Restoration

Today is election day. If we are to do our job well, it is not about politics as usual, this candidate over that one, this issue over that one. It is about answering the call to help restore a broken world. A world purposefully dismantled so the rich, greedy and powerful few can guard their unearned privilege at the expense of everything that truly matters. They’ve done so with our permission. Now is the time to withdraw it. To vote with our dancing feet and singing voices and joyful celebration. To restore harmony, order and balance. To awaken from the sorcerer’s spell and walk forward in beauty. To heed the call some of our first Americans put forth and we have ignored to our peril. May all the benevolent forces gather and fulfill their prophecy!

 

NAVAHO NIGHT CHANT (excerpt)

 

House made of dawn. 

House made of evening light. 

House made of the dark cloud. 

House made of male rain. 

House made of dark mist. 

House made of female rain. 

House made of pollen. 

House made of grasshoppers. 

 

Dark cloud is at the door. 

The trail out of it is dark cloud. 

The zigzag lightning stands high upon it. 

An offering I make. 

Restore my feet for me. 

Restore my legs for me. 

Restore my body for me. 

Restore my mind for me. 

Restore my voice for me. 

This very day take out your spell for me

 

Happily I recover. 

Happily my interior becomes cool.

Happily I go forth. 

My interior feeling cool, may I walk. 

No longer sore, may I walk. 

Impervious to pain, may I walk. 

With lively feelings may I walk. 

As it used to be long ago, may I walk.

 

Happily may I walk. 

Happily, with abundant dark clouds, may I walk. 

Happily, with abundant showers, may I walk. 

Happily, with abundant plants, may I walk. 

Happily on a trail of pollen, may I walk. 

Happily may I walk. 

Being as it used to be long ago, may I walk.

 

May there be beauty before me. 

May there be beauty behind me. 

May there be beauty below me. 

May there be beauty above me.

May there be beauty all around me. 

In beauty it is finished. 

In beauty it is finished. 

 

'Sa'ah naaghéi, Bik'eh hózhó

 

The Use of Beauty

My first of two days free in Athens began with a delightful meeting with Katerina, an Orff colleague I had met over the years, mostly in Salzburg. She gifted me with a book by Polyxena Matey, a woman who studied in the Munich Guntherschule where Orff taught back in the 1930’s. They developed a lifelong friendship and upon returning to Athens in 1938, she established her own school both for children and training teachers in Orff Schulwerk. It’s the very school where I taught these last two days, soon to celebrate it’s 90^th anniversary! 

The current economy, bad traffic and parking, along with diminishing interest in gifting children with the arts as fundamental to their education, seem to be taking their toll and enrollment is suffering. Likewise, young teachers eager to train themselves in this life-changing, soul-stirring approach are harder to find as everyone prefers to stay home and find some cool lessons online. But nevertheless, we persist. 

 

Katerina gifted me with a little book Polyxena Matey wrote when she was 90 (!) and we sat on the hotel 11^th floor veranda looking out at the Parthenon and lamented about the decline in authenticity and integrity in the modern world. Some of it the usual elder complaints about the younger generation that has been our dubious privilege since time immemorial, but much of it is genuine concern about the way machine-thinking has gained such monstrous power as machines now literally our doing our thinking. Back in 1992, Ms. Matey was already warning us about this: 

 

“This technological civilization, with its astonishing achievements, has enslaved us. We orient our lives primarily toward what can be measured, calculated, and judged as useful.”

 

Indeed. Here she echoes thinkers from time immemorial hoping to remind us as to what’s truly important. Here is Victor Hugo in his epic Les Miserables.

 

“You are always eager to make everything useful, yet here is a useless plot. It would be much better to have salads here than bouquets.”

 

…the bishop replied, “You are mistaken. The beautiful is as useful as the useful.” He added after a moment’s pause. “Perhaps more so.”

 

Ms. Matey independently arrives at the exact same conclusion: 

 

“We should offer our children an education that cultivates in the developing human being a sensitivity to Beauty. Beauty, which may not appear ‘useful,’ yet is an essential nourishment for the human soul.”

 

So Katerina and I talked about the danger of our diminished capacity to think for ourselves, to live with passion, to savor genuine beauty, all concerns every teacher in every place I talk to is noticing about the next generation. Rather than mere old-people whining, the purpose was to notice and then work yet harder to keep these lights burning in those who will follow. And my happy report is that they respond! When we give them, be they children, college students or adults, what they genuinely need and richly deserve, they happily step forth into their enlarged humanity. At least that has been my experience. 

 

After I parted from Katerina, I went on my own little odyssey in search of beauty and found it ascending to the top of Mount Lycabettus. There I was gifted with a sweeping 360^o view of Athens, including looking out at the Acropolis and the Pireaus Sea beyond it. The sun had come out, the temperature was perfect and the cats were out enjoying it all alongside the people. 

Back at the hotel, I treated myself to a Greek salad dinner back at the penthouse restaurant, now with the Parthenon lit up. I then met with another person interested in translating some of my books into Greek. A lovely person and another profound conversation, more pleasure than business. We agreed to start with my Humanitarian Musician book and include some quotes from Polyxena Matey and also her song that we sang at the closing of yesterday’s workshop. 

 

Here is a photo of me in the workshop with the photo of Polyxena Matey on top of the piano. Two spirits sharing the same vision.  

The Beat Goes On

 I was going to title this entry: One Word. And my entire post was going to be: 

Valkries!

 

People in San Francisco would have understood. A mere two years as a team, our fair city’s Women’s NBA Team (WBNA) won the championship on Halloween night in the 7^th game of the playoff. How I wish I could have been at Yancey’s Sports Bar on Irving Street and experience the jubilation of the patrons as I have before with the Warriors and Giants. But watching the highlights was enough to start my day with tears. Of joy.  While it still bothers my compassionate self to know that the other team walked off the court disappointed, I’ve been hard-wired to exult in these epic victories and there is some sense of glory, alongside the deep communion and ecstatic euphoria of the fans. I challenge even the most tranquil Zen master to not feel a least a twinge of the rush the roar of the crowd unleashes. 

 

From there, I went to the last day of a different kind of euphoria where everyone wins, my last workshop in this most marvelous three-week tour. Two days in London, two days in Izmir, two days in Istanbul, two days in Koaceli, two days in Athens. 10 workshops with over 300 beautiful souls and the deep satisfaction as, before departing, so many looked me in the eye, touched their heart and said “Thank you.” And I sent the same feeling back to each of them. 

Then off to dinner with five of the organizers, one of whom I had crossed paths with many times in Salzburg in the 90’s but hadn’t seen for over 30 years! The re-connection was immediate and we enjoyed a nostalgic tour through our memories over some excellent souvlaki, tzatziki and other delicious dishes. Bittersweet to remember moments with some Orff folks who have passed on and marveling at the ones—including us— who are still at it. 

 

Two free days in Athens ahead and then on my way to my 43^rd American Orff Conference in Richmond, Virginia. So class is over—for now. I just agreed to sub next week at my old school, teaching my colleague Sofia’s classes. Which of course, will be great fun. And so the beat goes on.

 

I feel so far from ever wanting to stop teaching and the energy from folks in England, Turkey and Greece to get me back again makes me hopeful that opportunity will keep meeting desire. May the beat indeed go on!

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.