Update 3: The Shakuhachi Competition
Dec. 13, 1999
Hello in the winter season!
The air has turned biting cold. The wind an icy dragon flying through
forests blows muraiki-like through the trees. Muraiki is a shakuhachi
blowing technique in which blast of air is blown across the sharp shakuhachi
blowing edge while hitting the resonant frequency of the note, thus creating
a violently intense yet evocative sonic color. In a recent lesson, the
sensei explained to me the virtues of not using muraiki too liberally. He
said that in the days of the komuso (shakuhachi playing wandering monks) the
komuso very seldomly used muraiki. They only used it while begging for money
and food; and if they were caught using it freely, they were looked at as
crude and
unsophisticated in their playing. Another teacher told me that very few
players could execute a proper muraiki, that's why it was shunned upon.
Muraiki makes the entire flute resonate. If you only make the airy sound
with the top of the flute then it sounds weak and withered. Which brings me
to a quandry that I've been pondering about for a long time.
The tradition of honkyoku solo peices was founded upon the Buddhist
philosophy of the practice of zen meditation with the goal of enlightenment.
Within this practice, one strives to transcend the opposites of good and
bad, subject and object, that and the other.
Therefore, when playing honkyoku, all judgements are set aside and
meditation sets in for the player essentially. All transformation is
internal therefore esoteric in nature. In the past, the monks paid no
attention to perfect pitch or length of flute, etc. All they were interested
was the inner experience. All over Japan, anonymous monks composed
hauntingly beautiful solo works to aid in their meditation. With the advent
of the industrial revolution and the opening up of Japan to the West, this
drastically changed the perception of the practice. The impact of Western
classical music profoundly impacted
the development of the shakuhachi. Now, the focus shifted outside and the
inner experience became began to loose meaning. So, the meditative practice
was changed into a performing art. The shakuhachi began to be used as a
musical instrument rather than a religious tool. Concern for perfect pitch,
tone quality, range, and high quality instruments were now big issues. The
shakuhachi almost became extinct during the Meiji Restoration when Japan was
being bombarded by all things Western, but was saved by a few die-hard
traditional musicians and instrument makers who made the necessary changes
and new music to take shakuhachi into the 20th century and beyond.
Incredibly, the venerable honkyoku pieces still survive and are flourishing
to this day, ableit, perhaps in a new form. Struggling to learn shakuhachi
is reaching to the heart of the practice of
shakuhachi zen. I'll go as far to say that real honkyoku is when the
beginner player starts playing and deals with the accompanying frustrations.
When I hear someone making her or his first efforts at shakuhachi, I hear
beauty and greatness in it. As one gains more
skill in playing, much of the important lessons are lost and forgotten and
there is a danger of the ego taking over, which is a trap all of us fall
into sooner or later. We start to discriminate what is a good sound and bad
sound, who is a good performer and who is a poor one. All this is really
illusory. But we continue to be fooled by the ego's relentless trickery. I
admit I constantly strive to be a better player. In fact, I just finished
participating in a shakuhachi competition which I'll tell you about later in
this email. I think it's important to learn good technique (from a good
teacher), the physics and history of the flute in order to speak to people
who have never heard shakuhachi before. But there must be a way to find a
balance in the world of form. Perhaps the key is to remember that it's
alright to make mistakes and to enjoy every step of the process, and not to
get too attached to the results of your training. It's alright to enjoy the
beauty of the form and sound of bamboo. And to remember once upon a time it
all didn't matter. Just blowing a piece of raw bamboo was enough.
There is an undeniable urge within me to learn these honkyoku in Japan from
the master teachers. The tones and phrasing speak to my soul more than any
other sound or music, and playing this simple piece of bamboo, a
quintessential Asian symbol of strength, flexibilty, and beauty inspires me
to deepen my relationship with it and adds life to my identity as one with
Asian blood running through my veins and being born in Japan. These are
signs that this is my true path in life; my dharma, my purpose, my bliss.
Where it leads is up to mystery.
I just got back from an amazingly intoxicating and ecstatic yet absurd
experience. It was the Shin-jin Shakuhachi Okete, or competition for new, up
and coming shakuhachi players from all over Japan. I believe it is the first
of its kind in history. Shakuhachi playing men and women, and girls as young
as 14 gathered from as far as Kyushu and Hokkaido came to Tokyo to compete
for the grand prize of 300,000 YEN. I've been preparing for this for about 2
months, practicing religiously every day. But, I didn't do it for the money,
but to make stronger connections with the shakuhachi community in Japan.
Anyways, everyone is alotted five minutes to play any piece of their choice
while 5 judges from different styles critique you. There is also an audience
watching on as well. I was the first one in the auditorium; it was so
interesting to see all the shakuhachi playing people come in one by one. I
really felt this was a very special, and rare time. It's very seldom that
several shakuhachi players gather in one place at one time. When all the
contestants arrived (30 in all), we all picked numbers from a bag to
determine which order we would play. I was number 6. Ideal, since I could
finish early and watch and enjoy most of the other players. The piece I
picked was a honkyoku called "Yamagoe", or Going Over the Mountain, a piece
with a lot of explosive power. I was expecting many people to wear
traditional clothes like kimono or something. But I was the only one to wear
kimono. Most wore their street clothes or some other modern clothing. I
really stood out which was good for the performance. I really like wearing
WA-fuku. I feel really focused wearing it. I was really savoring the feeling
of excitement and nervousness before my turn on stage. Heart beating like a
race horse at the gate of the track, blood surging fire through every nerve.
I walked on stage and bowed. Stood still and quiet for several seconds to
calm; raised the bamboo to my lips and.... POW!!! hit the first note dead on
running up the first line catching the rhythm of the piece making sure I
pace myself well. BOOM!!! next phrase smoothe and powerful getting all the
low tones perfectly. SHOOOM!!!!going through the rest of the piece with
focused energy and sustained pulse rhythm of the moutain climb...Nervous, I
jumped over a few small holes in a phrase; until the last SLASH of the wind
on the blowing edge cutting air, resonating bamboo, in killer muraiki. I
bowed and walked off stage.
Before and especially after the competition I met many nice shakuhachi
people. I felt very close to them, like they were my family. But we all
waited anxiously for the results of the contest. I really thought I would
win or get into the top three. But alas I didn't. I was #4! I was only a few
points away from the top. First place went to a wonderful player, Toru Okuda
from Yamanashi-ken, who played a modern piece. Ironically Furuya Sensei one
of my teachers, who was one of the judges was the hardest on me since he
knew Yamagoe very well. He's the only one who heard me stumble at those
little spots in the piece. But I felt great that I was in the top 10 and #4
out of 30 and the only non-Japanese in the whole thing, and top of those who
played honkyoku. I'm also glad I didn't win any money either, since it keeps
me hungry for learning more and my ego doesn't get too out of proportion. My
friend felt really disappointed since he was #22. He played a modern piece
called "Ichijo", which has some technically demanding areas and some of the
judges really cut him up for not executing it smoothly. And this is what is
so absurd about music competitions, especially shakuhachi. Music is meant to
be enjoyed and meditations have no room for narrow judgements. Like I said
earlier, this is all an illusion of the ego's making. But there is so
precious little happening with shakuhachi anywhere that events like this
should be supported. In any case, it's a great incentive to practice like
crazy!
Afterwards we all gathered for a party and got to know everyone. The
shakuhachi joyful spirit of bamboo people enjoying each other's company is
intoxicatingly beautiful. This is the REAL stuff. Competition and money is
nothing compared to the relationships formed here. I made many new friends
in the shakuhachi world. It was heart warming to see the future of
shakuhachi in Japan and know it is in the hands of wonderful people. Riding
home on the train, exhausted and in a blissful daze, I felt the opening of a
new door...
To be continued....
Al
Asaka Shakuhachi Circle
Alcvin Ramos (Shakuhachi)
2-2-18 Dream Palace #201
Asaka-shi, Nishibenzai
Saitama-ken, Japan T351-0021
Phone: 048-451-0414
Kita-Asaka Kominkan (Shakuhachi Dojo): 048-473-0558
Office: 03-3486-7667
(Outside Japan first dial 001-81 then delete first 0)
Email: komuchiku@hotmail.com
"There is something deeper if you would go deeper,
if you go to the source of where the music is being
made, you'll find something more interesting. At the
source, everyone's individual music is made. If you
ask what that deep place is, it's your own life and
it's knowing your own life, that own way that you
live."
Watazumi-do Shuso
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