Fourth Act

If I think of my life as a 4-act play or 4- movement symphony, today is the last day of the third act/ movement before the curtain closes for the 4^th. Each of the first three are 25 years long and though it’s possible that the 4^th could be also, I suspect it will be a shorter one before the final curtain. A short summary: 

 

 First Act: From a free-range childhood to resisting repressive schools to first steps towards a unified vision in the turbulent and liberating late sixties/early seventies. 

 

Second Act: Travel, family, work. Zen, Jazz, and Orff Schulwerk. All at a remarkable school that allowed for and helped all of the above to thrive and develop. 

 

Third Act: International teacher, author, performer, grandfather, stitching all the threads together into one uniform multi-colored cloth. 

 

Fourth Act (unwritten—or written but not yet lived): Recapitulate all the themes of the first three movements of the symphony, tie up the loose threads of the first three acts to a meaningful conclusion. Then the inevitable decrescendo of the body/mind fading into silence. 

 

These my thoughts on my last day as a 74-year-old. As always, happy to spend it teaching. 

Sage Advice

In these days of social media, anyone can be a sage or a prophet or deep philosopher at the click of a button. Of course, the wisdom doesn’t come from the medium, but a life lived with intelligence and integrity. And the good news is that there are more people who are doing this than the daily news and polls would have us believe. I’ve saved many a comforting, insightful prose piece or poem from people I’ve never heard of and will probably not again. Though I feel gratefully far away from the conflict that challenged my serenity, this advice from a 65-year-old woman looking back on her life’s lessons and ahead to the next pathway to her well-earned peace speaks to me. My comments in italics. 

 

Protect your peace like it’s your property.

 

·      Not every argument needs your voice.

That’s a challenging one for me, but an intriguing thought that I don’t always have to solve the world’s problems! (Which, of course, I never have!) Figure it out yourself, people! I have a lake waiting for me.

 

·      Not every insult needs your response.

Tell that to my brain stem, poised for fight or flight! But yes, it’s often more their problem than mine and in bright moments, I might even feel an ounce of compassion for their misery that they’re trying to heap on me. No thanks— it’s yours, not mine. 

 

·      Not every relative deserves access to your emotions.

Interesting that she chose “relatives.” Don’t think mine care a fig for my emotions, but for the people I know in general, they don’t really need to know how I feel and most likely are not all that interested. 

 

Peace is expensive. Protect it from drama, negativity, and draining people — even if they're your close ones. 

A hearty yes to all of that! Who needs it? As I said, I got a class to teach and soon a lake to jump into. 

Every Cell of the Body

 I remember a moment teaching back in May at the Havergal School in Toronto when I was walking down the hall and thought to myself, “I’m happy in every cell of my body!!!” And I was. 

 

It happened again tonight after our opening ceremony for our International Orff Course. A new group of some 80 souls, many from familiar places like Chile, Brazil, Colombia, Spain, Switzerland, Turkey, Hong Kong, Macao, China and then two new ones—Mongolia and Israel! Quite an accomplishment in a time when it’s both so difficult to get into this country and so unappealing to come here in our present state of chaos. Many also from around the U.S.— Hawaii, Minnesota, Oregon and more. But the largest segment from—as it should be—California. 

 

Do I love the mix of energies from cultures gathering with the common goal of engaging in joyful music and dance and learning how to better serve the children in their schools? Yes, I do. Does the buzz already in the air uplift me and energize me? Yes, it does. Is it a grand pleasure to reunite with people I taught in the New Orleans Jazz Course, Orff Afrique, my recent trips to Bangkok and Hangzhou and get to work and play with them again? Yes, it is.

Does the perfect temperature Carmel Valley and its gentle rolling hills and cypress trees touch me with their natural beauty? Yes, they do. Was I delighted to have a little time free to swim in the pool? Yes, I was. Was I mightily impressed that this Hidden Valley Music Seminars Retreat Center made a giant inch of progess by having real metal silverware this year so I don’t have to nag people to keep re-using their plastic forks? Yes, I am. 

 

Could I go on? Yes, I could. But I do have to plan tomorrow’s lessons for the 33 people in my class, so I’ll stop here and just celebrate that rare feeling of utter and complete happiness— in every single cell of my body. 

The Next Inch of Progress

Though we sometimes make big leaps, mostly we humans grow by inches. Or less. This is as true of our spiritual, psychological, practical, growth as it is of our physical. The latter occurs without our effort, whereas 99% of the former requires some intention and attention. And time.

 

I’ve long been a fan of longevity and that’s why. When we attend to the right things, we discover that the human mind and heart can only take in so much information at once. It has to grow the proper neural connections over time before the axons and dendrites search out the next possible hook-up. And if we’re alert and open-minded and open-hearted, they often do!

 

If there is anything that accounts for the humanistic achievements of The San Francisco School where I trained in human connection, the sheer longevity of the teaching staff was a huge part of it. There are five of us in the over-40-years club, another ten or us in the 30+ and probably 25 or more in the 20+ group. If you count the years the eight alum teachers attended the school, those number go up. (My daughter Talia, by that reckoning, just completed her 28^th year—11 as a student, 17 as a teacher.)

 

But again, numbers are just numbers without intention. Because we teachers grew up together and were wholly in charge of creating and re-creating the program, we found ourselves time and again making these small little improvements in ongoing customs and traditions that we could only have made once those details were wholly myelinated in our group brain. When the next inspired idea came up, we often wondered, “Why didn’t we think of that before?” The same could be asked of putting wheels on suitcases. When the time is ripe, it happens. 

 

And so here back for our 14^th year of the Orff Levels Courses in the Carmel Valley and many more years of the same course in different places, side-by-side again with my forever colleagues James and Sofia and 25-year Levels colleague Christa Coogan and some ten years with Andrea, Estevao, Eloi and Rachel, we had our first meeting some five hours before the Opening Ceremony. And there it was again. Different folks suggesting little changes for that powerful and joyful welcome that will be more effective and efficient without losing an ounce of innovative Soul and us nodding our heads in agreement— “Sounds great! Let’s do it!” If they work—and I suspect they will— we’ll collectively agree, “That’s a keeper!” Just like the staff did for the school opening and closing ceremony, the Halloween ritual, the Holiday Plays, the camping trips and more. Detail after detail that made the work yet more remarkable. No massive big change because someone from above said so or we felt compelled to copy the school across town or the lawyers weighed in. Just those small, organic shifts that made it all a vibrant, alive, continuously evolving and growing organism. 

 

This happened in other ways before we arrived. For example, the increased costs of our usual hotel next-door to the teaching site ended up splitting the faculty, with a few staying here and the others a mile down the road at a cheaper place. I noticed that so many rooms were vacant here, so I made a pitch to the owner that they would make more money giving us a reduced rate than keeping those rooms empty. And miraculously, the owner agreed! So finally we’re all together again in the same place 24/7. 

 

I also had the inspired idea that since I was driving here from my home, why keep complaining about not enough hangers in the closet? Why not bring seven more? I did and I’m SO HAPPY! It’s these little things that can make a big difference. 

 

Now to plan classes, also with an eye and ear to the kind of micro-adaptations that keep them alive and serving the students at my highest capacity. Looking forward to that next inch of progress.

Turning the Page

And so with China like the natural fading out of a rung gong, the next chapter has begun. Or rather a short four-day interlude before the next two-week Orff Course. 

 

It started with returning to San Francisco around 12 noon after some 20 hours of travel. Out into the refreshing brisk air and home to a welcome bed for an afternoon horizontal sleep. Another welcome of a pesto pasta dinner, resuming the Shetland TV series my wife and I had put on hold and miraculously staying up until 11 pm and sleeping through the night. 

 

Tuesday was another welcome of getting out to walk again after an exercise fast (minus standing and dancing while teaching) in Hangzhou. Errands in the neighborhood, a stroll through the park, lunch at my daughter’s house, piano playing at the Jewish Home— delightful all! And the sun even came out!

 

Today more taking care of business and starting to pack for the Orff Course and the most delightful surprise of all when I opened my e-mail!! Before leaving for China, I wrote a handwritten letter to Karen Bold in England— see An Extraordinary Tale: Parts I, II, III from my end of May Blogposts. So satisfying to feel this loop completed and looking forward to sending her some photos and sharing more news. Here is what she wrote: 

Hi Doug

 

I was so delighted to receive your letter. A real blast from the past. You are quite the detective!! I remember you both so well.

 

As Ann told you Jim & I moved back to Leeds & we did separate in 1999 but we remained good friends and lived close to each other. In fact during covid he needed a place to stay, as he was due to move, and ended up living with me for 3 months. Sadly in 2022 he had a massive stroke and passed away. The girls & I were with him.

 

Rachel is now 52, Jane 50, & myself 80. 

 

I wanted to acknowledge receipt of your letter & will write more later but have a hectic day ahead. I would also love to hear about your life in these intervening years.

Best wishes

Karen

 

So turning the page of the ongoing stories this morning, how satisfying to discover this ending of a book unfinished over for 48 years! Of course, sad to hear about Jim, but so happy that she is still with us and moved that she indeed remembered us! 

 

It is a strange and marvelous life indeed. 

Respect Your Elders—Still!

I love it when someone writes to me asking me to find a piece I’ve written that they remembered and wished to read again. But not always easy to find. Was it on this Blog or Facebook or an article in a magazine or an article I just wrote to write it? In this case, there was a request for something titled Respect Your Elders and indeed, I couldn’t find it in my Talks/Articles folder. But a search through the Blog (thank you, Search Engine!) dug up something I wrote in 2013 that referred to something else I had written that might be archived on an older computer. At any rate, I enjoyed reading it, felt it resonate with a negative experience I’ve whined about this past month and the healing positive experience that kept on keeping on in China. So might as well re-print it here, some 13 years later. I was a young 62 when I wrote it, but it holds up, maybe more than ever. 

 

Still working on a piece about elders and youth, but hey, it’s my vacation out on a lake and it’s a lot of work stitching together all the ideas into any semblance of coherence. Ideas that no one is asking for.  But I like some of the sentences and I promised to deliver something in the last blog, so between abandoning it all together and seeing it through to the end, I’m opting for select quotes from a longer article that is yet to be. And so:

 

• “Honor thy father and mother” was the first commandment Moses received. And for a good reason. No them, no us. 

 

• We are here by the grace of those who came before us and the proper etiquette includes large doses of gratitude. 

 

• Such gratitude is a lifelong conversation that walks the full peaks and valleys of a complex, treacherous and extraordinarily beautiful landscape that has no map. It properly should begin with respect and end with love and appreciation, but in-between is some rocky terrain passing through challenge, questioning, rejection, disdain, dismissal and some intense eye-rolling.

 

• The job of the young is to rise to the bar the elders set, to caretake as precious jewels the wisdom and culture and beauty they bequeath, to carry the lit torch further down the field. (The job of the old is to beware of mixed metaphors.)

 

• But it is equally the job of the young to question, to challenge, to untie the knots of prejudice or narrow thinking or dubious practice, to make contemporary a way of life that grew in one era and now needs re-adjustment in another. If you meet the Buddha on the path, kill him! Even loving guidance can be an obstacle to finding your own proper way.

 

• That’s where the path gets steep, negotiating the cliff’s-edge balance between  “thank you” and “no thank you.”

 

• As we grow into adulthood, much of what we dismissed and rejected from our elders comes back to us in a new understanding. Mark Twain says it best:

 

“When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years!”

 

• The beginner in any field of endeavor should be properly awed by their seniors, but not intimidated. They must have enough humility to recognize their accomplishment and learn from them, enough courage to question them and enough confidence and audacity to think that they can surpass them. And the wise elder welcomes it all.

 

• When we live in “the sibling society,” all equal peers sharing our opinions, we live in a flat, horizontal world and lose the vertical dimension of spiritual blessing. Worse yet, when we look to the youth for guidance in matters more profound than how to download an ap, we place too great a weight on their narrow shoulders. They are properly terrified when granted power to decide things too large for their tender years. (When a school I know was  hiring a new head, the hiring committee gave the point of view of an elder staff member, a point of view formed by over 35 years of teaching, the same weight as the opinion of a 7^th grader who thought that this candidate was “cool,” that candidate “not as cool.”)

 

• A culture that looks to youth for guidance and bypasses elders is a confused culture. All have something valuable to contribute, but the greater weight must come from above, from those with ample experience. 

 

• Elderhood is a state of being that mere years alone cannot grant. It is achieved through certain kinds of experiences married to a refined practice, a mindful sensitivity and a storehouse of knowledge. The elders are the ones who have walked further down the path and noticed the important things. As such, they carry the power to guide those coming up the path, to beckon them forth and bless them. Not all old people are necessarily elders, but all elders are old enough to have earned their status.

 

• Some young people have an enlarged sensitivity, an alert mind, a dedicated practice that grants the necessary experience to contribute, but there are certain kinds of knowledge that simply need the long gestation of the years to come to full bloom.

 

• Some old folks talk on and on when instead they should be swimming on a hot summer day. And so today’s wisdom from this wannabe elder: Go jump in the lake!

 

Post for a Rainy Day

And so. A farewell dinner at a lovely vegetarian restaurant I ate at twice. The miracle of packing my suitcase and actually fitting everything (new gifts included) in! 5:15am awakening and farewell to my lovely hotel room, quick airport breakfast with my hosts, a fond goodbye waving as I passed through the four levels of security to the inner chambers of the airport. 

 

Now at the airport in Seoul with a three-hour layover before the final leg. Amongst other wonders, the ability to get online without a VPN— amazing!

But as these posts testify, China has been mighty good to me and I’m quite happy with the handshake deal to return in October of 2027—especially with cooler Fall weather. 

 

Meanwhile, three final comments from one of the students that mean the world to me and may be a future chicken soup for a rainy, under-the-weather day. Both impressed by the eloquence and insight of noticing what I value in both myself and others and the generosity in sharing it with me. 

 

• Before the workshop began, I already knew you are a world-renowned master of Orff Schulwerk. I assumed such a top-tier expert would run strict, distant classes with rigid standards. But stepping into your classroom completely changed my preconceptions. You carry yourself like a kind, forgiving elder, patient, sincere and fully accepting of everyone without judgment.

 

• Countless educators claim to put humanity at the core of their teaching, yet most of them treat it as nothing more than an empty slogan. In contrast, you fully embody inclusiveness, ease, respect and equality in every single detail of your lessons. 

 

• True masters simplify complexity. You possess profound and sophisticated professional knowledge, yet you make the beauty of music accessible to every single person. This is the highest level of teaching, and it is exactly the kind of educator I aspire to be.

 

As good a way as any to bid the fondest farewells to China and the beautiful people I’ve encountered.  Once again, 谢谢.  Xièxiè.