Post 110.

A black-and-white version of the image "The Essential Structure of Eco-Literate Music Pedagogy appears on Page 11 of my monograph. This tree is meant to represent the Self becoming ecological literate. The Self of the Music Teacher, the Self of the Student. Ultimately, the Self of any person. I argue, in my monograph, that understanding this structure will help a person become more ecologically literate.

At the trunk, you see three words: Ecological, and above it Literacy (that can be read directionally as "Ecological Literacy," moving upward in the Self tree), and below it Consciousness (that is "Ecological Consciousness," moving downward in the tree). In other words, if this tree is understood as a Self (yourself, or another person), Ecological Literacy is a reaching out from the Self toward more theoretical and/or active processes such as Sustainability, Activism, Conservation, Spirituality and Policy. For instance, Conservation is a theoretical position people take in which they attempt to conserve land by creating wilderness preservation, public natural parks, etc. Activism is seen often by people who have chosen to, as they say, take to the streets, to fight against practices as destructive, such as Tar Sands extraction, Nuclear Power Plants, Animal Abuse in Food Production, etc. These theoretical and/or active processes the fruits of the Self/tree in the image. Ecological Consciousness, our awareness of our emerging ecological Self, is fed by the roots of Soundscape, Local Musicians, Family Stories, Local Foods, Cultural History, and Geologic History. We become conscious of these experiences in a far less theoretical way than we experience the fruits of the tree. But knowing the way trees exist scientifically, like a tree, the Self is fed not only by the roots, but by the leaves and fruits too, so our personal philosophizing (theoretical) and activism (active) end up feeding the trunk (our Self), if in a different way than the roots. This list of fruits and roots, also, it not meant to be complete or comprehensive, but suggestive. You may recognize other roots and other fruits of the tree that are not mentioned, but fully fit the description and categorization of the current list.

Finally, the image also lists clouds, and soil. Under clouds there are such challenges as The Sixth Extinction, Alienation, Climate Change, Anthropocentrism, Injustice, Waste, Soil Loss, Transience, and Water Pollution. These are big things, external to ourselves, but which the results of which affect us much as the results of clouds (rain, blocking the sun, etc.) affects the health of a tree. For instance, when acid rain falls on the tree, it can negatively impact the leaves, fruit, and roots, and ultimately then the trunk. Similarly if we hold Anthropocentric bias, heatwaves caused by Climate Change, or drink polluted water, our ecological Self is negatively impacted.

To clarify, Alienation, as used in this book, is explained in the chapter "Philosophy on Soil." The image on page 32 "The Modern Individual, Enclosed and Uprooted" (included at the bottom of the blog) gives insight. Alienation occurs, in this context, when an individual experiences an enclosed commons (e.g., musics are copyrighted, land is privatized, food is difficult to find, etc.—here understanding Karl Marx’s historical criticism might be helpful; see his “Expropriation of the Agricultural Population from the Land”), and also when persons are uprooted from communities of people, who have lived together in place for many generations (for a critique of uprootedness in music education, see my publication “Music Educated and Uprooted”).

The idea of Transience is related to Alienation. To be transient is a state of “not lasting, enduring, or permanent. … lasting only a short time; existing briefly; temporary.” Modern professionals often live in a state of Transience, we move for employment and cut ties with family and friends from our childhood, which is the self-inflicted cause of Alienation for many, dissecting individuals from communities of people and the commons.

Two aspects of the soil in which our roots are fed (roots which lead to Ecological Consciousness, feeding the Self) identified in the text are Stability and Soundness. Stability, simply spoken, stands in resistance to Transience. We are stable in place when we reside (inhabit, dwell for a considerable time, abide, rest, make ourselves inherent to a place). Stability feeds our Self in the same way (but opposite) that ongoing professionalized Transience injures the Self. Even nomads, historically, aren’t Transient in the modern sense, visiting the same rivers, and deserts, and mountains, and valleys every single year of their lives, becoming familiar with place in the same way as those who dwell. Further analysis of the affects of unwanted Transcience on the Ecological Self, such as Transience experienced by climate refugees, and those fleeing war, is needed (see my blog post #54). The idea of Soundness is described especially beginning on page 101, the section “A Deep Ecology Musicking Spirituality.” Looking at the image on page 102 "A Spiritual Praxis" (included at the bottom of this blog post), Sound and Silence are the ground of Creation, on which Musickers stand, able to push away (resist) or allow in pressures and/or benefits offered by existing Institutions (schools, districts, national curricula, publishing companies, etc.). Soundness (that is the "ness" of Sound and Silence) is let in through our feet, much like the percussionist Evelyn Glennie hears music through her feet, as well as through our ears. Soundness cultivates the roots of our tree (and ultimately the Self) by being spiritually uplifting (or if poisoned soil, e.g., through noise, injuring the Self).

DS

"You don't get to choose how you're going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you're going to live. Now." ~Joan Baez

More in this blog:
See Post 54: What is a Climate Refugee, and Why Do They Matter to Teachers?

Post 109.

Zen: “Chinese Ch'an Buddhism. a Mahayana movement, introduced into China in the 6th century a.d. and into Japan in the 12th century, that emphasizes enlightenment for the student by means of meditation and direct, intuitive insights, accepting formal studies and observances only when they form part of such means. … (Lowercase) A state of meditative calm in which one uses direct, intuitive insights as a way of thinking and acting.”

Especially in the 20th Century, Zen (and zen) came to the U.S. in expanding Buddhist communities, in the art of beat poets such as Gary Snyder, and through the work of popular Catholic writers such as Thomas Merton, Thomas Berry, and Richard Rohr. It became a focus of Americans interested in self-exploration and working against increasingly fast-paced, technological, work-focused life. Not all who practice Zen in the United States were interested in converting to Buddhism; and ultimately this led to non-religious zen practices (including to whitewashed Western mindfulness movements that don't even refer to or give gratitude for their practice's East Asian origins), and to zen's widespread practice in everything from martial arts to motorcycle maintenance. Zen is, in its 21st Century understanding, applied to specific activities in everyday life, including work and play. It is not unreasonable, then, to suggest there is a zen to music teaching; or at least that zen can help us who teach music.

Mu: “Not have/without.”
“A monk asked Jōshū in all earnestness, “Does a dog have Buddha nature or not?” Jōshū said, “Mu!” (Kōun Yamada, The Gateless Gate, p. 11)

Zen koans, such as those collected by Kōun Yamada, serve as paradoxical stories for meditation. Time must be spent with them. Contemplating. Rolling them over in the mind. I cannot tell you what the meaning is in any complete way. Explanations (including those provided in Yamada's book) are always incomplete. Koan's help people attain enlightenment, gain insight to hidden things, and achieve peace of mind and body. I draw attention to this koan because, for me, it enlightens (gives light to) my definition of music--the intentional experiencing of sound—which is an anti-anthropocentric definition created to open space for music teachers to consider the musicking of non-human animals more on-its-own-terms. Does a dog have music or not? Mu! Rather than saying dog animals are without music, the more robust idea of Mu is introduced. (I also like that Mu in English is the beginning of the word Music for my modification of the koan.) This is the same for human animals. Enlightenment is attained through Mu. When we learn an instrument, or improve our singing, we enter a state of being that can be described as nothingness. No-thing-ness. Things become unimportant. If we are thinking about things (what to have for diner, where to purchase a new hammer, whether the boss will shout at you) in a performance, we often mess-up. There is too much on our plate. Too much liquid in our cup. When we enter a state of nothingness, Mu, we music; and many believe dogs live in Mu every moment of every day. They have already attained the nothingness for which we strive.

“We can begin falling in love with the Earth right now. … Mindfulness is the continuous practice of touching deeply every moment of daily life.” (Thich Nhat Hanh, Love Letter to the Earth, p. 86)

Every day I practice my instrument, or sing, or record a soundscape I find interesting (and post to YouTube), I fall in love with Mother Earth. The wood of my marimba, or metal of my vibraphone, came from Mother Earth. When I touch it and it resonates, it is like the voice of my God speaking the inexplicable language of Mother Earth (see Satis Coleman, The Book of Bells, p. 20). Unseen human animals put their sweat into fashioning Mother Earth's body into beautiful instruments, and now I create my art on these instruments. I practice zen when I touch my instruments mindfully, aware of all of these ecological and historical connections; to human and non-human people and place. Every moment of musicking is an opportunity for zen insight.

“The lakes hidden among the hills are saints, and the sea too is a saint who praises God without interruption in her majestic dance. The great, gashed, half-naked mountain is another of God’s saints. There is no other like him. He is alone in his own character; nothing else in the world ever did or ever will imitate God in quite the same way. That is his sanctity.” (Thomas Merton, When the Trees Say Nothing, p. 30)

The tree and the mountain who offered wood and metal for my marimba and vibraphone are saints, who imitate God in ways I cannot. But now we imitate God together, a collaboration even when I see myself alone in the practice room. I am not alone. We can imitate God as a musician and music teacher. When I introduce students to these instruments, I can help them approach it with full mindfulness; aware of the ecological and historical connections to people and place. I can help them recognize the sainthood of the tree and mountain bodies on which we music. We can slow down and truly experience each sound. Slowly. Livingly. Lovingly. When we do this, we teach music as if it were a zen practice. We zen.

“But musicians also live in the real world and in various discernible ways the sounds and rhythms of different epochs and cultures have affected their work, both consciously and unconsciously.” (R. Murray Schafer, The Soundscape, p. 103)

Zen is a practice of bringing the unconscious to consciousness. Enlightenment. The mysterious becomes, in some way, experienced and understood. The Canadian composer, R. Murray Schafer, who passed away this week, drew music teachers attention to the musicality of the soundscapes we find ourselves in every day. Mother Earth is one giant, ongoing musical composition. One job of music teachers is helping people become aware of that composition, and to help improve its musicking. That which we had previously ascribed to mystery became slightly less mysterious. This helps transform our music teaching practice. This understanding also provides an opportunity for gratitude. Graciously, the cup of consciousness is filled and emptied again and repeated again, and gracious for the student sharing the musical experience, the student being a teacher, and the musicking world in which we find ourselves, amazing, unrepeatable nothingness, that is Mu and music, is created and disappears into eternity in every moment, and in none.

DS

More in this blog:
See Post 8: Chinese Philosophy, Ecocentrism, and Eco-Literate Music Pedagogy

Image: Truc Lam Zen Monastery

Post 108.

Today’s news is filled with the heatwave. Fifteen kids needed to be rescued, hiking in Maryland; and two were hospitalized. Here in Pennsylvania, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) is warning residents not to leave their pets out in the sun, and to walk dogs in the shade. Already this year, 28 dog deaths have been reported due to heat. Recent studies warn that, because of climate change, heatwaves will “drastically worse in the Northern Hemisphere.” Between 1998 and 2017, there were 160,000 heat-related deaths globally. The scientists suggest that record-breaking heat events are up to 7 times more likely to occur between 2021 to 2050.

How does this relate to what we do as educators? In 2019 Raffi wrote the song “Young People Marching” inspired by the work of Greta Thunberg:

Decades of lies, decades of denial\ Turned up the heat, engulfed us in fire\ Decades of obstruction, though people knew better\ Caused this climate emergency, now we gotta set ourselves free\ Of this climate emergency—climate emergency

“Engulfed in fire,” we recognize our responsibilities as music educators every bit as much as young people like Greta and professional musicians like Raffi. Unbound, for the most part, from the curricular dictates of distant global corporate interests and governments, we set our classroom’s direction in a way many Reading and Math teachers cannot. We aren't required to teach to a script. We don’t have to prepare children for weekly bubble tests; or to narrow possible futures to multiple-guess.

We teach music, and music is part of everything. Music education in schools is ecological if we allow it to be. If we take off our blinders.

More in this blog:
See Post 27: The American Politics of Climate Change
And also Post 53: An Intersectional Approach to Climate Justice

DS

Image:  https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/97/Funeral_for_our_future_-_Melbourne_-_IMG_3634_%2831186598827%29.jpg/640px-Funeral_for_our_future_-_Melbourne_-_IMG_3634_%2831186598827%29.jpg