Circle of Tears

And so we came to the end. Or rather, the beginning of next steps for all of us, made more meaningful and powerful knowing we are forever walking by each other’s side. The first part of our last three out of 60 or so hours in each other’s company began with a quick (sung and shortened) review of all the activities and material we shared. Then came the final exam— a creative project in four small groups bringing select Langston Hughes poems to life through song, movement, Orff instruments and wind instruments. Everybody “passed” with flying colors. 

 

A short video of Louis Armstrong and Dizzy Gillespie singing Umbrella Man and then it was time for the closing circle. I had prepared them ahead of time, suggesting they pick one or two games/ pieces/ activities they’re inspired to try with their kids, one inspired pedagogical idea, one insight into jazz history and/or social justice. That’s all. Short, clear and sweet so the 28 people don’t take up 56 minutes to say their piece. 

 

But they didn’t listen. From the first person around to the next-to-the-last, people instead spoke of how personally moved they were by playing the music, hearing the stories, and singing and dancing with people that are now genuine friends. Already by the second sharing, the tears started to flow and instead of the usual Kleenex box we have ready at the end of our Levels trainings, someone had brought a roll of toilet paper. It became the “talking stick,” held in the hand of each person who spoke and almost unanimously unrolled to wipe the tears. When the last person began, "My pedagogical insight was…" we all laughed. He was the only way to do his assignment correctly but wasn't it lovely that the others didn't!

 

I’ve been to Zen Buddhist retreats where the Sangha community generates the energy to approach spiritual awakening. I've attended poetry retreats where the poet evokes Camus’ lines “live close to tears” (though very few do that I witness) and guides us into profound territories that only poetry can touch. But compared to Orff workshops where people actively play, sing, dance and create together, both Zen and poetry retreats fall short. Compared to general Orff workshops, the Jazz/Orff marriage stirs up extra layers of history, joyful jazz and needed-to-be-discussed issues of social justice and the bar is raised yet higher, the intimate bonded circle held much tighter. And compared to Jazz/Orff workshops in San Francisco or Sydney or Sao Paolo, the Jazz/Orff Course in New Orleans erases the boundary line between the workshop space and the street, the classroom and the club, and we rise up higher in the heavenly firmaments, not having our own little private epiphanies but fully gathered into a collective euphoria. 

 

Listening to the band at The Spotted Cat last night— well, dancing to the band in company with most of the Jazz Course class—I took a breath and stepped back for a moment to fully feel and witness the powerful horns and drums singing out our capacity for raptured exultation. The energy was vibrating in every cell of the body, every nerve, every muscle. The heart was fully opened, the head was following the intricate stories of the solos, the soul was fully sounded and the spirit soaring. All in company of people who spent ten days immersed in the miraculous, much of it created by their own efforts in the class activities. I never had anything approaching that level of experience at the Zen Center or poetry retreat. Not even close. 

 

The class gifted me with a signed tambourine that I will cherish it forever. And also play it in the more traditional style that Herlin Riley showed me and I’m beginning to get the hang of! I used it to accompany our closing game Little Johnny Brown, the beautiful invitation for everyone to “show their motion” and for the group to give it back. One final photo of our hands (see below) and off we dispersed to our various corners of the country and the world. 

 

Immeasurable thanks to our New Orleans host Allen Dejan, to my comrade-in-Orff-and Jazz Joshi Marshall, to my colleague James Harding, to each and every one of the 28 beautiful souls who attended, to the musicians of this extraordinary city of New Orleans and the culture that sustains them. May it flourish forever!