The Music of Desire
[The following is from a larger current project of mine, on tracing the contours of Desire]
Post dinner and wine in a Los Angeles living room, I listened to some works in progress by pianist Dana Reason. She sat at the holiday card covered piano with pages and pages of scores in front of her and played. I was startled by the brilliance of both the compositions and the playing itself, as well as by the fact that she was willing to share uncompleted work with us... and it was good. Very, very, very good.
After the impromptu performance, several of us discussed the difficulties of being a female (and blond!) jazz composer while the shouts of children, banished to another area of the house, rose and fell in counterpoint. Dana has been training since age 3. She is taking a risk right now, experimenting more and more with form - with what I teach in my own work as guideposts or anchors to the processes of intuitive connection - in the midst of which she can fly. Through all of this talk of study, of composition, of challenges with sexism, industry expectations, and of risking with a shift into a new mode of expression were two threads twining tightly around each other. These were the threads of remaining true to self, and of following desire.
How do we continue to follow desire, even when huge obstacles arise? How do we remain true to ourselves, and take the risk of setting down the small cup in favor of the larger? What keeps us going? And what undermines us?
For someone like Dana Reason, I would hazard to guess, what she desires is also her True Will, the work of her God, leaving her little choice but to follow along in hot pursuit. But what about for the rest of us who may not have tapped into that yet? How do we approach desire? This is a large subject, of course, and one that will not be plumbed in this one entry. But let us take one facet and begin examination.
Desiring is like falling in love. Or perhaps falling in love is the kindling of desire. There is an object and a subject that are seeking to become one thing, like a woman at her piano, making music from the mind and soul. We are overcome with desire and what then? We need to make a decision whether or not we will pursue or thwart desire, whether it will be relegated to the realms of fantasy or we will enact will and move toward daring.
People who follow desire, who feel the first rush and then enact their intention around it, are the people who create art over and over, who start humanitarian organizations, who do great things, whether in the public eye or through reaching one being at a time. One definition of desire is to follow a star. To set off on a journey with uncertain end. To risk safety for the unknown. To follow the beating of your own heart’s rhythm, regardless of what others may think of the song.
We do want to communicate. We do want to share. But genius always includes the element of the unexpected in it. Surprise is at the core of innovation. Do we really want to create the same things over and over? Is all we really want, some comfort? I don’t think so, or why would desire keep occurring, at the most inconvenient moments, calling us to someplace new? Even the best map cannot tell us what we will encounter on our journey, and the best journeys may begin with a charted course, but always veer off into the unknown.
I heard desire both in the piano notes and the conversation that followed, and I liked the music it made.
Are we willing to surprise ourselves?
Post dinner and wine in a Los Angeles living room, I listened to some works in progress by pianist Dana Reason. She sat at the holiday card covered piano with pages and pages of scores in front of her and played. I was startled by the brilliance of both the compositions and the playing itself, as well as by the fact that she was willing to share uncompleted work with us... and it was good. Very, very, very good.
After the impromptu performance, several of us discussed the difficulties of being a female (and blond!) jazz composer while the shouts of children, banished to another area of the house, rose and fell in counterpoint. Dana has been training since age 3. She is taking a risk right now, experimenting more and more with form - with what I teach in my own work as guideposts or anchors to the processes of intuitive connection - in the midst of which she can fly. Through all of this talk of study, of composition, of challenges with sexism, industry expectations, and of risking with a shift into a new mode of expression were two threads twining tightly around each other. These were the threads of remaining true to self, and of following desire.
How do we continue to follow desire, even when huge obstacles arise? How do we remain true to ourselves, and take the risk of setting down the small cup in favor of the larger? What keeps us going? And what undermines us?
For someone like Dana Reason, I would hazard to guess, what she desires is also her True Will, the work of her God, leaving her little choice but to follow along in hot pursuit. But what about for the rest of us who may not have tapped into that yet? How do we approach desire? This is a large subject, of course, and one that will not be plumbed in this one entry. But let us take one facet and begin examination.
Desiring is like falling in love. Or perhaps falling in love is the kindling of desire. There is an object and a subject that are seeking to become one thing, like a woman at her piano, making music from the mind and soul. We are overcome with desire and what then? We need to make a decision whether or not we will pursue or thwart desire, whether it will be relegated to the realms of fantasy or we will enact will and move toward daring.
People who follow desire, who feel the first rush and then enact their intention around it, are the people who create art over and over, who start humanitarian organizations, who do great things, whether in the public eye or through reaching one being at a time. One definition of desire is to follow a star. To set off on a journey with uncertain end. To risk safety for the unknown. To follow the beating of your own heart’s rhythm, regardless of what others may think of the song.
We do want to communicate. We do want to share. But genius always includes the element of the unexpected in it. Surprise is at the core of innovation. Do we really want to create the same things over and over? Is all we really want, some comfort? I don’t think so, or why would desire keep occurring, at the most inconvenient moments, calling us to someplace new? Even the best map cannot tell us what we will encounter on our journey, and the best journeys may begin with a charted course, but always veer off into the unknown.
I heard desire both in the piano notes and the conversation that followed, and I liked the music it made.
Are we willing to surprise ourselves?