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.

New Winds from the Rising Sun

My journey with wind instruments and its music starts on a new track with the formal learning of the shakuhachi (尺八). It is a beautiful mystery how connections are made from one thing/person to another. I believe part of it is driven by one's aspiration and being open to explore what comes up before us.

In struggling to master the Tang embouchure Xiao (唐口箫), I realized a suitable teacher was needed and the usual Xiao/Dizi teachers were unlikely to be equipped. Unfortunately being unable to leave the country, I couldn't go get guidance from the well known craftsman himself who's based in Taiwan. There was some self doubt and uncertainty because the shakuhachi was no mere instrument, it embodies the rich culture and traditions of Japan, including an entire notation system (假名谱) and melodic scales.

The notation system is fascinating as it is similar in the approach of 减字谱 which is used for the guqin (古琴). Each symbol/word represents a specific fingering pattern, with additional markings for rhythm and dynamics. And of course markings specific to the head movement techniques so characteristic in the performance of this instrument.

Fortunately this was not my first immersion into the Japanese arts. Around 19 years ago I took up Aikido (和气道), and looking back it was no mean feat. Luckily I didn't break anything in the course of training.

So I said just go for it. I'm someone who likes to explore an interest deeply and see how far it brings me. My greatest resource is the Internet and social media, and that's where I found my teacher and subsequently a beginner's shakuhachi. Strangely he wasn't yet qualified to teach (due to the highly structured Japanese grading system) when I reached out to him but within a few weeks he completed his exams and became a newly minted teacher. Amazing serendipity.

Next came the instrument bit which I had to start off conservatively given the high cost of bamboo shakuhachi, with new ones going from USD1,500 and beyond. It wasn't so straight forward as getting my Xiao because there were so many more established makers of shakuhachi and the majority of good ones were still from Japan. It was such a common problem that solutions were already available: synthetic shakuhachi.

Again, the Internet can be a great friend and I soon found the Bell Shakuhachi locally. My preference has been to source pre-owned items locally so as to avoid wastage of resources. Again it was serendipitous that the gentleman had recently bought it for a month and was looking to let go. The seller-buyer meeting was not just a transaction as there was common interest and engagement to form new friendship.

At about the same time I also sought help from a friend to see if he had any shakuhachi on hand. It was a shot in the dark as I knew he mostly collected Xiao, Vietnamese flutes, and tin whistles. Surprisingly he had the Yuu Shakuhachi which he kindly loaned to me.

So here I am with two synthetic shakuhachi (the Yuu is pictured above the Bell). Even as a beginner I could appreciate how both are excellent instruments. I witnessed my teacher testing them and the outcome was both are good for beginners. Since I already have the Bell, I was advised to stick with that for training.



Here's my amateur recording making a comparison of both instruments:

Bell Shakuhachi: https://soundcloud.com/lawrence-goh-2/bell-shakuhachi-test
Yuu Shakuhachi: https://soundcloud.com/lawrence-goh-2/yuu-shakuhachi-test

It probably sounds similar but I did find less effort on the higher octave with the Bell. The Yuu seemed to provide more equal volume for all notes, making it better balanced. Given the shallower utaguchi (blowing edge) on the Bell, and also the different material used, it felt more sweet and refined when blown. These are subtle differences one can feel as the instrument vibrates along the contact points of our fingers and chin. Let's see what else this path opens up for me.

Beautiful Winds

It has been a while since blogging here though some thoughts have gone into a learning diary on my iPad instead.

On 15 Sep 2017 my journey with end-blown wind instruments started. It was a relatively cheap Northern Xiao (北箫) ordered online from China. I was fortunate to be exposed to wind instruments from a young age (primary school) where the curriculum included music lessons using the recorder. Apparently it was a popular choice even in other countries.

The humble plastic recorder stayed with me for many years as I took joy in the playback of popular soundtracks from cartoon shows and Chinese wushu serials. Some song/show titles are: 小宝历险记，帝女花，楚留香，天蚕变. It was interesting as I figured out on my own to extend the range of notes beyond what was taught in school.

As a kid I didn't bother with music scores but just played from memory. In adult years, I formally learnt the classical guitar but the journey was disrupted as I injured my left pinky while playing basketball with colleagues, probably in the late 1990s. When I tried to pick it up many years later the interest was greatly diminished.

In the meantime new sounds appealed to me and I began dabbling with the ocarina (陶笛) and Xun (埙). My foundation in music theory became useful again as I found joy in searching out the scores of old songs to play, thanks to Google. In terms of musical notation I was still on the numeric system (简谱) which for me remains more intuitive than the Western notation (五线谱). What I learnt from the ocarina is the possibility of covering two octaves in a single instrument (double chamber), which for me meant the versatility to execute many more songs. That occupied me for a couple of years.

Perhaps due to maturity, my taste expanded from melodic tunes to more contemplative, therapeutic sounds. Simple instrumental music appealed to me and later matched my journey into the practices of mindfulness. Subsequently I pondered on these wonderful pieces and noticed a common theme that stood out to me: they all had the sound of the bamboo Xiao. This ancient instrument can sound sweet, raspy, or melancholic. It was time to explore further.

It's been just over two years since my first Xiao bought online from China arrived on 15 Sep 2017. It was a leap of faith both for buying online and for trying to see if I could play it on my own. I didn't plan to engage any teacher as I assumed I could manage just like the earlier wind instruments.

I was proven wrong. After following Youtube videos and reading tutorials online, I ended up with aching jaws and dizzy spells. The instrument looked deceptively simple as it was just bamboo with some holes and a cut-out for blowing. To save my sanity and health I ventured out to look for a school and my first teacher put me on the right track. My repertoire of Chinese tunes expanded along with greater mastery of the Xiao. It was wonderful to venture beyond pop songs to traditional pieces, to engage deeper with Chinese culture as such pieces carried with it rich history.

As with life, unforeseen circumstances took place and he had to focus on higher studies and reduced teaching hours. Although he still offered lessons at a different venue, they were in group format where the entire class was on Dizi (笛子). Somehow I became an unofficial member of an orchestra (there were other instrument classes going on). I welcomed the new experiences of combined practice and even a public performance as an orchestra.

My interest in the Xiao continued to burn so I moved to acquire better instruments, ultimately landing with a Tang embouchure Xiao. It was a major jump which pushed the boundaries of my abilities. This was my first encounter with a much heftier flute, thick walled, larger finger holes, and an unusual blowing end. Unfortunately it was an unfamiliar instrument for my teacher as he had difficulty playing on it. The craftsman did warn me that there would be hurdles switching from a typical Xiao to the Tang embouchure because it required a more relaxing blowing technique that was oppositional to how Xiao and Dizi are played.

Around the same time, my father's deteriorating health required more attention from me and I had to absent myself from classes. After his passing, I was left at a crossroad of options and uncertainties, which I'll leave for another blog entry.

From left to right:

1. CF key Tang embouchure Xiao (唐口箫/唐尺八) made by Master Winson Liao
2. CF key U embouchure Northern Xiao from Dong Xuehua (董雪华)
3. DG key U embouchure Northern Xiao from Guanzi Xiansheng (管子先生)
4. DG key U embouchure Northern Xiao from Ren xiao (任箫) made of ABS plastic
5. DG key U embouchure Northern Xiao made by Master Winson Liao

Anxiety & Compassion

Falling sick is one difficulty in life but we tend to add on other layers of meaning to it, depending on the context.  

I was helping to facilitate a session of sitting meditation in the morning. Having an ongoing flu with irritating cough, I found myself worrying about how my voice will sound, whether I could sit in silence without coughing, whether I'll get too cold and shiver, and whether I'll be clear headed enough to speak clearly. The energy of anxiety/fear was there.

Rather than suppress the anxiety or brush it aside, I recognised that this was an energy that could be transformed for good use. I chose to reframe it with some other thoughts: 

1. Who is this event for?

2. What are we here for?

3. Why is this event important?

4. When will there ever be an optimal "me" to do this, if not now?

5. Where else can I be, if not here?

The questions helped de-center from the self, especially the expectations I have for myself and of how others may expect me to be. The focus shifted from "me" to "we", which brought more calm.

Still there was some residual irritation. So it was back to "me" again. My voice had become coarse due to the flu so it was not the me that I am used to -- I did not like this "me". The next step was to accept myself as I am, which needed a dose of self-compassion -- 

Breathing in, this is the state I am in; 

Breathing out, I accept this version of me.  

At the end of the activity, it was a pleasant surprise that I did not cough at all as it seems the transformed energy boosted my blood circulation which kept me warm and my throat moist. And from feedback, what I learned is that gentleness was felt in my voice regardless of my own perception of quality.

According to the creation story in the biblical book of Genesis, God said, “Let there be light.” I like to imagine that light replied, saying, “God, I have to wait for my twin brother, darkness, to be with me. I can’t be there without the darkness.” God asked, “Why do you need to wait? Darkness is there.” Light answered, “In that case, then I am also already there.”

-- Thich Nhat Hanh

True Name of a Flower

One day the Buddha held up a flower in front of an audience of 1,250 monks and nuns. He did not say anything for quite a long time. The audience was perfectly silent. Everyone seemed to be thinking hard, trying to see the meaning behind the Buddha’s gesture. Then, suddenly, the Buddha smiled. He smiled because someone in the audience smiled at him and at the flower … To me the meaning is quite simple. When someone holds up a flower and shows it to you, he wants you to see it. If you keep thinking, you miss the flower. The person who was not thinking, who was just himself, was able to encounter the flower in depth, and he smiled.

That is the problem of life. If we are not fully ourselves, truly in the present moment, we miss everything.

– Thich Nhat Hanh, excerpt from Peace Is Every Step

I received a question about what drives my practice as a counsellor, more specifically if there were religious values as my foundation.

My spring of inspiration is in working with people because I value compassion and love. It is not tied to any particular religion but it is the common ground of most religions.

A religion is like what we call a flower and there are many names: rose, lily, lotus, peony, and so on. The names represent the flower but it can never fully give us the experience of encountering the flower. Names are a human approximation for convenient communication and ultimately the names become arbitrary, and sometimes a burden to the flower -- it never asked to be named.

Smile and enjoy the flowers.