Halloween — Samhain

Halloween was cloudy short after sunrise. One could still wonder about this afternoon's parade. There were dark clouds yesterday, and, very thin raindrops falling. It rained during the night, was still cloudy after dawn... and the sky cleared up later. The parade is not in risk of being one in the rain. With so many Irish descendants here, one may well believe that some of the Siddhe came along with them in the ships. For those who don't know it (if there are still any), Halloween is, actually, Samhain, a Celtic celebration. Some say it's the Celtic New Year, some say it's not. Whatever it be, it is certainly a Celtic celebration, that has a lot to do with the Siddhe, the people of the Otherworld.

Although many associate the Gentry or the wee folk with the Leprechauns, actually, the Siddhe are not only these shoemakers. Some of them look exactly like us, the ordinary humans. Anyone who remembers the words of the traditional Irish song The Star of the County Down, will notice that the lad takes the beautiful colleen (girl in Gaelige) for one of the fairies, the Siddhe. The Siddhe are not a mere superstition. Nobel laureate William Butler Yeats, the great Irish Bard wrote a book compiling stories about them. He collected actual experiences of real people, who had close encounters with the gentry. And Dr. W.Y. Evans Wents' first book was, precisely, The Fairy-Faith in Celtic Countries. He did it, in part, out of respect for his ancestors, for his roots. Many have either forgotten, or worst, lost their roots. It is rather sad. Think what happens to a wonderful tree if it looses his roots (his, not its). The same happens to us. We may remain as a wonderful tree... but a dry one. We see many of them daily.

Hopefully we'll have a great day today. Here in Ashland Oregon there will be a parade in Main Street. Lot's of fun to all of us, trick and treating... we should have good music and dancing and eating too. After all, so many consider this the Celtic New Year, and, astronomically, it makes sense. For all of us who have Celtic roots, whether Irish, Scottish, Galician or otherwise... let us not forget our ancestors. This is the time of the year to celebrate with them. Eat and drink and dance and have fun with them. As the song goes, Let us drink and be merry, all grief to refrain / For we may and might never all meet here again. Happy Halloween... and enjoy my window!!!

Bill, person I knew

Bill Evans was a great jazz pianist. It doesn’t matter if he was the best. Music is not (or shouldn’t be) a race nor a competition. He was a great player and a great composer. Waltz for Debby; The Two Lonely People; Re, Person I knew (an anagram of the name of Orrin Keepnews, a jazz critic, writer and A&R man), just to mention a few. He took the jazz piano trio into another dimension. Until him, the bass was just a supporter. This, he changed into a permanent dialogue between piano and bass.

The first time I heard him live was at the Top of the Gate, in NYC, long time ago. Not only that what I had been listening to in records had come to life. I was impressed by him as a human being. Some musicians act very distant, very aloof. Bill Evans, was an example of humility and friendliness. He would sit at the table with people who called him, and talk with them as with good friends. When it was time for the next set, he would return to the piano with his “pigeon walk,” and bring us back to another world with his playing.

Last time I saw him was in Buenos Aires, Argentina, in November 1979. I was then working there, writing and shooting photos for an avant garde magazine (the now legendary, the Expreso Imaginario). Evans was in Buenos for a number of concerts. I was in charge of the coverage. After a meeting with the press I asked him for a personal interview. He agreed at once, and told me, “come tomorrow morning to the rehearsal at the theater at 9 AM, there we’ll have time.” A dog with two tails to wag wouldn’t have been happier than me. I was there ten minutes before nine. When he and the rest of the trio (Mark Johnson and John La Barbera) arrived, along with Helen Keane, Evans went right to the piano. From twenty yards away he saw that the instrument was a half concert Steinway instead of the full concert he had asked for. He then sat at the piano and let his fingers run through the keyboard. Those few notes were worth the morning. He then said “It is not level. The right side of the piano is lower, I can’t play with this so. Please, have it fixed up for tonight.” The rehearsal started. I sat down and listened to the music, wondering what the rehearsal really was. If there were anything to correct, only Evans could have noticed it.

After a few tunes, he came down the stage to sit at my side. We did my interview together, as his piano dialogues with the bass, and also had a very friendly chat. Talked about jazz spots in NYC, his life, the time he devoted to Evan, his son… about a racing horse he had bought with a friend… He then went back to the stage, and we had more music.

After the rehearsal all of us went out together, slowly. We were impressed, and sorry, by his then difficulty to walk. The friendly chat continued on the sidewalk. It was a beautiful sunny November morning in Buenos Aires, a city as big as New York City. We said bye, until the evening. I can still hear his words, “Well… I’ll be seeing you boys, now and then…” They sounded like his notes on the piano. It was the last time I saw Bill Evans.

Warm at Home

Our mind works in curious ways. Sometimes I have a certain feeling of loneliness. I love Ashland. From the window of my one room (a studio apartment) I see Grizzly Peak, a mountain I love. But even so, sometimes… as I just said. Now and then too, memories come to me, of other places I also love. The north side quarter of Gesell, a small town on the South Atlantic is one of them. 206th street, between 304 and 305, for instance. The winding street, with the ancient pines and the cozy houses. That place always gives me a wonderful warm feeling. I was lucky enough to have lived only a few blocks from there on and off.

There is some music too, that especially reaches the deepest of my heart. Gerry Mulligan and Bill Evans are very much bound to good moments in my life. This morning I downloaded Gerry Mulligan’s Night Lights, as I don’t have it with me at present. So, a while ago, after having prepared a certain text for printing, I played Night Lights. I remembered, instantly, with details, the moment when I found the CD, many years ago. We had gone out for dinner with my mother and daughter. Going back home, we stopped at a record store. The jazz CDs were on the right side, past the middle of the shop. Fumbling, I found Night Lights. I was quite surprised of having found an “album” by Gerry Mulligan I had never heard of. Bought it immediately. Played it immediately as soon as we made it home. I loved the atmosphere from the first few bars, and all along the themes.

Since then, I’ve played Night Lights, every time I want a music that brings that quiet, happy atmosphere, along with some romanticism too. There is romanticism in Gerry Mulligan’s music. Happiness, lyricism and romanticism. Those are things I share with Gerry Mulligan, even after he’s gone. When I listen to this album, I feel pleasantly at home, no matter where I am. Our mind works in curious ways.

Reflections on Elections

The elections can change your life forever, so, it is more than important to take the right choice. It is imperative make the right election. The consequences will last for years. The point is, how do you know which is the right decision? You may pray. You may ask a soothsayer. Ask a diviner. And then... are you certain of having the right answer? By sure, we do need the right answer.

Election is quite a delicate word. Curiously enough, in most present day English, it has been reduced to its political meaning only. Politicians have made it their own. Such narrowing of the import of the word, is like using a jet to run on the freeway instead of flying. What election means goes way far beyond the political context. Election comes from the Latin electionem, from stem of eligere "pick out, select." From ex "out" and ligere, legere "to choose, read." It means selecting, taking a decision among several different possibilities. Not necessarily political. A choice among any several possibilities. It is what we are doing most of the time, save that, most of the time we are not aware of doing it. Our conditioning does it for us. The consequences may also last for years.

There is a Zen saying, a tenth of an inch makes a difference. It may not be instantaneously obvious. It is similar to sailing a boat. If we err the route in a few degrees, we won't notice it at the beginning. But we won't reach the intended destination. We don't notice it soon because we are not aware of gradual changes. To those mindfully present, changes become obvious sooner. However it be, some of our daily decisions are determinative to our lives. Regardless of what country we live in, or who is the president or the prime minister who rules it. They are like seeds. Once planted, when the favorable conditions arrive, they will eventually sprout, grow as a plant and then give fruits. In some cases, our personal elections have more power on our lives than those who rule the country. And the way we live our lives changes the country, for better or worse. How we live is our personal election.

So, how to take the right choice, the right election. Praying? Consulting the oracle? A soothsayer? Why not consulting our intrinsic inner awareness? The inner light that always dispels darkness and knows the right choice, the right election. We must be very aware of our motivation. If our motivation is fear, and we make the choice out of the fear of committing a mistake, we will surely commit it. Fear belongs to darkness. It will attract more darkness. It attracts what is feared. Love belongs to light. It will attract light. It will bring clarity to our minds and hearts. After all, whether we abide in love or in fear, and bring about light or darkness… is a personal election!

May the blessings of light be upon you,
Light without and light within.
And in all your comings and goings,
May you ever have a kindly greeting
From them you meet along the road.
Irish blessing

Autumn emotions

Autumn colors are really impressive in Ashland Oregon. Deep greens, golden and bronze, yellow ochre, deep red, bright yellow. Add the background of blue skies and Grizzly Peak, and this makes the spirit and the heart expand as widely as the sky itself. Such a day was yesterday. And fairly warm for this time of the year also.

After doing a couple of things downtown, I decided to have a rest and some tea at a bookstore’s coffee house. I was enjoying my Toasted Rice Green in the patio, and a girl and a guy came in. Either nineteen or very early twenties both of them. She had an attractive face. Medium height, dark brown hair to her shoulders, wearing a mini-skirted gray dress and black tights. Walked right to a table, carrying her latte. Her companion was much taller, maybe more than six feet, blonde mane, carrying nothing. Somewhat later the chap of the coffee house brought him something that looked like a latte with a lot of whipped cream on top. Impressive and enticing. I kept enjoying my toasted rice green.

Finally relaxed from the previous rush, I started by contemplating and the plants around me. Then, my attention was taken to the young couple. They were happily having their concoctions, and talking. Talking more happily than they were enjoying their concoctions. There was something like a wave of bliss flowing from and into each other. I couldn’t —and didn’t wanted to— hear what they said. In fact, it did not matter at all. Not even body language mattered. What was happening was beyond words, beyond physical gestures. Something special radiated from their eyes, and from their hearts.

It then became more than clear to me in my own heart. Heart-mind. The real communication is beyond speech and silence. It is something that is transmitted from heart to heart in a very subtle way. That is what words or gestures really carry. The feeling and the motivation. He could have been saying your latte seems really good. And she may have replied yes, and have you seen that weird guy sitting there having tea? But the message that both of them sent and received was, beyond doubts, I like you so much! I’m so happy to be here with you!

What is really important, goes beyond our words and actions. It is emotion and motivation. The emotional stream is the energy, and the motivation the quality of that energy. The higher the pitch of the emotion, and the purest the motivation, is what makes the world around us. So, we rather let our heart and spirit expand, like when watching the wonderful colors of autumn.

Good Old Times

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T. S. Elliot

Albert Einstein once said, “put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT’S relativity.” I like it. It’s a humorous way of putting what Buddha Shakyamuni said about happiness. He said that “happiness does not comes from what it happens, it comes from what we think.” But we usually just think without being aware of what we think. We pass by places seeing, but not being aware of what we see. The same way, things-events happen around us, without our being quite conscious of them. We’re more concerned with what we want to happen, and if it does happen or not. This way, we don’t really realize what’s going on. Regardless of us, these things-events are stored in some box in our memory, and left there until something triggers them out. We then realize and appreciate them from a different point of view. And then we remember them as the good old times. The interesting thing of the good old times is that, in those days we now remember, we didn’t notice them as being so good. Jack Kerouak realized this when he said that the best thing of traveling is when you remember it. While traveling you don’t enjoy it so much. As it happens to most people who once in a while thinks, these issues came to my mind more than once.

Now, I’m among those who, when winter approaches, start caring more for food, and like to have a lot at home. Here, in the Pacific North West, winter is really winter. Sometimes you feel like going out during a snowstorm, but some other times you just feel it like enjoying it at home. You like the warmth of the house, and look at the storm through a window, letting the falling snowflakes give you the rhythm for the watching. That’s why I like to have a food storage in winter, you may spend several days without leaving the house if you wish so. Some people suffer winter depression, probably because they never heard about enjoying winter seclusion.

After two years away, I returned to Oregon right at the end of autumn and the beginning of winter, and although I came to a new town, I was more than happy to be back. Meeting my daughter and her fiancée in Eugene after more than two years away, completely compensated the non-nearness of the mountains and countryside of Ashland. Once I accommodated and made myself avail of a few things needed, I started appreciating the new place. They showed me around some, they being new kids in the block too, some I discovered in my own explorations. We went to places together, we shopped together, and, part of the shopping was, of course, food. Food. An old Chinese Zen master once said, “there is nothing like wearing clothes and eating food. Apart from that there are neither Buddhas nor Patriarchs”. I don’t know if the Buddhas and Patriarchs agree. I don’t even know if I do. But food with winter are one of the greatest inventions of nature, provided that you have a warm cozy home with no leaking roofs, and a window with a nice view.

I had discovered a small natural food market that my daughter and husband to be didn’t know. The place is not only beautiful to the eyes. It has great organic, natural food, good prices, and cool people. Besides that it’s only five or six blocks from home, what else can you ask for? The couple wanted to see the place. We went together and bought a few things we needed, vegetarian pepperoni included. We were in the row to pay, and there was a sticker display beside the counters. I took a look at them. There were some about war and peace, some about oil, but I saw one with just six words that turned a bright light deep my heart-mind. The sticker said “These are the Good Old Times.” I picked up one and said “hey Tad, look at this.” Tad turned around to see and smiled knowingly. I put the sticker back in place and kept the phrase in my heart-mind.

These are the good old times. It is one of the greatest secrets in life. We have a tendency to take life too seriously, and so, cannot appreciate it’s subtleties. But if we stop for a fraction of a second and look at it from that stop, we have, in some way, taken a step aside from time and space, as if we were looking from the future, and seeing everything fresh for the first time. In that very moment I saw the whole scene as if from the future. Our being buying winter food at the old barn building, all our shared moments and those of introspection, our going places… all appeared in my mind as if remembering it in some years’ time. Not that everything that happens is necessarily “good.” In fact, the last two years of my life have been more than hard in many regards. But some way or another, I still had the strength to overcome, and keep on healing wounds. And the healing of wounds also make the good old times. It is like the feeling of happiness you have once you are cured from a hard cold, or having a late lunch when you are real hungry. As the Sung dynasty genius put it, “eating late is as good as eating meat.”

The difference between these being the good old times or not, depends, in great part, of our inner awareness. If we are in touch with our innate inner awareness, which is the very essence of our heart-mind, we can live the present moment in such a way that it is the good old times. It will always be remembered so. In the words of Buddha Shakyamuni, “happiness does not comes from what it happens, it comes from what we think”. If you prefer to put it in a more humorous way, then remember Einstein, “if you sit one minute on a stove it feels like an hour, and if you sit one hour beside a pretty girl it seems like a minute”.

You can find more of my articles and photographs in my website: http://www.robertocurto.com.ar

Reflections

At the turn of a corner a tree with all his leaves bright dark red strike your sight, you have no more doubts. We are at the gates of winter. Our heart suddenly becomes warmer, as the fires that will burn in the hearth. How do you become aware of this? In the core of your heart/mind. It is the heart/mind that perceives this and everything. Just like a mirror. It reflects everything and retains nothing, ready for the next reflection. Our mind acts in a mirrorwise manner, and when we are aware of this, there are the mirrorwise reflections. This is what this blog is about. With both, words and images. Welcome.