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Improvising and Meditation: Every Change Is Part of the Practice October 2, 2024 12:31
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We are taught early on to fear and hide our mistakes. The antidote, according to Stephen Nachmanovitch, is finger kissing.
“Finger Kissing” was one of my favorite chapters from Nachmanovitch’s The Art of Is: Improvising as a Way of Life. I love the idea behind this action.
Finger kissing is an act of grace—gratitude—appreciation for the self. It’s an act of anti-judgment—of self-love and self-acceptance—of generosity.
Its playful—it’s intimate—it’s endearing. It’s an act of self-forgiveness—it’s encouraging—and it’s light-hearted.
It’s also a reminder not to take ourselves too seriously—and not to be too hard on ourselves. After all, we are all doing the best we can in this moment. Besides, perfection is never the goal, and as Winston Churchill famously stated, “perfection is the enemy of progress.”
The practice of finger kissing is about being present and mindful. It’s about taking time to listen intently to what’s happening around us and within us.
***
This morning, I stepped outside to make morning offerings. I had a stick of lit incense in my hands along with a cup of birdseed and two small apples.
I slipped into shoes and stepped out into the cool morning darkness. It had rained the night before. The ground was soft, and the sounds of crickets guided me to the Buddha statue in the yard.
As I recited the morning prayer and arranged the offerings, I looked up and saw a bright, gibbous moon framed in cypress branches. I took a moment to take it all in—the moonlight—the branches—the smell of fresh rain—the symphony of crickets—the cool morning air—the offerings.
Finger kissing is like that, too. It’s an act of appreciating what we have in the moment and taking a moment to take it all in. It’s also an act of nourishing ourselves.
I conclude each morning offering session with a brief dedication prayer. Honestly, after reading this chapter, I think I’d like to add finger kissing after the dedication to seal the practice with gratitude, mindfulness, and joy.
***
Later in the day, I had a few minutes between student tutoring sessions, so I walked around the track behind our school.
The sky was overcast and cloudy, and I felt the cool air against my skin. Rain was coming, but not yet. I had enough time to walk a few laps.
Our school is not far from the airport, and every few minutes a plane would fly overhead. Each time, I’d pause, look up, and wave. I wished everyone on board a safe trip. My hope was that someone looking out one of the small windows would return the wave.
I heard the sounds of speeding cars and trucks on I-465. I watched a half dozen killdeer hopping around and feeding in the grassy field that I was circumambulating. I spied a bright yellow feather clinging to the faded pavement, and I felt a deep appreciation for this moment.
***
On September 17, Stephen Nachmanovitch, writer, musician, philosopher, and improviser, visited Butler University for a lecture and performance.
I first heard about his work from my Feldenkrais friend, Tiffany Sankary. She frequently referenced his book, The Art of Is during her online classes, which motivated me to read his book.
According to Nachmanovitch, “Improvising means coming prepared, but not being attached to the preparation.”
It made me think of the many years of teaching English full-time in a public-school setting. I would spend hours creating meaningful, relevant lesson plans for my students, knowing full-well that they would not occur as planned. However, I also knew that if I didn’t prepare, the results would be confusing and disastrous.
Interruptions and changes are inevitable. Questions will arise. Being prepared is essential, and being willing to pivot and go with the flow at a moment’s notice are critical skills for teaching and learning.
According to Nachmanovitch, improvising is about “paying exquisite attention” and how “nothing can spoil your concentration if every change that comes is part of the practice.”
During his lecture at Butler, he admitted that he didn’t plan ahead of time what he would talk about that evening. He relied on his previous experiences, education, and training to guide him. He paid close attention to audience members. He encouraged us to ask questions, and he let our questions guide him.
The same was true for his improvised musical performance. He played an electric violin, but didn’t rely on sheet music. Instead, he relied on intuition and mindfulness. His performance was experimental, playful, immediate, and authentic. He wasn’t attached to the outcome, and he wasn’t fixated on playing every note perfectly.
Instead, he was listening intently, responding intuitively and musically. We were engaged in a collective conversation.
At the end of the performance, he invited several Butler dance students to join him on the stage. (He had been working with dance students in workshops on campus earlier in the week). As he played his electric violin, dancers moved about the stage. The improvised conversation continued as all participants listened, responded, and reacted to one another. Each contributed to the conversation without worrying about being “right” or “perfect.”
They discovered form and grace from thin air. His music framed the silence; their movements framed the stillness.
***
Improvising is a form of meditation—or—meditation is an act of improvising.
Both involve becoming comfortable with constant change. Both are also meaningful and necessary practices that are impossible to assess or evaluate.
I hope you take a little time today to practice meditation and improvising—whether that involves sitting quietly on a cushion, reciting mantra with a mala, walking around your neighborhood, or dancing in your kitchen as you listen to music.
May you take time to listen attentively today and notice whatever is going on around you.
May you be curious and playful. May you respond with confidence, compassion, wisdom, and grace.
And afterwards, may you offer a sincere dedication… and kiss each of your fingers.
***
Thanks for reading or listening to this month’s offering. Please visit the current Middle Moon Malas collection of hand-knotted malas. Each design was created to inspire and support your personal practice. For custom design inquiries, please send me a message through the Contact Us Page.