Sometimes a small step can change the world.
There is a spiritual dimension to every musical instrument. I’m not entirely sure why this is, probably because all music is vibrational, and–according to a recent Scientific American article–synchronized vibration is at the heart of both human consciousness and physical reality itself. One of the wonderful things about studying the shakuhachi (an end-blown, vertical Japanese flute), is that this spiritual dimension is explicit: the instrument was used as a tool for meditation by a sect of Zen monks called the Fuke.
The great Fuke teacher Kurosawa Kinko (1710-1771) is reputed to have coined the term Ichi On Jo Buttsu, or ”From one sound, enlightenment.” It is an interesting phrase, coming from a musician: there is no interest in melodic arc, phrasing, tempo–all the usual musical concerns. But coming from a Zen monk, it makes perfect sense. His point is that the focus and discipline that we bring to perfecting even one note, is exactly the kind of focus and discipline that will lead us to enlightenment.
I am doing a lot of caregiving these days (more on that later, perhaps), and I am not a natural caregiver. I lack the patience and intuitive insight that a gifted caregiver brings to their work. I get too rushed, too focused on the next thing to be done. In the midst of that harried-ness recently, this phrase–ichi on jo buttsu–came back to me.
The invitation to seek “enlightenment through one sound,” is the promise that personal transformation happens when I focus on doing the thing immediately before me with intentionality and purpose. I don’t have to worry about being a “perfect” caregiver. I need to do perfectly this one thing in which I am engaged; or at least to the greatest level of my ability at the moment. That’s it; nothing more, nothing less. One thing: one meal, one bandaging, one moment of listening–one note.
Obviously, this realization is not simply a Buddhist insight; it is a rich element of the Christian contemplative tradition as well. The Carmelite mystic Brother Lawrence (1614-1691), noted that he was pleased when he could “perform the lowliest task, such as picking up a piece of straw from the ground, for no other reason except for the love of God, seeking only Him and nothing else.” The most simple, prosaic act can be a means of transformation.
What happens next, of course, is that those individual prosaic acts begin to grow together. The note lengthens and becomes a melody. The moment of quality listening, becomes the ability to actually hear another person. As Malcom Gladwell pointed out so brilliantly in The Tipping Point, there comes a moment when all the small incremental changes gather momentum and force, and dramatically change an entire situation (or person, or project, or community, or society).
This is a compelling and hopeful concept for me. It means that I do not need to try and change the world, or become a brilliant musician or author, or transform into a gifted caregiver. It means that I need to do the one thing in front of me with all of the gifts that I have. I need to bring all of myself into the current moment, to live and act with the best of myself.
One of Kurosawa Kinko’s distant spiritual disciples, the brilliant shakuhachi player and teacher Jin Nyodo (1891-1966), would tell his students that if they could play a single perfect note, it would bring about world peace. Looking about the world, apparently no one has played that perfect note yet. But making the attempt is a worthy goal.