Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Shree Shyam


Q: How did your musical journey start?
A: I got my first drum when I was seven. It was a gift from my parents--a mridanga, a traditional two-headed Indian drum. I played a mridanga every day until I was 17.
Q: Was that during your spiritual education at the Hare Krishna school?
A: Yes, my father was running Miami’s Hare Krishna temple, so I grew up in the community. When I was 10, I asked my parents to send me to a gurukula (ashram school) in Vrindavan, India, and I stayed there for four years, from 1982 to 1986. That’s where I met Sri Prahlada (www.sriprahlada.com) and GauraVani (www.gauravani.com). I left the school when I was 14, and a year later, I took my vows and worked as a full-time priest at the Miami temple.
Q: Sounds like a lot of discipline for a natural musician.
A: Yes, I received good training in sadhana (spiritual discipline). In the 10 years I lived in ashrams, I rarely missed morning prayers and meditation sessions. It was fun, and I feel like I deposited lots of money into my spiritual bank account (laughs).  I was fully absorbed in my spiritual practice. I didn’t even see my first movie until I was 17.
Q: Wow! What was it?
A: “Married to the Mob,” with Michelle Pfeiffer. A real ‘80s movie, right? (laughs)
Q: Well, that’s an interesting introduction to the world of movies. How did you end up learning Western instruments? Did you play bass and drums in Vrindavan?
A: No, that was later, in Miami. Some Indian visitors to the temple who liked my mridanga playing gave me an old drum set, and that’s how it started. After that, people kept giving me different instruments, like more drums and keyboards.  
Q: Did you go to music school?
A: No. I always wanted to study music, but my dad suggested that I have something solid to fall back on, so I studied journalism.
Q: Did it feel like punishment?
A: No, not at all. I love journalism, writing, and editing.
Q: How do you use your journalism skills?
A: I’ve been an editor for several newspapers, magazines, book publishers, and websites.
Q: So, did you go straight to New York from the ashram in Miami?

A:  After college, I lived in San Francisco for nine years, and I had a great time. I did a lot of writing and editing, and I played in lots of different bands, everything from bebop to disco to funk to circus music—even with a tabla quartet!  What I liked most, though, were the people I met there. Everybody was really supportive of what I did, and they always accepted my spiritual journey. Looking back, I’d say that living in San Francisco was pretty peaceful.
Q: The peace didn’t last long?
A: (Laughs) New York was a whole different flavor. San Francisco’s pretty laid-back, but New York is crazy and kinda over-caffeinated.
Q: How did that affect your life?
A: I jumped right into the music and journalism scene. I moved to New York to be editor-in-chief of Bass Guitar magazine, and I gave it everything I had—I ate, slept, and dreamt about how to make the magazine better. I also kept playing around town with some great New York musicians. When the magazine folded, I worked as a freelance copy editor for the City of New York and at Rolling Stone, Vibe, and Computer Shopper. I had always dreamed of working on magazines, so it was cool to be doing it on a world-class level.
Q: How did you end up playing with Gauravani in Australia? Do you play often together?
A: This is only our second tour together, which is crazy considering the fact that I’ve known him since he was six years old and I was 12! We hung out together in the early ‘90s, and at the time, he asked me to play music with him, but it took until Bhakti Fest last year for us to seriously talk about doing some traveling and playing. Last year, we went to South Africa and Botswana together, and that was great, and now we’re here.
Q: Did you like South Africa?
A: I loved it! I have to go back. One of the interesting things is that I finally made it to the “motherland,” but I saw the whole country through the eyes of South African Indians! They were amazing hosts, but I definitely need to go back and hang out with some black South Africans. We were there to do kirtan, not as tourists, so I’m going to make another trip to soak up some local culture, visit more countries, and learn more about the continent.
Q: How did you make it to New York?
A: I was feeling restless after nine years in San Francisco, so I bought a multi-city plane ticket and said to the Man Upstairs (laughs), Dude, if you have a plan for me, please let me know. Right after that, my brother called to tell me an old family friend had recommended me for a drum gig with a Polish Hare Krishna reggae band called Village of Peace. On the way to Europe, I stopped in New York and hung out with a friend of mine in Brooklyn, a great drummer, who told me he was looking for a roommate. The same day, I went to lunch with another friend who was editor-in-chief for Bass Guitar magazine. He totally blew me away by offering me the job! The timing was perfect. I came back from traveling through Poland, Germany, the Czech Republic, Denmark, and the Netherlands, packed my bags, and headed to New York.
Q: Do you still write?
A: Occasionally, but it’s not my main thing right now. When my wife Lila and I left New York in 2009, we stored our stuff at her family’s house in Chicago and moved to India for four months.
Q: Big move! What did you do in India?

A: We flew into Mumbai and traveled around for four months. It was quite an experience to finally return to India for the first time since 1987, and it was amazing to see how much things had changed—and how little other things had changed—since I’d been there.
Q: I imagine being back after 22 years was very special. What affected you most?
A: Going back to Vrindavan and doing a 40-day solitary retreat in Himachal Pradesh.
Q: I thought you did the retreat with Lila. Did you ask her not to talk to you during your retreat?
A: I didn’t talk to anyone during the retreat, and I didn’t check email or use a phone. Lila helped me a lot with logistics before the retreat, and she was very supportive. We had been in India for about a month when we parted ways, and while I did my retreat, she travelled, made new friends, and did a 10-day silent retreat herself.
Q: So tell me more about your experience. Why 40 days?
A: There’s a tradition among Hindustani classical musicians of doing 40-day solitary, musical retreats, called chillas. A friend of mine who’s a tabla player received guidance from Zakir Hussain about it, and he did it twice, both times in India; he’s the one who turned me on to it. A very similar tradition of 40-day isolation, called khalwa, exists among some strict Sufis, who use the time to fast and pray.
Q: Jesus did it, too, right?
A: Yes, and so did Moses, Buddha, and St. Patrick. It’s just the right length of time for you to reflect on your life, to be with yourself, and to hear what the universe is saying within you. I spent my chilla in a one-bedroom cottage, which I never left. Three times a day, someone would knock on my door, leave a plate of food on my doorstep, and walk away; I’d get the plate, eat, wash it, and leave it for them to pick up. I never saw another human being during the entire 40 days, though. It was just me and me, sometimes talking to myself in the mirror. My friend the tabla player told me to expect some serious tests and strong emotions, and all the way up until day 30, it was indeed intense but very good.
Q: What happened after that?
A: Well, I started my retreat in August, during the warm and wet monsoon season, but by early September, a month later, the weather had started to cool down. So there I was, up in the Himalayas, living in this cottage on the edge of a pear orchard, when the creatures from the orchard decided they wanted to come inside the house to stay warm. Before I knew it, I was in this small room with the biggest spiders I’ve ever seen in my life, and I couldn’t leave—by my own choice! They were all around the room, just sitting on the walls and chillin’ on the ceiling. I could hear them during the night, crawling on the floor, the walls, and the blinds. I’ve been afraid of spiders for as long as I can remember, so it was pretty hard not to freak out!
Q: Did you see them as some type of messengers, trying to teach you something?
A: Yes! I even had dreams where I was being reassured that the spiders were not going to hurt me, but the mind is very powerful. Despite the fact that they never really threatened me, I must admit that it was very difficult to maintain my practice and meditation regimen for those last 10 days. But I made it through—in fact, I lost count of the days, and I stayed an extra 24 hours.


There were many beautiful moments, too. I remember how once, after being in the room for about 30 days, I was eating my dinner in silence, with the lights off. I looked through the window at the sky and saw something I hadn’t seen in a month: the moon! It hit me then how we take things like that—the moon—for granted. I appreciated her in such a deep way at that moment… It was as if we were on a date, just the two of us, and I was so moved by this feeling that I wrote a short melody on the spot. When I went to sleep, I said, see you tomorrow. I’ll be here and I hope you will be, too.
Q: Was the moon your connection with the outside world?
A: It represented feminine warmth and affection. It was a very amazing moment.
Q: Would you do the retreat again?
A: Definitely, and I recommend it to anyone else, too. Everyone should experience what it’s like to not be on anybody else’s schedule for 40 days. After living in New York for 4½  years, I was ready to enjoy the silence, practice music, read, and think about what I want to do with my life. Without a doubt, doing a chilla was the best gift I ever gave myself, and it gave me a deep appreciation for the people in my life. Doing the retreat helped me get to know myself better, and I do believe that the better one knows oneself, the better one can be in relationship.
Q: How did this retreat affect you artistically?
A: In so many ways. One of the things it gave me was a certain ability to concentrate, breathe deeply and work through challenging musical passages, for example. I had a book on theory and harmony with me, and sometimes the material seemed very difficult. My natural habit had always been to procrastinate and avoid tough stuff, but the retreat gave me time to retrain my brain to think, Why put it off? Why not do it now?
 I also channeled and recorded about 100 melodies, and I spent 10-12 hours a day practicing bass, as well as practicing and programming my Roland Handsonic, an electronic drum pad. I’m still working on stuff I began learning during the chilla.  
Q: Shyam, it sounds as though you’ve been gifted with an amazing life. I hope you keep playing and enlightening people with your spirit and amazing music. Thanks for your time.

A: It was a pleasure. Thanks!


Direction from above.


It’s 4am, and I’m seating at the beach meditating, praying for direction and mercy. Above me are stars, glittering the night. Since time immemorial, people looked into the sky for direction. Southern Cross, with its beautiful constellation is there for me. Where are you going to take me? Where should I go, and what    is awaiting me there? Waves crushing gently remind me of my childhood, and walks on the beach. Being alone means so much to me. When I’m alone,  later I can give so much more to others when we reunite.
Amongst the starts, proudly with the half face down is the moon. Not in his best shape this morning, but still taking the charge in this spectacle of black and silver above my head.
Amongst many stars illuminating the sky moon always stands out. With it’s cooling rays reassuring us, that things will pass:  I’ve seen many like you -staring at me, and you’re all gone. What will happen to you if you won’t find you way before time to go?
Gita says that the moon is God’s eye. Are You looking at me now- with Your eye half closed? If you’re, please help me with direction and courage. I can’t do it on my own. I’m not talking just about this blog. I mean life!
I’m reflecting on all the bright moons appearing in my life so far. In the darkness, shining brighter then the stars, my friends, guides, strangers who have helped me before, and will keep helping, as long as I’ll stay open and receptive. It’s so easy to miss a good friend in the crowd of stars. I’m looking here for moons. People who shine brighter then the rest of us. They illuminate the darkness, and help others to lit up. We wouldn’t be able to make any progress without the help of others. I’m praying to the Creator of this vast sky, for his sweet mercy to make me meet great souls, and to inspire others by their stories.
I wish I had a camera to photograph the soul. Is this possible at all? The Song Of God says, that the intelligent can see the invisible Atma through their eyes of knowledge. I’ll attempt here to photograph and present that spiritual spark, which is in all of us. Spiritual journey is the same for all of us. It doesn’t discriminate and choose. I’m here, seating in the boatshed at Bundeena, Australia. You, reading this- can be somewhere else. We feel the same urge to discover our spiritual origins. When this search for truth heats us in the heart we can’t resist searching and looking all around till we find that missing element, the secret of our spirituality.
I’m made of mercy of people, who are my inspiration, the people I’ve met on my path. Without them I’ll still think, that finding pleasure is the end of the world. I’m eternally grateful to God for sending those great souls. I’ll try to humbly and with gratitude reflect some of my experiences of meeting people who shine bright in this often dark world.