Coming Out of the Haze

The concerts left me physically and emotionally drained. My mind has been a haze that I am only now coming out of. Usually listening to music on my ipod provides some comfort, but there is a part of me that can't even bear to listen to music. At first all I listened to were my ocean wave and rain soundtracks. Just the push and pull of water, the sound of it falling. And then a little later I could bear the sound of classical music--cello song moving up and down like breath. Couldn't bear the sound of a beat, of rhythm. Today I am listening to Steve Reich's "Drumming." Yes it's got meter and rhythm, but not in a conventional way. The music shifts too much to even tap your foot to. But it's what I need. That slow adjustment into the light. 

Recently in China they rescued a small group of mine workers who had been trapped in utter darkness for weeks. They showed pictures of them in a hospital, their eyes covered in black cloth to protect their vision from the light of this above-ground world, their bodies battered and exhausted.

I am trying to unwrap the dark layers of cloth, not from my eyes, not even from my ears, but from my heart maybe. 

Maze Daiko in Concert!

I don't even know how to begin to recap this concert. It was such a journey, it really was. Parts of it started so long ago, and other parts only fell into place as the time drew near. What made it special was all the dedication of the members of Maze. They're all such pro's in their own rights, and coming together in collaboration made for a great show.

I for one, was filled with anxiety the whole time. There were so many goals for me to achieve. The first was composing my own first song, Naori. I must be game for a challenge, since I composed the song in 6/8, which is the meter that has been dogging me for years. On top of that, I had to compose my own solo, in six (!), as well as be the creative go-to person for the song. I'm never that person. But it's like I had to make these creative decisions, and though I had something of a vision, it was a position I was green at being in. I think the song went well. It starts off with the most quiet delicate pattern I could possibly play on a shime. This pattern, played 8 times, gave me no end of grief. A month before the concert I broke my favorite bachi, and that was the bachi I was going to use for the song. So I experimented with different bachi, and settled on heavier bachi, only to drive myself into an anxiety-ridden frenzy, since it's really hard to play something really softly with heavy bachi, and even more impossible if your hands are all nerves and shakes, which only adds again to the nerves. It was awful. Just plain awful. The week before the show I was panicking. So stressed. But I finally allowed myself a compromise with a lighter pair of bachi and a new attitude. And then it was cool.

I worked really hard at composing solos, learning new patterns, new sequences, entire new songs. It was hard work. It's been a long process. Finally a couple days before the show I began to feel solid. The stress eased. The songs were in my body. I began to relax. Began to think about projecting. And then one evening I was like, Oh, I should just review my Kanki solo. I wrote this solo way back in 2005 and have been playing it ever since then, pretty much flawlessly. It's been set and projected so many times that I've ignored it. But then I started thinking about this one part, and then I was like, Hmm, is that how I play it? And then when we were rehearsing I thought way too much about it, and then I couldn't remember how it went at all, and then things just exploded into a horrible downward spiral. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how the solo went. It was really bad. I stayed late to work on it. I reviewed it. I re-wrote it. And in my mind I was like: Oh no! How could this happen? Why am I stressing out about this solo, of all things?

But then I realized that I knew exactly what my mind was doing. My mind was distracting me from all the other things that I could be stressing about! Like there was this one side of me that was totally stressed about new material and new solos, and I had worked so hard to perfect and perform them, and I was finally at the point where I could actually perform them. And then there was the other side of me that was protective of that new vulnerable side, and it was saying, Hey look at me! Over here! Worry about me instead! And it worked. I was so distracted about this solo, I didn't even think about all the other stuff. And yo, I nailed it! The other stuff that is. Mangled my solo. But eh, I can live with that!

The audience was great. My Dad was there. Teachers past and present were there. Old friends and the newer ones met along the way. Maze had a wonderful show. I am proud of us and all the hard work that went into this. There were moments of fear but we worked through it, didn't back down, and I am grateful for that.

Just wanted to end this post with a quote I found on Canadian money (!) of all places:

"Could we ever know each other in the slightest without the arts?"

Burning the Candle

I've been having some great conversations on creativity with a friend of mine, and we talk about "burning the candle," like in the saying, "burning the candle at both ends." It's when you are working really hard and everything is bright and intense and the light you create shines and shines, but maybe you know you can't keep burning like that forever, but it's good to experience all that light and intensity while you can. That's where I am at. Things are getting intense. Intensity is not a bad thing, but it's a strong thing. Nerves and emotions get amplified, the effort you put in is harder than ever, but the progress you make is greater and the work you do is more fulfilling and meaningful. 

We had an all day rehearsal today.  Everyone worked really hard and we got a lot done. There is also a lot we need to do. There is a lot that I need to do. My transition sheet is all marked up with notes. Just trying to keep track of where all my bachi need to be is a whole world of memorization in itself, not to mention all the places we need to move the drums and what spikes they go on and in what order it all needs to be done. Oh, and did I mention, we're playing taiko in between all that? But I like working on transitions. I like how they are just pure order and logic--it balances out all that creativity of the rest of the stuff. 

Intense, yes.

After we had packed everything back up and and tidied the rehearsal space (they have church there on Sundays) and put all our personal things away, and as people were talking about their dinner plans and heading out the door, Janet looked up and me and said, "You still want to practice, huh?" It wasn't something I had planned on but I was like, "Yeah!" She accused me of being obsessive-compulsive about my practice, and then she said she was too, and it felt really good to be working, to be burning that candle. It was great because she and I had a productive extra-practice time and we worked on some things, and I had a great epiphany about part of a song that I've been majorly stressing over and losing confidence on all week, and I also got some solo-practice time in. It was wonderful, and it felt really good. 

When I was on my way home, I was surprised by a rain shower. I think everyone was. It's July! People I passed on the way home kept turning their heads up and looking at the sky in wonder. As the sun set, it slanted through the empty place between the rainclouds and the horizon, and we were rewarded by one of the most brightest rainbows I've ever seen here in California. I got a great picture of it arcing over my apartment. Beautiful, burning sky.

Feeling All Right

Had a rehearsal tonight. It went well. It was the first time in a while that I've had a rehearsal and felt good about the material we worked on.  It was our silly toy-song and also my song.

I've got to tell you, I've been majorly stressing about my song. The process of writing the solo was semi-treacherous, made easier by the muse-cubes, but still a work in progress. I set something for the show, but as I get more comfortable with it, there are parts I don't like, and places I want to add to. But since the show is 10 days away, I have to live with what I set. I need to fill it with energy and project it out into the world. I was telling this to my students the other night. Set it--no matter how you feel about it--get it in stone and be able to really rock it. Now it's a matter of getting it into my body, which for me, means playing it over and over and over. I wake up and play it. I play it on my desk all day at work. I play it before I go to bed and I play it in my sleep. I want to get to the point where I can space out in the middle and my hands and my body will know where I am and what comes next, despite where my brain happens to be.

Tonight, I was given the great gift of time. I had the performance space all to myself, and after our rehearsal it was just me and the drums. It was really a beautiful thing. The sun slanted down in the sky and disappeared, and the air was warm, and the whole atmosphere was blue and I just breathed in the blue light and the blue air, and the room filled with inky shadows and that blue stillness. I played in that dying, vibrating light, filling all the dark places with boom and echo. I've been working on a very delicate pattern. I can't play it if my hands shake. I am terrified of messing it up. I worked and worked that one pattern. As it grew darker, it became easier, and I finally realized that what I needed to do was relax my kata and fall back on all those lessons on sticking and grip and control and technique. Then it was easy. I gained all my confidence back. Yeah, that makes a girl feel all right.

I came home tonight, late, tired but happy, and best of all, feeling confident about things. This is a good feeling. I am starting to feel good about things, and boy am I telling you: that's progress.

On other fronts, I am Maze's equipment-fixer-maker person. I like this job. The way that I know that Janet needs something fixed is that she will tape the HELL out of whatever is broken. Seriously. Tape is her answer to all that ills the world. One of the wheels fell off a stand and that thing was taped up like there was no tomorrow. Today I brought a stand home because I discovered this: 

Yep. Needs fixing all right. I dropped some new screws and a zip tie and the thing was all better. 

Me too.

Jangled

I am majorly stressed. I should be practicing instead of blogging, but maybe the venting will do me good. Due to some staffing issues, I got put in the one song I thought I was going to get a break from. A song I haven't played since before I went on Kasa/Mix last year. This puts me in ALL the songs of the show. It's a beautiful and fun song, but just one more layer difficulty to add to this show. I can do this, and I can't complain. I guess you have to be careful for what you wish for, since playing taiko like this is just a dream come true. I'm in all12 songs and many transitional pieces. My nerves are all jangled. We're running out of time. Songs need to be finished and polished. Not to mention all the drum moving, which is a whole thing in itself. Need to memorize where my bachi need to be for each song. My percussion. Work on solos. Song order.

AAAAAAAaaaa!

OMG how am I going to do all this??? How?