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by Paul Chasman


So, here we are, coming to the end of the century. It is for me, as for many people, a time of reflection. I have lived through half of this century, and music has been a central thread through my entire life. I have been dedicated to the guitar for nearly forty years, and I have learned much along the way. For my final column of the year and the millenium, I would like to talk about some of the life lessons that music has taught me:

I never stop learning. When we were children, many of us looked at adults and thought they had all the answers. Then we became adults and realized that we were just as befuddled as ever (maybe more). I have experienced this dynamic as a musician. When I was younger, part of me believed that someday I would have it "totally together," that I would know everything there was to know, that I could do everything there is to do. The more experienced I become, the more clearly I am aware of music's infinity. There is always more to learn, always more that can be done. This brings me to my next lesson:

I try to be humble. A difficult problem for many of us musicians, when we have so much of our egos on the line. But the more accomplished I become, the smaller I feel as I look at the past and present masters, as I see the millions of musicians with powers that I will never possess, as I hear the infinite means of musical expression other than my own. I become more and more in awe of the vast sea of musical energy in which I am but a wave. The small feeling is not bad, by the way. Actually, it is reassuring to be able to tap into such a huge force. I gain strength from it.

I trust my intuition. From the very beginning, music has led me down dark paths in which I couldn't see in front of me, had no promise of result, and had many voices telling me to go back. The only reason I have followed those paths is that I felt compelled beyond reason. An inner wisdom pulled me with such strength, that I blindly followed. I had to go. Now, I think I am better at recognizing, interpreting, and trusting those intuitive voices. Now, when I am pulled, it is sometimes less of a dissonant struggle and more of a luxurious surrender. In order to trust my intuition:

I practice patience. My daily guitar practice demands patience. When I am working on a new piece of music, it may be difficult at first. It may seem impossible. This is the time I need to practice patience. I believe that impatience comes from a fear that the desired end will not be achieved. When that fear intrudes, it causes frustration. As I have accumulated successful experiences, I have learned to trust the process, and my endurance threshold has increased. The patience skills I have developed through daily practice have served me well in many aspects of my life and career.

I work hard and persevere. I believe that for every accomplished musician, there are dozens of people who are just as talented or more, but did not have the discipline, disposition, or circumstances to actualize their talent. I know that I have a musical gift, but it is my drive, determination, focus, and sense of purpose that have nurtured that gift and enabled it to emerge. I honestly had no idea that I had a gift until I worked very hard for a very long time.

I am grateful. I am grateful for the talent that has been given me. I am grateful for the health and the physical capacity that I have to do my work. I am grateful to live in a country in which artists are not persecuted.. I am grateful that I have a roof over my head and I get to eat every day! I am acutely aware of the transitory nature of life, so for every day that I am able to get up in the morning and do my work, I am grateful.

Music is my means of worship. Some people worship through prayer, some through meditation, some through yoga. Music is my way in. When I immerse myself in music, to one degree or another, I feel tapped into a vast, all-encompassing source of energy. That energy, in its purest sense feels like love. I cannot define it; I don't believe my tiny brain can define it in concrete terms. When I sit down to play my guitar, I don't sit down to worship, I sit down to play, to work. But what I experience transcends the physical, and it seems to be a similar experience to what others arrive at through prayer or meditation. So I call it "worship." By the way, just as religion has its denominations: Christianity, Judaism, Buddhism, etc., music also has its denominations: classical, jazz, blues, etc. I consider myself to be a non-denominational guitar player.

Happy New Millenium! 



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