When Will Then Be Now?
A Reflection on Meditative Spaces with Old Machines Duo
Sarah Off, violin & Mathieu D’Ordine, cello
When we first planned a recital program around the idea of mindfulness I had my doubts. Would such a program be uniform and colorless, without contrast? Doesn’t the very idea of creating a meditative space in a concert hall interfere with the tension we feel as artists to market ourselves? To struggle mightily to attract a seemingly indifferent audience? Maybe even to feign aloof nonchalance as we watch project after promising project be presented to mostly empty concert halls?
When I first heard the term “mindfulness” many years ago, I thought that it somehow was synonymous with inner peace, that it magically drained the practitioner of emotion like the Vulcan ritual of Kohlinar from Star Trek. Of course, the reality is more complex - as complex as people, and as multifaceted as our emotions. Not only is there no single way to practice mindfulness (e.g. you don’t have to be sitting in meditation, a practicing Buddhist, etc.), but the path of mindfulness practice is not so much a staircase as it is a winding trail. It is a journey which we all start from different places: we start from where we are.
Researching the translated term where we get “mindfulness” from, I am also reminded the practitioner’s experiences are not limited, that “any feeling [they] may experience exists in relation to a whole variety or world of feelings that may be skillful or unskillful, with faults or faultless, relatively inferior or refined, dark or pure.” (Gethin, 1992)
Suffice to say, the practice and experience of mindfulness is not limiting but expansive.
In selecting music for this evening, we chose to bring pieces that were meaningful to us and that would demonstrate the range of meditative spaces a concert hall can evoke. Some of these represent mindfulness or meditation in an explicit way - our world premiere of Dylan Fixmer’s November Walk captures the tone of a walking meditation through the high prairie in winter - and some are metaphorical, allegorical, or even religious. Schnittke’s madrigal in memoriam Oleg Kagan is an open expression of loss, and even though grief is a distant specter from the oft-stated goal of “inner peace” its inclusion in the program is meant to highlight that any starting point on the journey of mindfulness is a valid one.
Our journeys (in mindfulness or in life) are often not smooth, sunny, or pleasant, but we all are walking the path in our own way. We deserve support and empathy from one another, and we can only do our best to help provide that support in whatever way we can.