Fernando, Keith, Ezo and Me

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
Caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar… 

 

Traveler, your footprints are the only path and nothing more.

Traveler, there is no road; 

You make your own path as you walk…

 

-      Antonio Machado

 

On my recent trip to Europe, I had the great honor and pleasure of re-connecting to my old friend Fernando Palacios in Madrid. Of teaching with Keith Terry and visiting Ezo Sunal in Istanbul. I noticed that all three had something in common. Their talents, interests, skills had no obvious one job/career/ path that could hold the full measure of their genius. And so they set forth into the dark forest of possibility and created their own where none had ever been before. A path uniquely theirs that no one had walked before and no one would follow and walk the same steps. 

 

There are plenty of extraordinary human beings who follow existing pathways and bring something new to them or walk them expertly and raise the bar for all who follow. Think Steph Curry in basketball, Wynton Marsalis in jazz, Yo Yo Ma in classical music, Meryl Streep in acting, Mary Oliver in poetry, Barack and Michelle Obama in politics, etc. etc. There are many folks in every field— teaching, carpentry, science, weaving, what have you— who claim their identity within the known parameters of a particular craft and uplift the world with their efforts. 

 

But when there is no one craft that can wholly contain your innate genius, if you live at the crossroads of many intersecting crafts, you indeed have to make your own path by walking it, as Antonio Machado suggests above. It struck me forcefully on this recent visit how attracted I am to people like this. And perhaps I am one of them.

Fernando studied Western classical music at the Conservatory in Madrid while playing some jazz (as Rudy Armstrong) with a plastic trumpet around town. Though he never became an Orff teacher teaching in a school, he studied the Orff approach with Elisa Roche and ended up teaching in many Orff courses throughout Spain, South America and at the Orff Institut in Salzburg. He wrote books about music, composed in various styles, recorded many discs, narrated concerts for young people, directed orchestras, created little operas, worked at Spain’s National Radio, collaborated with numerous theater projects, etc., etc. and again, etc. Every time I meet him, he has some new interesting project going and you can never predict its exact nature. “To live is to invent” is his motto and whatever he touches shines with the full measure of his curiosity, imagination and talent. On top of it all, he is virtuosic whistler! 

 

Keith Terry’s daughter was once asked what her Dad did and she answered, “He jumps around on bubble wrap and gets paid for it.” Keith began as a trap set drummer, traveling the circuit of gigs in rock, pop, jazz and beyond styles. When he began practicing on his own body away from the drum set, he realized that “body music” was the call he was meant to answer. Though an untrained dancer, his innate talent for movement combined with an insatiable desire to learn more about rhythm in Balinese, West African, Brazilian, Indian and other musical traditions opened up the possibility of a trans-cultural expression on the most universal and ancient of musical instruments— the human body. So began his lifetime of trying to find and create venues for this unique gathering of musical energies— from his roots in the Pickle Family Circus to whole concerts of body music collaborating with musicians, modern dancers and circus people to meeting other like-minded people worldwide and eventually creating the International Body Music Festival, collaborating and performing with folks from Bali, Brazil, South Africa, Turkey, Finland, Greece, the U.S. and beyond. He created various performing groups, ranging from the Crosspulse to The Electric Circus Band to Slammin to duets with his wife Edie Ladin, produced Body Music teaching DVD’s and a book about Body music and math and balances performance with a rigorous teaching schedule worldwide, working with Orff music teachers, tap dancers, modern dancers, percussionists, theater people and beyond. 

 

Ezo Sunal studied Orff Schulwerk and also performed in a Turkish body music group (in one of Keith’s festivals!). She has a preschool named for her where she continues to work. But meanwhile, she was the host a popular TV Show for children featuring music, dance and storytelling. She began to write and publish children’s books which are highly acclaimed in Turkey. Not having seen her for three years, she revealed to me her new interest— painting! Her paintings are displayed in prestigious galleries, are featured on the covers of notebooks and have been made into jigsaw puzzles. All within a short three years in which she also had a baby!! Extraordinary! Teacher, musician, mother,  TV personality, author, painter, successful in each, and all in one person.

 

You see why I’m attracted to these people. And in my own modest way, I feel resonance with this path-making group as I expanded my sense of my job as a teacher at my school far beyond the job description and created much of the ritual and ceremonies that stamped the school with a unique character. My wide-ranging interests in education, mythology, psychology, history, social justice, my practice of Orff Schulwerk, Zen Buddhism, jazz piano, classical piano, poetry, my travels and short studies in South Indian drumming, Balinese gamelan, Ghana xylophone, Bulgarian bagpipe, American banjo, Keith’s body music and more made it clear that there was no one path made for them all and I would have to charge ahead into the underbrush. And so I balanced my teaching life with writing this blog, publishing 10 of my own books and 4 from other people, creating the family jazz band Doug Goodkin & the Pentatonics and recording one CD, integrating jazz, world music, ritual, body music into the Orff approach, teaching kids and adults of all ages in some 50 countries, etc. etc. and etc. Both my talent and success are not on the same level as the above three, but it’s not a competition. We are all connected through this same experience:

 

Traveler, there is no road; 

You make your own path as you walk…

 

 

 

Principles, Politics and Personality

As promised, I hope to take a peek behind the curtain of the issues I’ve had with authority that I imagine we’ve all had in different ways and at different levels. I’ll speak from the “I” perspective but hope it resonates on the “We” level.

 

Principles: Most every major conflict I’ve had with the administration in various settings begins from what I perceive as a violation of a Principle. It might be a principle publicly stated in a Mission Statement or an unspoken one that I imagined as an agreement, but perhaps wasn’t felt as such by the other. In either case, the conflict invited a necessary conversation that would bring all parties closer to clarity on who we are collectively, what we agreed upon to value, what we’re structuring our decisions and our work around to uphold and move forward. With this understanding, any conflict or disagreement or misunderstanding should be welcomed as a necessary step to furthering our spoken Mission Statement and/or helping to articulate out loud our unspoken shared values. 

 

Politics: Problems begin to arise when the conversation is held within the parameters of political power. When one of the two sides holds the power to decide the outcome regardless of the logic of the argument, to determine how much they’re willing to discuss the issue, to shut down the conversation if they feel threatened on any level (politically, philosophically, personally) by the issue, things start to veer off course. Instead of a needed and welcome conversation clarifying principles, a conversation that would benefit everyone in the community, it becomes a political power struggle, with one side flexing muscle they didn’t necessarily earn and the other feeling shut down, shut out, or shut up by the uneven power dynamic. 

 

Personality: Everything gets muddied yet further when personality enters the mix, as it always does. Instead of focusing on the actual issue, it becomes a character attack, with one person accused of talking too loud, another of not listening until it escalates into a vicious name-calling that completely ignores the actual issue that needs to be discussed. When things become personal, when discussions about principles are taken personally, the waters get muddied.

 

Does any of this sound familiar? If we are armed with awareness of this patterned behavior, we have the possibility of steering the conversation back to where it belongs. Refuse to engage in or acknowledge the name-calling, set aside the power dynamic (knowing that at the end, one of the two sides will ultimately get to make a decision) and stay focused on the principle at stake and the effect it will have on the community and the Mission Statement. 

 

Sounds easy, yes? Except for one non-negotiable fact. We are deeply flawed human beings whose emotions almost always wrestle our logic to the ground and whose democratic systems of shared power and checks and balances keeps veering to the right. But at the very least, awareness of the three P’s and their proper order and balance gives the possibility of re-directed the needed conversations we keep refusing to have. And help the whistle-blower understand that their personality and “issues with authority” might be a part of the game, but fundamentally, it is their dedication to inclusive and life-affirming principles that is at the heart of the matter. And we all should be proud of standing up for that, to refuse the shame those in power hurl at us and those passive bystanders agree to by their silence. 

 

So next time some drama erupts in your school, workplace or even family, consider the three P’s. 

 

1) What is the principle at stake here? Are we actually in agreement about the principle and if not, can we agree to disagree?

 

2) Who holds the power here and how does that affect the conversation? Can we try to equalize the playing field for the sake of a better discussion?

 

3) While acknowledging the role of personality— different styles of arguing, different relationships with conflict, different histories of hurt feelings— can we lay it to the side and return to the main point? Can we veer away from making it personal or taking it personally and stick to the real issue?

 

If I were applying for a conflict management position, these would be my talking points. But really, I’d rather just be playing piano as I did today, while people jog, skate, bike by or stop to listen. 

PS Of course, some conflicts are entirely political or personal, but even then, there are unseen or unspoken, seen or spoken, principles behind the disconnect that are worth examining and discussing. The above refers mostly to those kinds of decisions that come down from above and make one feel unheard, unseen, undervalued, etc.

Bad Boy

In first grade, I was sent behind the piano with a dunce cap. In second grade, my mouth was taped shut for an afternoon. In third grade, I spent most of the year in the hall. In short, I was a bad boy in school. 

 

And so my revenge was to become a teacher and spend a lifetime in a school. A school that welcomed rather than shamed children’s extravagant energy, a craft that found the perfect place to express that exuberance— in music, dance, poetry, drama. So far so good.

 

But the pattern of rubbing against the grain of institutions and institutional thinking persisted and even in that home of homes that had been the school, I stood up and spoke out when decisions betraying the character of the school were being made by an increasing top-heavy administration. Once again, they tried to tape my mouth shut, put me behind the piano or out into the hall. Once again, I was the bad boy but now armed with a lifetime of learning to articulate the why and wherefore of my resistance to conformity.

 

But I suffered greatly from the sense of being betrayed by the school I had loved (and still do!) so much. Of course, I took it personally, I was outraged by what felt like abuse of political power, I was gravely disappointed by many (but not all) of my colleagues who consented to have their mouths taped shut and to sit passively behind the piano. I eventually came to a place of forgiveness (but never forgetting) by aligning with an identity larger than the school and understanding that the depth of my heartbreak was exactly proportional to the height of my love and in the words of David Whyte (from his poem Still Possible), it’s possible to:

‘… realize that you’ve always had your life shattered and your heart broken and your faith tested by loving too much and too often and that all along, it was never too much and never too often, and that you were never, ever, fully broken.…”

 

 Looking back at it all, I recently had a new insight. All of these times of “getting in trouble” were not a personality issue or even a political issue. At the heart of the matter was a principle I was defending, a principle I had at first intuitively and then consciously understood and stood up for. This brought me to a way of thinking about this that would have helped me when in the midst of it all. And might be helpful for others to consider in the push and pull of a world where most everyone feels exiled from or betrayed by or hurt by their own workplace or family or political system. Read on tomorrow about the 3 P’s—Principles, Politics and Personality. 

Hooray for J!

My wife and I made an agreement not to look at the election results until 10 am the next morning, giving us time to properly prepare ourselves. But while I was checking e-mail, she came into the room at 9 am and announced “Proposition J passed!!!” She simply couldn’t wait to find out and decided that in some ways, this was the thing she cared most about.

 

And I understand why. It was a local issue that affected us directly, one our neighbor aggressively campaigned for, one we supported by coming to the rallies and leading that song I made up and putting up the “Yes on J” poster in our window. 

 

Now please don’t assault me for being a privileged citizen caring so much about whether or not we could continue to walk on the road on a car-free JFK Drive in Golden Gate Park when there are so many larger issues that literally can be a matter of life and death to people. I get it. But it need not be either/or. Big change starts small and this particular victory has things to teach us.

 

1) Shame on our De Young Museum for trying to shut this down, to the tune of spending some $412,000 to do so. Money that could have been spent offering free admission for a year to the museum! 

 

2) Hooray for the grassroots power of the people! The money was miniscule, the rallies were small, but the determination to make sure voters understood the importance of keeping the road car-free won the day— apparently by a significant margin!

 

3) In the past few months, the car-free portion of JFK has blossomed into an enticing, community-centered and super-fun place to be. Inspired art on the road, both paintings and sculptures, a stage with scheduled performances, two pianos out on the road available for anyone to play, Adirondack chairs off to the side, two areas with benches and trees and ping-pong and corn-hole, a beer garden with a white picket fence. So much to do and everyone out doing it!!

 

4) At the bottom of so much political struggle in this country these days is a simple choice— a joyful active life in community or a cynical money-grubbing exclusive life. This little victory is so clearly on the side of Joy, Joy, Joy, If you build it they will come— on bikes, skateboards, roller blades, jogging, walking. Today I invited my friend Javier to bring his clarinet and we sat at one of the pianos and gathered a crowd around us for an hour of joyful music-making. One man sketched us and gifted us with the sketch, another listened with great enthusiasm and shouted out requests: “Puccini! Strauss! Gilbert and Sullivan!” And we were able to play them all. We all left uplifted and refreshed. 

 

Small victory. Big result. More, please.

Official Old Man

 

After 31 years of sitting around every other Wednesday night checking in on our mutual lives and exploring given topics, the Men’s Group I’m in finally decided to shake things up. Inspired both by pandemic indoor fear and people falling asleep in evening meetings, our new format is Friday mornings somewhere outdoors in the world. 

 

I love it! Not only does it bring sky, trees, birds and grass into the mix, exploration of new neighborhoods, fresher early-morning energy, but we can actually walk while we talk and occasionally play a game to be with each other in a non-verbal, playful way. 

 

Like today. We met at the little Coffee Kiosk in the park by Haight and Stanyan and after a nice sharing of things we are grateful for, played a game of bocci ball in the little court they have there. Fun! And my team won!

 

I have an association of the game with old Italian men or generally with older retired people who shift their life focus from winning court cases, negotiating business deals, teaching higher mathematics, delivering the mail and other careers choices to seeing how close they can roll the larger ball to the smaller yellow one. The intensity and seriousness of their purpose, their dedication to mastering the skills, the excitement of looking forward to tomorrow’s game— looking at it from the outside, I’ve always chuckled with just a hint of superior judgment. 

 

And now I’m playing it. The last vote has now been cast—I’m officially old!!!

 

Can’t wait until the next time we play! 

6:07

Every morning when I wake up, I play a little game of guessing what time it is. In the short walk to the kitchen clock, I make a prediction. Often, I’m pretty close, sometimes, wildly off. Today, I got a clear precise image in my mind—6:07. Turned on the kitchen light and looked at the clock. Exactly 6:07.

 

How is that possible? Some theorize that we all have the faculty of ESP, but it gets buried in the way we cultivate our minds and discount our intuitions. Now guessing the time is no earth-shaking talent, not as useful as predicting an earthquake or an election. But still one can be amazed at the precision of the internal image exactly matching the reality of the external reality. 

 

And I was. 

It Could Always Be Worse

“Once upon a time, “ begins the Yiddish folktale,“there was a family who lived in a very small house. The father would be cooking, the mother paying bills, the older brother practicing violin, his sister practicing her ball-bouncing, another building towers with blocks that kept falling down and a little toddler alternately crying and laughing. It was crowded and noisy beyond the mother’s tolerance, who simply couldn’t concentrate on adding the numbers she needed to. Finally, at the end of the rope, she slammed her fists on the table and shouted, ‘I can’t take this any more!!!’

 

So she walked out the door and went into the village to ask advice from the wise rabbi.

The rabbi listened to the problem and then asked, ‘Tell me, do you have a cat?’ 

 

‘Why, yes,” said the mother, ‘there is a cat who lives outside.’

 

‘Then bring him into the house. That should help.’

 

The mother was a bit confused by the advice, but the wisdom of this rabbi was well-known, so she shrugged her shoulders, went home and brought the cat into the house. The cat jumped up on shelves and knocked things over, hissed and shrieked, scratched the children who tried to pet it and made them cry. The chaos was worse than before.

 

Back to the rabbi the woman went. Again, he listened and then asked ‘Do you have a dog?’ Again, the good woman admitted they had a dog who lived outside. ‘Bring him in’ advised the rabbi.

 

Well, you can  guess what happened. The dog barked non-stop, chased the cat who yowled and knocked things over while escaping. It was worse than before. Much worse.

 

Back the woman went, time and time again and brought in some chickens and a goat and even a cow. It was utter pandemonium. Finally the mother had had enough. She stormed into the rabbi’s house and told him in no uncertain terms, “You call yourself a wise rabbi?!! The noise and  chaos is ten times worse than it has ever been!! I never should have listened to you!!!” 

 

The rabbi listened quietly and then said, “I hope you will listen to my final piece of advice. Go home and take all the animals out of the house.’ 

 

‘That’s the first piece of sensible advice you’ve given me!’

 

So she went home and did as the rabbi suggested and there they were again, cooking, paying bills, practicing violin, bouncing a ball, building a tower and laughing— and suddenly, it seemed so peaceful and quiet. And so the mother concluded:

 

“ No matter how bad things seem, it could always be worse.”

 

This delightful story became a favorite Holiday Play in my years of teaching, one I repeated two or three times. But it’s also a good fable for today, the day after Election Day.

 

After my big dramatic build-up this morning, the tsunami blue-wave didn’t exactly come as hoped for, but neither did the predicted red wave. It was a mixture of sweet victories and bitter defeats and the jury is still out for two crucial races. I personally don’t think we can afford many more elections that block or slow the needed change, but for now at least, I supposed I can be grateful that “it could always be worse.” After years of letting the noisy, dirty, vicious animals into the house ( and Senate) and our nervous systems adapting to chaos and pandemonium as the new norm, we’ve kicked a few out and can feel the shift to the more harmonious peace and quiet we deserve. Not enough, for sure, but again, it could always be worse. They could have brought in the pit bulls and hyenas and rhinos. 

Or, God forbid, Herschel Walker.  May it NOT be so.