Flutes in Brooklyn

People like me who live in Manhattan think of Brooklyn (or almost anywhere else in the world) as a lesser place, requiring a visa. Going there seems like an adventure, requiring careful advance planning. I had to go there this morning for a shakuhachi (traditional Japanese bamboo flute) lesson with a visiting master from Kyoto, Japan, Yoshio Kurahashi. A friend asked where in Brooklyn I was going. I said, "Brooklyn, Brooklyn." She rolled her eyes. Ok, I went to Brooklyn Heights, a nice part of the city. I knew that.

This morning's temperature as I set out was 18 degrees without the wind-chill, which took the thermometer below zero. My wife, Connie, who is from Sioux Falls, told me that New Yorkers (like me) don't understand midwestern cold and can die without proper protection. I put on leg warmers (which I usually wear when I cycle in cold weather; standing in the bedroom wearing only the black warmers and underwear made me look like an exotic dancer). I put on two layers on top--silk against the skin and a sweater--then a parka, wool cap, gloves, heavy socks and boots, scarf. I went out feeling like a child heading into the snow. Pray that I don't fall over.

The apartment where we were having our lesson is small, cozy, appealing with actual tatami mats covering half of the living room floor. Kurahashi was there, he had flown in from Osaka last night, looking just as he did last summer when I was in Kyoto and played the flute with him at his home. The weather then was hot and rainy. There were six of us in Brooklyn today to study with him a piece called Tamagawa, which honors six rivers of that name in Japan. It is a classical piece usually played with a koto accompaniment. Afterwards, I had a private lesson with Kurahashi reviewing a piece I already know, Shin Takasago. One of my problems as a shakuhachi player (never having studied music before) is timing, rhythem, counting. (These are sometimes problems in my life as well. Hmmm.) Playing this piece with Kurahashi was intended to help me with my sense of musical rhythm. Usually I'm nervous when I play with him; today I wasn't. It was a good lesson.

Today is a Friday and until two weeks ago I would have been at work in the morning. At some point during the lesson today, playing a nineteenth-century Japanese composition on an ancient instrument in Brooklyn, I realized that at the same moment the company I ran until two weeks ago was having a board meeting. Board meetings were always stressful, as they are supposed to be. I was fired two weeks ago and therefore didn't have to attend today's board meeting. Undoubtedly, one of the topics of conversation was me and my departure, perhaps even how I had caused the company grief. Who knows. I didn't have to worry about it. I was wearing blue jeans and playing a bamboo flute. I was not dressed in a blue pin-striped suit and yellow tie decorated with elephants. I was not defending any decision I had made. I was playing music and not too badly either.

When I walked back into the street, the freezing wind was blowing off of the river. I pulled my wool cap over my ears and walked along in the sun, whose cold rays made me happy. Imagine playing music on such a winter's day and walking freely through Brooklyn Heights. Exactly there, knowing exactly where.