Greetings!
The 19th song of the Plant Songs Series is called Shine (For Roswell Rudd). This is a very simple song - a diatonic melody with pretty common chords. It’s amazing how much can be done with those commonly-used elements.
Last week when I was nearing the end of my hike on the mountain, I felt a “nudge”. Something caused me to look sharply to my left as I was walking at a pretty brisk pace. I stopped and looked and there before me was a large Liriondendron tulipifera / Tulip Tree. It was a nice one, with a perfectly straight trunk reaching for the sky - like some that I described in the Liriodendron Lift post. These trees have become a favorite winter tree of mine.
This one was surrounding by other trees and I noticed on this windy day how the canopy of all these trees fit together like a puzzle as it blew in the wind. Forest trees do this a lot. Each tree goes toward the light looking for any sunlight it can find. It occurred to me then that it was both cooperation and competition at the same time. After smiling at this Liriodendron for a moment, I continued on down the trail and found myself thinking about Elders. Not necessarily Elderberry (but maybe), but Elders, as in old and wise beings.
Stephen Harrod Buhner, whose book Becoming Vegetalista is currently rocking my world, said, “ I began to wonder if there was a such thing as Old Growth humans. I decided there was and that I wanted to become one.” How great is that?
I began to think about Elders in my life. I don’t think any of Mount Beacon can be considered Old Growth forest, but certainly some of the Liriodendrons up there seem pretty old and wise to me. That one that nudged me was. So what is the definition of an Elder? For me an Elder would be a being with a lot of life experience and wisdom. I think you can be with an Elder human and learn things through conversation, but also without words being shared. I think someone might be an Elder for some people, but not others. I don’t think your relationship with your parents allows for them to become Elders for you, at least not for me. But I think your grandparents could be Elders for you. For me, an Elder is someone who’s done plenty of observing, reflecting, and probably hasn’t moved (as in moved to a new city) much in their life. I supposed there’s much more to it than that also. But it seems that there is much getting in the way of humans reaching Elderhood these days- disease, facebook, and cable news come to mind.
I thought about Elder humans that I have known in my life. And the one person that stands out as an Elder for me is the late Roswell Rudd. Roswell was a trombonist. He came to Manhattan School of Music and did a master class when I was there as a masters student. Roswell had a huge aperture; too big for most conservatory students I reckon. I don’t think most of us totally “got” him. But I remember he had us playing a hand-written Herbie Nichols piece - it was difficult to read and I was completely botching the notes. As we were playing, with a kind heart he said, “Yes, yes, beautiful wrong notes!” Years later I was doing a trio gig of my music at the Cornelia Street Cafe. I had set three of Basho’s haiku poems to music, and I had guest vocalist Sunny Kim sit in on this gig and sing the text. Sunny and Roswell were tight had collaborated and he showed up in the audience that night to listen. That was pretty cool!
Years later after having moved to Beacon, we were invited to a potluck. It was over in Kerhonkson. Roswell was there with his partner Verna, and we got to talking. I recited the above stories to him and Verna and we had a few laughs. I’m smiling, basking in this memory as I write this now. Verna started setting up some meetings with Roswell and me. I went out to their place in Kerhonkson and we played duo every 3-4 weeks. Later we had bassist Jennifer Maidman join us for a few sessions. I can’t tell you how special that time was, and I don’t think I fully realized the wisdom he was passing onto me at the time. When we talked he would do a lot of reflecting back what he heard me say, similar to what members of a congregation might do listening to a preacher. Roswell was an Old Growth person. You heard the whole history of music in each note he played, and definitely the whole history of his life. His talking was similarly filled with meaning, slow, to the point, but also light-hearted. We played together for about a year and a half before he passed away in December of 2017. What a gift it was to know him and spend this time with him, especially during that time, which was a time of musical uncertainty for me.
Playing with Roswell in 2017, wisdom emanating toward me from the bell of his horn.
Musicians, maybe all musicians, but definitely jazz musicians, have special practice with their feeling sense. There’s a lot of non-thinking in the midst of deep listening - FEELING - going on during a performance, at least I believe that’s what’s going on in the best moments. I’m realizing now that this feeling practice in music is helping me find that sense in many areas of my life. It’s one reason why I feel a natural connection to musicians. Another reason is that most of us have gone through years (at least 4 to 6 years?) of intense practice in solitude, working on our craft, for hours upon hours each day with little concern for anything else, which I believe is required for most jazz musicians to reach competency. These shared experiences are felt among musicians and provide us with a special connection.
I’m reminded of my pal and extraordinary guitarist composer Jesse Lewis. Around a year ago he was playing at Quinn’s here in Beacon and I went to listen. It had been a few years since we’d been in touch at that time. During the break we sat together and mostly just smiled in silence together. Jesse and I have shared lots of feeling together over the years and there wasn’t much need for words that night. The smiling said it all.