The Music Lesson

by Victor L Wooten

  Isis spoke with a heavy accent (Russian, I guessed) which required me to listen closely to every word. The way she looked up at me through her black-rimmed glasses reminded me of a cross between a schoolgirl and my grandmother. I could envision myself carrying her books and at the same time see her scolding me for not doing my chores.

  Her clothing was as odd as Michael’s. She wore a long flowing purple dress wrapped in beads and bells that rang and clanked when she moved. Covering her shoulder-length brown hair was a non-matching purple bonnet laced with flowers. It was the old fashioned type of hat that seemed to come right out of a Southern Baptist church. Her feet were partially hidden by the hem of her dress. Though I couldn’t see them, I could tell by the sound that she was wearing ankle bracelets.

  Perhaps the funniest part about her appearance was her beauty mark. Just to the left and underneath her bottom lip was a big black mole. There were three hairs sticking out from it, all thick enough that one could easily see them. Her mole bounced around whenever she spoke, reminding me of the musical bouncy ball that’s used on television to help people follow along with the words of a song. I hoped it would help me too because I was sure having trouble on my own.

  As soon as I’d walked through the door, Isis stepped in front of me. When I tried to walk around her, she grabbed my arm to stop me from passing. I guess that she needed someone to talk to and I was the lucky victim.

  I was used to these types of conversations with Michael and I knew that grin, but standing there with that short peculiar lady put me in unfamiliar territory once again. And although a little irritated, I was eager to find out where the conversation was heading.

  “Okay, please explain,” I said.

  “Yes! Let us have a look.” She walked around the table and took her seat behind the crystal ball, placing both hands on the table. “You are correct zat one is ze number coming after zero, but is one ze first number?”

  “Okay, zero is the first number, I’ll give you that, but it still means ’nothing.’ ”

  “What happens, zen, if you put ‘nothing’ after ze number one?” She turned over a card with the number one written on it and slid it toward me.

  “Nothing happens; you still have the number one,” I answered.

  “Oh no you don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned over another card, this one with a zero on it, and placed it to the right of the one card. “Put a zero after ze number one and you have ten,” she stated.

  “Well . . .” I stammered, trying to think of something clever to say. She sat back in her chair allowing me time to ponder the thought. I was already tired of her smile.

  She had me though. She was right. I’d never thought about it until then. The number zero, when placed after any other number, is like multiplying that number by ten. Hmm . . . zero is more than nothing.

  “Hmm . . . yes, it is,” she affirmed.

  I gave her a surprised look. She broadened her smile, causing her mole to rise. Her mannerisms reminded me of Michael’s. The things Michael had to say were always so interesting that his victorious smile no longer bothered me, but seeing her with the same look was a little bit scary.

  I knew that I could never win an argument with Michael, but it never stopped me from trying. He always seemed amused by my efforts, and was forever baiting me with tidbits of information. Like a carrot dangling in front of a donkey, I guess it kept me moving forward. Right then I felt that she was doing the same thing.

  “So you see,” she continued, “what zis shows us is zat zero is a powerful number. But actually, it is more zan a number. It is a principle. It is ze principle zat allows all ze other numbers to exist and expand. Zero is like ze base, ze foundation. Without it, zere would be no other numbers.”

  “Wait a minute,” I uttered. I wasn’t sure what I’d just heard her say. Was she talking about a base or a bass? She gave me no time to ask.

  “So I propose zis thought to you: Ze number zero is actually superior to all ze other numbers, and here’s why. Ze numbers one through nine always represent something. Zey can never represent nothing. Zero gets to represent something and nothing. Like ze bass, it usually goes unnoticed, but it can be on ze bottom and on ze top. It is zis fact zat makes it complete.”

  I didn’t totally understand it, but it was interesting. I still wasn’t sure if she was talking about a bass or a base. I started to ask, but she put a finger to her lips and then to her ear indicating that I should shut up and listen.

  There was only one chair at her table, and she was sitting in it. Moving closer to her, I stood opposite and above her as she spoke. I felt like a giant looking down as she flipped her cards and occasionally looked up at me. Although I towered over her, I knew that I was the underdog in the situation. Her outlook on zero was enough to make me forget why I’d come to the store in the first place. Somehow, I sensed, there was a correlation to music although I hadn’t yet figured out what it was.

  Isis showed me other interesting things about numbers, like how the numbers one and nine are related. The number one, when added to itself, will always ‘increase’ by one (ascending scale) while the number nine, when added to itself, will ‘decrease’ by one (descending scale). For example:

  Nine plus nine, repeated, produces numbers with descending values in the ones column.

  In multiplication, she related zero to the number nine because both always revert back to themselves. Any number multiplied by zero always equals zero, and any number multiplied by nine always results in a number that adds up to nine. I already knew that the number zero would revert back to itself, but I never realized how nine does the same thing. For example:

  She showed me more eye-opening things about numbers that day such as how each depended on others to exist. She told me that each number, while displaying its own unique characteristics, also possessed qualities similar to those of its brothers and sisters. She was able to show the similarities between numbers and people too. I never figured out which numbers were male and which were female, but she seemed to think that there was a difference.

  A lot of her information was interesting and different, but what intrigued me most was listening to her talk about zero. She kept relating it to the bass, or maybe it was the base. I still couldn’t tell. I just kept listening.

  “Like ze members of a band, all ze numbers have unique and important responsibilities,” she continued. “Zero is ze yin yang number. It represents opposites, something and nothing, fullness and emptiness, big and little, power and weakness, bottom and top. It is not a coincidence zat its shape is round. A circle is ze shape of space. It has no beginning and no end. Many masterful things possess zis shape. It is a holy shape. It is also ze shape zat all things eventually revert back to. Even a straight line, if continued long enough, will in due course make a circle.”

  It is also ze shape of your mole. It was about all I could focus on, the way it bounced around. She looked up at me with a frown but didn’t comment. Even with Isis, I’ll have to remember to watch what I’m thinking.

  “Like a black hole,” she continued, “a vortex zat sucks in on one side and spits out on ze other; zero has ze ability to show us both sides of something.”

  It was a bit unnerving how much she reminded me of Michael. It wasn’t just her mannerisms or her outlandish appearance; what she said and the way she said it seemed peculiarly familiar. Somehow, I knew that all the number stuff would circle back around and relate itself to music.

  I didn’t quite understand all she talked about or why she was talking to me about it, but she held my attention. I’d never looked at zero that way. For that matter, I hadn’t looked at any number that way. Her erratic movements let me know that she was excited just talking about it. Peering into her crystal ball, she continued, this time in a softer, more mysterious tone.

  “Zero is like space, you see. It is ze base of all things, and from within zis space all power comes forth. A scientist looks close enough at an
atom and what does he find? Space!” Her arms flailed when she said that word.

  I thought back to my high school science class, trying to remember anything I’d learned about atoms. I remembered my science teacher saying something about an atom consisting of a nucleus, protons, neutrons, and maybe something else, but that it was mostly filled with space. Or maybe he was talking about molecules. I couldn’t remember. That left me with no way to dispute Isis’s information, so I didn’t try. I knew that there was no way I could manipulate her. Trying to manipulate four bass strings had already caused me years of struggle.

  She quickly looked up at me and responded. “Strings! You want to talk about string theory?”

  “Oh no,” I replied, realizing once again that my thoughts might not be mine alone.

  “Okay zen, we will stick with numbers and Music.”

  “So you were talking about music,” I commented, my eyes opening wide. Once again she pressed her finger to her lips.

  “Listen,” she said. “Ze same way a luthier looks inside a violin. What does he find? Space! Look inside ze bass, and what do you find? More space! But what comes out of zis space? Music, you see.

  “Split an atom (full of space) in ze wrong way, and BANG! You can be certain of what will happen.” She stood up and thrust her arms in the air. “But zere is no need to do zat,” she continued, taking her seat again. “If ze scientist could also look inside your mind, what would he find? He would find nothing but space. Ze same space found inside of zat powerful little atom can also be found inside your mind. Zis should give you an idea of ze power your mind possesses. It is in ze ‘nothingness’ of your mind zat infinite power resides. So ze next time you say zat you have ‘nothing to do,’ you should recognize ze potential power in zat statement.”

  She looked up with a smile and winked at me, then lowered her head and continued gazing into her crystal ball.

  “Are you saying that my mind is more powerful than an atom bomb?” I asked.

  She looked at me and tilted her head in a way that only a loving mother could do. “Oh my child, an atom bomb is designed to do one thing and one thing only, but your mind is designed to be unlimited. From ze ‘nothingness’ of your mind, all things of zis world and other worlds are born.”

  “Other worlds?” I had no idea what she was talking about. She was on a roll that I couldn’t stop, so I filed it away in my mental vault and just kept following the bouncing ball.

  “Anything can be found within your mind,” Isis told me. “Zat is where all Music lives, in ze space. Emptiness is ze key. Think of something and zen surround it with emptiness, one big zero. Your intention is enough to do ze rest. Your mind does ze shaping, yes, but your mind creates nothing, no more zan your bass creates Music. So no more trying, only space. Trying to make something happen is like trying to walk a straight line when ze policeman asks you to.”

  I remembered Michael using the same “policeman” example. I didn’t know if it was a coincidence, or if Isis and Michael had somehow coordinated this chance meeting. I started to ask her about it, but she continued talking.

  “Zat is a mistake many people make when trying to enter into ze world of conscious creating. You are creating everything anyway, so when you try too hard, you push it away. Again, ze keys to everything can be found in space.”

  I was following some of what she was saying, but not all of it. Like talking to Michael, it was hard keeping up with the countless bits of information coming from Isis, but I tried my best. And also like Michael, she had a way of staying slightly ahead of me. Not wanting to miss anything, I struggled to keep up. I guess they could both pull me further along that way.

  Isis talked for a while longer relating numbers to everything she could think of. I forgot about the time and willingly listened. When she was finished, I wandered around the bookstore in a daze trying to make sense out of anything she’d said.

  Once I’d remembered what it was that I’d originally come for, I found the book, paid for it, and walked back to Isis’s table. Even though I was buying the book for myself, something caused me to go back over to her again. Maybe it was to get my purchase gift-wrapped. Maybe I somehow knew she had more to say. Maybe it was I who had more to say, or maybe it was the way her long purple fingernails dug into my arm as I tried to sneak past. Whatever it was didn’t matter to her. She made sure that I listened. Holding me with one hand, she grabbed her chair with the other so she could stand on it. Now looking me in the eye, she continued her torture . . . I mean lecture.

  “Listen my son, what I tell to you.” Her nails were piercing my flesh, forcing me to pay close attention. “You don’t understand me now, what I tell to you, but one day, one day, it will all make sense. Listen to ze numbers my child, all of zem, and understand ze importance of zero. Only zen will you truly understand ze power of space.

  “Whatever you hold in your mind, don’t let disrupting thoughts get in ze way. Place your thoughts in ze middle of a big fat zero. Like ze nucleus of an atom, zis is powerful. When you learn to place yourself in ze center, surrounding yourself with zis power, zis space . . . zen, whatever you choose is certain.”

  She paused, looking up to her right as if she was remembering or maybe receiving a thought. Then tightening her grip on my arm, she returned her gaze to me and continued speaking, in a near whisper this time.

  “Listen! Before you can fully understand the notes, dear boy, you must first understand the space you will place them in. Space can be seen as the birthplace of all things. That is why all things are eventually attracted back to it. This is the principle of ‘zero.’ Pay attention to what I am telling you! Your understanding of this will allow you to pack your Music with an immeasurable amount of power, the power to change the world and the power for the world to change you. But remember, you are responsible. It is now time for you to go.” She winked at me as she released my arm and stepped down from the chair.

  “My music?” I almost shouted. “What does all this number stuff have to do with music? Hey wait a minute. How did you know that I play music?”

  Her arms flailed through the air once again as she answered my question, in her own way. “My dear boy, you are blind, are you? Did you not read ze sign on ze table? I see everything. Everything! Now, give me zat book!”

  Wrapping books was definitely not her forte. I wondered how she got the job. Ripping paper and tape, she tossed the book from side to side, knocking her cards all over the floor. I started to offer assistance but before I could speak, she did.

  “You stay wrapped up in ze present, and leave ze wrapping of presents to me.”

  I didn’t want to leave it to her. She was clever with her words, but not with my book. She appeared to be mutilating it. The poor lady could really use some help. She looked up at me and frowned once again.

  As she continued wrapping, thoughts and questions about her flooded my mind. Did she know Michael? Where had she come from? Where did she come up with that crazy number system ? How did she know I played the bass? Or did she know? Did she accost other customers this way? Who at this store was crazy enough to hire her? Who convinced her she could wrap books? And, once again, did she know Michael?

  I was also curious about the way her eyes seemed to change. I don’t remember if they ever changed color, but they definitely changed in some way. Although Sam was only eleven, I realized that he had it too. I hadn’t connected with Isis’s eyes until she’d stood on the chair. It was then that I knew for sure she was talking about music. The only people I’d ever met with eyes like that were all connected to Michael. It may not make sense, but it was as though music spoke through their eyes.

  Our chance meeting seemed too much of a coincidence. Had Michael arranged it? He must have. That thought had been eating at me the whole time I was in the store. I finally got up the courage to ask Isis directly.

  “Do you know Michael?”

  Her answer was immediate. “I’ve known Mr. Jackson since he was just a baby. I was ze chief advisor
at ze Never-land Ranch for eight years, but Mr. Jordan came to me only once. He had no idea what to do with Bird and Magic, but since I am an expert on both birds and magic, I quickly set him straight. Mr. Douglas was a local Shakespearean actor before I found him. Now you see where he is today. And Mr. Angelo, I knew him before he converted to ze one-name format. He would still be painting stick figures if it weren’t for me. Oh, I’m sorry. Which Michael were you referring to, my child?”