“Okay, okay, thank you very much for your time,” I mumbled. She acted like what she said was true, but I knew differently. I felt I could get a more honest answer from Michael himself. Grabbing my book, I ran out the door. Her voice echoed in the distance as I hurried to my car.
"What about ze tip?”
I was almost home when I realized that Isis’s accent was practically non-existent when she spoke to me about music. Was it her, or was it me that made the change? I wasn’t sure.
The thought was washed away when I got out of the car and heard the most amazing music coming from inside my house. I knew that it was Michael playing the guitar. I was happy that he was there. I stood outside listening for a full two minutes before his voice interrupted my bliss.
“Are you just gonna stand there, or are you searching for the key?”
I opened the door to see him sitting in his usual chair with his usual grin. It was the same smile I’d just seen on Isis’s face as I was running out of the store. Setting down the guitar, Michael answered the question that was on my mind. (At least, I think he answered it.)
“Music is numbers, you know.”
“So you do know Isis,” I said.
“Oh, you mean ze lady zat works at ze bookstore mutilating all ze books?” he mused.
I had to laugh. “Did you arrange our meeting at the store?”
“Isis is strange,” he remarked.
He’d ignored my question, but I didn’t mention it. As strange as Michael was, it was odd hearing him refer to someone else that way.
“But she does know her numbers,” he continued.
Although I’d missed much of what Isis had said, I knew her information was somehow relevant. Wanting to get a better idea of how numbers relate to music, I asked Michael about it.
"They relate in every way,” he answered.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you ever heard of iambic pentameter?”
“No,” I replied. “What is that?”
“It is a rhythmic structure that is sometimes used in writing. Shakespeare used it. So have many others. It’s numbers, that’s all. How about haiku? Have you heard of that?”
“I think so, but I don’t really know what that is either.”
“Don’t worry about it. Try this one. In Music, you do understand how one relates to eight, don’t you?”
Finally, a question I knew the answer to! "The number one, Do, is the root. If you count the notes of a major scale, Do—Re—Mi—Fa—So—La—Ti—Do, one and eight are the same note an octave apart.”
“Okay then, what note would the number zero represent?” he asked.
I had to think for a while, but then the answer hit me. “I’ve never thought about it before, but the answer is obvious. Zero has to represent space, no notes at all. If zero makes all the other numbers possible, space must make all the other notes possible.” I inhaled as a broad smile formed on my face.
“Isis would be proud,” Michael remarked. “Now taking it past the elementary, you can apply this concept to notes, rhythm, technique, dynamics, space—all the elements of Music, but let’s just stay with intervals for a moment.”
Notes and rhythms were one thing, but how I was supposed to relate numbers to the other elements was a mystery to me. I was lost again, and Michael had barely begun.
“Fourths are related to fifths,” he said. “Do you know how? No? Because C to G is a fifth if you are moving up, but a fourth if you are moving down. Going from G to C works just the opposite. Now, a major third is related to a minor sixth. For example: C to E is a major third while E to C is a flat sixth, but a minor third is related to a major sixth. Hmm! C to D is a whole step while D to C is a minor seventh. Is C one half step or six steps away from B? Who knows? Let’s look at a tritone. You can get from C to F sharp by playing three whole steps or two minor thirds. Going from C to F sharp is the same distance away as going from F sharp to C. That, to me, is a perfect interval, but C to G is called a perfect fifth. Interesting. It’s nothing but numbers! Understand?”
“Absolutely not!” I answered proudly.
“Good. I like an honest answer,” said Michael. “All knowledge is not meant to be put in the microwave.”
“I think I get that,” I stated.
“Many people will study hard trying to understand all that information at once, not realizing that it probably wouldn’t make them play any better. Knowledge is not meant to be gathered all at once. Allow Isis’s information to simmer. All that she told you will make sense in due time. I’m more interested in what else she had to say about ‘space.’ Did she tell you about the birds and the bees?”
“She did say something about birds and magic,” I answered.
“Perfect! Isis is in tune today,” he said to himself, clasping his hands together. “What she told you had to do more with your mind than anything else. I told you that Music is played with the mind. She gave you some simple clues how to use your mind to its full potential.”
“You call that simple?” I asked.
“Her message is simple, yes. You allowed her words and numbers to confuse you. Once you learn to do what she suggests and understand the power and value of space, then you will really understand the power of Music and the mind.”
“I don’t know how anyone could understand her broken English.”
"That is because you focused on her words instead of her message. If you would just empty your mind and allow the meaning to enter in, it wouldn’t matter what language she spoke. You would understand it just like Music. The same process can be used to communicate with anyone or anything, including animals.”
“What?”
He couldn’t be serious, could he? What happened next was unbelievable. I don’t expect you to believe it because I barely do, and I was there, but here is exactly how I remember it.
Michael told me to go outside and look up. So I did.
“What am I looking for?” I asked from the front yard.
“In twelve seconds a male red shouldered hawk will fly almost directly above your head,” he answered.
I didn’t understand how he could possibly know that because he was still inside sitting in his chair. But once again, he was correct.
“Wow! How did you know that? Did you hear it coming? ” I asked running back inside.
“Yes and no,” he answered.
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t have to hear the hawk. I listened to the other birds.”
“Cool, what did they say?” I was excited to hear his answer. I expected a mystical, magical reply that was going to blow my mind. What he told me was so simple that, well, it blew my mind.
"The birds said nothing, or ‘zero,’ as Isis might say.”
“What do you mean?” I asked again.
“When a bird of prey is on the hunt, most smaller birds know it. So, trying their best not to become the hawk’s meal, they do their best to become invisible. Many of the other birds will hide and become silent. When I heard the birds stop singing, I knew there was a threat approaching through the air.”
“How’d you know the threat was in the air and not on the ground?” I asked.
“Birds scream at a threat on the ground because they know they are safe in the trees. If the threat is another bird, the trees may not provide them with adequate cover, so the birds become silent, dive into the bushes, or both.”
To let him know that I understood, I said it in my own way. “What you are saying, then, is that you listened to the silence the birds created.”
“Exactly! Very well stated,” he replied. “And how the silence moved across the landscape allowed me to estimate the speed of the hawk’s approach.”
That was amazing. It was so simple that I couldn’t believe I’d never noticed it before. In the past, I had noticed when the birds were singing, but it never occurred to me to pay attention to when the birds weren’t singing. How he knew it was a red shouldered hawk and not a red tailed hawk or som
e other bird was still a mystery to me.
“Once you pay attention to the silence, or the ‘zero’ factor, you will learn to decipher the different types of silence,” Michael said. “Remember, zero is related to other numbers. That means that zero or silence can change. Your understanding of that will let you know what type of threat is approaching. ”
Well, I didn’t understand. Different types of silence? And how did he seem to always know what I was thinking? Oh well, a little at a time.
“Come, watch this,” he said with a smile.
We walked outside and Michael began making a series of short, high-pitched squeals. He repeated the sounds intermittently until something amazing happened. The red shouldered hawk circled above us getting lower and lower. After a few passes, he landed in the tree across the street from my yard.
“He might do it,” Michael whispered.
The hawk then flew down to a lower branch. There was no way I could get myself to believe what was about to happen. It was just impossible. As I had that thought, I could imagine Michael telling me that anything is possible.
“Anything is possible,” Michael said with a wink of his eye. “Now quiet your mind, remain still, remain calm, and allow the silence to speak louder than your thoughts.”
How I was supposed to do that was a mystery to me, but I tried anyway. To my amazement, the hawk swooped down from the tree and headed straight toward us. The closer it got, the bigger it looked. I glanced at Michael to see if he was as nervous as I was. He stood there firmly and slowly raised his arm.
The red shouldered hawk—the wild, untamed bird, the huge bird of prey—perched on his arm. It was unbelievable and beautiful at the same time. The bird, with his broad brown breast and his sharp hooked beak, lowered his head and allowed Michael to scratch the back of his neck.
“All animals like to be petted,” he stated. “Birds like to be scratched on the back of their necks. It’s a hard place for them to reach.”
He asked me to stick out my arm, and again, to my amazement, the hawk jumped onto it. I was surprised at how scary it felt. The bird seemed to notice my apprehension and started to flap wildly until Michael reached over and resumed scratching his neck. After a short while the hawk also allowed me to scratch his neck. It was incredible to see the big bird lower its head in order to be petted, instead of lowering his head to bite my fingers off.
“Animals respond to your feelings,” Michael stated. “You need to get your thoughts out of the way so that your true feelings can speak.”
“How do I do that?” I asked.
“How do you do that?
“Meditation, I guess.” That was the first thing that came to mind, so I went with it. “I’ve heard of people using it to clear their minds but I’ve never really understood how to do it. Can you teach me how to meditate?”
“I will show you what to do,” he answered. “You can teach yourself.”
When would I ever learn?
We said good-bye to our hawk friend and watched him fly away. When we got back inside Michael closed the window shades and instructed me to sit comfortably in a chair.
“Clear your mind, listen to my voice, and pay attention to how you feel.”
He was sitting on the floor behind me and speaking in a soft, soothing voice. He also spoke more slowly than usual. I was still excited about what I’d just witnessed and couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Excitement is a true feeling,” he stated, “and true feelings have power. You can use this power if you know how. The excitement you feel causes your body to tingle. Pay attention to that feeling and allow it to encompass your whole body. Surround yourself with the tingle.”
I sat there for a few minutes trying to do what he asked. The more I tried, the harder it became. I could hold on to the tingle only when I didn’t try.
"This is an exercise in mind and body control,” Michael said. “Don’t think about it. Allow it to happen. This is the time to use ‘not concentrating.’ Use intent, not focus, to get the body to do what you ask of it. Clear your mind and use your feelings.”
I tried for a few more minutes until I got frustrated and opened my eyes.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “I’m trying real hard to hold onto the feeling, but it seems as if the harder I try, the more the feeling slips away.”
“What you’ve just said may hold the key to your solution,” he told me. “Don’t try real hard, try real easy. Treat it like a game, no pressure. If it doesn’t work, big deal. Like holding water in your hand, it takes a gentle process.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Try easy, I told myself. I chuckled at the idea. After what seemed like only a half minute, I was feeling it. I could feel the tingle in my whole body. Michael allowed me to sit with the feeling for a while. Once I did, he told me to make the feeling smaller in size, but not in intensity. He asked me to envision the tingle as a concentrated ball of energy and then place it into the center of my chest. Once I’d succeeded at that and was able to hold it there for a while, he asked me to move the ball around to different parts of my body. He said that any feeling could be moved around that way.
“Doing this could be very healing or very damaging,” Michael said. “It depends on the intent.”
Every time I focused on the fact that I was actually doing it, the feeling would start to go away.
“Let it go,” he instructed.
Once I was able to relax and “let it go,” the feeling came back. It responded in an unexpected way. The more I tried to hold onto it, the faster it would run away. The more I released it, the more it stuck around. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like all I needed to do was use intent to direct the tingle. Physical effort seemed to have the opposite effect. Once I had the tingle where I wanted it, I moved it all around my body until Michael asked me to let it fill my whole body once again.
After that was accomplished, he went on. “You are surrounding the tingle with your body. Now allow it to surround you.”
If anyone could hear what he was asking me to do. I tried not to think about it.
I imagined myself inside the tingle. I could see it all around me as if I was in the middle of a golden orange-ish cocoon made of light. Somehow he seemed to know when I’d succeeded at one phase before guiding me on to the next.
“Now that it is outside your body,” he continued, “you can either walk away from it, leaving it there, or you can send it somewhere else. Right now I want you to send the tingle over to me.”
I heard him walk across the room but I didn’t open my eyes.
How am I supposed to do that? I thought to myself (or so I thought).
“Come on!” Michael responded. “A child would not ask how. Just allow it to happen. Use your intent. Play like a child.”
I didn’t know what to do, so I improvised. I inhaled and envisioned my tingle as a golden light surrounding my body. I mentally stepped away from it so that I could see it as its own entity. Upon my exhale, I blew it over toward Michael. I watched it travel slowly across the room. I almost laughed out loud because it looked like a big zero. As soon as I imagined it hitting him, he responded.
The Music Lesson Page 20
