I’ve never been particularly good at meditation. Growing up in a small hippie town in Southern Oregon I was surrounded by adults who lived through the 60s and 70s and meditation was part of the cultural landscape. I remember asking people about it as a kid, and one person described it as “trying not to think about anything”.
Have you ever tried not thinking of anything? It’s like when someone tells you “don’t think about elephants” and then elephants are all you can think about. Except, I couldn’t even get to the elephants. Instead, I was stuck thinking about the conversation about not thinking about elephants that I also wasn’t supposed to be thinking of. I was the living definition of what is referred to as ‘monkey-mind’. Not only did achieving an empty mind seem impossible, it also seemed like the exact opposite of what adults would tell me to do as a teenager. Being empty headed was an insult, not something to aspire to. The adults in my life valued intelligence and intellectualism, well formed and well communicated ideas, the exact opposite of no thoughts.
So I gave it up and didn’t bother myself too much with meditation. As far as I was concerned, all these people who were engaged with a so-called meditation practice were charlatans that had no idea what they were talking about and were probably doing it wrong anyway. And then one day I came across a new definition of meditation from the Indian philosopher Bagwan Rajneesh, one that framed it as a particular state of mind, a form of consciousness in contrast to other states of mind. Thinking, concentration, contemplation: all of these are acts of doing. Meditation, on the other hand, is the practice of experiencing the joy of being.
Concentration is singular focus. It is the moment of hammering a nail or solving a math problem. Contemplation is associative, the type of creative, inventive thinking of writers and composers. When you are thinking, you are thinking about something, with meditation you focus solely on the experience, letting go of the additional layers of analyzing and judgmental thoughts around it. Your attention goes to attention itself, mind on top of mind until you achieve a state of pure awareness. As Bagwan describes, “You are not the doer, you are the watcher. That’s the whole secret of meditation: you become the watcher.”
Or perhaps, today, in our case, the listener. This program, which contains music inspired by Tibetan and Zen Buddhism, explores various experiences and concepts of consciousness. You’ll notice much of the music is quite active - even turbulent. The Rzewski is a metaphor for monkey-mind with moments of stillness suddenly appearing in between sections of unpredictable thoughts swirling about. They all have moments pointing to the One Mind but it isn't until we have been through the whole cycle of works that we arrive at the Satoh which has the sort of meditative quality we might associate with Buddhist thought.
This concert is a vehicle for both the performer and the audience to move through our turbulent minds and find glimpses of that pure awareness. This state of mind is a central goal of Buddhist practice, it is a moment of freedom from the agonizing of our own thoughts, a release from the suffering of our judging and moralizing and analyzing, from our cynicism and doubts, a moment where we let go and lose ourselves in the simple joy of the sound and its relationship to our own being.
It should be no surprise that “Liberation through Hearing” is the title of one of the most well-known books of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. More commonly known as “The Tibetan Book of the Dead”, the Bardo Thodol describes intermediary states of consciousness. While the text’s focus on what Westerners might call an ‘after life’ has brought it a great deal of attention, the concept of Bardo divides all stages of the human life cycle into various states of consciousness. This includes the moment of death, the liminal state between death and rebirth, and the moment of rebirth itself, but it also includes waking consciousness, dreaming, and meditation as intermediary states as well.
Francesca Fremantle calls bardo a “transitional experience, any state that lies between two other states. Its original meaning, the experience of being between death and rebirth, is the prototype of the bardo experience, while the six traditional bardos show how the essential qualities of that experience are also present in other transitional periods. By refining even further the understanding of the essence of bardo, it can then be applied to every moment of existence. The present moment, the now, is a continual bardo, always suspended between the past and the future.”
Any and all moments are a potential liminal state, an opportunity to experience that moment of pure awareness where, as one Tibetan Lama has said, “When one is freed from all mental obscurations, one is said to attain a state of continuous bliss mixed with a simultaneous cognition of emptiness, the true nature of reality”.
That is, perhaps, too big a promise for a single concert, but a Buddhist life is not about one evening, it is about cultivating a life of meditation, of practicing deep awareness, putting one’s attention on attention itself, away from all external, mentally created phenomenon, and experiencing reality for what it is: simple, joyous, and full of beauty.
May tonight’s concert be a first step towards such a life.
Have you ever tried not thinking of anything? It’s like when someone tells you “don’t think about elephants” and then elephants are all you can think about. Except, I couldn’t even get to the elephants. Instead, I was stuck thinking about the conversation about not thinking about elephants that I also wasn’t supposed to be thinking of. I was the living definition of what is referred to as ‘monkey-mind’. Not only did achieving an empty mind seem impossible, it also seemed like the exact opposite of what adults would tell me to do as a teenager. Being empty headed was an insult, not something to aspire to. The adults in my life valued intelligence and intellectualism, well formed and well communicated ideas, the exact opposite of no thoughts.
So I gave it up and didn’t bother myself too much with meditation. As far as I was concerned, all these people who were engaged with a so-called meditation practice were charlatans that had no idea what they were talking about and were probably doing it wrong anyway. And then one day I came across a new definition of meditation from the Indian philosopher Bagwan Rajneesh, one that framed it as a particular state of mind, a form of consciousness in contrast to other states of mind. Thinking, concentration, contemplation: all of these are acts of doing. Meditation, on the other hand, is the practice of experiencing the joy of being.
Concentration is singular focus. It is the moment of hammering a nail or solving a math problem. Contemplation is associative, the type of creative, inventive thinking of writers and composers. When you are thinking, you are thinking about something, with meditation you focus solely on the experience, letting go of the additional layers of analyzing and judgmental thoughts around it. Your attention goes to attention itself, mind on top of mind until you achieve a state of pure awareness. As Bagwan describes, “You are not the doer, you are the watcher. That’s the whole secret of meditation: you become the watcher.”
Or perhaps, today, in our case, the listener. This program, which contains music inspired by Tibetan and Zen Buddhism, explores various experiences and concepts of consciousness. You’ll notice much of the music is quite active - even turbulent. The Rzewski is a metaphor for monkey-mind with moments of stillness suddenly appearing in between sections of unpredictable thoughts swirling about. They all have moments pointing to the One Mind but it isn't until we have been through the whole cycle of works that we arrive at the Satoh which has the sort of meditative quality we might associate with Buddhist thought.
This concert is a vehicle for both the performer and the audience to move through our turbulent minds and find glimpses of that pure awareness. This state of mind is a central goal of Buddhist practice, it is a moment of freedom from the agonizing of our own thoughts, a release from the suffering of our judging and moralizing and analyzing, from our cynicism and doubts, a moment where we let go and lose ourselves in the simple joy of the sound and its relationship to our own being.
It should be no surprise that “Liberation through Hearing” is the title of one of the most well-known books of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. More commonly known as “The Tibetan Book of the Dead”, the Bardo Thodol describes intermediary states of consciousness. While the text’s focus on what Westerners might call an ‘after life’ has brought it a great deal of attention, the concept of Bardo divides all stages of the human life cycle into various states of consciousness. This includes the moment of death, the liminal state between death and rebirth, and the moment of rebirth itself, but it also includes waking consciousness, dreaming, and meditation as intermediary states as well.
Francesca Fremantle calls bardo a “transitional experience, any state that lies between two other states. Its original meaning, the experience of being between death and rebirth, is the prototype of the bardo experience, while the six traditional bardos show how the essential qualities of that experience are also present in other transitional periods. By refining even further the understanding of the essence of bardo, it can then be applied to every moment of existence. The present moment, the now, is a continual bardo, always suspended between the past and the future.”
Any and all moments are a potential liminal state, an opportunity to experience that moment of pure awareness where, as one Tibetan Lama has said, “When one is freed from all mental obscurations, one is said to attain a state of continuous bliss mixed with a simultaneous cognition of emptiness, the true nature of reality”.
That is, perhaps, too big a promise for a single concert, but a Buddhist life is not about one evening, it is about cultivating a life of meditation, of practicing deep awareness, putting one’s attention on attention itself, away from all external, mentally created phenomenon, and experiencing reality for what it is: simple, joyous, and full of beauty.
May tonight’s concert be a first step towards such a life.
I’ve never been particularly good at meditation. Growing up in a small hippie town in Southern Oregon I was surrounded by adults who lived through the 60s and 70s and meditation was part of the cultural landscape. I remember asking people about it as a kid, and one person described it as “trying not to think about anything”.
Have you ever tried not thinking of anything? It’s like when someone tells you “don’t think about elephants” and then elephants are all you can think about. Except, I couldn’t even get to the elephants. Instead, I was stuck thinking about the conversation about not thinking about elephants that I also wasn’t supposed to be thinking of. I was the living definition of what is referred to as ‘monkey-mind’. Not only did achieving an empty mind seem impossible, it also seemed like the exact opposite of what adults would tell me to do as a teenager. Being empty headed was an insult, not something to aspire to. The adults in my life valued intelligence and intellectualism, well formed and well communicated ideas, the exact opposite of no thoughts.
So I gave it up and didn’t bother myself too much with meditation. As far as I was concerned, all these people who were engaged with a so-called meditation practice were charlatans that had no idea what they were talking about and were probably doing it wrong anyway. And then one day I came across a new definition of meditation from the Indian philosopher Bagwan Rajneesh, one that framed it as a particular state of mind, a form of consciousness in contrast to other states of mind. Thinking, concentration, contemplation: all of these are acts of doing. Meditation, on the other hand, is the practice of experiencing the joy of being.
Concentration is singular focus. It is the moment of hammering a nail or solving a math problem. Contemplation is associative, the type of creative, inventive thinking of writers and composers. When you are thinking, you are thinking about something, with meditation you focus solely on the experience, letting go of the additional layers of analyzing and judgmental thoughts around it. Your attention goes to attention itself, mind on top of mind until you achieve a state of pure awareness. As Bagwan describes, “You are not the doer, you are the watcher. That’s the whole secret of meditation: you become the watcher.”
Or perhaps, today, in our case, the listener. This program, which contains music inspired by Tibetan and Zen Buddhism, explores various experiences and concepts of consciousness. You’ll notice much of the music is quite active - even turbulent. The Rzewski is a metaphor for monkey-mind with moments of stillness suddenly appearing in between sections of unpredictable thoughts swirling about. They all have moments pointing to the One Mind but it isn't until we have been through the whole cycle of works that we arrive at the Satoh which has the sort of meditative quality we might associate with Buddhist thought.
This concert is a vehicle for both the performer and the audience to move through our turbulent minds and find glimpses of that pure awareness. This state of mind is a central goal of Buddhist practice, it is a moment of freedom from the agonizing of our own thoughts, a release from the suffering of our judging and moralizing and analyzing, from our cynicism and doubts, a moment where we let go and lose ourselves in the simple joy of the sound and its relationship to our own being.
It should be no surprise that “Liberation through Hearing” is the title of one of the most well-known books of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. More commonly known as “The Tibetan Book of the Dead”, the Bardo Thodol describes intermediary states of consciousness. While the text’s focus on what Westerners might call an ‘after life’ has brought it a great deal of attention, the concept of Bardo divides all stages of the human life cycle into various states of consciousness. This includes the moment of death, the liminal state between death and rebirth, and the moment of rebirth itself, but it also includes waking consciousness, dreaming, and meditation as intermediary states as well.
Francesca Fremantle calls bardo a “transitional experience, any state that lies between two other states. Its original meaning, the experience of being between death and rebirth, is the prototype of the bardo experience, while the six traditional bardos show how the essential qualities of that experience are also present in other transitional periods. By refining even further the understanding of the essence of bardo, it can then be applied to every moment of existence. The present moment, the now, is a continual bardo, always suspended between the past and the future.”
Any and all moments are a potential liminal state, an opportunity to experience that moment of pure awareness where, as one Tibetan Lama has said, “When one is freed from all mental obscurations, one is said to attain a state of continuous bliss mixed with a simultaneous cognition of emptiness, the true nature of reality”.
That is, perhaps, too big a promise for a single concert, but a Buddhist life is not about one evening, it is about cultivating a life of meditation, of practicing deep awareness, putting one’s attention on attention itself, away from all external, mentally created phenomenon, and experiencing reality for what it is: simple, joyous, and full of beauty.
May tonight’s concert be a first step towards such a life.
Have you ever tried not thinking of anything? It’s like when someone tells you “don’t think about elephants” and then elephants are all you can think about. Except, I couldn’t even get to the elephants. Instead, I was stuck thinking about the conversation about not thinking about elephants that I also wasn’t supposed to be thinking of. I was the living definition of what is referred to as ‘monkey-mind’. Not only did achieving an empty mind seem impossible, it also seemed like the exact opposite of what adults would tell me to do as a teenager. Being empty headed was an insult, not something to aspire to. The adults in my life valued intelligence and intellectualism, well formed and well communicated ideas, the exact opposite of no thoughts.
So I gave it up and didn’t bother myself too much with meditation. As far as I was concerned, all these people who were engaged with a so-called meditation practice were charlatans that had no idea what they were talking about and were probably doing it wrong anyway. And then one day I came across a new definition of meditation from the Indian philosopher Bagwan Rajneesh, one that framed it as a particular state of mind, a form of consciousness in contrast to other states of mind. Thinking, concentration, contemplation: all of these are acts of doing. Meditation, on the other hand, is the practice of experiencing the joy of being.
Concentration is singular focus. It is the moment of hammering a nail or solving a math problem. Contemplation is associative, the type of creative, inventive thinking of writers and composers. When you are thinking, you are thinking about something, with meditation you focus solely on the experience, letting go of the additional layers of analyzing and judgmental thoughts around it. Your attention goes to attention itself, mind on top of mind until you achieve a state of pure awareness. As Bagwan describes, “You are not the doer, you are the watcher. That’s the whole secret of meditation: you become the watcher.”
Or perhaps, today, in our case, the listener. This program, which contains music inspired by Tibetan and Zen Buddhism, explores various experiences and concepts of consciousness. You’ll notice much of the music is quite active - even turbulent. The Rzewski is a metaphor for monkey-mind with moments of stillness suddenly appearing in between sections of unpredictable thoughts swirling about. They all have moments pointing to the One Mind but it isn't until we have been through the whole cycle of works that we arrive at the Satoh which has the sort of meditative quality we might associate with Buddhist thought.
This concert is a vehicle for both the performer and the audience to move through our turbulent minds and find glimpses of that pure awareness. This state of mind is a central goal of Buddhist practice, it is a moment of freedom from the agonizing of our own thoughts, a release from the suffering of our judging and moralizing and analyzing, from our cynicism and doubts, a moment where we let go and lose ourselves in the simple joy of the sound and its relationship to our own being.
It should be no surprise that “Liberation through Hearing” is the title of one of the most well-known books of Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. More commonly known as “The Tibetan Book of the Dead”, the Bardo Thodol describes intermediary states of consciousness. While the text’s focus on what Westerners might call an ‘after life’ has brought it a great deal of attention, the concept of Bardo divides all stages of the human life cycle into various states of consciousness. This includes the moment of death, the liminal state between death and rebirth, and the moment of rebirth itself, but it also includes waking consciousness, dreaming, and meditation as intermediary states as well.
Francesca Fremantle calls bardo a “transitional experience, any state that lies between two other states. Its original meaning, the experience of being between death and rebirth, is the prototype of the bardo experience, while the six traditional bardos show how the essential qualities of that experience are also present in other transitional periods. By refining even further the understanding of the essence of bardo, it can then be applied to every moment of existence. The present moment, the now, is a continual bardo, always suspended between the past and the future.”
Any and all moments are a potential liminal state, an opportunity to experience that moment of pure awareness where, as one Tibetan Lama has said, “When one is freed from all mental obscurations, one is said to attain a state of continuous bliss mixed with a simultaneous cognition of emptiness, the true nature of reality”.
That is, perhaps, too big a promise for a single concert, but a Buddhist life is not about one evening, it is about cultivating a life of meditation, of practicing deep awareness, putting one’s attention on attention itself, away from all external, mentally created phenomenon, and experiencing reality for what it is: simple, joyous, and full of beauty.
May tonight’s concert be a first step towards such a life.
Performers
Vicki Ray |
Known for thoughtful and innovative programming which seeks to redefine the piano recital in the 21st century, Vicki Ray's concerts often include electronics, video, recitation and improvisation. As noted by Alan Rich, “Vicki plans programs with a knack for marvelous freeform artistry…what she draws from her piano always relates in wondrous ways to the senses.” As a founding member of Piano Spheres, an acclaimed series dedicated to exploring the less familiar realms of the solo piano repertoire, her playing has been hailed by the Los Angeles Times for “displaying that kind of musical thoroughness and technical panache that puts a composer’s thoughts directly before the listener.” As a pianist who excels in a wide range of styles Vicki Ray’s numerous recordings cover everything from the premiere release of the Reich You Are Variations to the semi-improvised structures of Wadada Leo Smith, from the elegant serialism of Mel Powell to the austere beauty of Morton Feldman’s Crippled Symmetries. Recent releases include David Rosenboom’s Twilight Language on Tzadik Records and Feldman’s Piano and String Quartet with the Eclipse Quartet on Bridge Records. Her 2013 recording of Cage’s The Ten Thousand Things on the Microfest label was nominated for a Grammy. Ms. Ray’s work as a collaborative artist has been extremely diverse and colorful. She was the keyboardist in the California E.A.R. Unit and Xtet. Her chamber music contributions to the vibrant musical life in greater Los Angeles include frequent performances on the Dilijan, Jacaranda and Green Umbrella Series. She performs regularly on the venerable Monday Evening Concert series and was featured in Grisey’s Vortex Temporum on the 2006 celebration of the re-birth of the series. Vicki has been heard in major solo roles with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, the Los Angeles Master Chorale, the San Francisco Contemporary Music Players, the German ensemble Compania, and the Blue Rider Ensemble of Toronto, with whom she made the first Canadian recording of Pierrot Lunaire. She is currently head of the piano department at the California Institute of the Arts, where she has been on the faculty since 1991. In 2010 she was awarded the first Hal Blaine Chair in Music Performance. For the past eight years she has served on the faculty at the Bang on a Can summer festival at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art. |
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The Resonance Collective