Dragon Leaping, Phoenix Prancing; Dong Xiao of the North, Shakuhachi of the South

龙腾凤舞；北有洞箫，南有尺八


Took a break yesterday from practising the Shakuhachi 尺八 so my Xiao 箫 won’t go rusty (rather to prevent mould).
Putting the two side by side shows the contrast in appearance 小巫见大巫. Actually they each have their own “powers”; one can’t say the dragon is more superior to the phoenix.

The two instruments have a common history but naturally developed into a kind of Yin and Yang 太极生两仪 after the Tang dynasty. The Shakuhachi is like the majestic dragon that bursts into mighty leaps and wreaks stormy weather. It can be a tough ride on such a beast, needing stability and strength. When it’s rested there’s still tension, a dormant energy 藏龙.

The Xiao is refined and elegant like the phoenix gliding through the clouds. Soothing and flowing sounds are deceptively simple - execution requires tempering the power of the breath. Patience and virtue seems to be the foundation. A certain Romanticism surrounds this instrument with tales of love match made through music and ascensions into the heavens 吹箫引凤.

The Shakuhachi frees the spirit and the Xiao calms the senses, at least that’s my perception. Just like how Yin and Yang are interdependent, the dragon can have phoenix like qualities and vice versa.

Shakuhachi and Xiao duet:

On practical experience, the Shakuhachi having a wider bore does require a firm breath before a good tone is produced, whereas on the Xiao one may get away with it for a while before it becomes an obvious problem. Both instruments are driven by abdominal/diaphragmatic breathing coupled with lower dantian 下丹田 control. The lungs are secondary in support. Switching back to the Xiao was an unusual feeling (beyond adapting the embouchure) as I had to adopt a more restrained 内敛 approach so as not to overpower the instrument.

Technical notes: the Shakuhachi 尺八 referred to here is the traditional Japanese 5 holed bamboo instrument with a slanted cut at one end for blowing. There are actually variants of this in Chinese culture referring to the Southern Xiao 南箫 as 尺八 also. And to add confusion there are 6 and 8 holed Xiao using the same style of blowing edge as Shakuhachi. One way to look at an instrument is not to decouple it from its culture and history: the Shakuhachi includes the approach and nuances of playing, its notation system, it’s link to Zen practice, its relationships to other instruments such as koto, and the craftsmanship of making it.

Mantra 2: It's not the instrument (it's insufficient practice)

Perhaps it is human nature that when things go wrong we easily externalize and blame everything else. It could be a way of survival, being self-centred, or reflecting a need to feel in control.

In my encounter with my new shakuhachi (or it could be anything new in life such as a person) there was that bit of doubt: is this tuned correctly, does it have some flaw, would a more expensive piece be better. Fortunately in the case of an instrument, the teacher can use his experience to clear such doubts, and the student has to honestly face his own shortcomings and practise more!

This creates spaciousness and clarity for the student to grow with the instrument. There is confidence that comes from the solidity of a teacher. Herein lies a parallel with therapy where clients similarly benefit from the solidity of a counsellor who does not waver in the face of confusion, chaos, uncertainty.       

Another challenge is self awareness and in the shakuhachi (or any music) it's about the pitch, volume, and tempo while playing the instrument.

I had assumed that I was sustaining a regular tempo while practising. not realizing that I often slow down as a piece progressed. I suppose our mind plays tricks on us when there is some distraction that may come from fatigue/stress. Sometimes it could be due to our emotional shifts that affect the pace.

In the end, I needed to invite an old "teacher" to resume work: the Nikko mechanical metronome. It was bought eons ago when I learnt the classical guitar and languished when I suffered a finger injury which led to the "break-up" with guitar. There's something assuring about this simple mechanical tool in comparison to the modern electronic version. It has greater presence that cuts above my own playing compared to a beeping/blinking version. Like a Jedi master, my teacher guided me back to the "ancient" ways of metronome practice.

Mantra 1: Use the (full) Force

I had to get reacquainted with this approach of practising for rim-blown wind instruments that somehow I had overlooked. It's more likely that I had gotten complacent or "lazy" and had been putting attention on the pitch quality rather than getting a full bodied sound.

There is now greater clarity why practising with full force is helpful (other than breaking a sweat). This is the means to explore the periphery of the instrument's limits, for example, when does a note break and cross into overtones. That threshold is also the point where the sound can be full bodied with greatest resonance. And there's a certain logic that when one can use full force then tuning it down poses less of a problem, which then avails us a more dynamic range to portray a piece of music.

This video of shinobue master Yasukazu Kano (2018 Traditional Flute Festival) helps illustrate what I mean. It is rather liberating when the breath feels unrestricted.



Thus it is very fortunate to have a teacher to point out blind spots such as these. The shortcoming of self learning is that we tend to swing one of both ways: either be too self critical and give up, or too contented and remain stagnant. Of course, such outcomes are not "wrong" as long as we can accept it. So I guess my yearning helped drive me forward.

The new year was a tough period of experiencing another seasonal flu onslaught. Flu can be frustrating because it affects the breathing system and introduces aches that bring lethargy.

It can also be a fruitful experience of persisting with shakuhachi training. And this brings another lesson: how we can still practise but not having to be perfectionistic about the sound quality. This aspect probably highlights one of my weaknesses, the tendency to seek perfection.

It can be quite paradoxical but it works: continue to practise with full force and disregard the slight variations in quality. After a period of time the tone will improve. Looking back, I tended to compromise by blowing with less force, that is, playing it too safe/conservatively.