I am a research person. When I get interested in something, I like to know as much about it as I can, and this especially goes for jazz. When I get into a new artist, I don’t just want to know who his/her teachers were or where they went to school or who their influences are, but I also want to know what they do outside of music. What are their favorite movies? Books? What inspires them? What makes them tick? And although I may sound like a borderline stalker, I’m really just trying to find out what makes these people great. I believe that a lot of the time it’s not only practicing 9 hours a day every day from age 6 through 20 but also how they spend their time away from their instruments.
The further I got into jazz the more research I did, and the more I started to notice something: Eastern Practices. Buddhism (in its many tracts), Yoga, and Meditation were all words I saw popping up in interviews with people like Herbie Hancock, Gretchen Parlato, Kendrick Scott, and of course, John Coltrane, so I began to get very curious.
A Love Supreme was my favorite album, but why? Was it simply because of the notes that were played or because of the spirituality Coltrane was radiating through his horn? Did his visits to Zen temples in Japan and his interest in Hinduism and Kabbalah influence the connection I felt with his music? I had always wondered about these things but never really knew much or thought of myself as a person who would ever meditate or chant. But the more I looked the more I realized that the music that I truly connected with – really felt in my soul – was coming from artists with a connection to these practices and, by extension, to themselves. So I thought, if it’s working for them, maybe it can work for me. It certainly can’t hurt. And thus began my journey into Yoga and, soon after, meditation.
Buddhist Meditation:
The first time I really saw this connection was in my second semester at Berklee. I found an article detailing Herbie Hancock’s 40-year long Nichiren Buddhism (pronounce nee-chee-ren) practice and found it very fascinating. As the story goes, Herbie was raised a Christian, but he converted after hearing his bass player at the time, Buster Williams, play an intro that was “pure beauty and ideas and – it was magical.” This was in 1972, a time when Herbie and his band were playing mostly avant-garde stuff and were trying to be as free and spontaneous as possible (they even tried being vegetarians for a short time to keep the creativity flowing). Herbie let Buster play for 10 or 15 minutes, and the rest of the set had a certain magical energy about it that was recognized by both the musicians and the audience members, many of whom were moved to tears. Herbie took Buster into his dressing room and asked him where that creativity came from, and Buster revealed that he had been waiting for the right time to tell Herbie about his new Buddhist practice, but the best way was to show him through the music. So Buster explained all about his practice to Herbie, and Herbie said, “This sounds like what I always believed in anyway. I thought I was the only one.” But of course, there are almost 20 million people that believe the same thing.
The one reserve Herbie had with this practice was the idea that the chanting is “the law of the universe.” The idea is based around cause and effect, but he didn’t see how producing this sound would create any kind of tangible effect. Buster told him to stop worrying about believing it right away and just try it; it is, after all, the law, so it will work regardless. Pretty great, huh? A religion you don’t have to believe in for it to work? He decided he had nothing to lose, so he checked it out.
He began chanting every day, morning and evening, and even before he went on stage. The practice completely changed his life, helping him delve deeper into his music and himself as a human being. But the part of this interview that inspired me the most was this:
“I realized that being a musician is not what I am, it’s what I do. I’m also a father, I’m a son, I’m a neighbor, I’m a citizen, I’m an African-American. I’m a bunch of things. But, at the center of all of that is I’m a human being. Now I view music from the standpoint of being a human being rather than being a musician.”
I absolutely loved that! As musicians, we are typically very proud of our craft, especially in such a small and, some could say, elite genre like jazz. It’s very easy to be consumed by that pride and to define ourselves simply by our music and nothing else. I have been struggling with that idea for quite some time, and I am happy to hear someone like Herbie Hancock, a true legend, saying that he is many things, not just a musician. He also said, “the cool thing is that jazz is really a wonderful example of the great characteristics of Buddhism and great characteristics of the human spirit. Because in jazz we share, we listen to each other, we respect each other, we are creating in the moment. At our best we’re non-judgmental. If we let judgment get in the way of improvising, it always screws us up.”
This is the same of life; judgment of others and ourselves causes so much suffering, and the Buddha said, “Life is suffering.” Another iconic jazz musician practicing Nichiren Buddhism, and a close friend of Herbie Hancock, is Wayne Shorter. Wayne recites the Lotus Sutra daily and before ever performance, claiming it helped him get through tragedies in his life and helps him connect more deeply to the music.
In my personal Zen practice, which I embarked on about seven months ago, I have felt a difference meditation makes in my music, but not in an “inspiration just hits me now” kind of way. After I meditate or chant, I find myself feeling absolutely no desire to go home, sit on Facebook, or sit in front of the TV. I think technology is a huge distraction for today’s artists, but after a brief meditation, my musical priorities are refocused. I see meditation partially as an amazing tool to train your mind to go against this “norm.” You are sitting there for X amount of minutes - or hours - with absolutely nothing to distract you from yourself, and although at times it may be incredibly difficult, I seldom find myself distracted afterwards.
I recently read an article in which a Monk named Hyon Gak said, “Zen Buddhism is jazz. A Zen monk’s life is like jazz. Many religions emphasize formality and a certain set of rules, but Zen Buddhism is different. It’s as free and impromptu as jazz music.” This idea stuck with me, so recently, while at a Dharma talk at the Cambridge Zen Center, I asked the Dharma teacher about this idea. His response resonated with me. He asked me, “Lindsay, when you sing, are you thinking about what you are going to eat for dinner tonight?”
I replied, “No.”
“Are you wondering if you forgot to turn off your curling iron?”
“No.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I thought for a few moments and of course I realized that all I am thinking about is the music, and beyond that, I’m not really thinking about the music as much as I am experiencing it. It became clear that one of the only times in my life that I feel truly present and in the moment is when I am making music. He said, “When you are singing, where does the music begin and Lindsay end?”
And of course, there is no answer. The two become one, and that idea is Zen. This idea certainly isn’t specifically reserved to the Zen practice, and exploring the other tracts of Buddhism before settling on the one that works for you is a must, but this is one of the many reasons that Zen works for me.
Meditation is called a practice for a reason: you must practice! What’s right for one person can be totally different for the next, but many Buddhists believe that one should practice every day. That can be a bit of a stretch for someone just starting out. Even now, I still can’t fit meditation in every day, but my friends at the Cambridge Zen Center recommend setting realistic goals, making sure you meet them each week, and working your way up. For example, promise to practice at home on Mondays and Wednesdays, and at a center Tuesdays and Thursdays. Do it every week, without fail, and you will start to see the changes. It’s inevitable!
And remember: there is absolutely no harm in doing it. Nothing about meditating could possible hurt or hinder you, it can only help. If it doesn’t work for you, fine, but if you do happen to get to know yourself better and find some sort of a deeper connection to your music, then that’s wonderful. If you do feel that it’s something you’d like to try, whether it be Tibetan, Zen, Nichiren, or any other type of Buddhism that speaks to you, don’t be afraid to contact centers and/or temples, ask questions, and go there and practice. Good luck!
Boston-area Meditation Centers
Cambridge Zen Center
Shambhala Center in Brookline
Cambridge Insight Meditation Center
Drikung Meditation Center
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