There's nothing "casual" about being nominated for a Grammy. Yes, it's my 6th nomination but still, the anticipation and excitement doesn't really diminish at all. If there's one thing that I've learned in being nominated and in life in general, the best thing about it is the inner experience of it. It's very personal and almost private. I've learned in my life that it's what I know and feel that it most important, not what someone else has to say about it. In fact, I've even noticed that I have a more complete and fulfilling experience of some things when I just keep it to myself. It's like watching a sunset or sunrise, or having the best glass of wine or some kind of inner revelation. Of course it's often fun to share that with someone, but the experience, the visual, the taste, the chain of thoughts leading to a profound realization are one's own and very personal. And like a lot of things, the experience doesn't really get any better in describing it. It actually takes on even less dimension, less depth and space. You can't really convey the experience of a great glass of wine by describing it, you can't recreate the feeling you experienced by explaining the chain of events or thoughts that led you to an epiphany. Some things are best left unspoken, unqualified and unquantified.
Of course I tell whoever I want about being nominated for a Grammy. I post it on my Facebook profile, tweet it and send an email to my friends and fan base. But . . . for me the sweetest thing about it is just savoring the moment, the inner experience. Just to be with my Self. Feeling the honor and acknowledgement that it represents, fully letting it in and embracing it. Letting it soften me just a little more, giving myself just a little more permission to be just "me" musically and creatively . . . and then . . . perhaps just a wee bit too soon . . . I take out the trash, empty the dishwasher and make my son's lunch for school and my life goes on. Because, as the buddhist saying goes . . . "Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop would, carry water." I'm not equating a Grammy nomination with enlightenment really. I'm just pointing out that it IS the "every day" and moment to moment experiences that we live, create and perceive that gives us the opportunity to truly experience a life of meaning and presence. If we don't wake up in the morning curious about what the day may bring, eager to watch the sun rise and make it's way up sky and back down the other side and be present with all the little moments and experiences that fill space and time along the way, then all the awards and acknowledgments won't make your life any more the sweeter. Oh, and by the way . . . the Sun doesn't rise or set. It's the earth spinning on it's axis that gives the illusion of the sun rising and setting. It's our proximity on the earth that moves closer to and farther away from the sun at a speed of just over 1,000 miles per hour that determines what part of the day or night we're experiencing. I like to think about that when I'm watching the sunrise or sunset. It's different and gives my mind an interesting twist. Funny how an awareness of reality can be so contradictory to the way we usually perceive things.
Having explained above how I know that it's the simple things in life that create a life worth living, now, let me try and describe my experience of receiving this nomination. I was aware of the exact time that they were going to post this years nominations on the Grammy.com website. I had done a pretty good job of NOT thinking about the upcoming nominations 2-3 weeks prior. Whenever it would cross my mind I'd get the little electrical jolt from my chest down to my stomach and then I'd put the thought out of my mind because I really couldn't deal with it. And I did honestly think I stood a decent chance of getting nominated because my album with Dominic Miller, IN A DREAM, really is one of my best (I think). But about 45 minutes before the announcment time which was to be about 7pm PST I started to feel extremely anxious. I was watching the clock and time was slowing down to a snails crawl. I decided to make some soup to keep myself occupied. I started chopping vegetables, sauteing onions etc. paying special attention to stay focussed and present so as not to cut my fingers before my upcoming concert in Boulder that coming weekend. My mind was still thinking about it pretty often but at least I was doing something constructive and useful. Right at 7pm PST I went to my computer to go to wwww.grammy.com to look it up. My 4 year old son saw me go to my computer and ran over and wanted me to print him out some coloring pages. I wanted to see if I was nominated or not, but he felt very strongly that he wanted me to print out some pictures for him to color in. I thought about it for a second and opted to satisfy his needs first because at least then he be happy and I'd be free to experience whatever I had to experience. So I printed him out a couple pages and we was happy and running off to color them in, then I finally went to the site. As I saw the site come up on my computer the wave of anticipation came pounding down on me in a huge way. Suddenly I felt so overwhelmed it became hard to even think straight or really comprehend what I was seeing on my computer screen. I was looking for a little sentence like "See Grammy Nominations List Here" but couldn't find it. Then suddenly i noticed that there was a whole big square bar that had the announcement link which I then clicked on immediately. Then there was a list of all the different Fields and Categories and I went straight to New Age. And there it was. "In A Dream" by Peter Kater, Dominic Miller, Jaques Morelenbaum and Kenny Loggins. WoooHuuu!
Oh boy, that felt good. I yelled to my wife Gabrielle, "We're going to the Grammys!!" Then I looked to see who else was nominated in my Category. My long time friend David Darling, an amazing cellist, is nominated for his Prayer For Compassion CD. I was so excited to see his name. His music (his solo works and his early work with the Paul Winter Consort) has been an inspiration to me literally for decades. Plus I'm fortunate enough to have had David play on many of my own albums. And Kitaro is nominated as well. I don't know him as well as David Darling but we've shared sushi on more than one occasion and enjoy running into each other at events. I immediately felt proud and extremely honored to be sharing the nominations with these two extraordinary musicians. Jim Brickman is also nominated, but honestly I'm not very familiar with his work and I don't know of the 5th person at all. I immediately sent David an email congratulating him for his nomination and really felt only joy and happiness to be sharing it with him. Of course, I'd love to win the Grammy but if David or Kitaro win I'd be happy for them because they truly deserve the acknowledgment for their very impressive and creative body of work and talents.
Next was my phone call to Dominic Miller and tell him the good news. Dominic was in NY at the time (his home is currently in France) rehearsing and doing concerts with Sting (as he has done for most of the last 20 years or so). He answered his cell phone right away and I said "Congratulations!!". He knew what I was talking about because we spoke earlier that day about another matter he knew that we'd be finding out that evening. He said "We got a Grammy Nomination??". He was very excited and proud. We talked for quite a while. Excited about going to the Grammys and looking forward to our next project together. Next was to let Kenny and Jaques know. Both were also very happy with the news. Kenny's last nomination and win was for his collaborative "Song of the Year - What A Fool Believes" with Michael McDonald. As Sting has said "Music is it's own reward". So true indeed. Sharing the creative process with Dominic, Kenny and Jaques has truly been a wonderful honor and gift. And to crown the experience of making a beautiful recording with a Grammy Award nomination is really very sweet and slightly intoxicating. Does it make the Sunrise or Sunset any more brilliant? No, not really. But it does give me a sense that, yes, it is okay to follow my instincts and intuition, to create music that really appeals to my personal taste and to branch out and collaborate with artists that I admire. It's like a big "YES" from my peers and the Universe in general. The gift is really just to be a musician and share my music with those who would listen, but you know . . . I've never held one of those shiny little grammophone statues and would love see what it looks like on top of one of my studio monitors. I guess we'll see!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Deep Listening
I began this tour with Dominic Miller not really knowing what to expect. Dominic arrived on Maui just 3 days before our first concert. After a short period of rest we dove right into rehearsing. We chose 4 songs from our album, IN A DREAM, and several of our individual songs that we could collaborate and improvise on. Neither one of us had played any of the material from our album since recording it almost a year ago. And as beautiful as the album is, I wasn't sure how it was going to hold up in a live concert situation. Neither one of us liked to "rehearse" but everyday we worked on the songs for a few rounds when not recording for our new album and while preparing for an almost a full day of video shooting for a docu/film that I feel compelled to make. Plus I was also trying to show Dominic some of the beauty and wonder of Maui. So, needless to say, we had a lot on our plates.
Initially I felt some pressure (self imposed) to try and play really "good" and be "creative". I mean, come on . . . the last gig Dominic did a few days before arriving on Maui was with Sting in Quebec in front of 120,000 people. And Dominic's recent album, yet to be released, is produced by one of my all time favorite producers, Hugh Padgham. So, if there was ever a situation where I'd feel some pressure to be creative, this would be it I've long given talks and workshops on "creativity" and how "listening" really needs to be at the core of any creative endeavor. This was good opportunity to practice my own teachings.
I've worked with many very talented musicians through the course of my career. And I've felt varying degrees of satisfaction from the interaction of performing live with them. In playing solo concerts, one focuses on connecting with one's inner or "essential" self and expressing what's there without agenda, judgement or expectation. However, In performing with another musician, one connects first to one's inner space and THEN communicates from that place with another musician and has a sort of musical conversation that is "real", honest and responsive. Dominic shares my "deep listening" philosophy about music and I was actually quite surprised at how similar our concepts and approaches to "creativity" are. In rehearsal there was a great deal of "getting to know you" and creating an intimate and trusting sanctuary. We felt we were just barely prepared enough for the first concert on Maui.
I've had a lot of experience improvising live with other musicians. But I had no idea just how intimate and present two musicians could be with each other on stage until our first concert together. From the very beginning of the evening it became clear to me that performing with Dominic was going to be different than anything I had yet experienced in my long musical history and a completely new beginning of my creative life. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to experience and no one could have explained to me what it would feel like. Just as you cannot know what it feels like to be a parent until you have a child I could not know, until experiencing it, what was possible between two musicians live onstage.
The degree of trust, listening and openness that Dominic (and I) were willing to "BE" with was something I had never felt with another musician before. It's not that we trusted each other's musical expertise, chops or talent. It's that we trusted that we would fully be ourselves and that we would be completely present with and listen deeply as we offered each other one melody, phrase, question and response, after another. We nurtured the awareness and trust that we could ONLY be ourselves, nothing less and nothing more. I'm not talking about our "ego" selves, but instead our deeper soul- connected essential selves. And within that connection, all was possible. And every night there were mistakes and every night there were moments of pure magic, but there were never any compromise as to who we are. It was intensely personal and intimate and at the same time it wasn't even about us. It was about the integrity and responsiveness to the music that was coming through us. I felt that I was performing and listening to a concert at the same time. I knew that whatever I said musically Dominic would embrace it and be fully himself in his response. There was never any right or wrong or power-play. Just varying degrees of connectedness, emotion, listening and letting go. And the reactions from people after our 8 concerts in 7 days confirmed that indeed we were participating in an intimacy that was very personal. It was thick in the room.
To be perfectly frank, in the beginning of my career in Boulder, Colorado in the mid 1980's I began playing with other musicians. With very few exceptions there was a great degree of competitiveness in the music scene in the Boulder/Denver area. A lot of ego flying around and a lot of musical "pissing" contests to see who had the best chops and could play the best solos, or had the most creative ideas and compositions. I was always very turned off by this and very disappointed that even people in my own bands (that I paid to rehearse and record with me) were competitive with me and let's say, less than supportive and straight forward at times. But I thought that was the way it was with "professional" musicians and I tolerated it for the pursuit of my creative vision. But as I began to play with more well-known and established musicians I noticed in most cases that the more secure an artist was in their own work and playing, the more supportive and open they were with other artists. There was more of the feeling of let's make this as great as possible because that's how it should be. Is it possible that the competitiveness and "pissing" contests were compensation for deeply insecure egos? Absolutely! And taking it even further when I moved to California I was again surprised that the majority of the musicians I came in contact with and worked with really didn't have ANY competitive attitude. I mean, everyone was trying to do their best work but it wasn't at the expense of some one else. The feeling was that we were all invested into helping each other fulfill our creative vision (and make a living). And even though our creative expressions were different, there wasn't that sense of comparing and judging. There was a deeper appreciation for the diversity and integrity of our art and quest for creative satisfaction while supporting our families.
Music and art in general is a very intimate and deeply personal expression of one's inner life and soul. I believe that music really originated and still primarily belongs in places of reflection and reverence. It was never meant to be weighed or judged or attributed a specific value or genre. Once again, Dominic and I shared this perspective of music and creative expression in general. In our times off stage, driving or flying to the next gig or having a meal after the concert we'd talk about whatever was on our minds. And even though we had our fair share of logistical conversing or discussing the meal, accommodations or weather, the majority of our time was consumed with exploring our common interests and questions about life, spirituality and music, which in most cases are one in the same. To play and listen to music is a gift and privledge that has great transformational potential. Art in it's purest form is a vehicle or tool for accessing the divine (within ourselves and within the Universe) and bringing us that much closer to our souls and the awareness and experience of the mystery and miracle of this life. It is a bridge between the mundane and the divine, from the severed ego to the "essential" whole self. Within "deep listening" we become more aware of ourselves, the mystery of this universe and the gift of this life. I'm grateful for the experience. A door has opened. And I love what I'm hearing.
Initially I felt some pressure (self imposed) to try and play really "good" and be "creative". I mean, come on . . . the last gig Dominic did a few days before arriving on Maui was with Sting in Quebec in front of 120,000 people. And Dominic's recent album, yet to be released, is produced by one of my all time favorite producers, Hugh Padgham. So, if there was ever a situation where I'd feel some pressure to be creative, this would be it I've long given talks and workshops on "creativity" and how "listening" really needs to be at the core of any creative endeavor. This was good opportunity to practice my own teachings.
I've worked with many very talented musicians through the course of my career. And I've felt varying degrees of satisfaction from the interaction of performing live with them. In playing solo concerts, one focuses on connecting with one's inner or "essential" self and expressing what's there without agenda, judgement or expectation. However, In performing with another musician, one connects first to one's inner space and THEN communicates from that place with another musician and has a sort of musical conversation that is "real", honest and responsive. Dominic shares my "deep listening" philosophy about music and I was actually quite surprised at how similar our concepts and approaches to "creativity" are. In rehearsal there was a great deal of "getting to know you" and creating an intimate and trusting sanctuary. We felt we were just barely prepared enough for the first concert on Maui.
I've had a lot of experience improvising live with other musicians. But I had no idea just how intimate and present two musicians could be with each other on stage until our first concert together. From the very beginning of the evening it became clear to me that performing with Dominic was going to be different than anything I had yet experienced in my long musical history and a completely new beginning of my creative life. Nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to experience and no one could have explained to me what it would feel like. Just as you cannot know what it feels like to be a parent until you have a child I could not know, until experiencing it, what was possible between two musicians live onstage.
The degree of trust, listening and openness that Dominic (and I) were willing to "BE" with was something I had never felt with another musician before. It's not that we trusted each other's musical expertise, chops or talent. It's that we trusted that we would fully be ourselves and that we would be completely present with and listen deeply as we offered each other one melody, phrase, question and response, after another. We nurtured the awareness and trust that we could ONLY be ourselves, nothing less and nothing more. I'm not talking about our "ego" selves, but instead our deeper soul- connected essential selves. And within that connection, all was possible. And every night there were mistakes and every night there were moments of pure magic, but there were never any compromise as to who we are. It was intensely personal and intimate and at the same time it wasn't even about us. It was about the integrity and responsiveness to the music that was coming through us. I felt that I was performing and listening to a concert at the same time. I knew that whatever I said musically Dominic would embrace it and be fully himself in his response. There was never any right or wrong or power-play. Just varying degrees of connectedness, emotion, listening and letting go. And the reactions from people after our 8 concerts in 7 days confirmed that indeed we were participating in an intimacy that was very personal. It was thick in the room.
To be perfectly frank, in the beginning of my career in Boulder, Colorado in the mid 1980's I began playing with other musicians. With very few exceptions there was a great degree of competitiveness in the music scene in the Boulder/Denver area. A lot of ego flying around and a lot of musical "pissing" contests to see who had the best chops and could play the best solos, or had the most creative ideas and compositions. I was always very turned off by this and very disappointed that even people in my own bands (that I paid to rehearse and record with me) were competitive with me and let's say, less than supportive and straight forward at times. But I thought that was the way it was with "professional" musicians and I tolerated it for the pursuit of my creative vision. But as I began to play with more well-known and established musicians I noticed in most cases that the more secure an artist was in their own work and playing, the more supportive and open they were with other artists. There was more of the feeling of let's make this as great as possible because that's how it should be. Is it possible that the competitiveness and "pissing" contests were compensation for deeply insecure egos? Absolutely! And taking it even further when I moved to California I was again surprised that the majority of the musicians I came in contact with and worked with really didn't have ANY competitive attitude. I mean, everyone was trying to do their best work but it wasn't at the expense of some one else. The feeling was that we were all invested into helping each other fulfill our creative vision (and make a living). And even though our creative expressions were different, there wasn't that sense of comparing and judging. There was a deeper appreciation for the diversity and integrity of our art and quest for creative satisfaction while supporting our families.
Music and art in general is a very intimate and deeply personal expression of one's inner life and soul. I believe that music really originated and still primarily belongs in places of reflection and reverence. It was never meant to be weighed or judged or attributed a specific value or genre. Once again, Dominic and I shared this perspective of music and creative expression in general. In our times off stage, driving or flying to the next gig or having a meal after the concert we'd talk about whatever was on our minds. And even though we had our fair share of logistical conversing or discussing the meal, accommodations or weather, the majority of our time was consumed with exploring our common interests and questions about life, spirituality and music, which in most cases are one in the same. To play and listen to music is a gift and privledge that has great transformational potential. Art in it's purest form is a vehicle or tool for accessing the divine (within ourselves and within the Universe) and bringing us that much closer to our souls and the awareness and experience of the mystery and miracle of this life. It is a bridge between the mundane and the divine, from the severed ego to the "essential" whole self. Within "deep listening" we become more aware of ourselves, the mystery of this universe and the gift of this life. I'm grateful for the experience. A door has opened. And I love what I'm hearing.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
July 2009 - Dark & Light
On my 18th Birthday my Mother lost her 2 year battle with cancer. She died that night at the young age of 38 years old. This left me relatively alone in my life (as far as immediate family) and also opened a huge door into what I call "the void", the birthplace of all creative potential. I lingered around New Jersey for another few months trying to come up with a plan. I couldn't bear the idea of staying in the town of my High School and my Mother's gradual decline. My Bavarian roots in the German & Austrian Alps birthed a curiosity into what the Colorado Rockies might hold for me. And songs from John Denver and Dan Fogelberg stirred my imagination as well.
In the middle of winter I set off on the road in my beat up old Buick La Sabre that I had bought 6 months earlier for $250. But it died in a blizzard over the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. I continued my journey, but I took the long route. I wound up hitch-hiking over 30,000 miles up and down and across the United States over the next year or so. I had no money, all my belongings (mostly music books and some clothes) fit in my backpack and I still had no "plan". Hitching west was tedious and lonely until after passing through Kansas City. Then suddenly the sky and my mind simultaneously burst open in a great panoramic expanse. There was nothing but nature to be seen from one end of the horizon to the other. And so began the next chapter of my journey. My sleeping bag and the roadside became my home, food became my only expense and luxury, and the road unraveled endlessly before me with a diverse and often dangerous cast of characters. What I did, experienced and learned on the road is a whole other story which I won't get into here. But I will say that it contained everything one might imagine, hope for and fear from a very long and spontaneous road trip.
At 19 years old I found myself in Boulder, Colorado. I was hired as the second pianist playing for a University of Colorado Theatre and Dance Department production. I was paid $50 for 10 weeks of rehearsals and performances. That's $5 per week. I guess that's why they call it a labor of love. It wasn't the money I was looking for anyway. I was looking for something to be a part of. I wanted to "belong". I slept in the foothills in the early fall in my sleeping bag, and as the weather got colder I slept in the bathrooms and dressing rooms of the Theater building until the Director found me out and invited me stay with him and his family at his mountain home for a period of time. After the production ended, so did my welcome at his home. I started to pick up a little extra money playing piano for dance classes and at some lounges and restaurants around town. Soon thereafter I felt very fortunate to rent a room in a basement apartment on "the hill" in Boulder with 4 other guys.
The entire apartment had dirt floors, a single small bathroom, kitchen, 4 small rooms and a boiler room (the dreaded 5th bedroom). We fondly called our apartment "The Pit" and it became known for it's unusual assemblage of musicians, spiritualists and transients. True Bohemia. We shared the $150 a month rent equally at $30 each and I considered myself fortunate to have my own back entrance and to not be sleeping in the boiler room. The guy who slept in there and would emerge every morning soaked in sweat, swearing off the night's heat. I, on the other hand, lived in relative luxury in comparison. I had my own hand made platform bed, sleeping bag, alter with candles, incense and fruit bowl and an old upright piano I was struggling to pay off. I had one tiny little window up on the top of my bed that looked up onto the alley and driveway that I covered in stained glass, creating my own private sanctuary. I loved my room in the Pit.
I spent a lot of my time reading spiritual books like Autobiography Of A Yogi, A Course In Miracles and the Bhagavad Gita. I regularly practiced Tai Chi, meditated, chanted, listened to Keith Jarrett, Paul Winter and Oregon albums and played the piano. Fasting was a good way to get thru those lean times plus it made meditating and chanting that much deeper of an experience. 10 day brown rice fasts were common for me in the cold months and 4 - 7 day water fasts in the warmer months where I would often meditate over 4 hours a day. I had no possessions other than my piano and didn't feel motivated to do much except to explore my present and my muse.
I would imagine that in reading this it would be easy to see this as a very simple and even esthetically pleasing lifestyle. I had no apparent responsibility or agenda. Even in writing this I'm amused at what a nice neat package it presents itself to be and how at this point in my life it sounds almost like a little retreat from the much more complex world I currently live in. But this recounting of my past wouldn't be accurate at all if I didn't interject at this point that I had an ever-present, urgent and intense inner longing to touch upon something that felt "real" and "essential" in my life. Something with content and permanence. I craved experiences and relations that were meaningful to me at the time and that could shed light on the deep feelings and sometimes unbearable aloneness that I experienced on a daily basis. This near anguishing and persistent inquisition into trying to understand not just my place in the world but also this culture and world's place in the universe, motivated everything I did or didn't do and in so many ways still does today.
One night during a longer fast I was sitting on the dirt floor of my room meditating when I noticed this high pitched ringing sound in my ear. I decided to "listen" to it. Then I noticed another lower sound and I decided to listen to it as well. As I continued to listen there gradually appeared more and more tones. I noticed that the more I listened, the more I heard. I also noticed that there were different sounds in different ears. I kept listening and kept expanding my sense of awareness and after a while I found myself immersed in a very deep experience of hearing the most amazingly beautiful atonal noise or sound that i could ever have imagined existed. It was everywhere. I was attentive and focused on it and consumed by it at the same time. It was a phenomenal opening experience that I returned to many times in my meditations for many years. I later found out that my experience was actually of something called the Celestial Harmonies or the Music of the Spheres. A mystical experience of a deeper dimension. The sound of the Universe. The "Word". Once again, another door into the void was opened within me. And this set the stage for the creative exploration which would drive me forward for a long time to come.
I learned that music, light, dark, life and all creation simply exist. That we are creation living within creation. I also learned that to truly witness or experience creation and ourselves within creation we need to slow down, unravel, stop and listen. We need to empty ourselves of our thoughts, beliefs, desires, pains AND triumphs. We need to let go of our concepts of duality, of light and dark; of expanded and contracted and just sit with that sometimes awkward and uncomfortable emptiness that we try and avoid, sometimes for our whole lives long. We, as a culture are always trying to fill ourselves with people and things. Sometimes it's obvious that we try and fill ourselves with anything just to distract ourselves from something else, like a deeper, less comfortable feeling. What if we stopped trying to "fill" all the time and started to "empty". What if we let go of whatever thought, idea or longing that we thought was so important? And then, what if we just allowed that space or void to be there? In my experience, in so doing we've created a void. We become in some ways an empty "container" that in so being sends out an invitation to the "divine" or "essence" to fill this intimate space within us. This is the raw potential or experience of Creation. This is the courtship and dance between the void (emptiness or darkness) with creation (energy or light). And through that experience of emptying and allowing ourselves to be filled, we are forever changed. And this, as human beings and artists, is what we have the opportunity to share and express.
There are many of us filled with this experience. Some are musicians or artists. Some are authors and speakers. And some are teachers by example and simply touch family and friends from this essential place. I've been fortunate enough to know many musicians, artists and humanitarians that travel within this precious experience. But what we often forget is that truly knowing and embracing ourselves is a process that involves light and dark, energy and emptiness, beginnings and endings, joy and sadness. There cannot be one without the other. And without both there cannot be wholeness. The affinity and dependency of darkness and light is true primordial love. It is the passion from which we were conceived and the devotion through which we will dissolve. All that exists is the consequence of this enchantment . . . this eternal balance of dark and light. www.peterkater.com
In the middle of winter I set off on the road in my beat up old Buick La Sabre that I had bought 6 months earlier for $250. But it died in a blizzard over the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. I continued my journey, but I took the long route. I wound up hitch-hiking over 30,000 miles up and down and across the United States over the next year or so. I had no money, all my belongings (mostly music books and some clothes) fit in my backpack and I still had no "plan". Hitching west was tedious and lonely until after passing through Kansas City. Then suddenly the sky and my mind simultaneously burst open in a great panoramic expanse. There was nothing but nature to be seen from one end of the horizon to the other. And so began the next chapter of my journey. My sleeping bag and the roadside became my home, food became my only expense and luxury, and the road unraveled endlessly before me with a diverse and often dangerous cast of characters. What I did, experienced and learned on the road is a whole other story which I won't get into here. But I will say that it contained everything one might imagine, hope for and fear from a very long and spontaneous road trip.
At 19 years old I found myself in Boulder, Colorado. I was hired as the second pianist playing for a University of Colorado Theatre and Dance Department production. I was paid $50 for 10 weeks of rehearsals and performances. That's $5 per week. I guess that's why they call it a labor of love. It wasn't the money I was looking for anyway. I was looking for something to be a part of. I wanted to "belong". I slept in the foothills in the early fall in my sleeping bag, and as the weather got colder I slept in the bathrooms and dressing rooms of the Theater building until the Director found me out and invited me stay with him and his family at his mountain home for a period of time. After the production ended, so did my welcome at his home. I started to pick up a little extra money playing piano for dance classes and at some lounges and restaurants around town. Soon thereafter I felt very fortunate to rent a room in a basement apartment on "the hill" in Boulder with 4 other guys.
The entire apartment had dirt floors, a single small bathroom, kitchen, 4 small rooms and a boiler room (the dreaded 5th bedroom). We fondly called our apartment "The Pit" and it became known for it's unusual assemblage of musicians, spiritualists and transients. True Bohemia. We shared the $150 a month rent equally at $30 each and I considered myself fortunate to have my own back entrance and to not be sleeping in the boiler room. The guy who slept in there and would emerge every morning soaked in sweat, swearing off the night's heat. I, on the other hand, lived in relative luxury in comparison. I had my own hand made platform bed, sleeping bag, alter with candles, incense and fruit bowl and an old upright piano I was struggling to pay off. I had one tiny little window up on the top of my bed that looked up onto the alley and driveway that I covered in stained glass, creating my own private sanctuary. I loved my room in the Pit.
I spent a lot of my time reading spiritual books like Autobiography Of A Yogi, A Course In Miracles and the Bhagavad Gita. I regularly practiced Tai Chi, meditated, chanted, listened to Keith Jarrett, Paul Winter and Oregon albums and played the piano. Fasting was a good way to get thru those lean times plus it made meditating and chanting that much deeper of an experience. 10 day brown rice fasts were common for me in the cold months and 4 - 7 day water fasts in the warmer months where I would often meditate over 4 hours a day. I had no possessions other than my piano and didn't feel motivated to do much except to explore my present and my muse.
I would imagine that in reading this it would be easy to see this as a very simple and even esthetically pleasing lifestyle. I had no apparent responsibility or agenda. Even in writing this I'm amused at what a nice neat package it presents itself to be and how at this point in my life it sounds almost like a little retreat from the much more complex world I currently live in. But this recounting of my past wouldn't be accurate at all if I didn't interject at this point that I had an ever-present, urgent and intense inner longing to touch upon something that felt "real" and "essential" in my life. Something with content and permanence. I craved experiences and relations that were meaningful to me at the time and that could shed light on the deep feelings and sometimes unbearable aloneness that I experienced on a daily basis. This near anguishing and persistent inquisition into trying to understand not just my place in the world but also this culture and world's place in the universe, motivated everything I did or didn't do and in so many ways still does today.
One night during a longer fast I was sitting on the dirt floor of my room meditating when I noticed this high pitched ringing sound in my ear. I decided to "listen" to it. Then I noticed another lower sound and I decided to listen to it as well. As I continued to listen there gradually appeared more and more tones. I noticed that the more I listened, the more I heard. I also noticed that there were different sounds in different ears. I kept listening and kept expanding my sense of awareness and after a while I found myself immersed in a very deep experience of hearing the most amazingly beautiful atonal noise or sound that i could ever have imagined existed. It was everywhere. I was attentive and focused on it and consumed by it at the same time. It was a phenomenal opening experience that I returned to many times in my meditations for many years. I later found out that my experience was actually of something called the Celestial Harmonies or the Music of the Spheres. A mystical experience of a deeper dimension. The sound of the Universe. The "Word". Once again, another door into the void was opened within me. And this set the stage for the creative exploration which would drive me forward for a long time to come.
I learned that music, light, dark, life and all creation simply exist. That we are creation living within creation. I also learned that to truly witness or experience creation and ourselves within creation we need to slow down, unravel, stop and listen. We need to empty ourselves of our thoughts, beliefs, desires, pains AND triumphs. We need to let go of our concepts of duality, of light and dark; of expanded and contracted and just sit with that sometimes awkward and uncomfortable emptiness that we try and avoid, sometimes for our whole lives long. We, as a culture are always trying to fill ourselves with people and things. Sometimes it's obvious that we try and fill ourselves with anything just to distract ourselves from something else, like a deeper, less comfortable feeling. What if we stopped trying to "fill" all the time and started to "empty". What if we let go of whatever thought, idea or longing that we thought was so important? And then, what if we just allowed that space or void to be there? In my experience, in so doing we've created a void. We become in some ways an empty "container" that in so being sends out an invitation to the "divine" or "essence" to fill this intimate space within us. This is the raw potential or experience of Creation. This is the courtship and dance between the void (emptiness or darkness) with creation (energy or light). And through that experience of emptying and allowing ourselves to be filled, we are forever changed. And this, as human beings and artists, is what we have the opportunity to share and express.
There are many of us filled with this experience. Some are musicians or artists. Some are authors and speakers. And some are teachers by example and simply touch family and friends from this essential place. I've been fortunate enough to know many musicians, artists and humanitarians that travel within this precious experience. But what we often forget is that truly knowing and embracing ourselves is a process that involves light and dark, energy and emptiness, beginnings and endings, joy and sadness. There cannot be one without the other. And without both there cannot be wholeness. The affinity and dependency of darkness and light is true primordial love. It is the passion from which we were conceived and the devotion through which we will dissolve. All that exists is the consequence of this enchantment . . . this eternal balance of dark and light. www.peterkater.com
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Something Sacred . . . Something Free.
I headed out on my paddle board one morning several weeks ago looking for . . . an experience. The ocean and winds were calm so I ventured further out than normal and probably further than would have been advisable given that the sun had not yet risen and I was the only one on the water as far as I could see. But I REALLY wanted . . . an experience. I paddled for a while, breathing deeply into the fears that sometimes surfaced in my mind and stomach. Fears about sharks and unexpected winds and my own vulnerability and mortality. As soon as one set of inner "disturbances" or "ripples" of fear dispersed, another surfaced. But I kept breathing into them and relaxing my body and mind as I did so. I kept breathing, waiting patiently for enough layers of my thoughts to disintegrate so that I could simply be "present". And finally this thought surfaced . . . " but I'm so far from shore ". That struck me as an obvious but interesting thought to have. And I looked down at my feet standing on top of my beautiful red striped board and I thought . . . "but I am HERE, standing on my board!". Life isn't on the shore. Life isn't elsewhere. It's here. Like it or not, where ever we go, there we are. And I was here, simply standing on my board, holding my paddle, somewhere out on the ocean. And that is all. This was the last of my distracting thoughts for that morning. And finally . . . I was present, simply looking for an experience.
But what kind of experience? What was it that I was so hungry for? I asked myself what was missing inside of myself that I was searching for somewhere out here on the ocean, alone, so early in the morning? And the thought occurred to me . . . "something sacred . . . something free". I wanted to touch on something that was intrinsically itself. Something completely free and wild. Something that was not defined by it's productivity or assigned some relative value or worth based on what it did or didn't do. Something that didn't need to practice . . . "being". I wanted an experience that could remind and reconnect me with the essential part of my self that existed since my conception and still lives beneath all the concepts, ideals and values that have been layered and layered upon me from the moment I took my first breath. I wanted to experience the part of me that transcends even the loftiest and most well-meaning of spiritual aspirations. Spiritual ideals, values, concepts, revelations and breakthroughs are merely vehicles to guide and transport us to a place where they are no longer useful or relevant. I wanted to experience something sacred, something free.
I wanted to feel true freedom. A wanted to experience my essence. A place where if one tries to determine how one got there or define where that is, "it" simply dissolves back into the mystery that "it" emerged from. Didn't you ever have the experience where for one reason or another you find yourself in a higher state of being or oneness and then as soon as you start comparing it to other "lesser" or denser states of being or you start thinking about how you want to stay here in this ego-less place for as long as possible, then with that thought you find your beautiful "space" slipping away back into the confines of duality? Any thoughts or rational thinking of what our experience of true essence and presence may look or feel like are often just distractions and obstacles to experiencing the real thing. We can "Om" and "affirm" all we want but until we throw our spiritual concepts and emotional attachments away we're still going be just "Oming" and "Affirming". It's like we can swing on that swing over and over again until we go higher and higher, but then if we don't jump off that swing at just the right time and soar through the air, then we're just clinging to a rope tied to a tree (which is nice, for a little while).
We hug our concepts and beliefs close to ourselves like a favorite soft blanket, protecting us from the cold. We hug it so close we don't even realize that we've blanketed our eyes and hearts as well. Even the most comforting, well meaning and loving thoughts and intentions can blind and separate us from what is present and right in front of us. It's like we forget that we needed the blanket and snow boots when it was winter. And then we wanted the umbrella when it was raining. And now we're still walking around carrying our boots, blanket, umbrella (and God knows what else we're lugging around) that helped us get here. But for me I'm realizing that "here" is very different than "anywhere" I've ever been so far in my life. And being "here" is requiring a lot more breathing and letting go. We can't take all our "knowing" with us to a new place! We can't wrap all our "knowing" around us and then expect to be touched by a greater experience of "wonderment" or awe! True inspiration doesn't come from any place of "knowing"! And any experience of "grace" can't survive an inquisition or desire to define and sustain it. You have to be willing to go along for the ride with all your heart and all your faith until your mind just can't take it longer and grabs hold of the steering wheel, to be once again, in control.
I started paddling out on my board hugging my identity, concepts, fears and aspirations close to me. And one by one I dropped them into the ocean and they submerged. I became more and more vulnerable and present as I disarmed myself of my illusion of protection and separateness. And there I stood alone, just me and my board about a mile or more off shore watching the sunrise shimmering brightly over the distant mountain ridge. And then I heard it. The sound of a huge, wet exhale. The sound of water and air spraying out with one giant breath into the atmosphere. Compared to the quiet lapping of water on my board this new sound was like a freight train blowing it's whistle into the night. And I then I heard it again and I turned to look and find it. And there I saw it! It's dark long back, rolling up surfacing out across the water and then, many yards later, rolling back down into the ocean. It rolled and rolled, submerging very slowly for many long seconds. It looked like a giant sea serpent from some mythological fairytale. It's body was maybe 40ft. to 50ft. long and it's huge tail fins were wider than the full length of my board. Sliding and slicing through the water until the while completely submerged with a playful SLAP of it's tail fin! This beautiful humpback whale, less than 30 ft. away, was now heading directly towards me!
I dropped to my hands and knees on my board now looking for more stability. It was once again quiet. Very quiet. For several minutes again there was that sense of just me out there on top of the water. But now, not alone. In fact, I had tons of company, literally. This is what I was looking for! First an encounter with myself and then with a living breathing ambassador for something sacred, something free. A mascot of my inherent desire and right to freedom. A giant symbol of the "unknown" from a world I can only peer into for a few seconds at a time. A creature that is so foreign to the world I live in and so free from the goals and aspirations of the culture that I've adopted and invested most of my life into, but yet, at this moment we share the same water and breathe the same air. Literally occupying the same space in time. Well, almost. It's more like we peek at each other for a few seconds at a time thru the thin but substantial veils that separate us.
It finally surfaced again on the other side of my board and was now heading away from me. It must have swam underneath me. Then, with more blind enthusiasm and fearless motivation than I had felt in a long long time, I jumped to my feet and paddled hard and deep after my new found ocean companion. I hoped that I could keep up for at least a few minutes before it decided to disappear into the ocean again. I did manage to keep up with it, or it allowed me to, I'm not sure which. I felt it's salty spray on my face and saw it's huge amazing body slice and dance thru the water over and over again. And in-between paddling hard to keep up with it I also sat patiently, quietly, many times, waiting for it to resurface again for the air that we both shared. In some ways the waiting and listening was my favorite part of the journey. The air was shrouded in mystery and anticipation. The quiet was as rich, thick and poignant as it could possibly be. I submerged my head into the water to listen to it's whale song and couldn't believe how loud and clear it was. What a beautiful contrast to the quiet on the surface. The whale surfaced and submerged a dozen times or more on it's way south before heading further out to sea. The journey lasted for about 30 to 40 minutes and finally it was time for me to head back to shore. I had gone as far out to sea as my mind could tolerate. But I was completely moved by the grace of the animal and humbled by it's magnificence. And something about it's very existence that had me spell bound. I didn't want to let it go, but our worlds were calling us in two different directions and I had to return to solid ground.
But I had my experience, my encounter. I found something sacred, something free and spent a long time with it. And as I paddled slowly in towards shore, often looking behind me and listening to every ripple in the ocean and every breath of wind, I hoped to bring something of that experience back to the land, to my life. Perhaps to allow just a little more perspective and a little more freedom in the world of solidity and structure. But regardless of what the day had in store for me, for now I was enlivened, inspired and rejuvenated. I experienced a brief yet satisfying allay of my deep lifelong thirst for something sacred, something free. And I was, for now . . . content. (End Part 1)
But what kind of experience? What was it that I was so hungry for? I asked myself what was missing inside of myself that I was searching for somewhere out here on the ocean, alone, so early in the morning? And the thought occurred to me . . . "something sacred . . . something free". I wanted to touch on something that was intrinsically itself. Something completely free and wild. Something that was not defined by it's productivity or assigned some relative value or worth based on what it did or didn't do. Something that didn't need to practice . . . "being". I wanted an experience that could remind and reconnect me with the essential part of my self that existed since my conception and still lives beneath all the concepts, ideals and values that have been layered and layered upon me from the moment I took my first breath. I wanted to experience the part of me that transcends even the loftiest and most well-meaning of spiritual aspirations. Spiritual ideals, values, concepts, revelations and breakthroughs are merely vehicles to guide and transport us to a place where they are no longer useful or relevant. I wanted to experience something sacred, something free.
I wanted to feel true freedom. A wanted to experience my essence. A place where if one tries to determine how one got there or define where that is, "it" simply dissolves back into the mystery that "it" emerged from. Didn't you ever have the experience where for one reason or another you find yourself in a higher state of being or oneness and then as soon as you start comparing it to other "lesser" or denser states of being or you start thinking about how you want to stay here in this ego-less place for as long as possible, then with that thought you find your beautiful "space" slipping away back into the confines of duality? Any thoughts or rational thinking of what our experience of true essence and presence may look or feel like are often just distractions and obstacles to experiencing the real thing. We can "Om" and "affirm" all we want but until we throw our spiritual concepts and emotional attachments away we're still going be just "Oming" and "Affirming". It's like we can swing on that swing over and over again until we go higher and higher, but then if we don't jump off that swing at just the right time and soar through the air, then we're just clinging to a rope tied to a tree (which is nice, for a little while).
We hug our concepts and beliefs close to ourselves like a favorite soft blanket, protecting us from the cold. We hug it so close we don't even realize that we've blanketed our eyes and hearts as well. Even the most comforting, well meaning and loving thoughts and intentions can blind and separate us from what is present and right in front of us. It's like we forget that we needed the blanket and snow boots when it was winter. And then we wanted the umbrella when it was raining. And now we're still walking around carrying our boots, blanket, umbrella (and God knows what else we're lugging around) that helped us get here. But for me I'm realizing that "here" is very different than "anywhere" I've ever been so far in my life. And being "here" is requiring a lot more breathing and letting go. We can't take all our "knowing" with us to a new place! We can't wrap all our "knowing" around us and then expect to be touched by a greater experience of "wonderment" or awe! True inspiration doesn't come from any place of "knowing"! And any experience of "grace" can't survive an inquisition or desire to define and sustain it. You have to be willing to go along for the ride with all your heart and all your faith until your mind just can't take it longer and grabs hold of the steering wheel, to be once again, in control.
I started paddling out on my board hugging my identity, concepts, fears and aspirations close to me. And one by one I dropped them into the ocean and they submerged. I became more and more vulnerable and present as I disarmed myself of my illusion of protection and separateness. And there I stood alone, just me and my board about a mile or more off shore watching the sunrise shimmering brightly over the distant mountain ridge. And then I heard it. The sound of a huge, wet exhale. The sound of water and air spraying out with one giant breath into the atmosphere. Compared to the quiet lapping of water on my board this new sound was like a freight train blowing it's whistle into the night. And I then I heard it again and I turned to look and find it. And there I saw it! It's dark long back, rolling up surfacing out across the water and then, many yards later, rolling back down into the ocean. It rolled and rolled, submerging very slowly for many long seconds. It looked like a giant sea serpent from some mythological fairytale. It's body was maybe 40ft. to 50ft. long and it's huge tail fins were wider than the full length of my board. Sliding and slicing through the water until the while completely submerged with a playful SLAP of it's tail fin! This beautiful humpback whale, less than 30 ft. away, was now heading directly towards me!
I dropped to my hands and knees on my board now looking for more stability. It was once again quiet. Very quiet. For several minutes again there was that sense of just me out there on top of the water. But now, not alone. In fact, I had tons of company, literally. This is what I was looking for! First an encounter with myself and then with a living breathing ambassador for something sacred, something free. A mascot of my inherent desire and right to freedom. A giant symbol of the "unknown" from a world I can only peer into for a few seconds at a time. A creature that is so foreign to the world I live in and so free from the goals and aspirations of the culture that I've adopted and invested most of my life into, but yet, at this moment we share the same water and breathe the same air. Literally occupying the same space in time. Well, almost. It's more like we peek at each other for a few seconds at a time thru the thin but substantial veils that separate us.
It finally surfaced again on the other side of my board and was now heading away from me. It must have swam underneath me. Then, with more blind enthusiasm and fearless motivation than I had felt in a long long time, I jumped to my feet and paddled hard and deep after my new found ocean companion. I hoped that I could keep up for at least a few minutes before it decided to disappear into the ocean again. I did manage to keep up with it, or it allowed me to, I'm not sure which. I felt it's salty spray on my face and saw it's huge amazing body slice and dance thru the water over and over again. And in-between paddling hard to keep up with it I also sat patiently, quietly, many times, waiting for it to resurface again for the air that we both shared. In some ways the waiting and listening was my favorite part of the journey. The air was shrouded in mystery and anticipation. The quiet was as rich, thick and poignant as it could possibly be. I submerged my head into the water to listen to it's whale song and couldn't believe how loud and clear it was. What a beautiful contrast to the quiet on the surface. The whale surfaced and submerged a dozen times or more on it's way south before heading further out to sea. The journey lasted for about 30 to 40 minutes and finally it was time for me to head back to shore. I had gone as far out to sea as my mind could tolerate. But I was completely moved by the grace of the animal and humbled by it's magnificence. And something about it's very existence that had me spell bound. I didn't want to let it go, but our worlds were calling us in two different directions and I had to return to solid ground.
But I had my experience, my encounter. I found something sacred, something free and spent a long time with it. And as I paddled slowly in towards shore, often looking behind me and listening to every ripple in the ocean and every breath of wind, I hoped to bring something of that experience back to the land, to my life. Perhaps to allow just a little more perspective and a little more freedom in the world of solidity and structure. But regardless of what the day had in store for me, for now I was enlivened, inspired and rejuvenated. I experienced a brief yet satisfying allay of my deep lifelong thirst for something sacred, something free. And I was, for now . . . content. (End Part 1)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Nov. 3rd, 2008 Paddle Boarding and Vinyasa Flow Yoga
I have two relatively new favorite pastimes. One is paddle surfing and the other is Vinyasa Flow Yoga. And if you knew me, you'd know that they were both kind of a stretch from anything I've ever immersed myself into in the past. My previous favorite pastime was mountain and road bike riding which I still enjoy but don't do as often. Paddle surfing (or paddle boarding) is really very enjoyable. I've never been on a surf board in my entire life and it took me several days to be able to stand up on one for more than a couple seconds. But I'm proud to say that finally the board has become an extension of my legs and feet. The sense of peace and oneness that I get after about 45 minutes on my board is rather profound and very addicting. The sense of buoyancy and getting my "sea legs" on the board is something that stays with me all day long. Even as I'm sitting at my studio working I still feel the waves and the water gently rocking me from the inside out.
But this blog is really about an experience I had in doing Vinyasa Flow Yoga. Vinyasa Flow Yoga is also something I wouldn't have expected to enjoy as much as I do. Especially since I'm terrible at it and always the person in the class who's least capable of doing the postures and "flow" correctly. All those intense and long bike rides where I NEVER stretched afterwards have caught up with me. Plus I'm the person in the class that sweats the most and always has a completely soaked t-shirt and hair at the end of the class. But the funny thing is that after the class I feel great! My body feels good, my heart feels open, my mind quiet. And sometimes during the class I have moments of satisfaction as I get close to the desired posture and breath. I also enjoy the music they play in class. It's a lot of contemporary arrangements of Bhakti (Bhajan or Kirtan) devotional songs from the Hindu culture of India. They are songs about surrendering one's Self to the Divine or Beloved within and the peace and release that comes from "giving it up" and "letting it go". I find it very refreshing. Some of it is reminiscent of Sufi songs that I knew from an earlier period in my life.
One day this past week we were approaching the end of class just lying on our backs and the instructor led us through some imagery for our minds and bodies and she said to imagine my heart as a seedling. And my mind immediately commented and said inside my head "I've got more than a seedling here in my heart. I've must have at least a middle to full-size plant or even a small tree by now. My God, with all the work I've done in my life, all the music I've created, things that I've done . . . ". And my mind went on for a little while about that, thinking how much younger the instructor was than I and how she must not have considered that some of us in class have been growing that seedling for a while now. And this went on inside my head for a little while. And then I had a surprising thought. What if my heart WAS just a seedling? Do I really want to be attached to all those things (as wonderful as they are)? I could feel the weight of my "deeds" and "accomplishments" weighing down my heart in just thinking about them. Then of course there are also those things that I'm not so fond or proud of in my life that are more obvious burdens to my inner peace. Of course everyone wants to "let go" of areas in their life that cause them stress, or conflicts or situations that were less than fulfilling or successful. But what about those areas that we are proud of?
Again, what if my heart were just a seedling? What about situations and relationships that DO nurture us and seem "successful"? What if I let those go as well? I don't mean "let them go" like, "stop being in relationship" with them. I mean what if every moment, in my heart, I was just this seedling and didn't feel like I needed "cling" and could just breath and be. And as I continued to pondered my heart as a seedling I saw (quite effortlessly) energy, music, people, relationships, creations and life coming through my heart and being set free without any attachment to my heart even as I still loved them and nurtured them.
What if the heart was always a seedling? What if the heart were never more than this innocent, essential, raw potential to grow and blossom into something unique? What if the heart were always in a state of opening, or discovery or birth? I've decided to ponder this often and use it as an image in my daily life and in my spiritual practice, whether it be on my board, in yoga class or being with my family and friends. And I'd like to acknowledge my wife, Gabrielle, for bringing so many new things into my life on a consistent basis that have brought me so much joy and health and a much larger vision and experience of what life has the potential to be.
But this blog is really about an experience I had in doing Vinyasa Flow Yoga. Vinyasa Flow Yoga is also something I wouldn't have expected to enjoy as much as I do. Especially since I'm terrible at it and always the person in the class who's least capable of doing the postures and "flow" correctly. All those intense and long bike rides where I NEVER stretched afterwards have caught up with me. Plus I'm the person in the class that sweats the most and always has a completely soaked t-shirt and hair at the end of the class. But the funny thing is that after the class I feel great! My body feels good, my heart feels open, my mind quiet. And sometimes during the class I have moments of satisfaction as I get close to the desired posture and breath. I also enjoy the music they play in class. It's a lot of contemporary arrangements of Bhakti (Bhajan or Kirtan) devotional songs from the Hindu culture of India. They are songs about surrendering one's Self to the Divine or Beloved within and the peace and release that comes from "giving it up" and "letting it go". I find it very refreshing. Some of it is reminiscent of Sufi songs that I knew from an earlier period in my life.
One day this past week we were approaching the end of class just lying on our backs and the instructor led us through some imagery for our minds and bodies and she said to imagine my heart as a seedling. And my mind immediately commented and said inside my head "I've got more than a seedling here in my heart. I've must have at least a middle to full-size plant or even a small tree by now. My God, with all the work I've done in my life, all the music I've created, things that I've done . . . ". And my mind went on for a little while about that, thinking how much younger the instructor was than I and how she must not have considered that some of us in class have been growing that seedling for a while now. And this went on inside my head for a little while. And then I had a surprising thought. What if my heart WAS just a seedling? Do I really want to be attached to all those things (as wonderful as they are)? I could feel the weight of my "deeds" and "accomplishments" weighing down my heart in just thinking about them. Then of course there are also those things that I'm not so fond or proud of in my life that are more obvious burdens to my inner peace. Of course everyone wants to "let go" of areas in their life that cause them stress, or conflicts or situations that were less than fulfilling or successful. But what about those areas that we are proud of?
Again, what if my heart were just a seedling? What about situations and relationships that DO nurture us and seem "successful"? What if I let those go as well? I don't mean "let them go" like, "stop being in relationship" with them. I mean what if every moment, in my heart, I was just this seedling and didn't feel like I needed "cling" and could just breath and be. And as I continued to pondered my heart as a seedling I saw (quite effortlessly) energy, music, people, relationships, creations and life coming through my heart and being set free without any attachment to my heart even as I still loved them and nurtured them.
What if the heart was always a seedling? What if the heart were never more than this innocent, essential, raw potential to grow and blossom into something unique? What if the heart were always in a state of opening, or discovery or birth? I've decided to ponder this often and use it as an image in my daily life and in my spiritual practice, whether it be on my board, in yoga class or being with my family and friends. And I'd like to acknowledge my wife, Gabrielle, for bringing so many new things into my life on a consistent basis that have brought me so much joy and health and a much larger vision and experience of what life has the potential to be.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Oct. 2nd, 2008 My Grandfather, My Music
I thought I'd try something a little different with these blogs. As much as my past blogs are fine, I have to admit, going on about how great it is to get Grammy Nominations really isn't what I or my music is all about (as much as I do very much enjoy that). My music comes from a very deep place inside me that has more to do with "soul searching", "deep listening" and "Self inquiry" than with "Award seeking" and a sort of "tra la la" way of bouncing through life. So, I thought I'd write a blog that was "real" for me and more about who I am and what I think about. So here goes . . .
My grandfather died a little over a year ago. He was 91 and the last of my family in Germany. My Mother and Aunt died when I was in my teens, my father wasn't around and my Grandfather became my single most significant "Elder". I knew years ago that his death would really put me through it emotioanally. And now a year after his death I still find myself struggling with the loss and the sense of "aloneness" that's been triggered within me. Also, since he was my maternal grandfather I think it's stirred up feelings around the loss of my Mother when I was just 18 years old.
When my grandfather died after a year or so of mourning and missing him I finally realized that it wasn't so much the pain of losing him that I was dealing with, it was the pain of having never really been "seen" by him for who I really am and understood for what I value and strive towards. It's the pain of accepting that so much was left unresolved and so little was said of any real significance or substance. He had the ability to and felt it was his responsibility to comment on and judge every little area and detail of my life. But he never once found it possible to say "I Love You". His conversations were always about what was wrong, missing or false and then from there went to the weather, the food or the soccer game.
I cried when I read about Paul Newman's death. You didn't have to know him personally to know that he was a "good" man. Someone to look up to. I saw a brief interview with one of his daughters the day after his death. All around her was this beautiful air of "peace" and acceptance. I could see that she mourned her father's death because she loved him. But, because she felt seen and loved by him she seemed content with what was shared between them. Her relationship with her father seemed complete and ongoing. This was not the case with my parents or grandparents. I honestly never felt "seen" or "heard" in an essential way by any of them. And I'm certain that it was this longing to be seen and heard, and my desire to find something deeper than was available to me in my environment that led me deeply into my music. Not music in general, but MY music. My music is all about "being" with and exploring and feeling a whole wide range of emotions, of accepting and loving oneselve and creating a safe environment, a loving, compassionate and essential place. It's about embracing whatever exists in this moment in time and space. I can experience the perfection of the Universe and embrace all of my Self and all of Life in the music that comes through me. I realize this may seem to be a rather "large" statement, but is true for me and I feel good about saying it.
Even though my grandfather was the most predictable, old fashioned, judgmental, superstitious and narrow minded man living in Germany; and even though he judged me, never saw me, always criticized me and had the nerve to treat me rudely on and off in the last years of his life; there was something about living under his roof as a child, under his protection; and in his world , even as an adult, that was so safe and comforting. He had the incomprehensible comfort of knowing that what he was doing and how he lived his life was right and was "normal" at the same time. Oh, what a luxury to not question your actions and thought process. To just know that since you're thinking and doing like everyone else, and how your parents thought and did, that it must be the right way to think and do. The comfort of living your life like your parents, peers and neighbors and feeling that it's simply correct and "in order" . . . never questioning . . . That's just amazing. It's almost worth pursuing, it's so attractive. But for some reason, that doesn't really seem like a possibility in my life. Is that something that's true with artists or creative types? I don't know. I feel like a kite with a long ribboned string hanging, blowing wild and free. Occasionally I get caught on something, a bush, a mountain top, a satellite . . . and I'll feel that connection and that tension and soar straight up, sure of myself, higher into the heavens. And then, somehow, unpredictably, I come loose and I'm blown by the wind again, flying randomly, sometimes calmly and gracefully and sometimes wildly and out of control. The need for security and predictability and rootedness can feel pretty intense at times.
There were several times in my life where I could have chosen a more structured path. I could have gone to back to Germany when I was 18 after my Mother died and went to music school and my grandparents would have set me up in an apartment and car and paid for my education. I could have. But no. I always had to be free (I mean "me"). At the age of seven, "Born Free" was one of my favorite songs, with "I Did It My Way" and "To Dream The Impossible Dream" coming in as close seconds. No, "Edelweis" wasn't good enough for me, I flew from Germany to America at the ripe old age of 3 years old and was subject to a whole new world of ambition, risk, adventure and "lyrics". It's not my fault. That's what I tell myself everyday. I look at my grandfather who retired at the age of 55 after working 40 years at Siemens Corporation in Germany. He lived the last 36 years of his life in retirement, comfort and ease. He traveled as he pleased, spent weeks at a time at Spas and Health Resorts, carefully planning his next year of travels, bratwurst and weis beer. He was prudent to cut back on the pork roast, potato dumplings and sweets as he got in his late 80's. He planned everything in advance and kept to his plan. He wasn't hungry for improvisation like I was. He used to tease me about my need for "freedom" and called me a dreamer. It's ironic that he and my grandmother bought me my first piano and paid for all my years of piano lessons. They also instilled in me a deep love, appreciation and respect for nature, beginning in the Bavarian Alps. He told me a few dozen times that if he had my life he wouldn't be able to sleep at night. And yet, I wonder why I have always slept so darn well. I wonder what sleep would be like for me if I had my Grandfathers life and security. I'd probably drop into a comma or die of predicatibility.
He never took out a loan in his entire life. Never. He bought his first house with cash after saving like crazy for 15 years while working at Siemens. He paid for his house in full at the closing. When he first heard about mortgages and credit cards he was totally convinced it was the work of the Devil. And I guess at this point most of us would probably agree. He also warned me to never trust any man with a beard. He couldn't believe I had a car loan. If he new the full extent of my financial stresses throughout my life he'd haunt me from his grave telling me that he can't pass over to the other side because of the unpredictability of my life and income. Well, now I see and understand the value and spiritual significance of "Edelweis". I KNOW that the best things in life are free and organic. I KNOW that there's nothing more rewarding than your child looking up at you with loving trusting eyes, nothing more profound than the sunset blazing, screaming in full glory across the sky, or knowing that you're just happy to BE with your partner, unconditionally, freely and continually. I now KNOW that there's nothing outside of me that I need to be happy. But it's too late to get a job at Siemens and I really love my music work. And to be honest, I wouldn't change a thing (well almost). I dreamed the impossible dream and did it my way in a born free kind of way and now here I am. And you know, no matter where I go . . . there I am.
But . . . my grandfather never got it. He never saw me. He tried, to his credit, but it was just too far from his reality, from his comfort zone. Too far for him to reach. And I never got the satisfaction of his approval, or his saying, "wow, you really accomplished something". Even to hear him say something nice about my music would have been huge, but it never happened. He doubted everything I told him about my career, my accomplishments, awards etc. and he died not understanding what motivates me in my life and what I value. He died without once saying that he loved me. But I know that he did. I know that with some people, the best you can do is see their love bubbling up underneath . . . pushing up their fear, judgments and concerns to the surface, because that's what's between them and expressing their love. Sometimes, especially with family, you have to be the one that gets bigger, even if they're supposed to be older and wiser. You have to get big enough to accept, embrace and love them as they are. I told him I loved him many times in the last years of his life. It came out of my mouth and fell loudly to the floor between us with a thud. The ensuing awkward silence only reassured me that he did hear me and that he loved me too. And in that awkward silence lay the seeds to a life-time worth of music for me to nurture, explore and express. I am grateful.
My grandfather died a little over a year ago. He was 91 and the last of my family in Germany. My Mother and Aunt died when I was in my teens, my father wasn't around and my Grandfather became my single most significant "Elder". I knew years ago that his death would really put me through it emotioanally. And now a year after his death I still find myself struggling with the loss and the sense of "aloneness" that's been triggered within me. Also, since he was my maternal grandfather I think it's stirred up feelings around the loss of my Mother when I was just 18 years old.
When my grandfather died after a year or so of mourning and missing him I finally realized that it wasn't so much the pain of losing him that I was dealing with, it was the pain of having never really been "seen" by him for who I really am and understood for what I value and strive towards. It's the pain of accepting that so much was left unresolved and so little was said of any real significance or substance. He had the ability to and felt it was his responsibility to comment on and judge every little area and detail of my life. But he never once found it possible to say "I Love You". His conversations were always about what was wrong, missing or false and then from there went to the weather, the food or the soccer game.
I cried when I read about Paul Newman's death. You didn't have to know him personally to know that he was a "good" man. Someone to look up to. I saw a brief interview with one of his daughters the day after his death. All around her was this beautiful air of "peace" and acceptance. I could see that she mourned her father's death because she loved him. But, because she felt seen and loved by him she seemed content with what was shared between them. Her relationship with her father seemed complete and ongoing. This was not the case with my parents or grandparents. I honestly never felt "seen" or "heard" in an essential way by any of them. And I'm certain that it was this longing to be seen and heard, and my desire to find something deeper than was available to me in my environment that led me deeply into my music. Not music in general, but MY music. My music is all about "being" with and exploring and feeling a whole wide range of emotions, of accepting and loving oneselve and creating a safe environment, a loving, compassionate and essential place. It's about embracing whatever exists in this moment in time and space. I can experience the perfection of the Universe and embrace all of my Self and all of Life in the music that comes through me. I realize this may seem to be a rather "large" statement, but is true for me and I feel good about saying it.
Even though my grandfather was the most predictable, old fashioned, judgmental, superstitious and narrow minded man living in Germany; and even though he judged me, never saw me, always criticized me and had the nerve to treat me rudely on and off in the last years of his life; there was something about living under his roof as a child, under his protection; and in his world , even as an adult, that was so safe and comforting. He had the incomprehensible comfort of knowing that what he was doing and how he lived his life was right and was "normal" at the same time. Oh, what a luxury to not question your actions and thought process. To just know that since you're thinking and doing like everyone else, and how your parents thought and did, that it must be the right way to think and do. The comfort of living your life like your parents, peers and neighbors and feeling that it's simply correct and "in order" . . . never questioning . . . That's just amazing. It's almost worth pursuing, it's so attractive. But for some reason, that doesn't really seem like a possibility in my life. Is that something that's true with artists or creative types? I don't know. I feel like a kite with a long ribboned string hanging, blowing wild and free. Occasionally I get caught on something, a bush, a mountain top, a satellite . . . and I'll feel that connection and that tension and soar straight up, sure of myself, higher into the heavens. And then, somehow, unpredictably, I come loose and I'm blown by the wind again, flying randomly, sometimes calmly and gracefully and sometimes wildly and out of control. The need for security and predictability and rootedness can feel pretty intense at times.
There were several times in my life where I could have chosen a more structured path. I could have gone to back to Germany when I was 18 after my Mother died and went to music school and my grandparents would have set me up in an apartment and car and paid for my education. I could have. But no. I always had to be free (I mean "me"). At the age of seven, "Born Free" was one of my favorite songs, with "I Did It My Way" and "To Dream The Impossible Dream" coming in as close seconds. No, "Edelweis" wasn't good enough for me, I flew from Germany to America at the ripe old age of 3 years old and was subject to a whole new world of ambition, risk, adventure and "lyrics". It's not my fault. That's what I tell myself everyday. I look at my grandfather who retired at the age of 55 after working 40 years at Siemens Corporation in Germany. He lived the last 36 years of his life in retirement, comfort and ease. He traveled as he pleased, spent weeks at a time at Spas and Health Resorts, carefully planning his next year of travels, bratwurst and weis beer. He was prudent to cut back on the pork roast, potato dumplings and sweets as he got in his late 80's. He planned everything in advance and kept to his plan. He wasn't hungry for improvisation like I was. He used to tease me about my need for "freedom" and called me a dreamer. It's ironic that he and my grandmother bought me my first piano and paid for all my years of piano lessons. They also instilled in me a deep love, appreciation and respect for nature, beginning in the Bavarian Alps. He told me a few dozen times that if he had my life he wouldn't be able to sleep at night. And yet, I wonder why I have always slept so darn well. I wonder what sleep would be like for me if I had my Grandfathers life and security. I'd probably drop into a comma or die of predicatibility.
He never took out a loan in his entire life. Never. He bought his first house with cash after saving like crazy for 15 years while working at Siemens. He paid for his house in full at the closing. When he first heard about mortgages and credit cards he was totally convinced it was the work of the Devil. And I guess at this point most of us would probably agree. He also warned me to never trust any man with a beard. He couldn't believe I had a car loan. If he new the full extent of my financial stresses throughout my life he'd haunt me from his grave telling me that he can't pass over to the other side because of the unpredictability of my life and income. Well, now I see and understand the value and spiritual significance of "Edelweis". I KNOW that the best things in life are free and organic. I KNOW that there's nothing more rewarding than your child looking up at you with loving trusting eyes, nothing more profound than the sunset blazing, screaming in full glory across the sky, or knowing that you're just happy to BE with your partner, unconditionally, freely and continually. I now KNOW that there's nothing outside of me that I need to be happy. But it's too late to get a job at Siemens and I really love my music work. And to be honest, I wouldn't change a thing (well almost). I dreamed the impossible dream and did it my way in a born free kind of way and now here I am. And you know, no matter where I go . . . there I am.
But . . . my grandfather never got it. He never saw me. He tried, to his credit, but it was just too far from his reality, from his comfort zone. Too far for him to reach. And I never got the satisfaction of his approval, or his saying, "wow, you really accomplished something". Even to hear him say something nice about my music would have been huge, but it never happened. He doubted everything I told him about my career, my accomplishments, awards etc. and he died not understanding what motivates me in my life and what I value. He died without once saying that he loved me. But I know that he did. I know that with some people, the best you can do is see their love bubbling up underneath . . . pushing up their fear, judgments and concerns to the surface, because that's what's between them and expressing their love. Sometimes, especially with family, you have to be the one that gets bigger, even if they're supposed to be older and wiser. You have to get big enough to accept, embrace and love them as they are. I told him I loved him many times in the last years of his life. It came out of my mouth and fell loudly to the floor between us with a thud. The ensuing awkward silence only reassured me that he did hear me and that he loved me too. And in that awkward silence lay the seeds to a life-time worth of music for me to nurture, explore and express. I am grateful.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Sept. 5th, 2008
It's been a long time since I've written here. I've got several exciting things going on right now. I'm just in the process of releasing 3 new albums in my Healing Series. They are AMBROSIA, WALK IN BEAUTY and CLOUD HANDS. They are Volumes 3, 4 and 5 of the series that ESSENCE is VOl. 1 and COMPASSION is VOl. 2. I'm very excited about this frankly because these are really great albums. Plus the packaging of these new CDs is just gorgeous! Really happy with how they all turned out. Please read about them on CD Baby and Amazon.com for now. In a few weeks I'm going to have my new website up and it will have ALL the info on those records including just TONS of other things. My new site will have lots of VIDEOS to watch, MP3's to listen to, contests to win free CD's, free MP3 downloads, photos and LOTS more. I'm VERY excited about it. You'll have to check back in the next few weeks to see when it's up.
Lately I've been tuning back into Mother Earth in a big way. She's kind of hard to ignore actually . . . But I'm experiencing a renewed surge of attention towards the preservation and protection of our earth. I'm giving a percentage of net proceeds from my new albums to environmental organizations. The CD's are all packaged in recycled paper digipaks. No plastic!! And I'm looking for Environmental groups to hook up with to do some good work together. Not sure what form it'll take but I'm looking and thinking about it. I'm very interested in the natural state of our environment and of our Selves. How do we get back there?
ALSO, my record with DOMINIC MILLER is almost ready. It's being manufactured right now and will be released in October. It's an enhanced CD with two videos, photos and other STUFF. My friend Kenny Loggins layed down some wonderful vocal pads on 4 songs and my new friend, Jaques Morelenbaum from Brazil played some really inspired cello on several of the songs. I LOVE THIS RECORD!!! You'll see and here all about it when my new website is up in a few weeks. Plus I'll write more about it in my next blog.
I'm going to keep this blog kind of short because I'm going to write another one for the GRAND OPENING of my new website very soon that'll have all my latest news. In the meantime, I just wanted to say that there are some great things to come.
Stay tuned . . .
All the best,
Peter
Lately I've been tuning back into Mother Earth in a big way. She's kind of hard to ignore actually . . . But I'm experiencing a renewed surge of attention towards the preservation and protection of our earth. I'm giving a percentage of net proceeds from my new albums to environmental organizations. The CD's are all packaged in recycled paper digipaks. No plastic!! And I'm looking for Environmental groups to hook up with to do some good work together. Not sure what form it'll take but I'm looking and thinking about it. I'm very interested in the natural state of our environment and of our Selves. How do we get back there?
ALSO, my record with DOMINIC MILLER is almost ready. It's being manufactured right now and will be released in October. It's an enhanced CD with two videos, photos and other STUFF. My friend Kenny Loggins layed down some wonderful vocal pads on 4 songs and my new friend, Jaques Morelenbaum from Brazil played some really inspired cello on several of the songs. I LOVE THIS RECORD!!! You'll see and here all about it when my new website is up in a few weeks. Plus I'll write more about it in my next blog.
I'm going to keep this blog kind of short because I'm going to write another one for the GRAND OPENING of my new website very soon that'll have all my latest news. In the meantime, I just wanted to say that there are some great things to come.
Stay tuned . . .
All the best,
Peter
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Feb. 28th, 2008
It's been about 2 weeks since the Grammys. Seems like a lot longer. Congratulations to Paul Winter for taking home the Grammy for Best New Age album. His Crestone album is a beautiful piece of music. All the nominees this year put out great records. I guess my year is yet to come. That's fine. I'm a very patient man.
I've been very busy in the studio working with all kinds of great musicians. In the last few weeks I've had Richard Hardy here playing some exotic flutes and wind instruments. Joseph Firecrow was just here playing Native American flue on some tracks for me for a project I'm doing for a German record label. Mike Hamilton was here playing guitar with Joseph Firecrow and I for a special "Home Concert" feature for Echoes, the syndicated radio show that goes out to over 150 radio stations around the United States. We recorded three songs "live" from the Sacred Earth "Wind of the East" album and had an extensive interview session with John Diliberto (famed radio show host and music critic) . This should be aired in the next few months. Sacred Earth is a project that I'm spear heading. Our first series of CD's is on the Four Directions based in Native American tradition. Red Feather records, a division of Four Winds, is putting them out. Bill Miller, Grammy winning Native American vocalist was featured on Wind of the West; Kevin Locke and Rita Coolidge are featured on Wind of the North and Joseph Firecrow and Arvel Bird are featured on Wind of the East. I haven't gotten to Wind of the South yet. But I will soon. I should have some info up on my website about this sometime soon.
Dominic Miller, legendary guitarist for Sting (17 years) and Phil Collins and many others, was here for a whole week recording tracks with me for a new record we're doing. I won't go into much more about that record right now because we're still working on it. I'm very excited about this project. I've been a huge fan of Dominic's playing for many many years and those of you that know me also know what a huge Sting fan I am. We've got a couple awesome guest artists coming in and playing on this record as well. This is an all acoustic album that's awesomely spacious, beautiful and soulful. Alright, I already said too much.
Anyway, as overly busy as I am and as tough as the music business has become over the last 10 years, I still feel grateful and honored to have so many talented people to work with and to have my life's work be all about making beautiful music. It's a gift and a privilege. And receiving all the emails and letters from the people that listen and appreciate my work really goes a long way. Thank you for taking the time to let me know that you're listening and "getting" it. Take care!!
I've been very busy in the studio working with all kinds of great musicians. In the last few weeks I've had Richard Hardy here playing some exotic flutes and wind instruments. Joseph Firecrow was just here playing Native American flue on some tracks for me for a project I'm doing for a German record label. Mike Hamilton was here playing guitar with Joseph Firecrow and I for a special "Home Concert" feature for Echoes, the syndicated radio show that goes out to over 150 radio stations around the United States. We recorded three songs "live" from the Sacred Earth "Wind of the East" album and had an extensive interview session with John Diliberto (famed radio show host and music critic) . This should be aired in the next few months. Sacred Earth is a project that I'm spear heading. Our first series of CD's is on the Four Directions based in Native American tradition. Red Feather records, a division of Four Winds, is putting them out. Bill Miller, Grammy winning Native American vocalist was featured on Wind of the West; Kevin Locke and Rita Coolidge are featured on Wind of the North and Joseph Firecrow and Arvel Bird are featured on Wind of the East. I haven't gotten to Wind of the South yet. But I will soon. I should have some info up on my website about this sometime soon.
Dominic Miller, legendary guitarist for Sting (17 years) and Phil Collins and many others, was here for a whole week recording tracks with me for a new record we're doing. I won't go into much more about that record right now because we're still working on it. I'm very excited about this project. I've been a huge fan of Dominic's playing for many many years and those of you that know me also know what a huge Sting fan I am. We've got a couple awesome guest artists coming in and playing on this record as well. This is an all acoustic album that's awesomely spacious, beautiful and soulful. Alright, I already said too much.
Anyway, as overly busy as I am and as tough as the music business has become over the last 10 years, I still feel grateful and honored to have so many talented people to work with and to have my life's work be all about making beautiful music. It's a gift and a privilege. And receiving all the emails and letters from the people that listen and appreciate my work really goes a long way. Thank you for taking the time to let me know that you're listening and "getting" it. Take care!!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Dec. 19th, 2007
It's only been about 2 weeks since the announcements were made that my FACES OF THE SUN cd received a Grammy Nomination for Best New Age album. It's my 4th nomination in the last 5 years. Finding out you got nominated for a Grammy never gets "casual". It's always a big damn deal. In the music business it's pretty way up there with honor and acknowledgement of your work and, in my case, perserverence. Last week I was pretty certain that Paul Winter would win and didn't really think I had a chance, but it's starting to shift a little, and now I'm thinking, ya know, ya never know. Winning would be a major rush. And you know, Paul (Winter), I've told you so many times how much I admire your work and our talent and how much you were a part of major inspiration for me back in the late 70's and 80's and always, but . . . do you think maybe you could let me win the Grammy this year? Afterall, you've already got a few and I don't have any!
Oh well,enough of that. Really what I wanted to write here (in my first blog ever), is . . . just as the Grammy nomination is an immense honor and what an incredible amount of fun the two months between the nominations and the actual Celebration . . . what really makes me feel that my work has been worthwhile is when I'm out performing or playing somewhere and someone comes up to me and says, "I don't know what happened but you started to play and I just started to cry I felt so moved" or "My Mother was in Hospice for the last month and she played your music everday saying how she felt so comforted" or "Had cancer and your music was a major part of my healing process" and "we played your music at our wedding" , or "funeral" or "birth of our child" etc. That's what really makes my day, week, month etc. That's why I'm here. I've always thought that music belongs in places of worship, in the most intimate and sacred of experiences and places and relationships. I was never much for "happy hour" music or "party" music. So I'm so happy and thankful that my music has indeed found it's way into peoples hearts and most sacred spaces. Thanks for letting it in!!! And thanks for inviting me to the 50th Anniversary Grammy Celebration as a Nominee on Feb. 10th, 2008. How cool is that?
Oh well,enough of that. Really what I wanted to write here (in my first blog ever), is . . . just as the Grammy nomination is an immense honor and what an incredible amount of fun the two months between the nominations and the actual Celebration . . . what really makes me feel that my work has been worthwhile is when I'm out performing or playing somewhere and someone comes up to me and says, "I don't know what happened but you started to play and I just started to cry I felt so moved" or "My Mother was in Hospice for the last month and she played your music everday saying how she felt so comforted" or "Had cancer and your music was a major part of my healing process" and "we played your music at our wedding" , or "funeral" or "birth of our child" etc. That's what really makes my day, week, month etc. That's why I'm here. I've always thought that music belongs in places of worship, in the most intimate and sacred of experiences and places and relationships. I was never much for "happy hour" music or "party" music. So I'm so happy and thankful that my music has indeed found it's way into peoples hearts and most sacred spaces. Thanks for letting it in!!! And thanks for inviting me to the 50th Anniversary Grammy Celebration as a Nominee on Feb. 10th, 2008. How cool is that?
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