Three thoughts are swimming around my brain: part one

After getting a LOT of sleep last night, I find that three thoughts about our trip to Istanbul continue to swim around my brain:  1) the story of St. Francis and the Sultan; 2) the meaning of our music in a new environment; and 3) why this matters given the rise of Islamic fundamentalism in Turkey. Now let me get this out of the way right at the start - I am not going to pretend to be any kind of expert on anything (with the exception of music and spirituality) and certainly don't want to come off like a 10-day-in-Turkey-know-it-all - ok?  So you are not going to find any pronouncements or even clear conclusions in today's post.  Just some reactions and questions.

At the same time, I have been studying and exploring these three basic concerns in one form or another since I was 16 - that's 43 years of wandering in the peace-making through a spirituality of music territory - and my doctoral dissertation (A Spirituality of Rock) is the mature distillation of both my research and application of these themes in the local church setting.  So let's just say I bring a mixed bag to all of this: like Paul Simon put it,

These are the days of miracle and wonder, this is the long distance callThe way the camera follows us in slo-mo, the way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation that's dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder and don't cry baby, don't cry
Don't cry

So let me try to break it down like this:  I think Bono got it right  in "God Part II" when he wailed his answer to John Lennon:

Don't believe that rock 'n' roll
Can really change the world
As it spins in revolution
It spirals and turns
I...I believe in love

Don't believe in the 60's
The golden age of pop
It glorifies the past
While the future dries up
Heard a singer on the radio late last night
He says he's gonna kick the darkness
'til it bleeds daylight
I...I believe in love

I feel like I'm falling
Like I'm spinning on a wheel
It always stops beside a name
a presence I can feel
I...I believe in love

And, at the same time, in a real paradox I know in my heart and trust by faith that the radical and simple acts of St. Francis make a difference in the world.  On a macro-level, I leave it to the politicians and economists; I neither know that world nor grasp how/why it works.  But on the personal level, where people-to-people connections matter - and where most of us spend most of our time - I know that finding the common ground of the heart interrupts the status quo of fear and suspicion.  Like Bono once said to Bishop Tutu, "Grace trumps karma."  Not that karma isn't real; most of life is filled with the natural consequences of our actions. And not that there isn't a place for these consequences.  St. Paul was spot on writing to the Romans that:

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,  through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God... and glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because hope is God’s love being poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.

So in addition to all the earned and unearned suffering that we know, there is also a love that is greater than sin and ignorance working within and among us simultaneously and IT - grace - trumps karma.  And what I have experienced is that this type of grace is mostly shared and realized through one-to-one encounters - enter the story of St. Francis and the Sultan.

(I am going to bring part one of this reflection to a close now and resume part two later this afternoon.)

Going deeper...

One of the life commitments I am trying to nourish is the practice of reflection.  Don't get me wrong, I love spontaneity, too:  being wild and crazy can be a joyful blessing. But so can taking the time to go deeper into an insight or experience - and this practice is something is not something I find reinforced in my world.  American popular culture is ruled by "sound bytes" or bottom line calculations while the world wrestles with much more complex and nuanced truths. I think one of the reasons we were led by the Spirit to the Berkshires has to do with nourishing this commitment to serious reflection.  There are still demands and challenges in the rolling hills of the Berkshires, of course, but the pace of life is slower and the intellectual climate more conducive to going deeper.

The Scottish social philosopher and anti-psychiatrist, RD Laing, once noted that the despite our commitment to progress and material abundance the prophecy of the Hebrew poet and social critic, Amos, had come true in our generation:

There will come a time when there will be a famine in the land, ‘not a famine for bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the words of the Lord.’ That time has now come to pass. It is the present age... (Why? Because...)  the range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice, there is little we can do to change; until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds... We live in a moment of history where change is so speeded up that we begin to see the present only when it is already disappearing.

As a consequence and even antidote, I have found myself responding more and more to the lure of God's grace.  Sometimes consciously but often beyond knowing, I seem to wander towards a spirituality born of poetry, music, dancing, feasting, laughing and quiet walks in the woods. I should add the Eucharist into this spirituality, too, because it grounds me in the sacred rhythm and presence of my Christian commitment. Joan Chittister speaks of these practices as one way of "learning to listen" again - listen to God, to the world around me as well as "my own underlying life messages and the wisdom of those who have already maneuvered successfully around the dangers of a live that is unmotivated and unmeaningful" - so that life is not what Dorothee Soelle once called "death by bread alone."

Indeed, I suspect that this "learning to listen" is what has also drawn me into jazz:  it is an experiential act of contemplation and reflection - a combination of spontaneity and careful practice within an ever-moving musical context.  My friend, Peter, speaks of jazz as "music for grown ups."  And on our last night in Istanbul, I was reminded again just how true that is as old guys like me can still play jazz with credibility and verve.  What's more, this can take place in a truly inter-generational setting where elders can meet, share and learn from new cats and seasoned artists can support newbies.  For if you are playing for the joy and beauty of the music - and not ego - there is a place for everyone in the musical reflection called improvisation.  I like how veteran jazz man, Stan Kenton, put it:

Jazz is a distinct music that depends and thrives on individuality and yet the individual is not oblivious to others nor is he immune to their feelings. Jazz is free. Through spontaneous improvisation, a musician expresses his personality consciously and subconsciously. His music, with its variation of melodic lines and rhythmic patterns, can establish a changing flow of attitudes just as those revealed by a facial expression or a gesture even without words.

A session in jazz is comparable to an open forum where theories and opinions are discussed openly and freely. Without inhibition or the fear of being reprimanded, a soloist rises and speaks without the aid of notes or previous preparation. Speeches with words of various inflections and insinuations are replaced with a flow of melodic, rhythmic music. One soloist will speak for himself on a chosen topic and then retire to hear the feelings of another on the same subject. On occasions, they will speak of happy things, then those of a more serious nature, sometimes somber and even tragic. All phases of life's emotions are felt and experienced in jazz.

Some of the music is complex and reaches far below the surface while other forms dwell lightly. There are speakers in improvised jazz who are eloquent in their ability. Musical words flow freely. Others tend to speak in short sentences with a simple vocabulary. However, if sincerity prevails, everyone is felt, understood and appreciated. (from Joe Overbrook's, Jazzed in Cleveland.)

As our small group was sitting in the airport in Madrid awaiting our return flight home to JFK, it hit me just how hard it is for me to keep up this practice of engaging and listening deeply. If left to my old habits, I won't really watch the evening news prayerfully (and God knows there is precious little reporting that takes place anymore amidst the shouting and polemics.) And I often let myself get too jammed to read the paper with soul, too.  Travel is one way I am awakened to my deepest desires - and this trip has helped that happen.  I see in others some of the blessings I ache to nurture within myself, I see in strangers some of my own fears and projections.  And in returning I notice what has gone missing in my ordinary routines and try (again) to move closer towards living a life of reflection.  Chittister

Our entire generation has gone deaf.  Scripture and wisdom and relationships and personal experience are all being ignored.  We are, consequently, a generation of four wars (and now 6) and the most massive arms buildup in the history of the world - and we call this a period of peacetime.  We are a generation of great poverty in the midst of great wealth, of great loneliness in the center of great communities; of serious personal breakdowns and community deterioration in the face of unparalleled social growth; of great spiritual ennui in the middle of our claims of being a God-fearing country.

Then she adds this:  Truth is a mosaic of the face of God... because the voice of God (that which is sacred and healing and holy) often comes from where we would least expect it, like a burning bush or a stranger or a dream or a messenger from afar or a prophet of the court. And we must be listening for it.

One of the hopes - and maybe dreams - I bring back from Istanbul (in addition to the peace-making through music work we will explore) is this:  is there a way to create a space, perhaps monthly, for the best players in the area to come together on a Sunday evening and play together for a session?  It would be an oasis for players and lovers of jazz - a few hours out of the hustle to savor the sharing as Stan Kenton observed - an encounter with the sacred through creativity and beauty.  A time of meditation in music.  Food for the soul in a place of beauty and quiet. 

We were given an opportunity on this jazz trip to go deeper - to listen - to pay attention.  On the day we returned to Istanbul from Iznik, the historic city of Nicaea, our host took us to consider both the ancient city walls and the amphitheatre.  Standing amidst those ruins I kept thinking that there is so much in my own culture and nation that is also in ruins - and we aren't nearly as old.  And when I asked if there was any marker of the place where the historic Ecumenical Councils of the Church took place, my host smiled and said, "No... they have been lost to time and neglect and empire.  Whatever might remain is now covered by rubble and the lake."  It was sobering to me.

So I don't know about my jazz meditation/improv/holy/human session... but I want to find out and see if it might come to pass.  It could be one small step beyond the famine that has infected our time.

Random thoughts on the morning after...

Our small band of gypsies arrived home in Pittsfield after being up for nearly 48 hours of wandering, farewells and travel.  And after a great night's sleep in my own bed, I feel refreshed and overwhelmed  with gratitude for this pilgrimage.  Over the next few days - and probably longer - I'm going to be sharing some personal reflections and photos of this journey in the context of asking myself (and any one else who cares to weigh in) what could the Spirit be saying during our time in Istanbul and why does it matter?

I think that is the right place to start - discerning rather than proclaiming - don't you?  One aspect of discernment is that insights emerge only through a patient and humble search for truth in the presence of others.  That is to say, wisdom requires community: it takes time to ponder, it takes silence to listen, it takes study for context, it takes conversation and challenge for clarity and it takes a commitment and practice of trust to ripen. With the risk of bending the jazz metaphor to the breaking point, discernment is a lot like improvisation with the band as this clip from Cannonball Adderly playing Miles Davis' "Nardis" makes clear.  Everyone joins the melody and rhythm as equals at the start and only take off on an improvisation when the Spirit leads them (after tons of private practice, careful listening in the moment and a sense of serendipity and trust, too.)

So, in the Spirit of God's love and jazz improvisation, let me share a few questions out loud to see if they resonate.

+ An easy and obvious one for starters - but one that really surprised me - and that has to do with how complicated it is to do travel with a group.  Dianne and I are used to going all over the world as a couple - and we know one an other's rhythms and needs - and plan accordingly.  As noted before, we are wanderers who love the adventure of finding new people and places in unexpected and unplanned ways. I have been blessed 1000 fold by this combination of wandering - starting unexpected conversations with potential new friends - doing a little background research about our chosen wandering spot (to avoid unnecessary risk) - and then following our feet and the energy of the place.

That is not so easy to do in a group - especially a group of equals - who also all have their own rhythms and needs and expectations.  If the group isn't operating like a band - paying careful attention to one another in addition to the inner groove - and people start wandering away without planning or conversation, it can become stressful, annoying or even dangerous. I think that group travel - even in a band of gypsies - needs a "designated driver" for maximum fun.  What's more, while everyone has been blessed with gifts by the Spirit, not everyone can drive, yes?  How does St. Paul put it?

God's various gifts are handed out everywhere; but they all originate in God's Spirit. God's various ministries are carried out everywhere; but they all originate in God's Spirit. God's various expressions of power are in action everywhere; but God is behind it all. Each person is given something to do that shows who God is: Everyone gets in on it, everyone benefits. All kinds of things are handed out by the Spirit, and to all kinds of people! The variety is wonderful... What's more, all these gifts have a common origin, but are handed out one by one by the one Spirit of God - and God decides who gets what and when.

As one preacher friend used to say:  Not everyone was created to be a tongue - even if churches mostly act that way - and not everyone was called and blessed with the gift of leadership either.  Some of us are better suited to support - and encourage - and question. So, one of the things I am considering is what this means for me personally, as a leader in a spiritual community and as a member of a jazz band.  I really loved being a part of this group experience.  At the same time, I discovered that I needed alone time, too. 

I also discovered that I really had to practice patience very intentionally whenever we moved off to explore some place without a plan.  It was sweet when we GOT to our destination - and we found some truly beautiful destinations - but often the process of getting there was complicated for me:  where did this guy go?  what do you do with stragglers? how fair is it to the group to disappear with no word to the others? what do you do about it?  how much do you let go of the "group" with a gaggle of individuals? how important is it to discuss the dynamics and mechanics of group travel before embarking? what is the balance between getting everyone to the same place and just letting things happen even if somebody gets lost?

Any thoughts or reactions?  (NOTE: the logistics of GETTING from Pittsfield to NYC - and then Istanbul - were OUTSTANDING!  Sue and Andy were masters of driving this and I am humbled and grateful for their hard work on all the planning and coordination of getting us to Turkey.  And their creativity and perseverance in lining-up gigs, too.  So, my questions and reactions are about the non-international travel/non-gigs times of travelling as a group.) 

+ Second, I learned - once again - how loud and unaware of my surroundings I can be in a foreign culture simply by the accident of birth.  Once a Polish dissident during the Marshall Law period of the Solidarity movement said to me, "You can always tell an American because they mostly speak without thinking."  Interesting, yes?  He was both critical and envious when he said this, too.  Critical because we usually don't have to worry about the consequences of our words (or attitudes or even our own stupidity.) And envious because of the freedom implied in our way of being in the world.

I bumped up against this time and again in Istanbul:  sometimes, in exuberance, I would laugh with gusto - something I didn't see a lot of in public; sometimes our group would get caught up in the moment and be lost in the beauty and awe of our environment and want to share that with energy - another thing I didn't see groups of people doing in Istanbul.  It would seem that there are clear differences between what takes place in public and private in Turkey - and I wasn't always clear or even aware of what those difference meant.  To be sure, Turks were loud - the drunks stumbling past our window at 3:30 in the morning, the vendors in the market places, etc. - but their loudness was very different from ours.  And I am wondering what that means?

I know that after one late night encounter with a Turk who felt the need to scold us for being Americans - with some cause - I become much more circumspect.  Before the incident, I really was caught up in the beauty, energy and joy of finally being in Turkey for our jazz gigs and all the potential they implied.  Afterwards, I tried to keep my laughter down.  I also found it wise to encourage a quieter public presence, too - especially when Raki of Efes (the local drinks of Turkey) were involved.  This is another place where your insights would be very helpful, ok?

+ And third, every place we played jazz the people LOVED it.  They loved the more cerebral jazz of "Take 5" with its long, extended improvisations, they loved the down and dirty jazz of our rhythm and blues songs like "Shake, Rattle and Roll" and "Stormy Monday Blues" and they loved the sweet jazz of "Blue Skies," "Summer Samba" as well as the jazzy reworkings of pop tunes like Van Morrison's "Crazy Love."  On our last night, the young women started jumping up and down - and singing along with us in English - when we broke out into "I Feel Good" by James Brown.  They did something similar when Bennie did Stevie Wonder's "Superstition," too.

Superstition in Sultanahmet from Tessa Kelly on Vimeo.

So I have a couple of hunches about this:  we played the hell out of them and the folk simply reacted to the beauty and the energy - that's part of it.  Making GOOD music touches people at a deep level no matter what the style, yes?  We also played a wide variety of tunes - very eclectic - so we found ways to touch the soul of very different people in the course of any given set.  And, at least among those who came to listen, jazz was a way of building a bridge beyond language and culture. 

For example, in every book store Dianne and I visited in Istanbul, jazz music was being played (and we hit a LOT of book stores!)  What's up with that?  I know jazz has a certain esoteric vibe among intellectuals - and it is clear that we were playing to the more secularist elite who go out to the clubs and not the so-called "Muslim street" - but not everyone who shook their booty with us was an intellectual.  Some were Turkish youth who loved to dance.  Some were tourists from all over Europe.  Some were jazz fans.  And some were.... I don't know.  They just all dug it and really made us feel valued as musicians.  So what do you think?  Any insights?

(Dig our man, Bennie Kohn, as he slipped onto the piano on our last night in Istanbul at the Club Nardis' Tuesday night jam session.  He was freakin' amazing and the crowd KNEW it...)

On a host of different levels, we accomplished round one of peace-making through music. And before we go to another level I need to let these ideas simmer.  I would value your comments and questions as I explore what the Spirit was saying about this sweet pilgrimage. We were a wandering band of gypsies sharing jazz and ourselves...and there is much to consider.

A sweet picture

Ok I hope to check in with a few contacts today before tonight's final soiree - so in the mean time here's a sweet picture from our gig in Iznik. This has been an incredible trip:  tons of fun, some very powerful music and a world of learning - with more to come.  I am grateful to God.

Back from Nicea...

A quick post this morning on our return from Iznik with much more later: to say that we are living at 4 times our usual pace is an understatement.  Taking in some sights during the day, hustling cabs to get to gigs, playing for 3 hours each night, schlepping home and then heading out for libation and nutrition at 12 midnight is a demanding existence and perhaps that is one of the reasons why Iznik was such a sweet change.  Our hosts, Ahmet and Eser, picked us up at our door, drove us to the ferry (a 90 minute ride that I managed with NO motion sickness!) and then drove us another 60 miles to the hotel.

It was serene and beautiful - right on the ancient lake - and we all felt like we'd died and gone to heaven.  And we got to play outside - by the late (photos to follow) - with a dinner music set and then some rock and soul.  Throughout our hosts kept us plied with mezze and sour cherry juice and vodka, too.  After the mellow first set I don't think the crowd was expecting our jazzy mix of James Brown, Bob Marley, Herbie Hancock, Stevie Wonder and Tito Puente; but we got the crowd up and dancing so the night was a success.

It was great to sleep without the sounds of taxicabs honking at 3:00 am so we took full advantage of the quiet. Then on Sunday, we got a chance to visit both the ancient Roman amphitheatre and the walls of the old city.  It was breath-taking to stand in places that go back before the first century.  Then we went to the restored Nicea basillica from 397 CE.  Eventually it was time to jump the ferry back to Istanbul and return thanks to our hosts (more about their socio-political insights next time.)

We arrived back in Istanbul about 7:30 pm, took a quick nap, ate fresh fish in a working class neighborhood and let the women get to sleep early while the men went out to find live music. We heard two incredible local bands - one very traditional acoustic music and the other a wildass Arabesque/disco band - and both made our hearts sing.  With another jazz gig tonight on our penultimate evening in Istanbul, we called it a night at about 3:00 am.  Thank you for your Father's Days notes and prayers:  now onward to the Bar Code Cafe.

A wild and crazy time...

There is a GREAT deal to say about cultural impressions, the initial clash of East vs. West attitudes and the universal language of music... but that will have to wait for a lull in the action.  Last night we played the Club Pasazade in the historic section of the Old City - a very wild event for this tourist area.  We drew quite a street crowd for both our wildass songs - I do a smokin' version of "Stormy Monday" (with a LOT of help from this great band) and Bennie is the new incarnation of Stevie Wonder and Bob Marley on "Superstition" and "I Shot the Sheriff" - as well as our standard jazz tunes like "Take 5" or "Tenor Madness." A few young Turks joined us, too:  Omer on "Lullaby of Birdland" and Nadia on "Summertime." Her harmony with Dianne brought the house down.  As Bennie said so well: "It was nice to be appreciated for playing good music."  He was right and it was a sweet, sweet night in the old city. 

Today we wandered around the Spice Market, visited another mosque and then got ready for our gig at LiveGitarCafe - but it was canceled (due to poor local publicity.)  So we quicklly Skyped and emailed our local friends and set up a house party jam that was even BETTER.  We had young Istanbul students singing and playing with us - plus our buddy Omer who did a killer version of "God Bless the Child" and "Night in Tunisia" - plus a ton of fun improvising with some Creedence songs, a little John Lee Hooker and a ton o Thelonius Monk.  Afterwards - at 10:30 pm - we headed out for dinner - and the street action was just beginning to come alive.  (Brings to mind an old Edgar Winter song about "they only come out at night," yes?)  We ate dinner and drank Turkish wine before wandering home happy and blessed.

Tomorrow we leave at 10 am for the historic city of Isnik - Nicea for old church history buffs - and another night of jazz and new friends.  I look forward to sharing more than a quick traveloge soon... but the fun keeps flowing so that's it for now.

Istanbul - first impressions...

Well, we made it to Istanbul after 30 hours on the road - and all is well:  we made all our connections, no baggage was lost, there was only a minor delay in Madrid and everyone is still friends.  (Ok, so there WAS some mystery meat on the second leg of the journey that everyone swears was NOT chicken but cobra... but that was the only down side.)  Our van was waiting for us when we arrived 2 hours late, customs was a snap and the storms had ended.  The US State Dept. office had arranged for us to be taken directly to Galata Tower for our first gig - at the Second Annual Intercultural Dialogue in Beyoglu - so the driver made it happen. 

And we arrived EXACTLY on time (7 pm Turkish time) - with a quick jump into a local hotel for some refreshment and a clothing change - we were pumped and ready to go.  But the local youth orchestra played for 90 minutes instead of 30 - they were really good - but that changed the groove.  So, with no time for a sound check, Andy and Sue greeted the local mayor, made the cultural exchange and we lauched into Sonny Rollin's "Tenor Madness."  The sound for the crowd was outstanding (we filmed the whole thing and will upload parts soon) - but we had trouble with the monitors most of the night - so had to rely on the little we could hear and our instincts (think the Beatles at Shea Stadium - well, ok, not nearly as much screaming but you get the idea.)  Man, o man, did the Jazz Ambassadors cook for 45 minutes!  Dianne never sounded better - so soulful!

And then we added a few more tunes on to the set for an encore - wrapping it up with "Wipe Out."  This proved to be a moment of serendipity as the Ambassador is a former California surfer dude who loved it!  Lots of fun, great conversation with the Counselate staff - where were brilliant and kind - and then a LATE night dinner of Raki, Efes Beer and Turkish "mezze" food at 1 pm.

Yesterday, we wandered across the Galata Bridge to the Old City to visit both the Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque.  Just as Rick Steves had warned in his travel guide, Americans are singled out by hustlers and we were no exception.  Steves writes:  they count on us being polite so just be firm and make it into a game.  That worked time and again and by late afternoon we were old pros.  The Hagia Sofia was breath taking in scope and magnitude - a remarkable museum to secular Turkey now that the once church, once mosque is now a museum.  After a leisurely lunch on a high rooftop terrace, we spent the afternoon in the Blue Mosque - a working house of worship - built on the grounds of the former Roman Hippedrome.  In fact, much of the tile was taken when the Ottoman's tore down the old race track and used the materials once consecrated to gambling and decadence to Allah.  It, too, was serene and stunning.

A few quick observations:

+ This is a young, exciting, growing and very creative part of Turkey.  They are on the way up and know it - not only is their economy growing by 8+ per cent each year - but they are a stable political power in a rapidly changing landscape.  With Egypt and Syria in tumult, Turkey is the power with a new role to play after generations of decline.

+ Being US tourists here is different from any other place I have visited:  clearly we stand out.  We are excited and pleased to be visiting and learning.  We are used to being free and spontaneous.  And sometimes we are too loud.  Last night, for example, we had an enounter with a young Turk who was trashed and wanted to let us know how much he detested American arrogance.  Mostly we were the innocent recipients of his rant, but it was a good "wake up call" for us to reclaim our public role as "cultural ambassadors."  We can have fun, be ourselves and all the rest without startling the Turks who tend to  be more reserved in public than ourselves.

+ We have also experienced a little bit of the flip side of being American tourists; we don't think of ourselves as exploitive - and our mission is to build friendship - but most of the street hustlers don't care one iota about our goals.  To their eyes, we are marks to be played - Americans at that - and all is fair in love and war.  We semi-sensititve New Age guys have been a little offended and startled by their aggressive behavior towards us.  But, that too, has been an eye-opener:  we are living into our nation's public legacy as arrogant, often rude bullies.  I guess what goes around comes around, yes?

And at the same time there have been wonderful hosts and helpers, too who are willing to go beyond the obvious and try to find ways to building friendship.  I am grateful for a sobering reminder of just why such work is so valuable.  And look forward to our evening's concert at the Pasazade Club.

Away we go...

The time has come:  after months of preparation, prayer, practice and performance we are going to Turkey.  Today!  Who could have predicted that the "Arab spring" would have taken place - toppling despots all over the region - and sending thousands of Syrians into refugee camps on Turkey's border?  Who could have imagined that we would find new friends eager to help us bring jazz and conversations for peace through the Internet?  Who could have predicted that we would be asked to open the Second Intercultural  Arts Dialogue Days in Beyoglu and play for up to 10,000 people?

In so many ways this strange little pilgrimage feels like something out of a story from a contemporary St. Francis:  the Spirit calls, a small group responds and blessings open up in unexpected ways.  Like the State Department helping us connect with bloggers and musicians - like a club owner in Iznik opening up his seaside home to us in return for a gig - like our local Turkish friends calling their friends in Istanbul on Skype to say: "these are good people, help them, ok?"  (check it out: )
http://istanbul.usconsulate.gov/sistercity_jazzambs.htm)

As travel writers with a bent for spirituality seem to agree, when we meet strangers who attract and intrigue us along the journey, we are also meeting a part of ourselves that longs to go deeper.  Poet John O'Donohue put it like this in To Bless the Space Between Us:

Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.

New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Our places that know you well\Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.\

When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:

How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening a conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.

When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will heart
What your heart would
Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies that deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched - and free -
To balance the gift of days which call you.

And so... away we go!

Right down to the real nitty gritty...

Today in worship - and afterwards - we said farewell to two of our congregation's beloved saints:  Fran and Luther.  They are in their late 80s and have realized the time has come to be closer to family in Florida.  So they sold their mountain-side farm and are heading South at the end of this month. Both have been sources of inspiration, wisdom, healing and hope to our sometimes wounded but loving faith community - and they will be sorely missed.

To be sure, it is the right decision, but it still creates an ache within my heart - and a hole within our community that will echo for some time to come.  Luther is a poet and preacher - a theologian of the old school who has kept up to date with what's going on throughout the church better than preachers half his age.  He is a man of wisdom and grace.  In the renewal work I have been called to shepherd, he has been an active supporter, a cherished critic when things got off track and a trusted colleague.  From the get go he has called me "his pastor," which means more to me than words can express. And he has always helped me as I have tried to get grounded in our new home. 

It was Pentecost - a good day for celebrations - so we used one of Luther's favorite writers, Walter Wangerin's "Rag Man" drama as the heart of worship. My friends Brian, John, Ethan, Heather and Dianne brought the drama to life and I am grateful for their help this day, too. I kept thinking of the "death and dying: class that Luther and I led together two years ago at Lent; during that time Wangerin announced that he had inoperable cancer.  We have both loved his work and found ourselves moved by his faithful embrace of this last journey into God's grace.  We also taught a challenging Walter Breuggeman series this Lent together, too. 

At the close of worship, before we sang Luther's favorite hymn, "Be Thou My Vision," I shared a few words of love and encouragement with the congregation and then Luther shared a few thoughts, too.  When he returned to his seat, this quintessential Yankee - noble, understated and wise - started to sob in his wife's embrace for he has been beloved within and among us. I will miss them both in ways that cannot be named and give thanks to God for a chance to serve with him for the past 3 1/2 years.  It is clear, too, that I will not see either of them until this life is over and we meet on the other side of glory.  In so many ways today we got right down to the real nitty gritty...

And now I am finishing some details before we head off to Istanbul with the Jazz Ambassadors tomorrow.  There are a few errands to complete, a few messages to write to our kids who will be house/dog sitting while we share music in Turkey and few final details to take place in packing.  In reading Joseph Dispenza's little book, The Way of the Traveler, last night I was reminded of how valuable it is to bring our hosts a small sign of our friendship and gratitude.  So I spent the afternoon getting some little gifts in the hope that they will help suggest how grateful we are for their trust and support.

There has been so much to do to get ready for this pilgrimage - and soon it will come to pass. Dispenza writes:

Medieval cathedrals were designed with the concept of the approach foremost in the minds and hearts of the builders. We look at a magnificent cathedral from above - seeing it as a bird sees it - as a cross with the entrance at the foot and the place of the unfolding mysteries deep inside - at the crossing. From the cathedral's entrance to the crossing is a long walk to the heart of faith:  the approach... Other civilizations have also made the processional an indispensable part of every holy ceremony...Mayan, Aztec and Toltec... Egypt... Rome and Greece... because mov8ing in the direction of the destination has been profoundly significant.

Tomorrow we meet to load equipment, hoist a few shots and head off to JFK knowing that even the procession transforms us...

She moves in mysterious ways...

For almost 8 months, I have been working towards going to Istanbul, Turkey:  I have practiced vigorously on bass guitar - and taken lessons,too; I have read a dissertation's worth of books and articles about jazz history and music theory, I've played with the Jazz Ambassador's all over Pittsfield learning to stand and deliver - and improvise - and I've prayed this whole thing might come together.  On Monday, we gather at 1:30 pm to head for Kennedy International airport in NYC because... we're going to Turkey!

This is unlike any other trip I've taken:  not only will we be representing the city of Pittsfield but we will be striving to make new friends as part of a people-to-people peace-making commitment.  And while Joseph Dispenza is right when he notes that ALL travel in INNER travel, there is a very public aspect to this pilgrimage that is unique for me.  In the past, Di and I have wandered - that is our preferred approach to the spiritual life and it resonates with how we have entered other journeys - but this is different.

First, we want to share American JAZZ with Turkish musicians and audiences.  Second, we want to build contacts and relationships that might mature into a sister city arrangement with Beyoglu.  And third we are American musicians going to a part of the world that has long been wounded by both Western greed and the clash of very different political worldviews. I am keenly conscious of all three dimensions of this trip - and maybe one more: I, personally, want to learn and watch and listen to how those in a secular Muslim nation balance the demands of faith and service to their country. 

Again, the words of Dispenza are helpful:

If we look at the pattern of the journey as it has come to us over eons, we see some distinct phases. The first is that of feeling called to a journey and imagining how it might be - dreaming about taking the road to another place.  Next is preparation: deciding what is to be taken along and what is to remain behind. The third phase involves making the journey itself, with all its serendipitous encounters and amazing unfoldings. And after that is the homecoming - and finally, to complete the experience, the traveler recounts a tale of the journey.

The vision - or calling - was first articulated almost four years ago during my first meeting with band leader, Andy Kelly.  As we started to talk - and listen - we discovered a deep belief that music can help build bridges.  And at that first lunch meeting at Dottie's Coffeehouse, we both wondered if bringing a jazz band to a Muslim country might come to pass.  After the hatred - and wars - born after September 11th, this has been a regular prayer of mine.  As our friendship ripened - and as we found new and fun ways to play music in church and elsewhere - Andy embraced the dream with faith; he called us together, invited us to join the band and then bought the tickets.  "Now, we HAVE to make this happen because we're going!" he announced.

We have been in preparation for almost as long as a child gestates:  Sue and Andy have worked tirelessly - and creatively - finding us lodging and gigs; they have been bold in their vision and relentless in the details.  Dianne has studied Turkey with a passion - she is our resident cultural context person - and will help us interpret some of the new things we encounter; she has also worked her ass off finding a way to bring her musical gifts into the action of our jazz band.  (She also created a website that accepts DONATIONS that you can check out @ http://sistercityjazz.bbnow.org/donate.php) 

All the guys in the band have played for free for the past 8 months so that we might come up with the nearly $10K necessary to make this pilgrimage.  And in addition to working to keep a solid bottom on the band, I've put together a publicity push through Facebook and our "Peace-Making Through Music" blog that has pumped up the interest in this adventure.  (check out the blog @ http://peace-makingthroughmusic.blogspot.com/)

Apparently Andy's contacts at the State Department have enjoyed our publicity because they not only helped arrange for us to open the Second Annual Arts Dialogue Festival in Beyoglu - on the very day we arrive - but they are working to bring together some Turkish musicians and bloggers for us to visit with and explore the roots of peace-making.  (You can read the whole itinerary on the blog - and keep up to date with us while in-country, too. And while you are at it, check this out: http://istanbul.usconsulate.gov/)

Phil Cousineau once noted that "the object of pilgrimage is not rest and recreation - to get away from it all... travel brings a special kind of wisdom if one is open to it. At home or abroad, things of the world pull us toward them with such gravitational force that, if we are not alert our entire lives, we can be sucked into their outwardness.  Attentive travel helps us to see this because the continually changing outwards scene helps us to see through the world's pretensions."

So, after worship tomorrow - Pentecost - we're ready for action cuz she really does move in mysterious way that ol' Holy Spirit...

Bono's lyrics put it all into perspective:

One day you will look... back
And you'll see... where
You were held... how
By this love... while
You could stand there
You could move on this moment
Follow this feeling
Its all right.. .she moves in mysterious ways.

I got a groove thing going on...

Ok, in three days and four hours we leave for Istanbul: do I LOOK excited?!?  We got a note today from some of our new friends in Istanbul that OUR excitement has gotten THEM to work on pulling together a gathering of Turkish musicians and bloggers interested in the same peace-groove as the Jazz Ambassadors.  How much fun is that?  (Can I get an AMEN?!?) No wonder I've got a groove thing going on and just CAN'T get a few songs out of my head - one could even become a theme of sorts:

+ Let's start with the master of funk and genre-bending, Mr. Sylvester Stone, better know as Sly and his Family Stone. He's gotten lost in the coke and the buzz, but back in the day this brother could make it happen on so many levels. Right up there with Booker T and the MGs for mixing Black and White musicians  together to model something new - and let's not forget that Sly brought the women in as equals, too.  Just watching these guys was counter-cultural - I saw them two nights in a row back in Central Park- and when they started to play... watch out!  Driving back from lunch with my daughter, "Everyday People" came on the IPOD and it sounded just as fresh, funky and relevant as when I first heard it.

+ And what about this remake from another family stoned:  Arrested Development? They kick it up a bit  - and get more explicit about the politics - but they still claim the same heart and soul as Sly, yes?  And can they ever get an integrated crowd into it - something that speaks to me at a very deep level - as being ambassadors of jazz is NOT a spectator sport.

+ And as long as I'm in a groove thing... who could leave out War's masterpiece:  Low Rider? These guys mixed up the sound and broke down some racial and musical barriers, too.  Wikipedia writes: "the band's goal was to spread a message of brotherhood and harmony, using instruments and voices to speak out against racism, hunger, gangs, crimes, and turf wars, and promote hope and the spirit of brotherhood."  I am down with that and always have to get up and dance when I hear the opening cow bell call to action - same with "The World is a Ghetto."

And then, just for some perspective, what came up on the IPOD a few minutes after brother Sly?  Miles Davis' classic:  "Freddy Freeloader." Kerouac described something like this song when he said:  Here’s a guy and everyboy’s there, right? Up to him to put down what’s on everybody else’s mind. He starts the first chorus, then lines up his ideas, people, yeah, yeah, but get it, and then rises to his fate and has to blow equal to it. All of a sudden somwhere in the middle of the chorus he gets IT- everybody looks up and knows; they listen; he picks it up and carries. Time stops. He’s filling empty space with the substance of our lives, confessions of his bellybottom strain, remembrance of ideas, rehashes of old blowing. He has to blow across bridges and come back and do it with such infinite feeling soul-exploratory for the tune of the moment that everybody knows its not the tune that counts but IT!

And can you believe the line-up of this band? The solos are by Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Paul Chambers, and Wynton Kelly.