It all started one day at the crag
I vividly remember my friend coming to visit my company. "Mitsu-san, there's something I want to show you," he said excitedly, pulling a shakuhachi out of his bag.
He always brought up something new, so I just listened to it as another one of his stories, but later, when I was climbing with him at a crag in Yamanashi, he suddenly pulled out his shakuhachi and started playing it.
Other climbers gathered around him and asked to try playing the shakuhachi. I thought I might as well give it a try, but I couldn't make any sound at all. Even though Miu-chan (from the powder team), who happened to be at the same crag, played it so well...
So, I secretly asked him where to buy a shakuhachi, and it turned out to be at the foot of that very mountain. I stopped by there and ended up buying a shakuhachi recommended by the teacher.
The "Weight" and "Lightness" of a Commoner's Culture
At first, I couldn't make any sound at all, but thanks to the instruction book and YouTube, I eventually managed to play it. As I was searching for information, I learned various other things as well.
I discovered that the shakuhachi has a long history, arriving in Japan in the 700s, and that there are still multiple schools of playing that have continued since the Edo period. It also became clear that it's an instrument that cultivated a very profound culture within the diverse environment of the Showa era.
Although it has a very heavy and deep history, it has always existed as a culture of the common people. This is very similar to the cultural aspect of climbing. My friend who taught me the shakuhachi and I often talked about this and laughed.
From the Edge of the Rock to the Core of the Body
As I learned about the different schools and the history of the music, I came to prefer the style closest to meditation. Very simple but difficult, deeply flavorful pieces. Pieces so leisurely that they barely seem like music, like simply blowing one or two notes. Those are the things that resonate from the edge of the rock to the core of my body.
The type of instrument, its shape, length, and thickness also vary. But these are incidental; the essence is to empty the mind through sound. To reach the same state of mind as the Komuso monks who played the shakuhachi on the streets in the Edo period. (I don't know what kind of state of mind that was.) However, many such classical pieces that the Komuso monks would have played have been preserved to this day, albeit in altered forms.
Admiration for the "Pioneers" who Share the Past and Present
If you're a climber, you've probably thought about the first ascensionist in the process of enjoying a problem. Even if the shape of the holds has changed, the first ascensionist is universal, and as long as the rock is there, you can imagine the pioneering efforts.
You can also share the feeling with the many climbers who have tried that problem. That's one of the reasons why I love climbing so much.
Perhaps I enjoy experiencing such history firsthand and imagining the past (from fault lines). And perhaps I enjoy sharing the same things with the various climbers who were there in the past.
Of course, you could go to Yosemite to experience Midnight Lightning. But I believe that going to a crag with a shakuhachi and leisurely contemplating the pioneers and predecessors is also something that helps one grow as a person.
(Mitsuo)