Tag Archives: philosophy

reflections within

Partaken

Leave a comment

I have had revelations before, technically, spiritually, musically, and otherwise. How long do their effects last usually? Should I take myself seriously when I am deeply convinced of a notion? What about other people, when they are sure of something? Are they more or less trustworthy than me? Apparently it depends.
If I can stay on this path of looseness, it could be an important turning point. That is what I am thinking as I sit there experiencing the effects of this approach. It’s a strange sort of morphing that is going on. At first it feels like it’s getting worse – my arm still hurts, and I don’t even have the illusory and fleeting pleasure of expressing how the music moves me. Then, little be little, I begin to sense something letting go in my sinews and muscular fibers. I am in disbelief. It’s actually taking effect.

So, how long ought I expect this positive change to continue? Is there going to be a swerve in the road at some point? Will I lose focus? Will this technique cease to be effective as time goes on? What about all the different genre I have to perform in?, orchestral, chamber, solo, and otherwise.

These are some of the thought processes I have when I’m sitting there practicing or rehearsing, or even performing at times.

originally published on 8/4/07

reflections within

Pinwheel

Leave a comment

I’m stuck. I’m fulfilling a role set by someone else. My actions are dictated by another. Societal parameters. And I feel alone. Alone and stuck. The one I can talk to is never in my present. Only past and future. Only imaginary. Maybe that’s not true. I do open up to people in the present. But it’s hard to recall because I close myself off just as quickly. I don’t sustain the openness. So they are fleeting moments. Do they add up to something? Maybe. I think they do accumulate. But they never seem to add up to what I am hoping and yearning for. Is this a philosophical, emotional, or psychological issue? Are they different? Is my problem dietary, disciplinary, auditory, or what?
If it’s a beautiful day outside, should I be happy? (philosophy) Should I expect happiness to come my way? (since it has in the past, for however fleeting a time) Can I provide happiness for myself? Or do I need assistance? Assistants? Am I supposed to know the answer to any of these questions, or just ask them? Does not knowing the answer condemn me to some sort of sorrowful existence? Maybe existence isn’t so static as finding the answers and then being contented. It’s the searching which is so important. So don’t stop! Don’t be ashamed to be continually inquisitive.

originally published on 4/28/08

reflections within

Bank on it

Leave a comment

How many different levels do I have to operate on? Is it possible to address different facets of cello and life without each one conflicting against the other? Can’t I focus on emotionality without technique butting in? Or concentrate on relaxing without sound quality making forays? Or legato continuity without first finger joint pain? Do I need to make a list of everything in hierarchical order? What about my daily routine and activities? Same deal? I wish I didn’t have to micromanage myself. Haven’t I done that before, with little staying power?
Am I perhaps existing in a pendulumic world? Are there varying sizes of pendulums which must be kept track of? How is it I don’t find others who are on the same nuisance-ridden journey as me? Where are all the other pendulum swingers? I’ve been asking around lately, and I do get some minimal acknowledgment of the issue, but it appears not to interfere with others’ lives like mine.

originally published on 5/3/08

reflections within

Barn

Leave a comment

If you are feeling half dead, is that a bad thing? I would say so. It means you aren’t able to enjoy the pleasures (or pains) of being alive. It means you can’t tell if you are doing things because you genuinely want to, or if you are just trying to keep yourself out of that pit of despair. And the same goes for decisions. I frequently feel I could go either way on matters, and the direction I do go is chosen out of convenience or fear, not from true desire.
Sometimes I am more aware of my mild depressiveness than other times. But I am essentially noticing that I have one foot in the afterlife all of the time. I have quit. I cannot see any better alternative than death. Perhaps that is always the third choice in my decision-making process: should I do this, that, or just simply die and put an end to all options? It seems odd, though, because my rational mind has a multitude of reasons to relish my existence. That must be why I forget that I am some percent suicidal all of the time. There is no good reason to depart from here, from the pleasing life I lead. Just last night a struggling musician scooping ice cream was commenting on how joyful I must be being a full-time artist.

What can I say? The best explanation I’ve heard is that I am fractured. I don’t get to enjoy the differing parts of one human’s life. I am denied access. For instance, the part of me that can appreciate making a living as a musician is not hooked up with the part of me that plays the cello full-time. I have extremely brief moments of connection, and therefore satisfaction and joy, but they are unsustainable.

originally published on 7/9/08

reflections within

Looseleaf

Leave a comment

Could I tell you everything? If not you, then who? Can I try harder to talk to people? Real people, not an imaginary reader person? When I feel I want to open up and share, where ought I turn? A shrink? A friend? Which friend exactly? Why am I afraid I will be taken the wrong way? Is it such a disastrous turn of events if that happens?
I see people engaging in conversation, in social interaction, in levity, laughter, story-telling, joke-spinning. Are they acquiring the feeling I am yearning for? The feeling of release? The feeling of disclosure, of open-endedness, of candor? (took me awhile to think of that word) (I hope it was worth my time, my interminable time)

I can DO a lot of things. But it’s simple living which wonderfully eludes me. I admire/envy all those who have that gift/knack. They open their mouths and delightful CONVERSATION comes out. Regardless. Under umpteen circumstances. And from that comes activities and group bonding and a continuous sense of a life being lived. For me it has to be a rather controlled environment to get the old gabber going. Or I have to be in just such a mood. Or something.

I read a book about improving social skills that said you must lower your expectations of who you’ll talk to and what you’re willing to talk about. I tried that for a while, but in the end it didn’t seem natural or relevant. Perhaps what would be better is to be better at creating and asking for the people and situations which I really do want to have as social environs. To somehow not be fearful of their adverse reactions to such requests. Until that time I shall utilize you, dear reader, as a friend in kind. I do love you, as if you were right here hearing my most heartfelt confessions. I don’t have to make any special arrangements to have this time delving with you. I just had to have this wondrous blog created for our mutual use. I’ll meet up with all of you someday, in person. It won’t suck, like those other social situations.

originally published on 7/31/08

reflections within

Hearthen

Leave a comment

What happens in that hole I fall into? It feels like a hole because I can’t really see out of it. I am too far in.
Am I supposed to question this hole? Even though this is how I perceive my reality? To question my perception of reality is to have a high hope that I can somehow alter my reality. This is a difficult concept when one is feeling weighed upon.

If I am sunken in a hole, does it follow that I had been above ground beforehand? Like floating? Because it has been postulated that if you are on solid ground, you are less easily disturbed than if you are in an excited or ecstatic place. You have the best perspective if you are in a central position, rather than on one end or the other; the futility of existing on the edges of the spectrum is more easily seen.

Because if I try getting myself out of my hole in hopes of bouncing back to a flying euphoria, is it not possible I am again setting myself up for another crash and burn (bury)?

originally published on 3/9/09

reflections within

Martyr

Leave a comment

So who out there can handle real life? I want what you have. I strive to be near people who appear to handle it. It calms me. Too bad it’s nothing but a temporary balm.
I try to keep things on an even keel. I try to stay free from vices. I try to be wise in my decision-making. I try to learn from my mistakes. I seek out wisdom from those who seem to possess it.

It is my instability and my neediness which are the problems. But why do I feel like they are a natural reaction to the world around me? I have never blamed my sensitiveness for my problems, because I only see it as an asset. I would like to retain that supposition.

That leaves something else as the culprit. Is it society? Yes. Is it my history? Yes. Is it karma from previous existences? Perhaps. Is it my lack of judgment? No, I do not want to blame that. I don’t think blaming a part of myself is helpful or deeply true. Hating myself is a reaction to something else that is going on, not a cause.

I used to like to say that the only place I felt right was onstage during a performance. That realization came later on, in college. Before then I didn’t even comprehend the ridiculousness of my emotional situation. I can handle the unhandlable much better than normalcy. It’s ludicrous. Or is it? Is what people call normal life really so straightforward and simple? And is getting up in front of hundreds or thousands of people to perform and express something unique so daunting? What if that’s the only time you feel like you are yourself? Like you are unencumbered and free. Why is it I feel that time stops when I am performing, but the rest of the time, time is a weight on my head, taunting me not to fuck up this minute, this second, this year, this life, not to make the same mistakes I’ve made innumerable times before, ones that cause me to not sleep most of a night, or regret what I’ve said or didn’t say, or wonder what in the world I’ve been doing for the last three hours.

originally published on 5/20/09

reflections within

Bowling Ball

Leave a comment

Pandora’s box. Another one of those expressions I should look up. Quieting the mind has the capacity to open one. It’s a double-edged sword. You get a sense of what is really happening around you – it’s extraordinary all the stuff you’re missing out on in the cacophony. But, with the good comes the bad, eh? Why is it I don’t mind the rush of positive feelings, but am so scared of the painful ones? It’s logical in one way, but kooky in another. They should both be equally off-putting. Maybe they are. The good stuff is indeed fleeting, maybe for that reason. I am just as unable to handle it as the disturbing imagery which is hiding under the surface.
Is that why religions tell you to wait for heaven until after you croak? Are humans ill-equipped to handle the extraordinary highs and lows of nirvana? I was tempted tonight. Tempted to re-frame. Tempted to look at things a little differently. With a different perspective. And something bizarre happened. I ceased fretting over the minutia which often occupies me. I saw. I witnessed. There it was, life. There were people, and objects, and sights. And of course sound. It was a concert after all. And it was a lovelier concert than I’ve heard in a while. Because I heard it differently. With new ears and mind. And then I got a rush. A joyous thrill. That one that others seem to get. It’s the one gotten from just being alive. From just being, and being glad for it.

But then I got another kind of rush. A more sinister one. The floodgates opened, and everything was allowed in. So I guess my mind had to close up shop. It didn’t feel inclined to get to know those demons further. But it’s too late. I now know the difference between being alive and being stuck. I’ll be less easily duped from now on. With all the gradations and layers and nuances, it is really very simple. On or off. Open or closed. I don’t want to go so far as to say alive or dead. But it might be right, eh?

originally published on 3/24/10

reflections within

Reading Lamp

Leave a comment

So are my awkwardness, indecisiveness, stubbornness, closed-mouth-edness, and all the other questionable traits all a reflection of something awry, or something good and possessing of integrity? Is life supposed to be easy and smooth and overtly fulfilling, or is it the struggle that signifies a right path? If I am uncomfortable with much of the expected behavior and status quo, what does that mean exactly? Could it be that I have an inner wisdom that is higher than society’s? Higher than the societal norm? Maybe a bit like a Buddha. At least, this is the proposition for the evening.

originally published on 7/9/10

reflections within

19

Leave a comment

All the paths I have taken, all the roads down which I have detoured, few having completed, and yet it seems I have a path which is mine and mine alone. These other detours and disciple-ages have permitted me to continue on what ends up being the only way I was ever meant to go. It would seem I have an internal, natural drive, somewhat akin to inertia, which leads me from point to point in the epic of my life. I believe I and others are in control, but what they seem to be doing really is helping me not to fall off the tracks. It kind of reminds me of being a character, a protagonist, in a novel, rather than a person in real life. I sometimes feel a kinship with book characters, but I always put the book down and end up feeling more indecisive and meandering than anyone fictional. I have always assumed that is the deal with real life. You don’t get the luxury of a script. You have to make it up as you go along. But maybe we are actually characters, just by virtue of having character. It defines us and determines our fates. It gives us inertial tendencies, like a magnet.

originally published on 12/25/09