the diamond sutra and singing (plus lagniappe*)
* a Quecha loanword
Ok, so I'm doing some research for some personal fiction that I'm writing, and in this vein, I'm reading a 2004 translation (from Chinese1) of the Diamond Sutra by Charles Muller.
Now, I can't really be sure (since my understanding of modern, traditional (as opposed to simplified) Chinese is virtually non-existent let alone any sorts of archaic forms and characters) that when Mr. Muller states:
whether he is interpreting the Sutra in a post-Derridean context without copping to it (since it's kind of hard to view anything outside of a theoretical tool that has permeated so much of our collective thinking) or if it's just assumed. It's tricky because in his translation, he specifically translates some of the text in the formal language very close to Derrida's signifier/signified delineation (this is where the knowledge of archaic Chinese might be helpful -- but then again, if I were so fluent in it, why would I be reading a translation...oh it's the old butterfly and dreaming man koan). In any event, I can't even pretend to understand what it is that I'm reading (though I also gather that you can't really understand the Sutra in the way that we normally understand the word..."understand"). It did cause me to think more closely about certain ideas, one of them being the word and idea: "technique" and in particular, how it's used with regards to music and the voice.
First let's reduce technique to a more basic meaning: that is, simply a method that one consciously follows in order to produce a desired result. So leaving aside any implied judgment about a good or a bad, simple or complicated, or even widely-applicable or narrow-in-scope, a the technique of a "natural singer" might be:
Honestly, it's probably the general technique that people without any vocal training use to sing (and with proper substitutions, speak). So then with formal training, we insert little sub-bullets:
So it looks more and more like a gigantic decision-tree. All of this is technique, regardless of normative judgments as to the quality of the results. Thinking technique simply as a method really helps solidify things. It gives you (or rather, me) more tools with which to evaluate how the technique is supposed to be achieving its goal: I can measure how consistent the method is at producing its result; I can look at whether or not I even like that result; I can look at how efficient it is at achieving the result and whether or not I might be able to simplify or cut back, etc. Thinking about it in this way liberates the idea from its common usage (
So what to do with these huge unwieldy decision trees? It could seem like a paradox to collapse them all, but that's one of the purposes of practice, the other being discovery. Over time,
should work towards collapsing down to
and the whole tree should collapse down to
The problem is that the basis upon which technique rests (that of the body) is forever changing (reminder to self: subject of different post will be the infinitely occuring annihilation and rebirth of self) and so the collapse will virtually never be complete, but it's certainly a worthy goal to strive for.
So what am I waiting for? I should get to work!
Now, I can't really be sure (since my understanding of modern, traditional (as opposed to simplified) Chinese is virtually non-existent let alone any sorts of archaic forms and characters) that when Mr. Muller states:
A vitally important message of the Diamond Sūtra is that non-abiding should not be misconstrued as a nihilistic sort of practice. On the other hand, it also does not imply simply giving free reign to one's thoughts, since then, one is certainly going to get further wrapped up in the dense web of one's own spinning. Non-abiding necessitates the kind of moment-to-moment attentiveness that is awesome in its required subtlety. Nonetheless, with just a modicum of experience in meditative practice, the new student of the Diamond Sutra will no doubt begin to get some sort of feel for what is going on in this text. In a sense, it is simple: the thoughts, labels, signs, characteristics, etc., that we associate with given things, are nothing more than labels, and should not be imputed as the reality of the thing in itself, thus becoming reified objects of our desire and dislike. Yet there is also such a thing as thinking and seeing correctly, and it is permissible, nay, necessary, to use these notions, signs, and labels to function in daily life, and especially to study Buddhism for the aim of attaining enlightenment. Thus, Buddhism (and any other responsible contemplative tradition) cannot condone any attitude that recommends negating, or running away from any of the experiences that impinge upon our consciousness. Nor can it maintain that there is any such thing as a fixed, or final truth.
whether he is interpreting the Sutra in a post-Derridean context without copping to it (since it's kind of hard to view anything outside of a theoretical tool that has permeated so much of our collective thinking) or if it's just assumed. It's tricky because in his translation, he specifically translates some of the text in the formal language very close to Derrida's signifier/signified delineation (this is where the knowledge of archaic Chinese might be helpful -- but then again, if I were so fluent in it, why would I be reading a translation...oh it's the old butterfly and dreaming man koan). In any event, I can't even pretend to understand what it is that I'm reading (though I also gather that you can't really understand the Sutra in the way that we normally understand the word..."understand"). It did cause me to think more closely about certain ideas, one of them being the word and idea: "technique" and in particular, how it's used with regards to music and the voice.
First let's reduce technique to a more basic meaning: that is, simply a method that one consciously follows in order to produce a desired result. So leaving aside any implied judgment about a good or a bad, simple or complicated, or even widely-applicable or narrow-in-scope, a the technique of a "natural singer" might be:
- Breathe in
- Open mouth
- Think the pitch(es)
- Sing
Honestly, it's probably the general technique that people without any vocal training use to sing (and with proper substitutions, speak). So then with formal training, we insert little sub-bullets:
- Breathe in
- Engage the diaphragm
- Think about "breath support" and continuity
- Open mouth
- Drop the jaw down and back
- Keep the jaw, face, and neck tension-free
- Think the pitch(es)
- Think about the duration, quality, preceding and proceeding pitches of the current note in question
- ....etc.
- Sing
So it looks more and more like a gigantic decision-tree. All of this is technique, regardless of normative judgments as to the quality of the results. Thinking technique simply as a method really helps solidify things. It gives you (or rather, me) more tools with which to evaluate how the technique is supposed to be achieving its goal: I can measure how consistent the method is at producing its result; I can look at whether or not I even like that result; I can look at how efficient it is at achieving the result and whether or not I might be able to simplify or cut back, etc. Thinking about it in this way liberates the idea from its common usage (
The Buddha is trying to help Subhuti unlearn his preconceived, and limited, notions of what reality is, the nature of Enlightenment, and compassion2), from the general way in which it is used in the music field (and I'm paraphrasing):
when you're sick, at the end of a long night, or just don't feel like it, technique is what gets you through [singing]3
So what to do with these huge unwieldy decision trees? It could seem like a paradox to collapse them all, but that's one of the purposes of practice, the other being discovery. Over time,
- Open mouth
- Drop the jaw down and back
- Keep the jaw, face, and neck tension-free
should work towards collapsing down to
- Open mouth
and the whole tree should collapse down to
- Sing
The problem is that the basis upon which technique rests (that of the body) is forever changing (reminder to self: subject of different post will be the infinitely occuring annihilation and rebirth of self) and so the collapse will virtually never be complete, but it's certainly a worthy goal to strive for.
So what am I waiting for? I should get to work!
1According to wikipedia, this picture is of the oldest known dated printed book, dated 868 CE, 587 years before the Gutenberg bible. Here's a picture!
2wikipedia
3Attributed to Erin Wall by William Murray in his book Fortissimo
*Oh that little bit of lagniappe? Yes, so I also discovered that if I rehashed Arleen Auger's heurestic for pitch placement from "finding the exact room and place for each pitch like separate floors in a hotel" to "think of each pitch as a guest at a wedding banquet and you've got to figure out where each one sits" takes care of a lot of problems. First, it diffuses the difficulty my mental concept has reconciling "each pitch on a separate floor in a hotel" with legato by keep each pitch distinct from one another but still within the same context (banquet hall). Not only that, but it also accounts for the phenomenon of pitches next to each other on the staff being not anywhere near each other in technique (this post very useful). Further, it helps to dissociate the voice from my identity as a person. Thinking about pitches as beings external to myself really helps in some fundamental way. I'll have to ponder why I think that is further.
2wikipedia
3Attributed to Erin Wall by William Murray in his book Fortissimo
*Oh that little bit of lagniappe? Yes, so I also discovered that if I rehashed Arleen Auger's heurestic for pitch placement from "finding the exact room and place for each pitch like separate floors in a hotel" to "think of each pitch as a guest at a wedding banquet and you've got to figure out where each one sits" takes care of a lot of problems. First, it diffuses the difficulty my mental concept has reconciling "each pitch on a separate floor in a hotel" with legato by keep each pitch distinct from one another but still within the same context (banquet hall). Not only that, but it also accounts for the phenomenon of pitches next to each other on the staff being not anywhere near each other in technique (this post very useful). Further, it helps to dissociate the voice from my identity as a person. Thinking about pitches as beings external to myself really helps in some fundamental way. I'll have to ponder why I think that is further.
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