Kissing the Joy

The German’s have that word “Schadenfreude” to describe taking pleasure in another’s misfortune. But I wonder if they—or anyone— has a word for being displeased about another’s happiness. Post-Greek-workshop, I am smiling ear-to-ear and would hate to think that a reader might be thinking, “Will you shut up already about being happy?!!” Of course, it’s bad taste to crow too much when good fortune alights and I believe I’ve had my proper proportion of grief and sadness to keep things real and humble. 

 

But when the glad bird of happiness alights on my shoulder, I feel some need to mark the moment, a kind of kissing the joy as it flies (from a Blake poem). Tonight I started the workshop already in grand humor after my walk today and the way that emotion travels through the air, be it happy, sad, angry or bored, from one body to another, there is certainly no shame in being happy. The group was infected by my gladness from the first minute of the 4-hour workshop to the last and that’s a good thing. 

 

But best of all was my decision to bring Halloween into the room (as described in this morning’s post). Truth be told, I rarely teach this ritual event in workshops and it has been six years since I’ve done it with the kids. As I shared a reduced version of it, I felt the full measure of its power, beauty and brilliance, expertly weaving together speech, song, movement, folk dance, percussion sound effects, Orff ensemble, recorder and drama. The Greek folks were mesmerized, entranced and thoroughly delighted by it all and I was in heaven hearing these sounds again and reviving the muscle memory of all those years of doing it with kids. 

 

And the icing on the cake was ending the workshop with the aforementioned Skin and Bones song and scaring one delightful student so much that she yelped out loud! 

 

Did I mention how happy I am?

 

 

Confessions of a Traveling Music Teacher

Well, that title was the mission statement for this Blog when I started 15 years ago. And while many of the posts follow that theme, probably a good 50% is just about whatever is on my mind. 

 

But today is a good testimony to the moment when the pleasure of sharing what I know, carrying my repertoire and culture into the room of wherever I may be, is beautifully balanced with leaving that suitcase behind and wandering unencumbered through the streets of a new place—or at least a new neighborhood. The former starts in a couple of hours, unusually so as many of the participants are teaching in Saturday music studios. Thus a 4:00 pm to 8:00 pm workshop instead of a 9 to 5 one. 

 

That gave me the morning to wander and wonder up the pedestrian Diogenes Street up to the Acropolis. Such grand pleasure dropping all my selves and identities and just strolling anonymously. No need to stand in line for the 30 Euro ticket to get into the more inner sanctum. Pleasure enough to just to join the throng of tourists and see what seemed worthy of my camera. After the grand sweeping panoramas views looking outward and downward and the stirring site of the Parthenon atop the Acropolis, I descended into twisting intimate alleys and loved that as well. (Just for the record, I’ve been a paying tourist at the Parthenon at least three other times, so it made it easy to forego it today). 

As things flattened out, it was the churches, squares and of course, shops, shops, shops. Again, happy not to need a single thing, but curious to window shop. The restaurants and cafes were beginning to fill as lunchtime approached and it was tempted to grab a table. But the economical young traveler by need who first walked these streets in 1978 is now the economical- by- habit elder who takes food from the hotel breakfast to be enjoyed for free (shhh!) at lunch. An overcast but mild temperature day, I’m stepping out to my little terrace/patio to enjoy it all— the food, the view, the fresh air, the echo in the muscles of the 10,000 steps taken. 

 

Combining the solitude of wandering with the exuberance of playing, singing and dancing with the Orff students with the architecture, food, feel of a refreshingly different culture with the pleasure of dinner after with old or new friends— today could be the poster child for the Traveling Music Teacher’s Mission Statement. 

 

As always, I am grateful.  

Intery Mintery Comes to Greece

Today is Halloween. One feature of holidays is the opportunity to recall where you were on this day in other years of your life. A great conversation starter—“What was your most memorable ____________? (insert holiday of choice or birthday).”

 

I’ve had memorable Halloweens at Antioch College (full confession—one of the most intense of the eight LSD trips I took back then), in the mountains of North Carolina at a Quaker Boarding School, in my first celebration at The San Francisco School where we had a costume parade and contest. My wife worked so hard sewing a costume and I woke up that morning, put on my overalls, went to the horse stables in the park to gather some hay and stuff it in my overalls, grabbed an old hat and that thrown-together scarecrow costume won first prize!!! My wife was not happy. :-)

 

Halloween became a favorite at the school as I created a unique Intery Mintery ritual performance with all 100 elementary students somewhere around 1984 and it continued unbroken until my last one in 2019— and still continues unbroken today with colleagues James and Sofia. (The whole performance was captured on film and viewable at www.thesecretsongfilm.com). After the performance, the Middle School hosted various booths and a haunted house and we ended with me telling a scary story back in the music room. And then ending that with the classic Skin and Bones song when I make the whole room jump with a BOO!!! erupting in an unpredictable place in the song.  My favorite day in the whole world!!! 

And then made more fabulous between 2013-2019 when James, Sofia and I took our Interns from around the world (Italy, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Spain, Finland, Czech Republic, Turkey, Iran, Philippines, China, Thailand, Australia, New Zealand, Colombia, Brazil  and various US states) to Belvedere Street for one of the most spectacular Halloween celebrations you can find anywhere. 

 

And so on this Halloween, I awaken in Athens, Greece, also the site of a memorable Thanksgiving my wife and I spent here in 1978 at the beginning of our trip around the world. Our Thanksgiving dinner was moussaka, mashed potatoes and Greek salad and that night, we went to the airport to fly to India via Cairo. A most memorable time indeed!

 

So with a morning free, I hope to walk to the Acropolis and then in today’s class, re-create a version of Intery Mintery to share as a model of an integrated performance, with a chant, song sung in canon, percussion instrument sound effects, Orff instrument ensemble accompaniment, alto and soprano recorders, creative movement and drama. 

 

The day Intery Mintery came to Greece. That should be memorable!

  

Loverly.

A 6:00 am rising in Istanbul, a long hour plus ride to the airport, a long 45-minute wait for the ticket counter to open, another 45 minutes in the plane waiting for it to get moving. The usual trudge of travel. Then a 90-minute flight to Athens and off the plane to Passport Control to a room filled with perhaps a thousand people. Moving at a glacial pace. With my ride waiting for me in the cell phone lot. I told her I hoped she had a good book and then remembered that I had one and took out my David Copperfield. Inched long a few feet for every page while David reviewed his years at high school and the two women he fell helplessly in love with before anyone had ever coined the phrase “puppy love.” Then suddenly, the line was moving fast and in some grand labyrinth dance, we snaked around some 25 turning paths in a row before slowing down again for the final laps to the people in the passport booths. When I got within 15 people, the end of the labyrinth in site, I was rewarded with Milt Jackson playing vibes on Autumn Leaves on some speaker somewhere. That was a surprise! 

 

One hour since deplaning, I finally emerged into baggage claim, got my bag that beat me there and had been patiently looping around waiting for me and was finally released into the fresh air of a sunny Greek day, picked up 5-minutes later by my new host, Maria. 

 

Unlike most places I go these days, I haven’t taught in Greece for quite a while, only one Greek person studied with us in the Levels Course in California and one more in the Salzburg Special Course over the last three decades. There are a few I know from the Salzburg summer courses, but only a handful. But by the time we drove into Athens proper, Maria and I already felt like old friends. When she dropped me at my hotel, it had been 10 hours since my Istanbul alarm clock!

 

I loved staying at my friends’ Ezo and Sencer’s house—they were great hosts and I think I was a decent guest. But there’s something about the solitude of hotel rooms that I love and I was so happy settling in for the next five nights. The pleasure of unpacking my suitcase and hanging my clothes (they actually had enough hangars!), charging all my devices, arranging books at the bedside table. The room has a terrace with a big glass door that I can open and close (great for controlling temperature). Great reading lights by the bed, something I often miss in the guest bedrooms I stay in. Lighting matters.

 

Once I got settled, I took off into the neighborhood to see about dinner possibilities and found a store with many pre-made meals. Got a Greek salad for a mere 5 Euros and nice to spend actual money again and have the independence to both shop and pay for things myself. Made a slight mistake by not noticing clearly enough the little turns I had made walking to this plaza and returning back, went down a couple of the wrong spokes. I didn’t quite remember the name of the hotel, had left my phone in the room to charge so even if I did remember the name, couldn’t use the GPS. So my old reliable instinct to ask for help from people did it's work and the two people I asked figured out that they could upload from the QR code on my hotel room key and find both the name and location— and lucky for me, they could! And did!

 

Made it back, enjoyed the salad on the terrace and settling in for a cozy evening before my next two days of workshops.  While writing this, thought I’d let Youtube serenade me and stumbled on the perfect song for the occasion: Wouldn’t It Be Loverly played by pianist Fred Hersch. 

 

“All I want is a room somewhere
Far away from the cold night air
With one enormous chair
Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?”

 

That’s exactly what I’ve got tonight. And I can testify: It’s loverly. 

Phoenix Rising

Yesterday was Turkey Republic Day, everyone wearing red, flags everywhere, thousands in the streets and huge speakers every few blocks with ear-shattering rock-style Turkish music. Finally I had the good sense to ask about Attaturk, whose photo is everywhere all the time, but even more so on this day. I mistakenly had assumed it was like Mao everywhere in China, a dictator demanding adoration and manufacturing compliance. But in fact, he was the one who freed Turkey from the Sultan’s Reign and in his own style, proclaimed “No Kings!” He created a democracy where the people voted, religion was separated from State and women had equal rights. Like in my own country, the current Turkish President has been trying to return their democracy to the Dark Ages and somewhat succeeded in the last twenty plus years of his reign, conveniently sending his opponents to jail. So it made a day celebrating the birth of Turkish Democracy both more meaningful and bittersweet. 

 

The people I know in Turkey, the people I know in China, the people I know in Iran and the people I know in the United States are all 100% staunch advocates of genuine freedom, justice, truth and beauty. All the good stuff. Just wanting to just get on with their lives without the constant shadow of tyranny. Hoping alongside Langston Hughes that their homeland be a place of kindness, not cruelty: 

 

“Let my land be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.”

Yet these broken small boys in adult bodies try to fill the gaping holes in their soul by trying to crush others. Three countries just refused them—Brazil, Hungary, Turkey. Let's keep going!

 

I write this in the Istanbul Airport, about to wing to Athens, birthplace of Democracy. Maybe significant that I’ll be there next Tuesday when the direction of the next two years is decided by American voters. Another good omen? As was the mural of the Phoenix Rising I saw in Istanbul. May it be so!

 

Mind-Blowing Granola

Yesterday began at the lovely local café with a bowl of “mind-blowing granola” (as described on the menu) and a café cortado. It’s a regular for my host Ezo and her dog Samba. From there, to the preschool named for her and a little ceremony where the 3 and 4-year-olds recited special little poems in honor of the coming national holiday celebrating the Turkish Republic. Where the adult point of view is that they’re learning to be loyal (and perhaps over-obedient and compliant) citizens, my wish was that the adults watch them dance so joyfully to the music the teachers put on and follow them. Recover our childlike innocence and delight covered over by so many layers of being “educated” into a dubious adulthood. 

 

Afterwards, I took a solitary walk along the water’s edge while Ezo took her daughter to a doctor’s appointment and loved the feeling of just wandering alone. Found a lovely park populated by cats, cats, cats (everywhere in Istanbul!) and people sitting on benches enjoying the view and on the way back, passed a man in a parking lot kiosk listening to a recording of Ella Fitzgerald singing Someone to Watch Over Me. I came over, told him Ella’s name and the song’s name and sang along a bit and we were both delighted.

 

Then friends Ilkay and Sibel came to Ezo’s house and we recorded a little music example for my upcoming Podcast. First time I’ve had guests and we had so much fun, including making mistakes and erupting into infectious laughter. Ilkay had arranged one more evening workshop for me to teach parents of kids to help them understand a larger definition of music and I was really excited about it. But worried about rain, 8 out of the 13 cancelled. Understood that they didn’t have any skin in the game and thus, no deep motivation to honor their commitment, but still disappointing. But the bright side was this delightful opportunity to record this little bit of a Podcast. And then go out to a fabulous Turkish restaurant for the full treatment of this marvelous cuisine, including Mr. Never-Been-Drunk (me) drinking some rake in small sips and starting to feel a pleasant buzz. Followed by an evening stroll to a gelato place. 

 

No more work for me here, just a full day to see how Turkey celebrates Republic Day, with great hope in my heart with the recent elections in Brasil, Syria and Hungary. May the U.S., Turkey, Israel and Russia follow suit and throw the bastards out! 

 

Throughout this most wonderful day, I carried the cloud of worry over my daughter Kerala who suffered from a mysterious upper-back pain that had her lying for hours unable to move in great pain. With no one nearby to drive the kids to their various events. But good news this morning. It’s a pinched nerve rather than a herniated disc, she feels better after a trip to the chiropractor, my wife flew up to help drive the kids around and sent me photos of them in their Halloween costumes. And I’m so delighted cool 15-year-old granddaughter Zadie still likes to dress up for Halloween! 

 

With my daughter Talia recovering from her broken foot and Kerala suffering from this, it’s a rough patch for these two most-always-healthy loves of my life. A parent never stops worrying and caring about such things and it was hard to feel so far away. But it feels like the healing forces have gathered and the helpers come around. 

 

May those forces continued to gather, both personally and collectively! Me, I’m off to the café again for another mind-blowing granola breakfast.

Another Day in the Life

The workshops in Koaceli kept the joy flowing forward. 18 more students who I thought were going to be college musicians but turned out to be mostly teachers of young children. On this trip— and every trip where I teach— I’m so grateful that I taught children between 3 and 14 years old. The longevity is a big part of the mastery of my craft, but so is that age range. Particularly the young ones, who taught me how to get the utmost musicality out of the simplest materials. 

 

I had planned to teach five pieces from five continents using five notes, but it was immediately clear that this group needed something simpler, so I immediately back-pedaled to 5- 7-year-old material without sacrificing a jot of musical integrity and it worked. They were so happy playing what they could and let me know it through the usual sincere thank-you’s and requests for a photo together. 

 

The next morning was the Black Sea excursion already described and then another two-hour evening class with 24 nine to twelve-year-olds. I had neglected to tell the translator I had just met that I wouldn’t need him at the beginning and wondered later what he was thinking when I taught the first 40 minutes with all directions given by gestures, music and Harpo Marx-style whistles. When I finally needed to talk, I did and we completed my classic Step Back Baby performance, much to the students’ delight. Then I stretched myself using a Turkish rhyme my host had just taught me to compose elemental music on the Orff instruments and they seemed equally happy with that. 

 

Post-workshop, Sencer and his wife and daughter took me to a restaurant serving delicious Turkish dumplings (manci?). The translator joined us and it turned out he was a preschool music teacher, ventriloquist and owner of three racing horses. An interesting—and joyful—fellow! Sencer read some comments his students had made on a chat and the two that moved me were a mother saying her usually sullen 6^th-grade-pre-teen-daughter couldn’t stop talking about how much fun she had and another boy wrote that if that man ever comes back to teach a class, he (the boy) would cancel all his lessons to be there! 

 

By now it was close to 10 at night and Sencer drove me the hour-long trip back to Istanbul, playing an assortment of music I had never heard including a Balkan clarinetist who played the fasted notes I’ve ever heard in my life. Alongside some of his favorite electric jazz bands. 

 

So ended another “day-in-the-life” and need I say?— happily so. 

The Black Sea

 

I’m now in Koaceli, Turkey, enjoying the grand pleasure of reuniting with my friend Sencer, a fellow Orff teacher I taught in the Special Course in Salzburg. Always a pleasure to re-connect, be it in Salzburg, the Body Music Festival in Ghana or the various trips I’ve taken to Turkey. A fine teacher, an excellent musician and all-around great guy!

 

So with a morning off, he drove me to the Black Sea. Quite an iconic place, connecting Turkey with Bulgaria, Romania, Moldavia, Ukraine, Russia, Georgia. A lot of history there, past and present. Unlike the drive from Istanbul to Koaceli, on highways through industrial areas, this road passed through the countryside.  We passed a gypsy encampment, with a disturbing amount of garbage strewn about, past a maximum-security prison with high wall and barbed wire a’plenty and then came to a charming little town, Karpe, with a restaurant called Karpe Diem.  And there it was—the Black Sea.

 

We parked the car and walked along the edge, feeling the power of its churning and crashing waves. The sky was overcast, the wind blustery, the air with a pleasant Fall chill. A short invigorating walk by the Fall-empty (but Summer-full) beach and then sit down for my first cup (this trip) of Turkish coffee. Sencer re-told the story of how it is made and reminded me of the tradition of leaving some at the bottom to be used for fortune-telling. You put the saucer on top, swirl it around a bit and then turn upside down, putting your wedding ring (optional) on top of the overturned cup. Let it sit five minutes, turn over again and see what the coffee grounds have to say. You interpret your friend’s and they interpret yours. Mine had to do with—no surprise— travel and an ocean and a bridge, so it seemed pretty realistic. 

 

Before that excursion, I had checked in on the Valkries game and —again no surprise—was thrilled that they won! Also peeked in on the Brazilian election and not sure I got it all right, but it seems like the good guy won. For this semi-superstitious guy, these were good omens. Liberal California team beating conservative Georgia team, the Brazilian’s voting for justice over fascism. Cautious optimism reported in the American news as we near mid-terms. It is well past time for the tide to turn. Here and everywhere. 

 

Including the countries surrounding the Black Sea. May it be so! 

Transparent to Transcendence

 

Okay, I confess. There is immense satisfaction in feeling seen, known, understood and appreciated. When such a gift comes one’s way and someone else finds the words to clearly articulate it, one’s inner hopes and intentions are mirrored back and affirmed. It is a form of encouragement to keep moving in the same direction. It also is a reminder to not be complacent and keep working hard to measure up to the praise bestowed. 

 

Mostly such feedback comes from the buzz in the room when I teach, the laughter, the joy, the thoughtful quiet contemplation and deep listening discussing the matters at hand, the requests for photos with individual or groups of students, the feeling of love in the room. Having just finished working with my fourth group (London, Izmir, Istanbul, Koaceli), I felt it all with each and every group. 

 

In the midst of it all, I received my Korean horoscope from a new friend with whom I’ve been enjoying a profound correspondence, another Orff teacher who feels as I do the deep healing behind and within and around this work. It began with a one-sentence summary and then went into details: 

 

“Doug Goodkin is an earnest visionary who guards the spirit of sharing for the sake of spiritual cultivation in an age of inertia.” 

 

Wow. That’s a lot to unpack. Visionary, protector of generous sharing, spiritual cultivator, resister of complacent inertia— high bars, indeed! Whether I wholly deserve them is a matter for others to decide. Whether I’m worthy of stepping up to them is my challenge and yes, they well express my hopes and intentions. 

 

I was particularly struck by the word “earnest” and its synonyms, “sincere, serious, heartfelt, devout.” For whatever reason, I have stayed faithful to a vision I already began to write about and live when I set off down this path over 50 years ago. I felt resonance with the word “integrity,” something I admire in both others and hope to claim for myself, defined as:

 

Acting with honesty, truthfulness, and a refusal to compromise your values— even when no one is watching or when it is difficult.

 

Those who were with me at school when changes inconsistent with our mission statement were being made from above know that I stood up and spoke out to defend the school’s character, at the cost of suspension and probation. And in a more positive light, I’ve stayed faithful to a vision of Orff Schulwerk in the sense of “integrity’s” second definition:

 

The state of a work, plot, or system remaining whole and untampered with (such as artistic integrity). (From Latin “integer”—whole, undivided).

 

All of this reminded me of a generous summary of my work someone long ago wrote after taking my Orff course. (Note the word “integrity.”)

 

“Doug’s work is a long, earnest and continuing struggle to present music of integrity in a way that affirms our collective humanity. “

 

I’ll take it. 

 

And one more confession. I’m aware that it could come across as self-centered to share this praise and perhaps there is a speck of truth in that. But the real deal is to become, as Joseph Campbell said, “transparent to transcendence.” To wholly own the work and vision not as the property of the ego, but in service of all who benefit from the spirit of sharing and spiritual cultivation. 

 

Today I’ll work with children and they always help keep one humble and not over-inflated. No matter how “famous” or accomplished one thinks they are, they don’t care. They’ll look you straight in the eye and say with their behavior, “Okay, let’s see how you’re going to handle this!” 

 

And I love that. 

Passing the Baton

An Orff teacher from Barcelona I helped train recently included me on a letter of gratitude to all her teachers. The occasion was her 50^th birthday, the kind of milestone event that invites reflection. She wrote: 

 

Now I am 50, and almost half my life has been connected to Orff-Schulwerk in one way or another, always with the same intensity and passion. As I tell my friends and family, right now I feel that my inner self, the person I am, is going one way and my body another. My body seems to have understood that I’m turning 50, but my inner self hasn’t quite got the message yet! I’ll keep doing what that young woman inside me asks of me, and my body will just have to keep up. This is who I am, and I don’t intend to lose that spark anytime soon! 

 

Thanks to all of you, I have become a lifelong learner, and that is what I dedicate myself to: learning and accompanying the learning of others. If, when I grow up, I can resemble or inspire someone even a little in the way you have inspired me, I will feel that I have passed on some of what you have given me. 

 

Lovely. Here’s what I wrote back:

 

Congratulations on your milestone birthday! I just turned 75 so I feel connected with you at different parts of the 4-Act play that can be our life. First act: 0-25/ Second: 25-50/ Third: 50-75/ Fourth: 75 -? Each act with different plots and surrounding characters, each act with us a main character who is evolving and changing throughout the story, but also recognizable as the same unchanging soul throughout each twist of the plot. 

 

So here you are beginning the third act as I've just ended mine and beginning the fourth. Let me welcome you to what for me was "The Golden Years!" Good health and plenty of energy and mostly just small hints from the body that things are changing. But as the body diminishes, the Soul grows larger. 

 

You're off to a good start because I can testify that one essential quality of the second half of life is deep gratitude for all who have shared the stage with you. So your instinct to appreciate those who helped you move forward in your soul's unfolding is an excellent one. And happy to know that I was one of them.

 

And the second great instinct you have is to renew your determination to pass the baton on to others and bless them and encourage them and help them as you have been blessed and helped and encouraged. I admire both those qualities in you and encourage you to keep following those instincts!

 

As for me, I'm blessed at the moment with the health, energy and determination to both keep on teaching myself and encourage the next generation to move it forward. (I'm writing from Istanbul where I'll teach two courses in two different places and then another in Athens after teaching in London and Izmir.)

Thanks again and on we go!!!

When?

I open my laptop and see the 79 e-mails in my box newly arrived—after one day.  75 about political news and pleas for contributions, three from people I know and one my new Inspiring Quotes mail. The latter was about October. Ten people praising crisp weather, fall foliage, cozy evenings and delightfully darkening days, the wind wild with the swirl of golden leaves. 

 

Sigh. When can we turn our attention back to the bounties of this beautiful world? Praise the things that are real and true and authentic and touchable and tastable and smellable with our own hands and tongue and nose. The sweet explosion in the mouth of a ripe apple, the brittle crunch of dry leaves swept in piles, the dizzying journey of falling leaves and us below trying to catch them. The warm soup on the stove and smell of fresh-baked bread and the anticipation of pecan pie, the candles out again on the dinner table, the carved pumpkins out on the front stoop, Ella and Louis singing Autumn in New York. The unspoken comfort that if things must decay and branches lose their leaves and days darken early, this is indeed a beautiful way. 

 

When can we feel the full blessing of another sunrise, bask in the welcome warmth of midday sun, descend with the day into a tantalizing twilight and feel the full embrace of an evening with loved ones? When can we spend more time writing poems of praise, singing sublime or silly songs, drawing or dancing our delight? When can we be spared having to refuse or resist the distraction of glaring screens because why would anyone choose something two-dimensional, artificial and addictive over the real world at our fingertips?When will the assault of the political pleas made necessary by our profound human failures trickle down to their proper proportion? 

 

When, oh when, will we finally awaken to our true promise and spend more time batting balloons with a 5-year-old we just met than opening the laptop?As I did last night with my friend’s daughter, who became my instant friend. 

 

When? I don’t know, but please, may it be soon. And forever. 

 

 

A Day Well Spent

 

I have not been sleeping well. Up for two hours in the middle of the night, some of it is jet lag and some perhaps a disturbing new old-guy pattern. Hate that feeling of lying in bed waiting for the mind to turn off and the other night, it finally did and I was visited by a nightmare— a plane taking off without me, getting picked up by some guys in a van to get me back to the airport and then them taking me to their house for dubious purposes. When I woke with a start, I was relieved it was only a dream, but then drifting back to sleep, those guys were still there. So after lying in bed hoping for sleep, I now was trying to stay awake! 

 

But last night, there were only sweet dreams and mostly uninterrupted blessed sleep. Until I checked the time and noticed it was 10:00 am! With my host Banu coming to drive me to the airport at 10:15. I had slept 11 hours!! Luckily, I was mostly packed from the night before, so made it to her car by 10:20 and got to the airport in time for my flight to Istanbul. 

 

Meanwhile, yesterday was quite a day. Banu took me to the University where she teaches, gave me a brief tour of some lovely gardens with peacocks and an extraordinary colorful large bird I regretted not photographing. While she went to teach a class, she had arranged for me to meet a colleague who plays jazz saxophone and off we went for an hour of non-stop jamming together. Fabulous! He was excellent and he seemed to like my playing and we listened to each other well and had some truly inspired moments together. Banu came back with two other teachers and we played Night and Day  for them and they were shaking their heads wondering: “How do you do that?!!!!”

 

How indeed. Music is most certainly not a universal language any more than Japanese and Spanish are, but if you do your homework to learn the grammar and vocabulary of a particular musical style—like jazz—and understand how to speak your own thoughts with the elementals of the musical language, you’re well prepared to meet a perfect stranger and achieve deep communication instantly. Which is exactly what happened. 

 

From there, we walked through the bustling tree-lined streets of Izmir in perfect weather, past all the outdoor-seating cafés, up a tower with an elevator initially built in 1907, into a modernized bazaar with all goods I don’t need but enjoying the hustle and bustle. On to meeting two more friends, enjoying a convivial meal and off to the evening workshop. The 16 lovely souls returned and 8 more joined the party. No need to wax rhapsodic, as I always do about what a joyful, uplifting gathering it was. Then an after-workshop beer with eight of the group to cap off a most delightful day. 

 

That’s the news, such as it was. Off to Istanbul!

Buddha Bowl

Arrived in Izmir on Monday night and spent Tuesday afternoon walking along the path by the sea. Dinner with Banu, my host, a lovely human who was part of our first Intern program at The SF School back in 2013. I ordered a grain salad called “Buddha Bowl” and too much for my appetite, got a take-away container. 

 

On to the workshop site for an unusual evening venue and the grand pleasure of greeting 16 more eager young women. We gathered in the ritual opening circle and off we went. The usual three or so activities with hardly a word from me and then time for some reflection. Always looking for new ways to talk about old tried-and-true ideas, I took out my take-away container and began: 

 

"Just before coming here, I had dinner with Banu. I ordered a dish called the Buddha Bowl. I suspect the name of that dish doesn’t tell you very much. Like telling a beginning music student that we’re going to learn about the minor scale. And you might wonder “Who or what is Buddha?”

 

If I tell you what’s in that dish, that helps you understand a little bit more. And so I describe a grain salad with quinoa, falafel, avocado, carrots, lettuce. You still might not know all the ingredients (quinoa?) but it helps give you a picture of it. Like telling about the interval structure of whole steps and half steps in the minor scale. 

 

If I show you a photo of it, you get one step closer to understanding. And better yet, to show you the dish itself. And here it is! (I open the take-away container). Back in music class, this would be equivalent of singing the minor scale. 

 

If I passed it around and you smelled it, that brings you closer yet. In the music class, we might sing the minor scale together.

 

But if I invited you to taste it or eat a whole bowl, now you have the most important information, eating it first-hand and digesting it. Like singing a minor scale melody. 

 

The Orff class begins with the meal itself, not waiting so long to taste it. Just eating together. After we might describe things, naming each ingredient and discussing how they all fit together. 

 

But we’re not done yet. If we like the taste, we have to learn how to make our own Buddha bowl salad. Now we have the independence to continue to enjoy it without depending on the restaurant and create our own variations. Like improvising or composing new melodies in the minor scale."

 

The students seemed intrigued. And then we went on to the second and third courses and ended with dessert. A most delicious meal indeed. 

 

Shout-out to Blogspot

 

While posting the last post about doing everything in one’s power to contribute to kindness, truth and justice and refusing meanness, falsity and cruelty, I noticed a message from the host Blogging site: 

 

Updates to the Blogger Content Policy
We are making some changes to our policies, effective December 16, 2026

 

Reading further, it said: 

 

Blogger is a service for self-expression and communication. We believe Blogger increases the availability of information, encourages healthy debate, and makes possible new connections between people. It is our belief that censoring this content is contrary to a service that bases itself on freedom of expression.

 

However, in order to uphold these values, we need to curb abuses that threaten our ability to provide this service and the freedom of expression it encourages. As a result, there are some boundaries on the type of content that can be hosted with Blogger. The boundaries we've defined are those that both comply with legal requirements and that serve to enhance the service as a whole.

 

It goes on to list specifically what is acceptable and what is not in the following categories, making explicit what should be implicit in any decent community:

·      Community Guidelines

·      Adult Content

·      Child Sexual Abuse and Exploitation

·      Dangerous and Illegal Activities

·      Deceptive Practices, Fraud and Scams

·      Harassment, Bullying, and Threats

·      Hate Speech

·      Impersonation and Misrepresentation of Identity

·      Malware and Similar Malicious Content

·      Misleading Content 

·      Personal and Confidential Information

·      Phishing

·      Regulated Goods and Services

·      Spam

·      Violent Organizations and Movements

·      Unauthorized Images of Minors

·      Violence and Gore

·      Copyright

In short, they’re making clear that freedom of expression entails certain responsibilities to the community of readers and that abuse of these will not be tolerated. 

Thank you, Blogspot. This makes me proud to be associated with your services. Now if only the media and government would follow suit.