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CURRENTS: The Collected Writings of Jessica Williams

TABLE OF CONTENTS

How my playing is changing
Pianos and ways to play them
Choosing my instrument
Hypothyroidism...a walk in the dark
60, The Best B-day Ever
Wake Up
A Dream I Had
The Next Big Step
Trying to Help
Kurt Vonnegut Jr
Doug Ramsey
Glenn Gould
Jazz is NOT dead
Enemies of Freedom
Fantasia
Ali For President
Forgiveness and Freedom
i me mine
The Leroy Vinnegar Room
The Three Rules of Everything
My view
I'm in a dream
Digital Portraits
Drawings of mine
My poetry
More poems
Available to the moment
Learning by Doing
Illness as teacher
The Garden
Art by Tuv, Nerdrum, Matta
Jessica, why don't you come here and play?
Our attention
The Static People
God is such a big word
If you want Paradise
Following the Silence
Following the lines
If only
Beginnings
Puppy Days
People ask me
A Musician for all Seasons
Ten Things
Great moments in Pianistic History
Resting up
My three nights with Tony Williams
Life as Contest
Mary Lou Williams
Doing Jersey with Philly Joe
Stream of Consciousness #1
Stream of Consciousness #2
Where's my sun? Where's my health food?
Calm Mind
Intimacy
My Work
As close as I get to a "mission statement"
Build your own web site
Are we nuts, or what?
The Fantom
The light, the dark
A few recent awards from JazzTimes
Like Minds
My new band
Eulogy for Leroy Vinnegar
My trio at Yoshi's
Long live Elvin Jones
Doing the hang with Dexter Gordon
Coltrane's light
Epidemic of Dishonesty
What's good, what's not
Watson
A Little Dog
A NEW Little Dog
Truth and Lies
Women Musicians
Music for powerful times
My poetry
More poems
A friend writes a book
Jazz and codes of conduct
Playing for all the right reasons
Miles
Monk
My favorite things
The emotional plague
Battle of the mini-titans
About playing, about being
About challenges, gifts
About performing
We the Living
Senior discounts, Fujitsu 100 Cold, Dead Fingers, more
Links-i-like
Links-i-like reloaded
Jessica reviews Jessica
Things to do, tunes to play
Things we would rather forget need to be remembered
The Discriminating Gatekeepers
Taking responsibility for the Music
Age
Beliefs
Old News
Mel Brooks has a nice face
I Have a Dream
About CURRENTS
Prayer
Legal, copyright

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CURRENTS

The Second Attention

Currents

I realized this morning, somewhere around 5 am, that our attention (that thing we use to focus on that which we focus on) is the key to our feeling and our emotive color.

The Yaqi Indians call it the 'second attention' when they practice magic; they shift their attention to an entirely different (second) plane of presumed existence, and are then governed by the laws of that new world.

Gravity is one way here.

There, it's up for grabs.

In our more cognitive, regrettably less esoteric reality, we do the same thing, to a lesser degree.

So here's what I was doing (for quite a while, actually);

I was shifting my attention (by habit, so much of our lives are unnoticed habit) on to things (ideas, actions, ephemera, news stories, events, non- events) and, in so doing, was shifting my emotional life into a dark place. My emotive color was affected negatively because I was studying negative phenomena.

Absolutely fascinated by anti-life.

Not that these negative things don't exist! Wow, do they exist, in abundance! And they bother most all of us to greater or lesser degrees.

I'm an intransigent liberal slash humanist slash freedom lover, so anything I see coming down the road that smells of the opposite is bound to attract my attention.

The aroma can be stifling, though.

At around 5 am it hits me:

We take on the power and the tone of the things that we try desperately to avoid. The more we observe them, the more power they exert over us.

Conversely, during times of deep tranquility and peace of heart and mind, I am totally wrapped in that warm place that makes life worth living.

Right now (and change is the only universal constant) I have plenty of these moments.

My home life, the new addition to my family, the way the waves of the ocean beat the shore at night in accompaniment to this aura of timelessness and healing, all of this is what I want.

Forever.

Then I remember what death is. How we all age and die. I remember illness and how sad it is. I remember and I project into the future. Everything I love at these moments will and must decay and perish... too many Woody Allen movies?

Too much Sartre?

 

Two quotes. One...

"I think most artists create out of despair. The very nature of creation is not a performing glory on the outside, it's a painful, difficult search within." - Louise Nevelson

And two...

"Art is offensive. It ought to be forbidden to ignorant innocents, never allowed into contact with those not sufficiently prepared. Yes, art is dangerous." - Pablo Picasso

Quote number one sums up the situation pretty thoroughly. I'm not the first (by far) to have these 'aberrations of attention'; the entire Lotus Sutra is devoted to creating and maintaining the delicate stillness of the heart amidst the brutish din of the life around us, the destruction of our inner utopia. Lots of times my best art comes out of my darkest moments.

And quote number two is admittedly an impossibly arrogant statement by an immensely arrogant man, and it's also unbearably true. I'm one of the 'ignorant innocents'; I KNOW this stuff is as dangerous as dynamite.

I'll bet old Pablo had his days and nights of existential morbidity... his paintings are too vivid a reflection of a bloody and gritty reality to come from an unfeeling ubermensch.

 

It not being New Year's Eve yet, I'll avoid making a list of resolutions.

I'm also at an age where I'm reasonably secure in knowing just how unpredictable life (and one's reactions to it) can be...

But, like the Yaqi Indian, I intend to work very hard to keep my eye off of the center of attention (the dreary truth of much of life, the meaninglessness of much of it) and remember the importance of that which is in the corner of one's peripheral vision.

That's the 'second attention'; that's the ocean waves, that's the perfect new life I hold in my hands, that's the love that never gets old or dies, that's the ability to fly and make art and make love and make music.

I've spent enough time focusing on our problems, our shortcomings, our bad habits, our unfair world.

I'm tired of reading or watching the news, then thinking about it, and THEN WRITING about it. Sounds pretty silly, now that I put it that way.

It's time to live.

Ignore death and illness and decay. It'll be there whether I watch it or not.

I'm going to NOT watch it for as long as I can.

That's as close as I can come to a resolution.