Remember

I received my second copy of Momma Zen. I read my first copy a couple of months ago, 7 months to be exact, and I read it so quickly that I forgot most of the details. So I am rereading it. I will write about it as I read it so that it sticks better in my mind. Because Momma Zen speaks my mind. It is the truth, it is wisdom, it is my belief system- it is everyone's. Yet I forget. Over and over again, I forget what this book is trying to teach me.

I am a baroque flute player. A professional musician. I studied with the best baroque flutist in the world, the man who was responsible for the revival of this old instrument that was played from about 1700 until about 1900, but varied greatly in between. He is almost unsurpassed in his abilities, which is rare, usually each generation gets better than the next. But not him; he gets better and better himself. Because he is humble, and he learns from everything and everyone, including his students. I studied with him in Brussels for four years, which is considered a long time. I noticed something after two years of taking lessons at least once a week, and listening in on many more: there were only about three different lessons. The rest were repeats. He said the same thing over and over and over again. But it took me three years to get it, and then one year to perfect it, and then he let me go. From there I flew.

I take the same lessons from Momma Zen, and from Cheerio Road almost every day. It is the same thing over and over. I know it, but I don't do it. With my flute practice it was physical. It was about breathing. It was about letting go. And it was about listening and loving every single note I produced. First, I prepare my breath, drop the bottom of my diaphragm. Then I breathe in the first note. As I play I must relax my fingers and my body, and then I must prepare every note before it comes out, and find the center, the resonance of each note that I play. Because every note has its core, even in a fast passage, I must find it. All this is technical, it doesn't require talent, or interpretation, or "understanding" the music. It is not about having something to say. It is about giving the music its life.

Parenting, and living, is the same. I must remember to breathe, I must relax my body, and I must love life, this life, my life, and cherish each second. This doesn't impede on any artistic interpretation. Nor does it mute our own personality. It doesn't even always work, because sometimes we forget. But that is ok. We all have bad concert days, we are human.

But the key is remembering.

This is my New Year's resolution.