Leaving Things Alone

Chuang-Tzu

(From “The Way of Chuang Tzu” by Father Thomas Merton)

 

 

I know about leaving things alone, not interfering. I do not know about running things. Letting things alone: so that men will not blow their nature out of shape! Not interfering, so that men will not be changed into something they are not! When men do not get twisted and maimed beyond recognition, when they are allowed to live- the purpose of government is achieved.

Too much pleasure? Yang has too much influence. Too much suffering? Yin has too much influence. When one of these outweighs the other, it is as if the seasons came at the wrong times. The balance of cold and heat is destroyed; the body of man suffers.

Too much happiness, too much unhappiness, out of due time, men are thrown off balance. What will they do next? Thought runs wild. No control. They start everything, finish nothing. Here, competition begins, here the idea of excellence is born, and robbers appear in the world.

Now, the world is not enough reward for the “good”, nor enough punishment for the “wicked”. Since now the world itself is not big enough for reward or punishment. From the beginning, men have been running in all directions. How can they find time to be human?

 

You train your eye and your vision lusts after color. You train your ear and you long for delightful sound. You delight in doing good, and your natural kindness is blown out of shape. You delight in righteousness, and you become righteous beyond all reason. You overdo liturgy, and you turn into a ham actor. Overdo your love of music, and you play corn. Love of wisdom leads to wise contriving. Love of knowledge leads to fault finding. If men would stay as they really are, taking or leaving any of these things would make no difference. But, if they will not rest in their right state, these eight delights develop like malignant tumors. The world falls into confusion. Since men honor these delights, and lust after them, the world has gone stone blind.

When the delight is over they will not let go of it: they surround its memory with ritual worship, they fall on their knees and talk about it, play music and sing, fast and discipline themselves in honor of the eight delights. When they become a religion, how can you control them?

 

 

 

peace, wayf

Today’s work in progress.

 

Lighten the Load

 

(Finger style, medium tempo, with a slight shuffle feel)

 

 

Well, I guess it’s time to travel down that dusty road

Headin’ to the country, won’t be back no more

 

(Chorus)

Tell me, babe, don’t you wanna go?

Well, we ain’t gonna carry no burdens

Gotta lighten up the load

 

 

When I woke this mornin’, the sun was ridin’ high

You could tell I had to travel, by lookin’ in my eyes

 

Tell me, babe, don’t you wanna go?

Ain’t gonna carry no burdens

Lighten up the load

 

Tell me, pretty babe, don’t you wanna go

Head out to the country, we won’t come back no more

 

Tell me, babe, don’t you wanna go

Ain’t gonna carry no burdens

Lighten up the load

 

I saw that sun go slidin’ down behind the hills

Guess he had to travel, lord I know just how he feels

 

Tell me, babe, don’t you wanna go?

Ain’t gonna carry no burdens

Gotta lighten up the load

 

© 2006 wayfarin’ tunes

 

 

I think this song’s biggest strength is the musical accompaniment but I like the lyric as well. This song has actually evolved over the last two or three years. I started out with the same basic lyric, but have moved words and phrases around, and added a verse.

 

The music is completely different from what I started with. I love the way songs can just morph into completely different forms when I just allow them to breath. You can’t hear it, but trust me, it works much better now!

 

peace, wayf

There may be some of you who have been wondering what happened to me (although I am sure my absence has not affected the majority of Blogstream). The truth of it is I have been revisiting an old infatuation of late.

I recently purchased a four track cassette recorder and began pursuing my desire to get the songs I have written (or at least the ones I remember) archived. This process has been randomly disturbed by the new ideas that will inevitably spring up while playing guitar. Of course, with new ideas come hours and hours of perfecting those ideas into song form, lest they are forgotten like so many others before them. I have played the guitar so much in the passed couple of weeks that my wrists hurt. And still, many of the older songs have not been committed to tape. So, I have decided to step back for a moment and regain my focus before continuing.

The most amazing thing is, although I realized I had not visited the Stream for awhile, I didn’t realize exactly how long it had been until just last night. I find it fascinating how we can consume so much of our time with the things we enjoy doing without ever so much as lamenting the hours we have wiled away. I am happy for those hours I have spent with a guitar in hand the last couple of weeks, and I feel a bit more at peace for having had that time, because I have grown ever so slightly as a musician for having spent that time practicing diligently. Also, the hours spent have served to help me better understand what it is exactly that I would like to “accomplish” with my music.

Is it to be a “star”? Would I like to make a ton of money and be on the cover of “Acoustic Guitarist” and have throngs of adoring fans flocking to my shows? I’d be an obvious and blatant liar if I said I wouldn’t like to be a “success” (or, at least, what our society deems as successful). But, in truth, it goes beyond that in a way. Why would I like to be successful? Why do I want people to hear my music? What do I have to offer the world in the realm of music that no one else has offered? Hmmmm…

I am by no means an innovative guitarist. I play a very traditional folk and blues finger style that has been around many more years than I have. Very early on in my experience with music, I developed a love for the more simple and understated playing styles. I love all music and have always had a great appreciation for the “movers and shakers” in the world of guitar, but it struck me then (in a very simple and understated way, of course) that the simple beauty of “back porch” music was being choked out by other, more popular musical styles. I couldn’t understand then why no one seemed to care. Of course, I know now; there’s no glitz or glamour involved. There are no larger than life demigods prancing around on stage performing wild antics. In short, most people find more traditional folk music styles “boring”. My biggest wish as a guitarist and songwriter would be that I could present traditional style music to someone who had not been exposed to it in a way that would garner an interest in them to explore and discover the long list of artists who have shaped me. I only want what any folk musician who is honest with himself wants; to keep the music alive.

So, with that thought in mind, I would like to share a list of some traditional musicians who have made an impact on me, personally.

 

 

The Blues Guys-

1.      “Mississippi” John Hurt- The biggie! When I first heard John Hurt’s music, I was moved in ways I can not describe. His music was a revelation to me, and remains a constant inspiration to move forward and expand as a player. In short, John Hurt’s music was, and is, the perfect synthesis of Rural Southern Folk and Blues music. I don’t think anyone has improved on his style. Simply great. (John Hurt is absolutely my favorite musician...period.)

2.      Muddy Waters- Muddy just simply managed to do something no one else had done, and many people are still trying. He played a style of guitar that was traditionally unaccompanied, but did it with a full band and made it work. His work opened many people’s eyes to the traditional blues styles of Mississippi.

3.      Sam “Lightnin’” Hopkins- Sam Hopkins broke the “larger than life” rule I mentioned earlier. He was a flamboyant and charismatic performer with a style all his own. “Lightnin’” is well known for his ability to make up complete songs on the spot. His live performances were, for the most part, improvised.

4.      “Blind” Willie McTell- Will McTell is someone I have only recently discovered, but his fluid twelve string guitar work has made a large impact on my playing.

5.      “Blind Boy” Fuller- Fuller is a prime example of the Rural Blues style known as “Piedmont”, or “Tidewater” blues that is indigenous of North and South Carolina, and throughout the Appalachian Piedmont region. The fluid and intricately melodic finger style guitar work fuses Blues with the folk traditions of the Appalachians in a unique and engaging way. “Blind Boy” Fuller made many records with Harmonica great Sonny Terry.

6.      Eddie James “Son” House- “Son” House may not have “invented” Mississippi Delta Blues, but he was certainly one of the single most influential players of that style. His bombastic vocals and aggressive slide guitar playing influenced many younger blues artists. Two of his most notable progenies were Robert Johnson and Muddy Waters, both of whom were taught first hand by him.

7.      Robert Johnson- Robert Johnson managed to play a very sophisticated and complex Delta blues style that has continued to impact artists in ways he probably never dreamed possible. Listening to Robert Johnson’s records always gives me a certain feeling and mood which no one else has ever given me. A perfect example that a single voice accompanied with an acoustic guitar can be both otherworldly and completely down to earth at the same time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Folk & Country Guys-

1. Woody Guthrie- Woody showed the world that you can indeed write original material and still be “traditional”. His documentation in song of the trials and tribulations faced by people during the Great Depression and Dustbowl are not only musical masterpieces, but literary ones as well. He was a superb writer and musician.

2. Jimmie Rodgers- He was the “Father of Country Music”. His songs were great, his guitar playing was good, and he delivered it in an honest and sincere way that is timeless.

3. The Carter Family (especially “Mother” Maybelle) - Fantastic music, superb playing, and wonderful vocal harmonies. Just beautiful!

4. Hank Williams, Sr. - One of the best songwriters Country music has ever seen. Real, honest, and heartfelt delivery of timeless material.

5. “Doc” Watson – Extremely fluid and beautiful guitar playing that crosses the lines between blues, country, and folk seamlessly. His laid back, comfortable vocal delivery is fantastic.

6. Merle Travis – In my opinion, Merle Travis was the best Country guitarist of his time. Everything I said about “Doc” Watson applies to Merle Travis.

 Any fan of Country music should know about “Doc” Watson & Merle Travis.

7. Johnny Cash – Johnny Cash will most likely always be my favorite Country artist. His ability to write original material that “felt” old was uncanny. His sparse lyrics were complimented beautifully by his guitar style and vocal delivery, and he made you feel every word. The early records with the “Tennessee Two” are the best.

 

Many of the people I listed above were introduced to me through listening to other, more “modern” players. The most notable influences were Eric Clapton and Bob Dylan, but Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones and Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin also played a large role in my exposure to these kinds of music.

Other modern players who have not only influenced my playing, but also opened doors into the past include Ry Cooder, Taj Mahal, John Sebastian (of Lovin’ Spoonful fame), Jorma Kaukonen (of The Jefferson Airplane and Hot Tuna), Neil Young, Stephen Stills, Corey Harris, Alvin Youngblood Hart, Allison Krauss & Union Station, Cephas & Wiggins, Ricky Skaggs, Marty Stuart, Vince Gill, Roger McGuinn (of the Byrds), Duke Robillard (of Roomful of Blues), Stephen Grossman, and countless other great musicians; all of whom I could not possibly list here (well, I could, but you’re probably already bored to tears).

I hope that this list will inspire some of you to seek out some of these musicians that you may not have heard and listen to their music. I personally find the simple beauty of the music these people made to be a profound listening experience each time I hear it, and as I grow older it seems to become more and more ingrained into my being. The one thing I think each of the fourteen musicians I listed above brought forth with their music was a sincere and honest approach that seems to be disappearing in the music world at an alarming rate.

 

At any rate, that’s who I’m listening to!

Now, back to the guitar!

Peace, Wayf  

Watching intently as the sun beams down onto my face

The black wall of thunder clouds looming across the flat horizon

Makes even the blue sky above me seem ominous and threatening

Flashes of lightning in the distance against the black backdrop

Turning the clouds an odd and threatening shade of purple

Faintly, at first, claps of thunder roll across the prairie

Then, louder,

The storm’s moving fast,

And I watch its approach

Roaring across the flat landscape toward me with an intensity

That is awe inspiring and scary as hell at the same time

The first drops of life giving water strike my cheeks

Cool, refreshing,

Yet it is the harbinger of the all too visible danger that is lurking there

In the distance across that flat, treeless field,

Barreling toward me; so close now, I can smell it

The tinge of air burning as electrical currents course through it

The smell of rain so thick, I taste it in the back of my throat

And then:

BOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!!

Though I knew it was coming; I am always startled by that first clap of thunder

Enraptured by the majesty, paralyzed by its power

I watch its approach intently, enjoying the sensations of it

As the wind picks up and flaps the sleeves of my shirt against my arms

The crackle of lightning is now audible

There

         Just ahead

                          Look!!!!!

The rain is falling so hard in front of me;

It looks like a white curtain

I turn to seek shelter, but it’s too late,

I am caught by the tempest’s wet fist in a death grip

The rain falls on me so hard and fast

Within seconds, I feel soaked to the core

And then, as quickly as it descended upon me,

It is gone, leaving only a soft sprinkle of rain to fall on me

As I turn and walk toward the house

I look back in the direction from which it came

Where the sky was so black just a short time ago

And see the loveliest shade of blue my eyes have ever seen

And I smile

And thank the sky

For the thrilling show

 

 

peace, wayf

 

I remember crossing the Red River with granddad

From Texas into Oklahoma

(When you catch the sun shining just right on that river, you can see

Why it’s named “The Red River”; the Red banks seem to glisten in the morning sun)

Out to a farm to pick watermelons

In the arid Oklahoma sun

Mosquitoes and chiggers,

Wasps that seemed the size of my young fist

Buzzing and flitting passed my head,

As sweat poured down

The bridge of my nose

And formed little puddles

In the red dirt

 

Loading the back of the little Ford truck

‘Til the tire wells

Just nearly rested on the tops of the tires

With the green melons

Piled up near the top of the cab,

A cubby hole near the front

Of the bed for me to ride,

So I could tap the glass if anything happened on the way

Back to gramps’ produce stand

Beneath the big pecan tree

Across the street from gramma’s church

 

(Sometimes the pastor would be inside playing piano

The lazy, almost honky tonk strains of “Amazing Grace”

Flowing out of the open doors and into the waiting street

Filling my head and ears with sweet serenity

In the heat

Of a Red River Valley summer day)

 

 

 

Sometimes I feel as if that red dirt and black mud of my youth

Is ingrained into my pores from so many days buried elbow deep

 

Diggin’ ‘taters,

Cuttin’ okra,

Pickin’ melons,

 

I see myself (an older lad, by then) in gramma’s backyard

Shaking the little pecan tree, picking up the paper hulls and eating

‘Til I felt I may pop

 

And indeed, until I made myself sick on them

(The funny thing is, pecans aren’t near as good coming back up)

 

Filling up a paper sack to take to gramma,

So she could make a pecan pie

 

Oh! The glorious smell!

 

The taste of a piping hot pecan pie, all gooey and sweet

Filling up my mouth with all those wonderful, warm sensations

 

I see Pa-Pa grabbing a mean old rooster and ringing his neck

 

That night, there was chicken and dumplings on the table

 

Red beans,

Green Onions,

Fried okra,

Squash,

And cornbread

 

(Along with what was left of that pecan pie)

 

Yes, sometimes I know that Red Dirt

Is still in my pores

I FEEL it there;

I can still taste the faint hint of it

In the okra

And red beans

 

I can remember the grittiness of it

Against the roof of my mouth

And in my nostrils,

Sticking to my sweaty face

In a reddish paste as I walked to

Kincaid’s General Store in the burning sun

To buy a Peach Nehi and a Peanut Rounder

With the two dollars I had earned from Pa-Pa for helping him

 

Diggin’ ‘taters

Cuttin’ okra

And pickin’ melons

 

Ahhhh, yes!!!

That red dirt is part of me

And I wouldn’t change that for anything!!!