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.