Year of the Shed (2012)

After a few tumultuous years in a row, it is time for me to settle down and hit the shed. I am thankful to have worked with so many creative artists over the years; it’s time to close the practice room door and focus on my own art.

Practice is the Path. The Path is Practice.

The seven precepts:

1) mindfulness and sincerity

2) every day

3) (no electronics)

4) Shugyo

5) read

6) log

7) private

The most important aspect of quality practice is to be fully aware of both your effort and the subsequent results. Mindfulness is a skill that is difficult to attain and even harder to sustain, but critical to growth in any artistic field. Sincerity of purpose is easier to achieve, but is often fleeting and superficial. We should not practice for fame or popular acceptance; we should strive to practice for its own sake. Practice is the Path. Enjoy the challenges and the frustrations; embrace the suffering.

Another extremely difficult aspect of practice is to complete a session every day, not most days, but EVERY DAY. The future is a myth, there is no tomorrow. really.

I will be incorporating a new aspect to my practice this coming year, no electronics. As the pilot says, “if it has an on/off switch, please make sure it is in the off position.” Not sleep mode or silent. Power down. Addictive distractions have been avoided since the beginning of time. I will try to learn from the wisdom of our ancestors.

Shugyo, (literal definition: “daily practice”) has become a word I associate with my own creative exercises for the trumpet. I find it helpful to practice self generated etudes, exercises and compositions in order to develop an individual voice as an artist. Often I will continue practicing live composition (improvisation) along similar lines as these unique written exercises. (see more on Shugyo)

As an educated artist, I continue to read books related to my field. This is extremely valuable to my creative work; knowledge is food for the muse. And yes, they have to be physical items, you know… books. (review guideline number 3)

Back as an undergraduate music major, when I first held myself truly accountable for my own practice, I began to record my work in a practice log. For me, it’s very simple. I write down the date, instrument, start and end time (always rounded down to the 5 minute mark). Some people write detailed goals and lists, it doesn’t really matter, whatever is helpful. This act becomes a physical representation of your effort. Even when you may be on a virtual plateau of artistic growth, the log represents a tangible effort, something that can keep your ship moving through the calm winds.

Finally, keep it to yourself. OK, OK, it's ironic on an open blog post… but it’s true. Your practice is personal. No one really cares how or what you do, as long as your results are aesthetically pleasing. Practice is Religion. Have faith in your practice.

Remember, the secret to longevity in a music career is to do it for a long time.

Practicing in Airports

[July 2010] I’m just old enough to remember looking forward to flying on an airplane. Back then, businessmen were dressed in suits, meals were complimentary, and children (like myself) received free toys and/or packs of playing cards! Unlike today’s flights where people wear pajamas and flip flops, the tray tables look like the bottom of a cotton candy machine, and the microwave cheeseburgers cost $6.00. As a young musician, I used to think flying was one of the more glamorous aspects of being a pro, something only the successful artists could enjoy. Ahhh, champagne all around. I keep waiting for a flight attendant to say, “Congratulations, you’ve made it! Come sit in first class and enjoy the ride.” Any day now this is going to happen to me, I can tell. It feels like it was years ago when I slept through my first take-off. Surly that must have been some sort of benchmark? Even before that, when I began to order Tonic Water, knowing that you may actually get an entire can instead of a tiny cup, I thought I was a seasoned pro and deserving of some special wink or nod. NOPE. Still sitting in coach, crammed in like a sardine.

Flying is similar in many ways to gambling, but the odds are always stacked against you. When gambling at casinos, you know that on any given night, you may win or lose, but in the long run things tend to stay about even. When you gamble and win, there’s this rush of excitement plus the obvious financial gain, which could range in the thousands of dollars. When you win, it can really feel good which could unfortunately lead to a serious addiction. When you lose, money and time vanish, like they were never there. Air travel is similar, but nowhere near as fun. When you win, the best that you can hope for is to voluntarily skip your oversold flight, receive a $300 travel voucher, board a different airplane, sit in the exit row, have a smooth quiet flight, and only briefly chat with the flight attendants at the end of the flight as you taxi to the gate. Even in this idyllic situation, you’re still sitting in a truly uncomfortable seat, (which was designed for the average person. C’mon, how many of us are exactly the average person? It’s like guaranteeing the seats will be equally uncomfortable for everyone), drinking some seriously lame coffee, and wondering who actually buys that crap in the Skymall magazine. But when things go bad and you lose, watch out. (Take this flight for example, I’m writing on one of my many trips back to NYC and there’s a kid behind me screaming and kicking, a big guy to the left of me finishing some sort of seafood salad sandwich, a woman on my right with too much perfume, the person in front of me must be having nightmares, and we’re still on the ground, sitting in the parking lot they call the Atlanta airport, a good hour and a half after the original departure time, Gotta love it). I’m not going to ramble on too long; everyone has horror stories. I’ve been at Airports with only one gate all the way up to major international hubs. I’ve been on planes ranging from small propeller planes to those big overseas jumbo jets. I’ve been in the air from 40 minutes to 18+ hours… pure torture.

Anyway, one thing that I have come to understand is how to maintain a routine of practicing the trumpet at airports. The key is to play whenever the opportunity arises. I always keep a practice mute in my case, so if there’s a delay, I hit some long tones. Right there at the gate. Sometimes, if I have much longer layover, I head down to an empty gate and actually shed some scales. On the rare occasion that I actually arrive at the airport early, I’ll hang out on the curb and practice. People don’t seem overly concerned with a musician practicing when they’re late for their own flight.

There’s no real secret, playing in the airport is actually really easy. It’s like the Nike ad: Just Do It.

Modern Range Expectations

[April 2010] This post addresses the range requirements of a modern professional jazz trumpeter, so it may be a little too specific for most people. You know… high notes and stuff…

Professional jazz trumpet players are expected to play higher today than ever before in the history of the instrument. Perhaps the closest historical comparison would be during the baroque era, or as Ed Tarr would say, “the golden age of the trumpet.” The picture above is a great example of a typical working trumpet section (L-R: Kelly Rossum, Seneca Black, Andy Gravish, Alex Norris).

Tarr claims that the golden age of the natural trumpet lies between 1600-1750 (can’t argue with that). The virtuosity required to perform even the simplest baroque trumpet music is often beyond the modern trumpeter’s abilities. To perform baroque melodies based upon stepwise motion and other standard melodic shapes, the trumpeter must stay in the upper most register of the instrument for the duration of the piece. The composers of the baroque era almost always wrote for individual performers, whom they knew personally, in order to assure the level of proficiency needed to execute their parts. These performers would occasionally take apprentices, to share the secrets of playing the trumpet. Only then would the master’s knowledge and experience, forged through years of heat (have You ever tried to play these things?!?!) be passed along to the next generation. Guilds of the time were very strict in allowing only highly trained trumpeters into the ranks of the artist class.

There are three primary factors contributing to today’s situation: 1) Jazz, 2) Technology, and 3) Population.

Louis Armstrong was a beast on the trumpet. Period. His influence went far beyond the virtuosic skills he so brilliantly incorporated into his improvisations; his persona influenced an entire nation’s cultural contribution to the world. The explosion of jazz across the globe (with Louis leading the charge) renewed a sense of wonder for the upper register of the trumpet. Trust me, the 19^th Century wasn’t so happening for high notes. Jazz also championed the individual skills of the performer, much more so than the previous focus upon the composer. This focus on individuality led to unusual techniques and upper register specialists. The first generation of individual jazz artists not only greatly influenced subsequent generations; they left unspoken technical challenges evidenced within their recordings.

The discovery and popularization of recorded music cannot be underestimated when discussing technical aspects of musical production on acoustic instruments (i.e. high notes). We do not have any aural records of Johann Altenburg or Goetfried Reiche; we truly do not know what they sounded like. With recorded sound, we can continue to study and learn decades past the actual performance. Modern technology also influences the production of the instruments themselves. Although a trumpet has primarily stayed the same over hundreds of years (buzz your lips in one end - sound comes out the other), the sheer availability of quality instruments has changed so radically over the past 100 years we forget to consider its global effect. And of course, we are now in the Age of Information, essentially connected to the combined consciousness of the human race through this little glowing screen in front of us. We can see and hear thousands of trumpeters, through decades of recorded media, at any moment. The next generation of trumpeters will be a sight to behold indeed! Technology has changed the world and we have yet to understand its long-term effects.

In this modern era, more people are playing the trumpet throughout the world, simply because there are more People. If we were to keep the same approximate percentage of virtuosic playing, as say the Golden Age of the Baroque Trumpet, and then factored in today’s Global Population, that would give us thousands more outstanding trumpeters today. This will only continue.

The results of these three contributing factors are most evident in today’s Big Band trumpeters.

The big bands of the 30’s and 40’s were so numerous; there were literally hundreds of working trumpeters. Out of that number, only a relatively small percent of them had the chops and training to play lead. Even the big name outfits only had one or two cats covering lead, the others really couldn’t (or wouldn’t) deal with the range requirements of the charts. I’m not knocking any of these players, far be it, the situation of today has just changed, that’s all.

The GRP big band from 1992 is an example of a band comprised of “stars”; now it’s commonplace for name big bands to be comprised entirely of absolute monsters, including the trumpet sections. The soloists are often lead players, and the lead players will often improvise. This could arguably be due to the increase in skill amongst the professional ranks in conjunction with the current number of working big bands.

The common division of roles still found in academia is simply not true in the professional arena. Most college bands are reading music that was actually written for college jazz ensembles. This of course creates a vicious circle of low expectations for big band trumpeters. The need isn’t there to develop a section of skilled individuals, because the charts are expressly written for their “assigned skills” (i.e. 2^nd = solo, 1^st = lead, 3^rd & 4^th = section). High school bands are even worse. Everyone SHOULD solo and everyone SHOULD play some lead. Before you think I don’t understand the difficulties of academia, consider the expectations of a professional Symphonic Orchestra musician. Nobody would ever expect a young professional to successfully audition for an orchestra after only focusing on the fourth trumpet part throughout their entire academic studies! Why is this considered OK for a Jazz musician?? In NYC, every chair can play every other chair on 97% of the charts. Plus, solos are often determined by the leader; when they point at you, blow!

When I listen to modern jazz trumpeters, especially when they are playing within the high-energy environment of a large ensemble, I realize the overall level of individual skill has risen dramatically during the past 50 years. They are not only heavy weight soloists, but are also outstanding section players (tone, pitch, blend), sight-readers, and can hold down a lead book if needed. Some of the names you may recognize are: Greg Gisbert, Sean Jones, Ryan Kisor, Wynton Marsalis, Alex Norris, Terell Stafford, Jim Seeley, and there are many, many more out there burning it up.

I believe we are entering a new golden age of the jazz trumpet. Dig it!

Trumpet Bushido

[WARNING: Some of this post gets extremely technical and is primarily written for trumpet players. This is the obligatory musical equipment post.]

“The word bushido, the way of the warrior, thus requires some explanation. Bushi was the original term for the upper-class warrior. The Chinese ideogram used for this word has two component parts whose joint meaning has been variously interpreted. In any case, it seems to be a designation, in the Chinese cultural mode, of an upper class that ruled by knowledge (learning) and military leadership. Both qualities were considered essential to the “superior man” in China as well as Japan. Bushi made its first appearance in Japan in the Shoku Nihongi (completed 797) in the following passage: “Again, the August Personage [emperor] said, ‘Literary men and warriors are they whom the nation values.’” The term bushido as a formalized definition of the proper modes of warrior character and behavior – sometimes defined as “loyalty, self-control, and equanimity” – came into use in the late sixteenth century just before the beginning of the Tokugawa peace era.

The term samurai – which later, and in our time, became the name almost exclusively used for man-at-arms – was first employed in the tenth century and designated the lower-class professional soldier employed by the government, but not the higher-level mounted warriors described in the Heike Monogatari. Gradually, over the centuries, however, as the social and political climate and the nature of the armed forces changed, the word samurai almost totally displaced bushi. By the Tokugawa era (1600-1867) – that of the uncontested rule of the shogun (supreme military commander) and his warrior cohorts and allies – “samurai” included every man allowed to publicly wear two swords, with the possible exception of those super-samurai, the daimyo.” - Zen & The Way of the Sword, Winston L. King, p.125

The three primary weapons of the Samurai are the sword, the bow, and the musket. They serve as tools of destruction and as symbols of a specific lifestyle and ethos. I rely on my equipment, just as the Samurai warrior relied on his weapons, when I engage in musical combat.

Bach Bb Trumpet Stradivarious Model 37, Medium Large bore, silver plated, no. 211368 (ca. 1981)

This instrument was/is my first real trumpet; not including my actual first horn, a Conn student cornet. It came into my possession when I was still an elementary school student. I will never forget opening the case and seeing the most beautiful object in the world, a brand new, silver-plated Bach trumpet. The silver plating was so pure and bright, it reflected light like a mirror. Over the years, the horn has gone through countless modifications and alterations. In college, when tweaking your gear was truly in vogue, I replaced the original leadpipe with a Blackburn 20 leadpipe (1991). Later, I stripped the plating down to the raw brass and replaced the Bach S braces (between the bell and the leadpipe) with Conn straight braces, allowing greater ring in the bell because of an increased distance to the first brace post. Among many other modifications, I also built, with the help of Andrew Naumann, a unique curved tuning slide specifically for this horn.

Today I use this instrument in such ensembles as: electric bands, big bands, rock bands, latin groups, and some free improvisation settings. It’s my bar horn, my “frankenhorn”, best suited for unknown battle situations (literally, i.e. drunks fighting). After almost 30 years of "authentic battle damage" (Jack Black, Kung Fu Panda), it remains a truly great sounding instrument. I would compare it, in application, to the bow of the samauri. I often wield this horn in sections with other warriors, to hail a volley of arrows upon the enemy.

“A second requisite of the early samurai was that he be an archer of at least some skill. In those days of the cavalry’s dashing headlong toward enemy forces with the hoped-for impact of a battering ram, the warrior preceded his physical arrival at the enemy’s front-lines by a shower of arrows, released as his self-guiding horse galloped forward. The purpose of this, of course, was to breach the enemy lines so that the attackers could then gallop on through and wreak havoc on the disorganized enemy. Thus the mounted warrior carried a limited supply of arrows in a covered quiver slung over his back, from which they could be pulled one at a time as he rode. Shooting from horseback was, of course, no easy feat, especially when at full gallop, and required special training:

Three-target shooting (yabusame) involved launching the horse at full gallop in a proper direction, while releasing arrows directed at three targets, each constructed of a three-inch square of cardboard set on a pole along the horse’s path. Bamboo-hat target shooting (kasagake) was performed within the confines of a course known as the arrow way (yado), properly fenced and with a shelf at its end from which the bamboo hats were hung. The rider was required to launch his steed at full gallop and begin to hit those hats, first from a distance (tokasagake) and then at close range (kokasake).” – Ibid., p. 63

Blackburn Bb Trumpet, Large bore, Ambronze Bell 213120S, 20 leadpipe, 60-10R tuning slide, standard braces, brass finish, serial no. 253 (1993)

I remember receiving Cliff’s shop horn in the mail. Along with the valve section, there were a few different leadpipes, a couple of bells, and a couple of different shaped tuning slides. Upstairs in a practice room at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln (my undergraduate alma mater), I varied the components until I found the right combination for my tastes. I walked down a floor to the studio of Dennis Schneider, who was a Yamaha player (at the time). When Denny played the horn, he switched out the 20 leadpipe for the 19 leadpipe, and then immediately called Cliff wanting to purchase THAT horn! Cliff said that it wasn’t for sale, and he’d make one just like it for him; but he eventually gave in and Denny bought the shop horn. A few months later, I had my Blackburn as well. It had a raw brass finish for the first year, and then for its birthday, I sent it back to be gold plated (1994).

This horn was my main instrument all the way through graduate studies and well into the early stages of my professional career. It can play anything. Now I use it for classical music and some occasional studio work that demands a traditional, characteristic trumpet sound. To my ear, the caramel sound or this trumpet is an aural representation of the elegant curved sword of the samurai. I honed my trumpet bushido for 16 years on this instrument.

“In such an environment, good swordsmen were always needed; and since good swordsmen can be produced only by good training, swordsmanship instructors were in great demand by all hands – clan leaders, daimyo, shogun, and even the emperor’s court at times. Young warriors-to-be began to familiarize themselves with swords from an early age; At five years of age, they began wearing wooden swords; a little later, junior-size steel blades; and finally, full size swords in their early teens. By his middle to late teens, the young samurai was considered ready for combat. And between battles, any warrior worth his rice continually honed his warrior skills, particularly his swordsmanship, to a fine edge. In this situation, a kind of freewheeling competitive “system” grew up in which prospective employers vied for famous duels and battle-tested veterans to instruct their swordsmen, and ambitious swordsmen sought for positions as instructors. This loosely jointed apparatus gradually developed into the establishment of swordsmanship schools (ryu) throughout the country, each with its head instructor and its special method.” Ibid., p. 95

Naumann Natural Trumpet, Heavyweight, Amado water key, additional modern leadpipe, additional Bb crook, silver plated, serial no. DBG-214 (1995)

Naumann Natural Trumpet, Standardweight Package (German), Custom Wrap (which includes tassles), Amado Water Key, Gold plated, serial no. DGB-511 (1999)

At the University of North Texas, I was fortunate to be involved in one of the first natural trumpet ensembles led by Dr. Leonard Candelaria (Dr. C). One of my fellow graduate students, Andrew Naumann, had started building these instruments out of his Denton apartment. Andy and I were both avid fishermen and I remember him raiding the bait shops for sinkers, in order to get the lead he needed to bend the crooks. Don’t worry, most of the soldiering and metal work was actually done out on his balcony by the grill!

I have never preferred the piccolo for performing baroque trumpet music, the sound just isn’t right. The natural trumpets, even if they are far more demanding to play, have the most pure and beautiful trumpet sound imaginable. If I was forced to only perform with one sound, it would be that of a rich, full natural trumpet tone. The horn requires exceptional skill and endurance, especially when considering the control needed to execute accurate upper register lip slurs throughout the duration of a concert. It represents the essence of trumpet playing; it is the trumpet player’s trumpet. It is akin to the warrior shout of the samurai.

“One incidental dueling device, which was sometimes used, was the warrior shout as the attacker rushed forward to deliver his devastating stroke. Perhaps this was a throwback to the time of the charging horseman who loudly challenged his foes, partly out of sheer battle excitement, partly (he hoped) to strike terror into the opponent. In the classic dueling format, it was employed by the famous swordsman Miyamoto Musashi against his most famous antagonist, Ganryu (Sasaki Kojiro) at the moment of launching his fatal stroke – according to one account at least. No doubt it might be daunting, or at least distracting, when given full-throatedly at the climactic moment. In fact, it became a frequently used technique known as Kiai, practiced by some samurai along with swordsmanship. It was based on the concept of projecting one’s personal field of force against one’s antagonist in order to psychically disable him. It later became a fighting strategem in itself.” – Ibid., p. 65

Monette Bb Trumpet, Prana 1, Wide-radius, Gold plated, serial no. 2121 (2007)

I was in a unique situation of receiving an inheritance tagged specifically for purchase of a new musical instrument, so I traveled out to Portland for a shop visit. Dave makes some incredible horns and I wanted to play all of the different models. After deciding to focus on my jazz career, I was looking for a very specific sound in a new horn. I started with the extra lightweight lead instruments, gradually worked my way heavier, and ended with Ron Miles’ Samadhi that happened to be in the showroom that day. The P1 was a perfect balance of the newer lightweight models and his well-known heavy designs. It has the capability of blending with a saxophone unlike most other trumpets I’ve played, and the valves are like butter. I feel well armed for jazz combat.

Does this horn fill the role of the samurai’s musket? Is there some sort of magic or voodoo behind the metal? Will this new evolution of design affect the samurai as much as the musket could have? Will the samurai ban this new instrument only to be defeated by it in the future? Time will tell.

“Mircea Eliade has noted in various of his writings that metallurgy in its several forms in many different prehistorical and tribal societies had a mythical aura that made the smith a potent and sometimes awesome figure. He was mythologically akin to both shaman and the alchemist, those inhibitors of two worlds (the ordinary and the supernatural, super-sensible one) who inspired men with both hope and fear. The alchemist dreamed of a process by which the substances of the earth, especially the base metals, could be brought to their maturity and perfection and transmuted into pure gold by the “chemistry” of both physical and magical means. The shaman in his trances traveled to the supernatural world of spirits, forces, and influences at great peril, and he then returned to give his messages of counsel, warning, and healing to ordinary men.

Smiths were men of fire, often associated with demonic forces, their craft revealed to them by supernatural powers; they were sometimes feared and hated, at other times honored and respected. Sometimes they formed craft brotherhoods to be entered only by invitation. Their occupation, like the shaman’s, was hazardous because it involved contacts with two levels of reality: the demonic “underworld” of metals and fire, and the ordinary world of their craft productions. Their relations with shamans in various cultures have varied, sometimes hostile, sometimes cooperative and friendly; Eliade notes their relationship thus:

The “secrets of metallurgy” are reminiscent of the professional secrets transmitted among shamans by initiation; in both cases we have a magical technique that is esoteric. That is why the smith’s profession is usually hereditary, like the shaman’s. . . . Here it suffices. . . . to bring out the fact that metallurgical magic, by the “power over fire” that it involved, assimilated a number of shamanic exploits. In the mythology of smiths we find many themes and motifs borrowed from the mythologies of shamans and sorcerers in general.” – Ibid., p. 71

I have been, and continue to be, grateful to work with Cliff Blackburn and Tina Erickson; Andrew Naumann and his crew at Schilke; as well as David Monette and Dean Comely. My association and ongoing personal relationship(s) with these trumpet smiths, is a continued source of enjoyment and a highlight of my career. These artists are our modern sword builders.

Although these trumpets are my primary weapons in battle, the professional trumpeter must employ other instruments on a semi-regular basis.

“Some of these “unorthodox” techniques and their instruments were as follows: the iron-ribbed war fan, used by the bushi as well as others; the staff; the jitte, or side-pronged iron bar; the chain, sometimes by itself, sometimes on the back of a kind of sickle blade, used to neutralize the sword; two blocks of wood connected by a leather thong; a long-stemmed reinforced pipe, almost like a dull sword or bar of iron.” – Ibid., p. 65

Couesnon Flugelhorn, 109 bell, (no apparent serial no.)

Yamaha A/Bb Piccolo Trumpet, Custom YTR9820, short bell, 3 valved, silver plated, serial no. 301018

Antoine Courtois Cornet, Arban Model, shepard’s crook bell, serial no. 72509

Switching back and forth between all of the above mention horns can be difficult; yet when one switches, seppuku is not demanded. To perform on all of these instruments, specific, conscious adjustments are required since each has different peak efficiency points and resonant qualities. Only now, after spending years performing on each one of my Bb trumpets (exclusively, without change), may I move comfortably between the three. I would never attempt to wield them without keeping their individual peculiarities in mind. It is possible, once these variables have been internalized, to become immersed in a horn’s personality and ascend beyond the mechanics of the instrument into a Zen mindset, even while mastering multiple weapons.

The trumpet mouthpiece is a crucial element of each instrument, just as the handle and wrap are to the sword. I have never been one to switch mouthpieces frequently, preferring to solve challenges through practice; yet my choices have, and will continue, to slowly evolve.

Evolution of mouthpieces for the long sword:

• Conn 7C (cornet, summer 1980)
• Bach 7C (the switch to trumpet, 1981)
• Bach 5B (1988)
• Bach 3B (1995)
• Bach 3B w/ drilled out throat (1996)
• Monette B15M (STC1 weight, 1999)
• Monette Prana B15M S3 (STC1 weight, 2006)
• Monette Prana B15M S3 (P1 weight, 2007)

Evolution of lead mouthpieces for the short sword (the one used for seppuku!):

• Shew 1.5 (high school, Bobby turned me on to it)
• Schilke 6a4a (college marching band, I heard that Chase played this model)
• Warburton 5SV cup w/ 7* back (undergraduate big band)
• DiOrio 5E w/ GG back (graduate school and early professional work)
• Monette L2 (first Monette lead piece)
• Monette Prana B15L (switched at the same time as the new Prana B15M S3)

I have been playing the trumpet for 30 years. Every instrument I own, I treasure and maintain with love and respect. A sword will last for hundreds of years, as will a trumpet if they are both treated well and stored carefully. All of my instruments are practiced with reverence, in hopes that they will not fail me in battle, yet it is the warrior’s bujutsu that ultimately determines the outcome of the day.

"Thus Takuan (1573-1645, a well-known Zen monk) taught that no swordsman should “locate” (consciously center) his mind – that is, attention-cneter – at any specific point in his own body, not even in the body-central belly (hara). Fop example, one man said to him: “I place my mind just below my navel and do not let it wander. Thus I am able to change according to the actions of my opponent.” But Takuan countered, “If you consider putting your mind below your navel and not letting it wander, your mind will be taken buy the mind that thinks of this plan. You will have no ability to move ahead and will be exceptionally unfree.”

Where, then, shall he “put his mind,” the swordsman asked Takuan. He replied that if it is “put” anywhere at all in the body, then it becomes a prisoner of that part of the body. The proper method is not to put it anywhere, “and then it will go to all parts of your body, and extend throughout its entirety.” Then, and only then, will each body part perform its function properly – that is, naturally and instinctively. Therefore, Takuan counseled, “Because this is so, leave aside all thoughts and discriminations, throw the mind away from the entire body, do not stop it here and there, and when id does visit these various places, it will realize its function and act without error.”

As Takuan sees it, this is the swordsman’s Zen-inspired discipline. Zen, as a spiritual discipline of all life, is consistently opposed to rigidity, whether it manifests itself in sacrosanct doctrines, beliefs, rituals, or any tightly knit intellectual, attitudinal, institutional, or physical behavioral pattern. In any form, this is a non-Buddha-mind of spiritual fixity and death. And this applies across the board to all facets of living: fixity is death; fluidity is life. This is what Zen means by No-Mind, says Takuan:

“The No-Mind is the same as the Right-Mind. It neither congeals nor fixes itself in one place. . . . The No-Mind is placed nowhere. . . . When this No-Mind has been well developed, the mind does not stop with one thing nor does it lack any one thing. It is like water overflowing and exists within itself. [And most appropriately for the swordsman,] It appears appropriately when facing a time of need [i.e., when suddenly in combat]." -Ibid., p.168

Shugyo

What a view! This is what I see as I practice each day. This photograph was taken in late October from Fort Tryon Park overlooking the Hudson River. Some days are just amazingly beautiful up here on the hill. I can see the George Washington Bridge to my left and just barely see the Harlem River connecting off to my right. This is the perfect place to play, partially because I’m directly over the Henry Hudson Parkway (HWY 9A), which means that I will never bother anyone with my obnoxious trumpet calisthenics.

The first priority in realizing the life (my life) of a jazz musician is to maintain and ensure the highest level of personal performance, in other words: Be Ready. At any moment, you may be asked to play for or with musicians who can radically change the course of your career. Every time you place the horn to your lips, you are essentially “auditioning” for your next gig. There’s a phrase, “You’re only as good as your last note.” There’s some truth in that.

My situation in Minneapolis was luxurious in that I could see on my calendar when the Big Gigs were scheduled, and could prepare accordingly. I would keep my skills at a decent level through teaching and practicing in the office, and then would crank up the practice intensity during the few weeks before a show.

In New York, every day must focus primarily on the horn. Currently, I have no teaching commitments, so I have the opportunity to really explore the trumpet again. I’ve gone back to a system of intense practice called, “Shugyo.” This is something that I started in November of 2002 after reading “Blowing Zen” by Ray Brooks. It is a well-written, highly enjoyable story about discovering the shakuhachi, its music, and its deeper cultural significance. It is among the top three or four most influential books dealing with music that I’ve come across, probably because it isn’t really about music at all.

“Shugyo, which means “practice,” comes from the word shugendo, or the “ascetic path to realization,” and describes spiritual exercise or training. It can take any form, just as long as deeply focused discipline is present and ki energy is developed.

My chosen form of practice was to hike up Mount Takao each day, and, once at the top, play shakuhachi for six hours, then hike back down again. My aspirations weren’t so lofty as to become an “awakened one” but simply to increase my physical strength, vastly improve my musical skills, develop ki, and learn more about discipline.” – page 163, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

In 2002, I set a goal of playing three hours a night after my teaching was done. I would play from 9:00pm until 12:00 Midnight, hoping to make a straight 60 day stretch (with the exception of performance conflicts). During this time, I was writing specific exercises for the trumpet based on Nicolas Slonimsky’s “Thesaurus of Scales and Melodic Patterns.” These original exercises became the exclusive musical content of my sessions. The shugyu lasted slightly over a month, yet in this time I managed to unearth more personal resources than I ever expected.

Over the years, my definition of shugyo has changed to consist of focused practice EVERY DAY, not just a 60 day block. The time frame is now more flexible along with the content of each session. I still play from the original shugyo material as often as possible, however my musical focus can shift depending on my needs.

Here in New York, I have adopted one important aspect of Ray Brook’s original shugyo; I am playing outside. So far, the weather has been relatively mild (compared to Minnesota!). There have been a couple of cold rainy days, and on those days I am reminded of the book and smile.

“Shit! What am I doing up here? It’s absolutely ludicrous standing here. Sixty days! And me supposed to be a man of no goals! Why would anyone in his right mind spend his time standing on the side of a mountain in the pissing rain? I could have stayed at home and done my sixty days at my own temple. Prat! It’s bloody embarrassing. I’m freezing, my legs are aching, and my back is killing me. I bet I’m the only fool on this mountain today.” – page 164, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

I’ve found that the act of preparation goes a long way in executing a successful practice session. As I walk up the 80 stairs of the Alpine Garden and then wind my way up and around the path to the Cloisters, I can clear my mind of the buzzing and begin to think about why I’m up here. The park is an oasis of nature in an urban landscape. There are a couple of cats that live in the park and a black squirrel that I’ve named Charlie. When I reach the overlook, I sit on one of the benches and lay my case to my right side. Take out the horn. Breath, focus, breath, open your eyes, go.

“A painter seats himself before his pupils. He examines his brush and slowly makes it ready for use, carefully rubs ink, straightens the long strip of paper that lies before him on the mat, and finally, after lapsing for a while into profound concentration, in which he sits like one inviolable, he produces with rapid, absolutely sure strokes a picture which, capable of no further correction and needing none, serves the class as a model.

A flower master begins the lesson by cautiously untying the bast which holds together the flowers and sprays of blossom, and laying it to one side carefully rolled up. Then he inspects the sprays one by one, picks out the best after repeated examination, cautiously bends them into the form which exactly corresponds with the role thay are to play, and finally places them together in an exquisite vase. The completed picture looks just as if the Master had guessed what Nature had glimpsed in dark dreams” – pages 41 and 42, “Zen in the Art of Archery”, Eugen Herrigel

These routines are not mindless. Every motion both creates and requires focused concentration. If you can achieve this state BEFORE you begin a task, the quality of your subsequent actions, in this case a practice session, increases tenfold.

I’ve been climbing these steps since September. Now it’s become a welcome part of my life. Practice is a daily challenge with no immediate reward and no applause.

“Shakuhachi is not really an instrument that one can take up casually just for entertainment. It takes infinite patience and great presence of mind to learn it. If played with passion and without motive, it can become much more than just a musical instrument. For me, it’s been a valuable tool that has helped to unfold the deeper, more important questions of life. It’s been a fine teacher, and many times the harshest of mirrors,” he added, laughing loudly again. “As you study, don’t be concerned about ‘Am I getting better?’ Just practice for its own sake, and let progress take care of itself. Don’t corrupt the beauty of learning by becoming attached to an end goal.” – page 58 and 59, “Blowing Zen”, Ray Brooks

One day at a time.