Butterfly Effect

I was going to continue my line of thought about the correlations between exercise and practice, but I just listened to a podcast (and viewed the slide show) of a chimp named Lucy and her reluctant caretaker, Janis Carter. http://www.wnyc.org/shows/radiolab/episodes/2010/04/09. So, the exercise blog will have to wait!

In a nutshell, this story is about humans “experimenting” with apes to see how much of the human culture—including emotional connection, can be passed along to primates. The photos are like anyone’s children’s photos, but the last photo of Janis and Lucy’s embrace (esp. after I learned how Lucy met her untimely death) still brings tears when I think about it.

The emotional affect the story had on me was not just about the chimp, but also about Janis. She and the Temerlins, who adopted the chimp, went to Africa to drop off the ape in a nature preserve because Lucy had gotten too big, strong etc. to keep. The Temerlins left and Janis stayed, supposedly for just a few weeks at most, to help Lucy transition. Janis is still there.

It’s funny that I heard this story just a few days after the news cast about the Russian boy that was sent back because his adopted parents couldn’t handle him. I am also reminded of Gordon Parks mentioning in his book Half Past Autumn, that though his photojournalism brought awareness to the plights of families in poverty in general, it often ruined the family that he focused his lens on.

All of these stories affect me because the pursuits of one person had a ripple effect on those they engaged with. The “destiny” of some seemed to be altered by another’s actions. What does this have to do with music? (First more stories.)

I am reminded of a dermatologist who told me that he picked this field of medicine because he knew that he would never kill anyone. I heard this when I was a first year college student (17 years old) and I wondered if being a musician was also free from incurring mortal infractions.

Several friends have told me how they picked their field of study because of the enthusiasm of the teacher. I wonder if I’ve changed the trajectory of anyone’s life because of my enthusiasm for music.

Whether we are playing the background music for a wedding, party, funeral or coffee house with only three people working on their laptop, I believe that we are affecting the energies in the space. It is no less important to play from your soul when you think no one is listening, as it is when you play the music that will allow people to grieve.

I feel that teaching the student that is not a high achiever, but gains a sense of self from playing, can be more important than giving the proper technique to the one that will go on to be a music major. Then there are the students that are working for a 4+ grade average for whom music is a respite from the pressures of studying. When students come back to say hello (after years away), I’m amazed by the most significant lesson stories they tell. (It has NEVER been the story I thought they would tell.)

I think it’s important that we are always up front about our intentions and emotions. If I’m having a bad day, I’ll tell my students at the beginning of the lesson, “If I seem a bit short today, it’s not because of you. I’m not feeling very well. “ I’ll ask the student what they want to learn so that I can help them discover the tools that they can understand and use. I’ve even told the last student of the day that she is unfortunately the last and if she has her lessons well prepared that will help me stay awake!

Finally, our own practice: it can be our discipline, or meditation; our solace or mental stimulation; where we bring our joy and discoveries to fruition; where we work through and into new awareness and capacities—intellectually and emotionally.

We never know whom we will touch or how their life will play out because of our influence. I can only go about my work with joy and love and honor my connection with others.