I grew up immersed in music.  That is probably one of the greatest gifts my father gave me.  He had a very eclectic taste in music and had a decent collection of LPs and cassette tapes on a limited budget.

Three staples of classical music are the three “B”s: Bach, Beethoven and Brahms.  The first classical piece of which I have real conscience is Bach’s violin concerto in E.  I absolutely love it still as well as its twin version for piano.  I came to discover a little late in life that classical composers recycled their own material quite a bit.  Bach did it unabashedly.  Ultimately, creativity is not necessarily about creating from scratch but rather doing parallel shifts to adjacent white space.  That’s what Bach did by transcribing from violin in E to keyboard in D, but it’s exactly the same music!!  I don’t listen to Bach often but usually smile every time I do.  So full of life, so masterful.  This particular concerto as well as Brandenburgs 4 and 5 will make me stop and listen whenever they’re playing.  The harpsichord solo in the first movement of #5 is one of the most breathtaking musical moments in my book.  Musical orgasm.  Buildup of incredible virtuoso drama, ending in absolute release when the orchestra picks it up where it started and takes you to the end, just the way it should be.

My family was immersed in Beethoven.  Dad splurged on a heavy LP set of the 9 symphonies from Deutsche Grammophone that’s still probably somewhere in one of my brother’s house.  Another powerful musical orgasm: the most famous piece of music ever written, the initial orchestral run through the Ode to Joy in the fourth movement of the ninth symphony, which starts with a very quiet bass/cello section, then brings the rest of the strings and clarinets in, a little tension with the violins up high and ends up in full orchestral blast, led by the winds.  When I hear Symphony No. 9, I’m always left with a feeling that there’s no other music I can hear for a while.  I have had it all.

An early attempt by all the budding domestic piano players at home was the Moonlight Sonata (we could all master the first movement but nobody every got beyond butchering the third one).  My paternal grandmother was a decent piano player with a heavy bend towards Beethoven as well.  She did a good job with it.

But Brahms was conspicuously absent in my household…  I have no idea why.

I hold my shamanic studies and community very dear to my heart.  When we get together for class or practice, I know with certainty that I’m going to leave uplifted, inspired, in awe, and with some fresh knowledge that may require some intellectual effort but more importantly a strong connection to my intuition, trusting my instincts.  I smile a lot during class.  I wish I had a greater chance to practice these learnings.  Maybe one day after I retire from business I will dedicate my life to shamanic healing.  Who knows.

I love my teacher.  In a world where I experience few heroes, I look up to her as a wise woman who has a lot of heart, healing, intuition, wisdom to offer the world.  I thank the universe for having let me know her.  She’s also a lot of fun.  Quite a talent for chanting, drumming, voyaging.  My deepest experiences of trance have been during some of our learning sessions with her.  Always to the heart of love.

So, what does shamanism have to do with Brahms?

There are three particular things that have stood out in my shamanic apprenticeship: the power of drums, the energy of crystals and the importance of creative use of the voice.

During one of our classes on drumming, we partnered up as we typically do and drummed into each other.  My partner that night had the intuition to focus on my hip.  With all her might, she struck her beautiful elk skin drum into my pelvic area, front and back.  What energy.  My body felt the vibration like nothing I had ever felt before.  My body recorded and stored.  Never forget that feeling.

Coincidentally, the morning after I was on a flight to Toronto for business.  I had been listening to Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s dream.  As it ended, I felt the urge to go to Brahms.

Sometimes we play “name that composer” at home.  My older daughter stopped having fun with it a long time ago but my little one enjoys it.  I give her silly clues like “Bach is very perky but intense”, “Mozart is light and playful”, and “Brahms is drama, beginning to end, fast or slow”.

So I didn’t grow up on Brahms.  But he has become close to my favorite composer of all times as an adult.  It’s a pity that the story goes that he trashed a lot of his music because he didn’t think it was good enough, which is why there aren’t many of his pieces.  What a deep, dark, tortured soul.  Madly in platonic unfulfilled love with Clara Schumann.  I admire just about all his repertoire.  But my favorite pieces are his two piano concertos and the symphonies.

That morning on my way to Toronto, I started thumbing through my Brahms collection and had the urge to go down to the symphonies.  The first few bars of symphony no. 1 are a heavy insistent drum beat that feels like the call of destiny to wake up and live.  This drumming went into my ears, into my spine and down to the seat of my pants where I felt an explosion of pure energy.  I dropped my iPad immediately.  At this very moment, the flight attendant was offering me coffee.  I couldn’t speak.  He probably thought I was a lunatic on drugs and just kept going.

I have dipped a toe in the water trying to blend classical music into shamanic rituals and practices.  A journey of discovery.  Also, more on crystals and the use of voice at another time.  I am actually planning on recording some simple visual voyages/meditations for my dear readers, so stay tuned.

One of my fellow practitioners read Doctor Conde and wondered if part of the reason I remain anonymous is some shame about my shamanic practice.  I want to say and declare that that is absolutely not the case.  I am very proud of my native american roots and see shamanic practice as connection to them and with the spirit world in order to be “of service”.  Shungo, my dear colleagues.

To end today, I want to acknowledge and honor the beauty that many many composers left behind as their legacy for humanity.  Thank you Brahms.  Also, I want to acknowledge the thousands of extremely talented musicians who spend their lives today learning a very unforgiving trade from which most cannot make a decent living.    Without them, this beautiful music could not come to life.

So dear readers, next time you have a chance, go to a classical concert.  It’s ok if you fall asleep during the music.  Your subconscious will still get it.  And if you have a chance to listen to chamber, even better, hopefully in a small venue where you can feel the vibration of the instruments penetrate every pore of your body.