I think it was somebody who said that an oboe is an ill wind that nobody blows any good. Interesting that, because I always thought an oboe was a down-and-out vagrant – but maybe I’m getting confused with a bassoon player. In any case, the Japanese Buddhist monks who used to wander around with their shauhachis under their arm could hardly have foreseen the travail and tribulation some of us shakuhachi aspirants would have to go through (not to mention the people listening to us while we go through it). I’ve been blowing away at the shakuhachi now for about 18 months, and I am starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have taken up the oboe, origami, or DIY brain surgery instead. I know what the Zennies say: the sound will come when it’s good and ready – it comes from nowhere, and disappears without a trace. But that’s not what you want to hear when you’re trying to coax a groovy tune out of a piece of hollow bamboo (well, in my case it’s polyester, but let’s not quibble over trifling details). Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against Zen. When it comes to maintaining your motorcycle, it’s simly the best. And I do try to live life by some of those aphorisms – “I’m open to all possibilities, but not all possibilities are open to me”, “sex is like air, it’s only important when you’re arewn’t getting any”, and “it may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others”. With that in mind, I’m off to my shakuhachi lesson. Be warned!!
