses, or any other part of their bodies. They love to touch. Now here is an exercise that will show you how to reach out and touch.”
I sat up straight with excitement at the thought of learning something, anything, which might allow me to do as he’d done.
Michael told me to stand up and position myself about ten feet away from the stereo speakers. He said that I should stand at that close distance so I wouldn’t get my emotions confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he told me to turn away from the speakers, raise my right hand to about chest level, and face my palm out away from me. He placed a CD in the player and pressed play. It was Curtis Mayfield.
“What I want you to do,” he instructed, “is slowly turn around in a complete circle. Pay attention to what you feel in your palms when you face the Music versus when you don’t.”
I did exactly as he asked. Now let’s cut to the chase here. It worked! I felt a difference! I was shocked, and I am still shocked every time I share this exercise with someone. It works! And on my first try, as soon as I faced the speakers, I could feel a slight tingling sensation in my palm. It was faint, but I could feel it. I wasn’t sure at first, if I was just feeling the actual sound waves coming from the speakers or the energy, but I could feel something.
As if reading my thoughts, Michael kept the music playing but completely turned down the volume. He asked me to repeat the exercise. He said that turning down the volume would assure me that I was feeling the emotions from the music and not the vibrations from the speakers.
It was harder to feel this time. I think my mind got in the way. It usually does after the first success, but I could still feel it, and it surprised me.
“Wow, what was that?” I asked. I was like a little boy on Christmas morning, my mouth wide open in shock.
“Emotion, Energy, Vibration, Life, Love, Music, call it what you want,” he answered. "The fact that you could feel it, even when you couldn’t hear it, is what’s important. You now know that something is there.”
“It was faint, but I felt it. I know that I did,” I exclaimed, my voice revealing my excitement.
Michael spoke softly as he explained. “When vibrations are coming out faintly from an object, like speakers for instance, our first reaction may be to turn up the volume. Another approach would be to turn up our own volume, our receiving volume.
“We can turn up and down what we receive at any time. Married couples do it all the time, hearing only what they choose to hear and when they choose to hear it. This situation is similar. You adjust your own dynamics in situations when you cannot, or choose not to, adjust the dynamics of the other object.”
His talk of vibrations always seemed to confuse me a bit. Even though he was now using the word dynamics, my confusion let me know that he was also talking about vibrations.
"That is why I like using Curtis Mayfield for this exercise, ” Michael remarked, turning up the stereo volume again. “If you notice, he plays quietly, but with a lot of intensity. There aren’t many artists who can do that. Most artists think the louder they play, the more emotion there is. Actually, it is the other way around. The emotion has to be real when you are not hiding behind loud volume. And even at this quiet level,” he whispered, “it would be hard for anyone not to feel the emotion coming from Curtis.”
“Believe it or not, I’m following you. I actually understand what you’re saying,” I responded.
“Why else would I be saying it?” Michael replied. “Now, let’s try it again, but in a different way this time, a way that directly relates to playing Music.”
He grabbed a metronome and turned it on at about fifty beats per minute. Next, he brought over my vacuum cleaner and turned it on. (I hadn’t done that in a while.) Then, he turned on the TV set and asked me to play.
“Grab your bass and play with the click,” he instructed. “Play anything you want, but don’t lose time with the metronome. ”
I had to listen really hard to hear the metronome. I could barely hear it at all until I remembered to feel for it, rather than listen for it. I amazed myself at how easy it was once I used the correct method.
“Now, turn it up,” he advised. “Within yourself, raise the dynamic of the metronome.”
Before I allowed myself time to think, I did what he asked. To my surprise, the click got louder. After a while, it was almost as if the television and the vacuum cleaner weren’t there. Because the noise they made was constant, I was able to tune it out and play, keeping perfect time. Once I’d succeeded at that, Michael gave more instructions.
“Now try this,” he said. “Instead of hearing the click on beat one, act like it is playing on the and of beat four. Once you can hear the click on that beat, start playing again. Also, relax your shoulders a bit.”
Somehow, he could tell how tense I was. I hadn’t even realized it. It was harder hearing the click on that beat, but once I took a deep breath, I could do it. Before that moment, I’d never connected my hearing to my breathing. It was a little later on that I realized I was also clearly hearing his voice in spite of all the other noise. I knew the other noise was still there, but it sounded as if it had been turned down quite a bit. Hearing the click on a different beat forced me to keep my own good time rather than rely on the metronome. It was harder to do but fortunately not impossible.
Once Michael realized that I could do it, he had me continue to change the place of the click in my mind over and over. He told me to shift the click over by a sixteenth beat each time. And each time, I had to refocus (and breathe).
After changing the click, this time to the last sixteenth of beat four, Michael asked me to solo. He said that if I could solo without losing the time, my internal clock would be solid. This would help me play with any drummer, even if his timing was bad.
I played with it a while longer, realizing how difficult it was not to lose the groove. In order to stay in time, I had to force myself to base my solo on the groove, not notes or techniques. Trying to play with the click in that unusual place also caused me to forget that the metronome was barely audible. That realization jolted me out of my groove.
The Music Lesson Page 12
