Easy and simple and near...

In the past couple of months, I have learned just how big a role mental discipline and self-examination plays in my musical studies along with practicing technique. I wanted to share a part of that aspect of my life through something small but significant to my early days here.

During my first week in New Delhi I came across the poem "Sing the song of the moment..." by 19th century writer, composer, artist, and philosopher Rabindranath Tagore. Two lines immediately struck me:

With both hands snap the fetters you made with your own heart chords;

Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple and near.

These lines were especially relevant for how I was feeling during my transition alone in a new city away from people who meant the most to me. I am so grateful that my life is full of people I love and admire. After this summer I realized just how much I have developed and strengthened relationships with friends and family that are so refreshing, energizing, exciting, and healing. In one way my move to India and into the unknown was buoyed by that knowledge, but it also made me reluctant to leave behind all the people who are so important to me and enter a path that can be fairly lonely at times, even though gratifying.

As I creep slowly into adulthood and as my priorities and values begin to crystallize, it becomes harder to reconcile the desire to be independent with the desire to be surrounded by the people that fuel me with love and inspiration. Now that I am here, I can't imagine being anywhere else than India or doing anything else than studying Indian cello right now; I know I have made the right decision following a new path for a while longer.

My miniature altar I set up when I first got here

Committing to the cello and this music means every day practicing many more hours than I have ever before, listening to new artists, reading up on history and structure of Hindustani music, studying recordings of lessons, having the patience to keep sitting to practice when it feels like things aren't improving; of taking care of my body by doing yoga and meditation every morning. This commitment forces me closer to myself; to examine the unhealthy attachments to vices, including people, in my life that are insecurities and fears gone unaddressed and that impede concentration. It requires time and work to physically train the body and ear but also to train the mind to be disciplined and focused and get to know how I get distracted and how to center myself again.  

It also requires accepting how much my guru openly shares of her knowledge and letting myself be fully present in that relationship, unhindered by fears of judgement. The process of understanding the music little by little and of understanding myself is possible because of how generously my guru has taken me as a student and how much she shares of herself and her skills, and it is extremely rewarding.  In something requiring such isolated focus as this music, however, I find questions such as how long can I keep this up? Is there a limit to my commitment? can quickly arise within the course of playing just a few notes.

Commitment requires conviction. To commit to a relationship, to commit to music, the conviction is the same. Every day is a conscious decision to devote energy to whatever the practice brings that day without allowing whatever happens to change the strength of that commitment.  For me it required clearing the dusty layers of hesitation and self-doubt to make way for a burning determination and confidence. I needed to make that sense of vitality a physical reality, to feel and see the transformative force of that fire. Every time I sit to practice I light candles and honor the fire that burns in me (commitment and determination), the source of all fire (my guru and those who have come before), and the spark that burns tomorrow (the product of the practice I am about to make). This small ritual allows me to bring the cycle of my intention and commitment to the attention of my distractable mind so I can begin focused.

Accepting what is easy and simple and near means working towards what I want without struggle and understanding that everything is already ok, I just need to be patient. In the two lines Tagore is not asking to give up working hard, fighting for what we want, or abandon those who are far away. I have rather found in these lines a welcome reminder and an invitation to foster the love from relationships that are not near so they can embolden me, rather than consume me, and open me up to new communities; to pay attention to the opportunities that are presenting themselves in the moment and resolve to get the most out of them that I can; to fight for the positive and health-giving phenomena in my life and let go of the things out of my control. Tagore is telling me to keep going on my path and let the future reveal answers at its own pace.

Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple and near

The next morning after coming across Tagore's poem I walked outside to find this friend sitting in the rooftop garden outside my door. The words echoed in my mind "Take to your breast with a smile what is easy and simple and near." His meditative smile and content, peaceful, upturned gaze just seemed to say, "See how happiness and beauty is all around you!"

Rabin-giraffe Tagore, as my roommate Asha and I have now named him, greets me in the shade from the hot Delhi sun every morning and in a single breath I get to think of all of you; and I get to welcome all of the new people and opportunities in my life in this moment; and I get to smile back and renew my commitments and start my day.