I had the show on my DVR, and kept repeating the final act because it was so powerful. I probably watched it a half-dozen times when I realized that what was making it so powerful was the music being played in the background. (As a side note, any film that Thomas Newman wrote the score for is powerful in this same way. I think I own all of his scores, and probably the films as well). Anyway, I got out my iPhone and tried repeatedly to Shazam the music (an application that records a snippet of music and will tell you who it is, when it was recorded, etc., and provide links to iTunes so you can purchase it if you wish). The voice over in the scene was making it hard to capture any of the pure music, and I thought I wouldn't be able to figure it out, but then, towards the end of the scene, the dialog went silent and there was just the music. This beautiful, haunting music, and Shazam gave me what I was looking for. Aerial Boundaries by Michael Hedges, circa 1984.
I, of course, instantly purchased the entire album on iTunes, as well as a couple of his other albums, and couldn't wait to have a closer listen. I Wiki'd him and learned that he was killed in a car crash in 1997, which made me even more enthralled with his work, and posted something about this piece of music on my FaceBook page.
A friend responded and said something about him playing this music on one guitar in several tunings with no overdub. I wasn't sure what that meant, but replied that I would like to have seen that. He instantly sent me a link to a recording of Michael Hedges playing Aerial Boundaries while sitting on a park bench. I watched with rapture as I saw techniques I have never seen before on a guitar. I am not a guitarist, but have a musical background, so I knew I was watching something extraordinary in his technique. It literally sounds like 3 or more guitars being played at the same time. But it is just one masterful artist and one acoustic guitar.
But there was something much more powerful then just the music he was producing as he played, and I felt it when I was watching that Bones scene over and over again. This guy was altered. What he was producing was altered. He was in a zone that has been described in many ways by many people. From a 'natural high' to 'having a spiritual experience', I don't care what you call it...this guy was altered. You can not only hear it in the music, but if you watch him play, you can tell he is not existing on our mundane plane. He is elsewhere, in some god-like space, playing this music from his very soul. His brain is not even required anymore. I know. I have had this experience before. It happens when you are so good at something and at the same time so passionate about something that your soul just takes over and you are no longer needed. I believe we become conduits at that point, and we become one with God.
I've had two such experiences before. The first was in my mid-twenties when I decided that I would become a drummer. I had purchased a small Tama trap kit, rented out a 10 x 10 storage locker and asked the drummer of my ex-boyfriend's band who I knew gave lessons if he would teach me. He agreed. He came once a week and gave me simple lessons, and taught me how to read music for drummers with beginners books. I went there every single day after work to practice.
After a month of frustration, trying to separate all four of my limbs and get them to do entirely different things at the same time (you think patting your head and rubbing your tummy is hard....), my drums were stolen. I arrived to nothing but a tuning key lying on the floor. I was crushed. I had wondered if it wasn't a sign that it wasn't supposed to be. But then I realized that I had insured them. And for quite a bit more than they were worth. So, when I got the insurance check, I promptly went and bought another kit...this time a Yamaha Custom Power Tour kit in shiny Piano Black with 4 Tom Toms, a full round of Zildian cymbals. It was massive. And it was beautiful. And I needed more space and this time it needed to be secure. So I rented a 30 x 30 climate controlled space on the upper floor of the same facility where nobody could see me and unless they were ridiculously determined, they could not steal them again.
I continued my lessons every week and practiced every day. I continued to struggle to separate my limbs and read the music and produce rhythms that made sense and eventually did so with about as much success as I had a s a violinist, which I studied through High School. I could play decently, carrying a tune, or a beat in this case, but I never made the instrument sing from my soul. I was always 3rd chair in the orchestra, even after years of playing, and I suspected it would be the same for my drumming career.
Nevertheless, I continued playing, every day, when after about a year, something happened. I was alone practicing, waiting for my teacher to come. I was working on some more complex rhythms that involved breaking into thirds bars that were written in 4/4 time, and involving all of the drums in this massive kit. I kept going and going, and all of a sudden, I wasn't thinking anymore. All my limbs seemed to be independent of me, of my brain, of the music I was reading...and I went somewhere else as this music poured through me like waves from an ocean that I could not see. I was altered.
As I continued from this trance-like state, the door swung open and my teacher walked in. His eyes got huge and his jaw dropped, and he just stood there. I stopped playing. He said to me that he thought I had someone else up here playing my drums. He said he could teach me no more, that I needed to play with other musicians and turn around and left. I don't know who was more dumbfounded.
Shortly afterwards, I moved to Europe and never saw my drums again. I tried to ship them, but some were lost, some damaged, and my life had changed direction. But I do not regret a moment of this experience. I found something I may not have found otherwise. I found a zone, a place that is indescribable and beautiful, and a place where I was not necessary. I also learned that I could have been a drummer, probably even a famous one. But I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the spiritual realm I visited.
The second experience I had was as a massage therapist. I had been practicing energy work for years before I went for a formal training in Chinese Medicine and massage therapy in the early 90's. I was naturally good as a massage therapist, and was told from the very start that it was the best work my clients had ever received. So I felt confident in my technical abilities. I continued my studies across the country, and one teacher spoke of the work of a therapist become like a dance. She vaguely described what sounded like the experience I had that day while playing my drums. She had my full attention as I wanted to return to this place again. I asked her how long it took her to feel what she was trying to describe, and she said it happened after about 1000 massages.
Ugh. 1000 massages. First of all, I'll probably never do that many. Second, I'm sure I can achieve the nirvana I seek way before that. But the days went on, and I continued to practice. And my clients loved my work, and continually complimented it, returning again and again. I new I was good. My technique combined so many elements, like my limbs all paying different beats at the same time, and my clients loved it. I was always conscious of my touch, of my client, of my surroundings, of my carefully selected music and my professionalism. On all accounts, I was an exceptional therapists, and could have continued to thrive in that profession very happily.
Then one day, years into my practice, something happened. I was at my studio working on a client that I had seen many times. Everything was the same. The space, the sounds, the client with the myriad of health problems seeking relief and advise. But as I worked, something shifted. I stopped thinking, and I stopped feeling my limbs. They had once again become detached from my brain. I knew that I was not in charge anymore. The words of that instructor from years before rang in my ears like a whisper from God himself. I was altered. I kept going and going, and when the session was over, I quietly left the room.
My client came out, not saying a word, but she was altered too. I could see it in her eyes. She quietly scheduled another appointment, handed me $50 bucks and left. I quickly got out my calculator to estimate how many sessions I had done up to that date, and there it was...a number very close to 1000. That teacher was right, and although she described the experience as a 'dance', I knew what she was trying to describe. And she was right. I was in 'the zone'. That beautiful, mystical place where I am not necessary. A place where I am nothing but a conduit and God flows through me like the music that flows through Michael Hedges in Aerial Boundaries. His song could have been called "No Boundaries" and been more fitting.
Shortly after that experience, I started my own massage school and had to leave my practice and my clients to run the school. I return to that zone from time to time, usually at my computer in a state of what some might call 'mania' as I pound out a new website, or idea, or plan or vision for the future. But I know clearly when I am altered, and it is during those times that I know my life is none of my business and I am doing another kind of work. Work that does not require my brain, but only uses me as a vessel to accomplish something that is beyond my technical abilities. When I go there, I just let go completely until it is time to return. Then, after, when I look at it, whatever it is, and know that everything is okay.
Michael Hedges (1954-1997), Aerial Boundaries Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4P9mmZyGb4s
