The Planning and the Living

What’s wrong with this picture? Here I am with a free morning in Rio de Janeiro and instead of enjoying a coffee at the Girl From Ipanema café and walking on the beach, I’m in this little apartment working on my computer, trying to catch up with the business side of being an adult human. 

 

Having spent and continuing to spend so many days playing like a child in music classes and workshops, it’s easy to get spoiled and think that life should be a constant carnival of fun and games. But none of this happens without the boring bits of organizing the courses and classes, booking the flights, filling out the Visa forms, figuring out the payment procedures, gathering and sending the notes and yet more. 

 

It’s satisfying to write the books that carry the work further, but when you’ve created your own publishing company, there is a maddening amount of inventory, invoices, arranging mailings, communicating with distribution centers and dealers, paying royalties to other authors and yet more. Like writing the books! Then come the editors, graphic designers, lay-out people, printers, etc. 

 

Then all the summer course work checking in on registration, communicating with the faculty team, the site organizer, filling out the paperwork for the national Orff Association. And of course, updating the Website, advertising the courses/ workshops/ concerts/ books/ podcast on social media or through my personal mailing list. A few hours of actually living the work in the workshop, course or concert, only made possible by the endless hours preparing for it and following through to complete it. It can be maddening (especially the Visa forms!) and exhausting. 

 

But hey, it comes with the territory. It is a kind of proving ground for how much you care about the work, how much boring details you’re willing to sit with to get to the joy. I got as far as I could go with the Hong Kong Visa and then treated myself to finishing my book lying in a hammock on the porch of my Rio apartment. There’s something about a hammock that says, “Relax! You’ve earned it!”

 

And so I will. At least until the timer rings to tell me to finish my packing and head off to the airport. 

 

Catching Up: Rio

I had taken my computer out briefly in the airport before flying to Rio and it wouldn’t boot up. I assumed it was out-of-charge. So when I arrived in the apartment rented for me for the next four days, I plugged it in, saw the green light and went to turn it on and… nothing. I tried out my new philosophy of not worrying about what might happen—ie, it would never turn on again, I would finish my next 9 days in Brazil without it and everything I might need on it and maybe lose all the things—too many— I didn’t have backed up. So I passed a morning without it, shopped for a little food and my friend Beth picked up at 3:00. And off we went to…

 

·      The Mall in Rio— Not my first choice of the first place to visit in the city where samba groups are gathering for Carnaval and enticing beaches are a taxi ride away. Everyone in a Mall seems the same— all there to get stuff. A marked contrast to the Samba rehearsal, jazz club, Hindu temple, Zen retreat or Orff workshop. But I needed the Apple Store! 

 

·      Too Old— That’s what the Apple Store guy said when he refused to work on my machine. I think he was referred to the machine, but maybe to me! Planned obsolescence sucks!

 

·      Ignored by Jesus—Coming out of the Apple Store, I looked up and there was Jesus up on the mountain looking over the city. I asked for help, figuring if he could turn water into wine, he could get my computer to turn on. Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered. Though I suppose one could make the case for him helping my friend Beth remember that she knew a guy who worked on Macs and I left my computer with him and 24 hours later, it was up and running! Jose Carlos is my new personal Messiah.

     So maybe the Lord works in mysterious ways, leading me to Jose Carlos. But I doubt it. Frankly, if one felt a need to name a Creator with omnipotent powers (I don’t), one should notice that he/she/they endowed us with the capacity to think, feels and help each other. As far as I can see, that’s all we have to work with. Pray if you like—and I certainly petition the gods even when they let me down—but better spend your time improving yourself and your fellow humans.

 

·      Life without computers— Who would we be without them? Scary to even ask that question, since their presence in our lives is a mere 30 years out of 100,000 or so. But how quickly we adapt to the available technologies and build our lives around them so that their absence becomes unimaginable.

 

·      Drinking soap—This I will never forget. I grabbed what I thought was a small plastic bottle of water from the house and in my workshop yesterday at the Brazilian Institute for Music and Education, I  got ready to teach again after a break and took a drink. It turned out to be dish soap!!! I had to excuse myself to run and spit it out and my translator Beth was laughing so hard, imagining bubbles coming out of my mouth next time I spoke.

 

·      Funny— I am. Or used to be. Beth, my Orff student both in California and Brazil, is helping me remember because she really cracks up at my comments. Which inspires me to make more. A bit sad that I haven’t felt permission to release that fellow in a while, but I like him a lot and am inspired to bring him back to the forefront. 

 

·      Humidity—Rio is hot, but also humid. I realized that very few of the hot places I’ve been in the last year—China, Australia, New Orleans, etc. — were humid. Heat and humidity mean that you take a cold shower and five minutes later, you’re sweating. I had forgotten. But my wife hasn’t. She is resolved never to visit a hot and humid country again. 

 

·      Taxis—There are a lot! Reminds me of New York.

 

·      50’s New York—In fact, a lot in Rio reminds me of 1950’s New York. Except for those amazing views of Corcovado. And the beachfront. 

 

Meanwhile, today was yet another soul-lifting day with 50 new people filling the room with such joy, laughter, playfulness and beauty. The same day I got a letter from my AOSA organization that my proposal to present at next year’s conference was rejected because I didn’t score enough points on their rubricked proposal form. Excuse me while I go outside and scream. Or vomit. Such a spectacular contrast to my experience here, feeling like Charlie Brown forever hopeful I’ll finally kick the football in my own country and there I am, flat on my back again. Oh America, is there any hope for us? Meanwhile, Viva Brasil!!!!

 

 

Catching Up: Brasilia

The days are whizzing by, each one a lifetime in itself, so trying to play a little catch-up here. My one-day course in Brasilia for another 50 teachers was in an echoey church basement. No Orff instruments, a small bag of dubious percussion instruments and a very funky keyboard. No matter.  I always say all I need is a circle of people with a beating heart, open mind, receptive body and a working voice and indeed, it was enough. The closing spiral song especially evocative in that acoustic cathedral-like space. Taken to El Paso Mexican restaurant by my translator and her husband, two lovely people who helped me pass a memorable evening. This part of the city reminded me a bit of Singapore and in terms of modernity, the parallels apply. 

 

The next day, the course organizer and his 17-year-old niece who learned English by watching TV took me on a tour of this interesting city. Using yesterday’s outline, my comments. 

·      Government tour — Brasilia is an interesting place. It is a city that was built intentionally to become the new Brazilian capital and as such, is quite modern. I went on a tour of the Government Buildings and was struck by many details of Brazilian history that I want to investigate more. The relatively recent decades of dictatorship, the copycat January 8^th, 2023 invasion of the building so similar to our January 6^th, the time-line of human rights progress. So interesting how the latter seems to follow a universal pattern of what differences people are willing to finally accept as “normal” and when. It seems to go from religion to race to women’s right to children’s rights to disabilities to gay rights to trans rights. Of course, WAY too many people who didn’t get these memos and are still determined to target some or all of these groups. 

 

·      Capybara —Name the world’s largest rodent in 5 seconds—GO! Well, I could because I used to draw this animal, the capybara, as a kid. But I had never seen one live. So when my hosts mentioned that there were many in Brasilia, it became the sole focus of the city tour. We went to a riverside where they said sometimes as many as 50 would be roaming around. But there wasn’t one in sight. Until there was. One. But it was enough. They’re big! And apparently this one was still growing. The next time my wife complains about a mouse in our house, I’ll remind her to be grateful that we don’t have a capybara infestation. 

 

·      Climbing the Banyan Tree—There was a large Banyan Tree with some ropes and chains to help you climb it. I climbed trees all the time as a kid and once as an adult (after which I wrote a poem about it). So sure, why not? (That photo is not me, but I’m waiting for my host to send on.)

 

·      Three Wishes— There were two “handles” on the tree and you’re supposed to hold on to them and make three wishes. Of course, I’m not supposed to reveal the details, but I can say that following the airline advice of putting on my own oxygen mask before assisting others, the first wish was a personal one that would allow me to keep working as I both must do and love to do, the second one for the happiness of my daughters and the third one for the awakening of intelligence and caring in my country. 

 

        • Portuguese—… is a language I wish I could speak while in Brazil. As I 

           always tell myself in Italy, it’s close enough to Spanish but as I always 

           forget once I’m there, not really. Oddly enough, the airport folks I need to 

          speak with briefly spoke neither English nor Spanish and it was like the old 

         days of traveling, lots of gesturing, pointing and probably raised voices. 

         But I managed to get on the plane and arrived in Rio around 9:30.

Unplugged

If you’ve noticed that I’ve gone a few days without posting, it’s because my computer refused to start and it looked possible that it never would and I’d be stranded the next 10 days in Brazil without it. Never mind losing so much that mostly is not backed up. 

 

Meanwhile, life went on. I flew from Sao Paolo to Brasilia to Rio, taught two one-day courses and in one hour, will teach yet another one to a different group of 50 people. Here are some topics I would have written about and maybe it’s best to just list them and leave my comments to your imagination. Or not. (If the latter, I’ll fill them in tomorrow.) Just want to say I’m happy—and relieved— to be back!

 

·      Life without computers

·      The Mall in Rio

·      Too Old

·      Ignored by Jesus

·      Drinking soap

·      Funny

·      Humidity

·      Taxis

·      50’s New York

·      Tattoos

·      Acai

·      Capybara

·      Government tour

·      Climbing the Banyan Tree

·      Three Wishes—put on oxygen mask before assisting others.

·      Opening the door. 

Ganbaru

Ganbaru (頑張る, lit. 'stand firm'), also romanized as gambaru, is a ubiquitous Japanese word which roughly means to slog on tenaciously through tough times. 

 

A man who is trying to set up a workshop with me keeps signing his letters “Ganbaru,” so I finally decided to look up what it meant. And found the above. I like the image of “stand firm” and I’m all for moving “tenaciously through tough times” (though don’t love the verb “slog” here). I would add to all of the above W. H. Auden’s “Stagger forth rejoicing.”

 

Because far away from the onslaught of the news, I indeed am rejoicing and taking each group of 50 Brazilians along for the ride. Today was a one-day workshop in Brasilia, with an unusual 70% of the participants men. And yes, the energies of men and women are different and I appreciate them both in all percentages. And I also appreciated both the novelty and particular energy that that 70% presence gave the workshop. 

 

This was an unusual workshop because I wasn’t 100% sure what the day’s activities would be, but once it got going, each one released its particular form of rejoicing and led me effortlessly to the next chosen activity. Before doing my usual opening warm-up in a circle, I began with a spiral and then had the inspired idea of ending the day in the spiral as well, following my “teach like it’s music” dictum and having the end sing back to the beginning. With an Estonian lullaby that resonated powerfully in the acoustically live Church Basement and got the tears that accompany true rejoicing flowing. 

So my personal slant to Ganbaru is to “stand firm with tears and laughter," to go deeper into the things that matter, speak out more clearly against the things that don’t, refuse to be thrown to the ground while helping lift up those that are. 

 

A welcome day off tomorrow, hoping to explore this unusual city of Brasilia. To all of you lovely readers, Ganbaru!

 

Free Lunch

According to conventional wisdom, there’s no such thing. This is true and not true. This four-day course for some 50 teachers didn’t cost them a penny. Well, they had to pay for their actual lunch, but this opportunity to satiate their appetite to become better teachers, better musicians and better humans was entirely free, courtesy of Tatui Conservatory. 

 

Given an earlier experience I had last year in the good ole U.S.A., I was worried about that. In that 7-day course that was free to the 38 students registered, only 2 came to every class and most to just a few. I concluded that without having to pay anything, people were not as invested in it and would be more casual about showing up. And that was true.

 

But not in Brazil. Almost everyone came for every session of the four days. What does that say about us Americans? That we think everything is due to us and we don’t have to even show up if we don’t feel like it? Or that our appetite is puny because we are told we’re already great and awesome when in fact we’re not even close? That we take opportunity for granted and don’t give it the true value it’s due? 

 

Well, maybe. But not so the Brazilians. But as I told them, the course was free, but they had to pay something. They “paid” by showing up, by paying attention, by bringing the whole of their mind, body and heart to each and every venture. They agreed without hesitation to sample all the dishes in each day’s smorgasbord of new foods and tastes and textures. They showed curiosity about how they might cook it in their own kitchen with their own spices and ingredients. Of course, they helped out cleaning up after each lunch and expressed sincere appreciation for the master chef. They stepped up whenever he (me) needed a sous chef to do something they could do better than him, helping make a delicious and nutritious meal yet more tasty and healthy. 

And none of it felt like a grand effort because it was all so much fun and the fellow diners were so convivial. It was a small price to pay for their free lunch, but I for one, appreciated all their sincere efforts. And am happy that it was open to everyone and no one was excluded because of financial limitations. 

 

I write this from the airport en route to Brasilia, leaving at 11:00 pm, arriving 12:30 in the morning and teaching from 9 to 5 the same day to 50 more people eager to partake of the meal. My own price to pay for offering the food that sustains, connects, brings pleasure to whoever shows up. 

 

So farewell to Tatui, a quaint small town with brutally bumpy roads, lovely plaza-parks, impressive restaurants and an amazing gelato place. (I had lime-basil). On to a city I’ve never been in, without the slightest idea of what to expect. Except for the people seated at the table eager and ready to enjoy the meal. 

  

Would It Help?

Another day in heaven, in company with simply wonderful human beings playing, singing and dancing together with such joy, musicality and mutual appreciation. From the 12-bar blues to Lindy Hop dancing with Count Basie to the sweet tones of Charlie Parker’s My Little Suede Shoes making Orff instruments sound like they rarely do. Outside—especially in my country— disaster is afoot and the guard rails of civil community are being torn down. I saw a photo on Facebook that send me down a mineshaft of despair and disbelief, even as I know I shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore. But inside my class, happiness ruled the day.

 

I am as far as a person can get from believing that God will take care of it and careful about slipping into the New Age conviction that the bad things going down help awaken a larger Soul, as if that makes them all right. But I keep opening the page to the new lesson that it just might be possible to walk that tightrope where one accepts the grief and outrage without being brought down by it. I re-watched the movie Bridge of Spies on my recent plane flight and was taken by the accused spy facing possible execution answering Tom Hanks question, “Are you worried about that?” with “Would it help?” And the answer is probably “No, it would just make it worse.” Though none of that makes it easier.

Today’s Facebook quote above agreed with the spy. We should consider that refusing undue anxiety about tomorrow and living more fully in today is precisely the kind of strength we need to not only face tomorrow, but to help shape it and turn it in a better direction. I will never stop caring, but I can feel that care differently, not as a constant betrayal when the world refuses to conform to my wishes, but as the light that illuminates the next step on my path. 

 

In short, I’m as in the dark about this as I imagine you are. I can’t pretend to know what to do. But I am finding that refusing to view the news and looking straight into the eyes and hearts of these beautiful people I’m with right now, right here, feels right. Especially doing the work—and play—that we are doing. 

 

If you have any further suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them. Give me a ring.

Remember Me

 

Returning to the story line. I went from Sao Paulo to the small town of Tatui and began teaching my 4-day Jazz Course to a new group of 50 people. As always, we were good friends after the first 20 minutes and had a fabulous first day of joyful music and dance. By lunchtime, many people’s interests, gifts, character and talents were revealed and I was so delighted to meet a drummer from Malawi, a pianist from Mozambique, a young Brazilian stand-up bass player, two tap dancers, two singers, a flautist and many more spirited participants eager to reveal their musical selves. 

 

Then yesterday, the 2^nd, I opened with this old call-and-response song from the Georgia Sea Islands repertoire and made this comment. 

 

 We are here by the grace of those who have come before. Of course, our parents and grandparents, but also those folks far and near, from times before us, whose lives and work ignited our own fires. We are indebted to them and the proper response is not only thanks, but to carry their work forward and strive to take it further than they could. And when we gather together like this, we should invite them into these sacred grounds and feel their presence and enjoy their company. This homage to the Ancestors is a practice as old as the hills and still part of the thinking in enlightened places —the entire continent of Africa, for example. Simply by singing and dancing these old—and new songs—we are inviting them to the party. And our inspiration to do this well is to attract their attention. If we are half-hearted or checking our phones during the dance, they are not interested. 

 

So let’s take a moment for you to remember  your own personal ancestors who brought you to this place and this life you’re leading. Now when we sing the song again, keep them in your mind and heart and feel their presence dancing with you. 

 

 And we did. 

 

 

The Language of Touch

One sign that a culture can be so off the mark is having to come up with elaborate, extensive, scientific “proofs” of the most common sense things that make us wholly human. In my particular field, all those hours spent justifying music education. But I’m also thinking of all the articles written to get us to consider that kids—or adults— over-immersed in the artificial two-dimensional worlds of screens with content designed to acclimate them to violence and addict them to sensation is maybe not such a good idea. 

 

Another crazy notion going around requires the stories and proofs that touch is essential to human health and happiness. The prevailing nonsense is that every encounter of touch must be preceded with “May I?” Someone in my Brazil workshop asked what I do if kids or their parents don’t want them to hold hands in a circle and I began to answer that it is so refreshing to be back in a culture that understands so easily the importance of touch. My translator missed a bit of what I said and put his hand on my shoulder and asked me to repeat it. I pointed to it and told the group, “Do you see this? Should he have asked my permission first?”

 

Of course, I’m aware that some people are over-sensitive to touch or some people have been traumatized by inappropriate touch. But the solution is neither to stop touching nor ask permission every moment you do. We can train those people to advocate for themselves and let us know, either before or after the fact, that they have this issue. We can thank them for letting us know and assure them we’ll be more aware of their need. Simple. 

But how I’m loving this natural and totally appropriate shoulder touches and cheek-kisses hello or goodbye (also from man to man). It changes everything. A complete stranger walked by me at the Samba rehearsal and touched me on my stomach and it was such a sweet little moment between this man and me. Don’t know what inspired him to do so or what he meant, but I didn’t care. It just felt right. 

 

How radical things would change if we simply trusted our instincts. Music makes us feel good, food fresh from the garden is better than over-processed fast food, children need to be read to and told stories, families should have dinners together and talk about their days*, people should punctuate their speech with touch, every person who behaves badly should be accountable for their actions no matter how much money they have. Need I go on? We all know what’s right but have this peculiar human foible of talking ourselves into toxic practices that hurt and harm us all. 

 

I am so tired of stating and re-stated the obvious. Come on, people! Let’s stop hypnotizing ourselves and do what we know is right. Please.

 

 

·      I’m reluctantly including a photo I had to take at a restaurant yesterday, one of the most depressing and discouraging things I’ve ever seen. A family seated at a restaurant where 3 of the young children had their own personal video in front of them instead of talking as a family. And one of them was under one-years old!! STTTOOOPPP!!