Harmonica And The Art Of Soul Connection

I was on vacation last week. I went to a yoga place set in beautiful surroundings. I like yoga, but I'm just not feeling like it lately. I feel so un-stretchy and I didn't want to embarrass myself. But my wife loves yoga, and she wanted to go, and she's been feeling like I get my way all the time, so I went. The only workshop that interested me was harmonica. Zen and the art of harmonica.

It was an amazing workshop! I learned more than I could have possibly imagined in that week. I became a blues man for an afternoon, too! And I had one of those once in a lifetime kind of experiences.

On our last full day there, I saw that I had a message on my phone from my father. I knew he would only call for something important, so I knew my aunt had died. She had been dying from adrenal cancer and wasn't expected to last the week. I didn't listen to that message for several hours -- not until after dinner, but before our evening workshop.

During that workshop, we had the opportunity to jam with a partner, and all of a sudden, that moment happened -- the moment where I made an extraordinary connection with someone. We were totally open to each other, and willing to go wherever the other went and we went there with all our heart and souls. We left nothing behind. We just went. We weren't stopped by the people watching us. We had no thought for what they might think. The jam absorbed us completely. The harmonicas did the work. It was bliss and excitement and openness and play and fun and challenging and everything!

The music was, we were told later, completely captivating. Well, not just the music. It was us, too, and our relationship.
It was the sparks flying everywhere. It was the charge of the lightning -- more than we could hold -- it just burst out everywhere. I'm sure that if someone would have looked at our auras, they would have seen purple and blue and red and orange and yellow flames everywhere. They probably couldn't even have seen us through that veil of energy.

Totally blown away, I had no idea how to hold such a feeling in my life? I kept on asking myself, how does this fit in my life? Hell, how does it fit in life, period?

It's the kind of thing where you get a taste of that... that other world where we can fly and know and feel everything. Where our spirits are freed.

It has happened to me once before. Maybe two decades ago. It happened at a workshop performance like this one. A special place out of ordinary life. Then we left the next day, and I never saw her again. At least this time, we are writing. But I don't know. I don't know how to hold this in my life without following it, and yet honoring it for what it is.

I think it was my memory of my aunt inspiring me. I had the intention of mourning her as I went into this exercise. She gave me that. What a gift! I was inspired by a soul once before, too, but it was a person with a very different energy. This was my aunt! This was fire and brightness and excitement, and my partner -- probably possessed without even knowing it. My partner is a very open person, who seeks all kinds of experiences, and she would let such a thing happen.

But it really was my aunt in me, giving me the power to participate in this event and make it what it became. I'm so sorry she is gone. But I will always have her in my heart. I will always remember her energy, as I honored it the evening of the day she passed away. Oh God! I wish I could go there again.

But that's the nature of these things.You can't go back. A soul, once honored, has no more energy to give. One time only.
wundayatta wundayatta
56-60, M
7 Responses Jul 14, 2010

You volunteering? ;-)

Honestly, I've thought of this. I'd have a partner who would ask me a question about an event or a character. I'd write an answer, and then my partner would read it, and ask the next question. Going from question to question, I'd write a novel or a memoir or whatever.

Oh. Wow! You want me to think about that?!?<br />
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Well, I was stunned for a few moments, but then I realized I do have an answer. Their story must hold together. Not just their story, but their meta-story. Like, there could be a person whose story doesn't hold together -- but it makes sense for it not to hold together because they are lying.<br />
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So if a person acts consistently, I believe a personality is real. They have to behave in similar ways from day to day, instance to instance. They must keep to the same story, not forgetting they said one thing and saying a different thing later. Their stories must have details. Details you can't make up, even if you are one of the best fiction authors.<br />
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They should have consistency of approach to life. Maintain points of view unless there is a clear reason to change them. <br />
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There's more, but it all follows this. And like I said, it's the surface story and the sub-story. The surface must have the same relationship to the underlying story all the time. Lying is ok on the surface (it doesn't disqualify a character from personhood), just so long as this is a person for whom lying makes sense.<br />
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And so on.... (ran out of steam -- need another question)

I guess. It's not real. I have never been good at imagining people I want to talk to. I want to talk to real people. Or what passes for real, these days;-) I guess it has to do with believing in a person in order to write to or for them. I don't believe in the characters I create. What do I care what they want? They aren't sufficiently different from myself to be real.<br />
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I have no preconceived notions about who will read or listen. It's all kind of interactive. I write and I get a response. Without response, I don't write. Writing and responding to myself doesn't grok. Maybe if I were some other author, I could create characters and have them talk to each other. But I can't create them and have them talk to me and have it mean anything. Even if I'm imagining someone else, we both know exactly what the other will say. It seems like there's no point.

I've tried to do that. It's really odd. I just can't find questions that interest me. There must be some sort of obvious reason for this, but I am unable to do that in a way that interests me.

You know that cliche about how easy it is to write? Just open a vein and let it bleed?<br />
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I find that three things allow me to do that: anonymity, readers and questions. When I am anonymous then I can talk about what is really important. I can talk about all of my thoughts and feelings, because no one can reach me if they hate me. <br />
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Readers are important -- real ones. I write to people. I can not write to an imagined reader. You would think I could because we are always imagining other people -- especially the ones we know, but I need to believe totally in the reality of the person I am writing to. So at places like EP, there are so many other people who have written stories, and mine are written to those people.<br />
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It is even more helpful when the people I am writing to ask me questions. I can see my experience in light of their questions and I can explore that experience and learn more about it because I am framing it in terms of how it relates to the question I was asked. Thus I can write the same story over and over, should I choose, if different people ask me different questions about it.

This is the second time it's happened to me. I have had other, less wide bandwidth connections -- mostly during dance and music situations. Those are very valuable, and are very satisfying. They don't happen often, but a lot more often than the experience I described here. Like several times a year, lately. Well, when I was sick, not so much.<br />
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But this kind of connection -- it's happened only twice, and each time in very specific kinds of situations, and each time with someone I didn't know. I think that's part of it -- not knowing and then suddenly opening up full throttle, with absolute trust of someone you don't know anything about. I suspect that a desire to know this other person, hitherto unspoken, is important.<br />
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The one time only was really referring to my aunt's soul. I don't think I will catch her particular energy like that again. I had an experience like this when my band leader died. The next time I played, I played for him, and it was his energy that made me wail. And people definitely noticed. <br />
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Now, maybe if I tried to do it again, I could, but I think that in the process of mourning, there is one time when you are most fully into it, and thereafter, it gets less and less powerful, until the loss pain levels off. So I really think this energy that drove this experience can only be there once. This is not to say that the kind of experience I had can't be felt again under different circumstances.<br />
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Now, I'm not sure I want that again. It's a lot to take in, and it is confusing my emotions a lot. It's again an issue of how to love more than one person at a time, and what to do with that. I think there are different kinds of love, and sometimes they are naturally contained and sometimes one has to forcibly contain them. <br />
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This sounds kind of horrible. Who wants to contain love? But we have to contain some manifestations of it, because most people believe that kind of love is only for one other person. Some people probably believe that any of what I experienced should have been stopped. One should only have such experiences with a significant other. We should be responsible to all people involved, not just the two of us. Because our actions affect so many others, love has to be contained, along with many other actions and feelings.