Muzundrum Launched!

Muzundrum: The Game of Musicians was officially launched on Thanksgiving Day! A good deal of the site is up – we're still editing the videos, and I'm still tweaking the instructions for Master Level, but most of the pages are posted. Muzundrum can be ordered now by phone (888-775-4998), and will be available online at the Philomuse Store in a couple of days. We'll be shipping by December 4th, in plenty of time for the holidays.

Many thanks to all who provided their support and input during Muzundrum's development: John Steiner, Hugh Lawson, Andy Markley, Al Hernandez, Chuck Wild, Suzanne Doucet, Beth Hilton, and David and Twyla Siegel. We'll see y'all at the NAMM show in Anaheim in January – more about that coming soon!

The Influence of Gurdjieff on the Muzoracle

Today I received a letter asking about the connection between the ideas of G.I. Gurdjieff and the Muzoracle; specifically, I was asked about which texts I would recommend to learn more about his influence on the system. This is not the first inquiry I’ve had along these lines. Honestly, I’ve been reticent about answering them. My experiences with Gurdjieff’s teachings have been so rich, so multi-faceted, and so interconnected, I haven’t known where to start; and I’ve been apprehensive about selling those experiences – and the work itself – short.

First, let me say that Gurdjieff’s cosmological ideas – and it is his cosmology that figures most overtly in the Muzoracle – do not and are not meant to exist in a vacuum. The cosmological ideas are thoroughly intertwined with other sorts of ideas: psychological ones, philosophical ones, alchemical ones. More importantly, the ideas as a whole function as only one part of the much larger endeavor that is “the work”; it is in the context of the other aspects of the work – the subtle forms of self-observation, the sacred dances, the music, the meditations, and above all the working with others of like intent – that the ideas bloom.

It is said that over time the combination of study and practical work can lead to a kind of inner restructuring. I believe it has for me. It’s not like I’m a different person than when I began – it’s more like I see more of the person that I am and have been. That’s not always pretty: what I see most is one set of pathologies giving way to another, precluding anything essential coming to the fore. In the process, though, I’m also gaining a sense of what that essence is: somewhere in all of the hiding, the fantasy, the fear and lies and reactivity, I am. And this fleeting sense and occasional appearance of a deeply present self, a self with a place in this world, engenders hope; and that is a most precious thing. Meanwhile, I begin relating to the world around me differently: if I am, then you are: where? All of the shifting personae within me, that parade of reactive states that call themselves I, still rush to judge whatever catches their eye – but something deeper doesn’t buy it. Something talky in me shuts up once in a while; something closed sometimes opens; a deep listening at times becomes possible. Meanwhile, the ideas in the Gurdjieff system take on greater subtlety, though not in a tidy way that I can directly trace to experience. A kind of new gestalt, a new perspective, begins to emerge: it is somehow lighter in weight. Something essential within, something mostly forgotten, is more often remembered.

It is from a broad and subtle experience, then, that the Gurdjieff work enters the Muzoracle. That being said, that experience is relatively limited: I am a novice in this work, an undisciplined greenhorn. I am compelled to reiterate here as well that the Muzoracle is first and foremost a musical project; that it is, esotericism aside, simply another song that Jeff wrote. To answer the question at hand literally, Gurdjieff’s influence on the Muzoracle is via my subjective experience as a novitiate, artistically applied.

Recommended Reading. If the real gist of the question, though, is where to learn more about the Gurdjieffian laws and concepts that the Muzoracle touches upon – and I think it is – then I know of a few good places to start. First is certainly P.D. Ouspensky’s In Search of the Miraculous: that’s where I started. It’s a chronicle of the work presented in the way that Gurdjieff himself presented it to his students, and it articulates many of the principles that found their way into the Muzoracle, such as the Law of Three, the Law of Seven, and the Ray of Creation – for a start. The depth of information in this book seems to go on forever: I’ve been reading it for decades, and I’m always finding things I haven’t seen. In terms of the writings of Gurdjieff himself, many of the same concepts are put forth in his magnum opus, Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson. The emphasis of Beelzebub’s Tales, though, as I understand it, is more transformational than informational; the act of getting through it is a work in itself, and, to be honest, I’ve only gotten through a few parts. To many, it is absolutely essential.

There are many entrances to the Gurdjieff ideas – lots of authors, lots of books. Gurdjieff’s second book, a semi-autobiographical tale called Meetings With Remarkable Men, is a much easier read than Beelzebub; the film version of the book is a great introduction to the music and movement that is such an integral part of the work. My favorite biography of Gurdjieff is James Moore’s – it chronicles the great drama of events in Gurdjieff’s life without overshadowing what he was trying to teach. Many of the students of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky had student groups of their own, and were prolific; I was initially attracted to the writings of Maurice Nicoll, and still find much inspiration there. There’s an excellent collection of essays written by various luminaries in the work called Gurdjieff: Essays and Reflections on the Man and his Teaching, edited by Jacob Needleman and George Baker.

Coming Soon: The Harmonic Engine. I have also received more specific inquiries about the influence of the Gurdjieff ideas on the Muzoracle: like how the meanings assigned to the scalepoints relate to the Law of Seven, for example. I can’t really answer those kinds questions without filling in a lot of background; that background is stuff of an extended document I’m working on called The Harmonic Engine.

The Harmonic Engine demonstrates that music arises organically in the universe via the Harmonic Series, and that the structure of music, and our experience of music, is a living, breathing map of ourselves, and of the world in which we live. It is intimately tied to Gurdjieffian ideas, but has its own emphasis. Namely, it explores what I call the pitch/rhythm line – that frequency at which we stop perceiving vibration as pitch and start perceiving it as a series of events – and its connection, via all of the above, to our perception of time, our consensus reality, and our place in the universe. It looks at scales arising mathematically from harmony as process arising from being. And it further explores the musical, mathematic, and philosophic bases for much of the workings of the Muzoracle: ascent and descent, scalepoint and harmony definitions, the geometry of the design.

Musically, the Harmonic Engine has spawned a new tuning matrix, which I’ve been working with in the studio. I hope to have at least some of the document online before the end of the year, and the tuning is making its way into some of my compositions. Please stay tuned, so to speak.

A Matter of Style

In the Muzoracle literature, the Style Card is said to refer to "manner and presentation". It seems to imply a kind of superficiality, a way of being or behaving that is somehow divorced from content – something "put on", something we wear as opposed to something we are. And in a casting, the Style Card can indeed point to this "divorced superficiality" – over the point of broad challenge, for example (so or ra), or over the point of unconscious behavior (re or le).

Style can, however, run deep, even though its surface is what commands attention. All surfaces derive from something, and the reasons for them tell their own story. Using a musical analogy, we might play in a jazz style because we think it's "cool"; jazz, however, has a vast history and cultural significance, and that we find it "cool" speaks of our relationship to that history and culture, to our understanding of it and biases toward it. Beyond that, of course, is the question of why we want to look cool in the first place. Apply those kinds of analogies to a real question and you might find something juicy.

In a recent casting, the Style Card appeared crossing a Perfect Fifth of Voices over the scalepoint of te: "Manner" crossing "Initiative in the Realm of Spirit" at the point of "Effort Required". This spoke of a need for the querent to align their manner with what they want at a core level, to allow what their soul is working for to be more readily seen. Here it seems that presentation was divorced from content, and that needed to be rectified.

Muzoracle Casting with Traditional Tarot

The question. My question this morning dealt with money and location. I need to bring in more cash in the short term. The possibilities for accomplishing that are more numerous in the city – where I’m staying – than in the country, where I live. I love my home and its close proximity to family and friends ... but a fella’s gotta make a living. What shall I do about this? Like many folks these days, I’m anxious about money – when confronting these issues, I run into a kind of confusion and muddiness regarding how to proceed. What assumptions and fears are operating unseen within me? What am I buying into?

The casting. The Musician’s Die landed on Gb, pointing absolute south, which indicates the general perspective of the casting was to be about “what’s coming down” – or coming through – vertically, in terms of being. The first Solfége Die I rolled was fa, which indicates a time of transition.

The card I drew underneath fa was a Minor Sixth of Woodwinds: longing or hunger in the Realm of Mind. I think of this card as the "thirst for knowledge" card – and indeed, I'm dying to know what to do at this time of transition ... I am constantly distracted. Gotta know, gotta know, gotta know.

I rolled again: le, the point of mechanicality, of unconscious behavior. The card I drew above it: the Conductor of Woodwinds, a Leader in the Realm of Mind. Now, conductors, especially when operating unconsciously, can point to control issues; an unconscious Conductor of Woodwinds can indicate an attachment to being right. These first two positions together, then – the Minor Sixth of Woodwinds under fa and the Conductor of Woodwinds over le – speak of a kind of mental obsession with having things figured out.

The next die I rolled was fa again, which created a double at the first position and so formed the casting's axis. The card I then drew to cross was the Orchestration Card, which I placed horizontally across the Minor Sixth. The Orchestration Card deals with delegation and managing resources – sometimes within, sometimes without. In forming the axis, the hunger of the Minor Sixth, this need to figure things out, had become bound up with deciding who's going to do what and when. Which of my many irons in the fire should take precedence? What can I hand off, and to whom? Figure figure figure, clickety click click – put all this in the hands of a Conductor obsessed with control and you've got a guy who isn't sleeping much.

So what do I do with all of this? Get out of my head, certainly – but in what way? As sometimes happens, the casting has accurately telegraphed a situation and seems to suggest something, but hasn't pointed strongly to a particular course of action. When this occurs, I'll sometimes just roll and draw again, or maybe do a separate One-Up. The axis of a casting usually signals its end – sometimes, though, it just signals a pause, a time to take stock and do some interpreting before continuing on.

Adding in the Tarot. The course of action I decided to take in this instance was to break out my Universal-Waite Tarot. I shuffled and pulled a card from the center of the deck, and placed it face up below Position 1: the card was The Fool. What might this card mean at a time of transition, in combination with intellectual hunger and delegating responsibility? The Fool's striking difference to the Muzoracle cards above it suggest to me a balm to all this obsessive thinking, a kind of return to innocence, a simple and childlike following of one's heart and conscience. It seems a call to lighten up – the white prancing dog on the card even looks like my Havanese! The Fool also suggests the presence of the Trickster, that this pickle I'm in is a kind of cosmic joke, which, if taken correctly, can really show me some things I'd otherwise not be able to see.

I then drew another card from the middle of the deck and placed it over position 2: it was the Seven of Wands reversed. Now, last night one of the questions on Jeopardy! was "What is Pyrrhic victory?" When this card turned up, this question rang in my head. Sevens are about victory, and the Seven of Wands is about relishing the fight; but it's upside down here, and joined to an unconscious leader. The Conductor here is Pyrrhus himself: this is a battle I don't want to fight. Again, there is a call to relinquish control, to loosen this mental grip.

Looking at all this, I had an intuition to cap what I had so far with a One-Up. I rolled te ascending, and drew a Major Triad of Percussion over it: Fulfillment in the Realm of Body at the point of Effort. I then drew The Emperor over that. This position was most helpful: the triad was a call to examine what I want as an endpoint in the real physical world, and also a call to ground. The Emperor I drew next indicated order, but on the terms of the Major Triad adjacent to it; an anathema to the tyranny of thought found in position 2, it spoke of kingship over a bounteous land.

Musician's Notes. In the first position, the Minor Sixth built downward from fa creates an open voicing of a Major Triad: if we sound our Gb and then add below it Cb and the Eb below that, we hear an open Cb triad with an Eb at the bottom – very consonant, very rich. The second position in our casting involves just the one note D; in conjunction with our droning Gb, we hear an implied D Major Triad. The third position is a E Major Triad; the droning Gb sounds like an "add 2."

This casting is extraordinarily triadic and consonant. Although its key center is Gb, the key we really feel is Cb, the key of fa, sounded at the first position. Harmonically, Cb Major is the source of Gb Major; musically, this casting is centered around the notion of returning to source, as exemplified by The Fool. The E Major Triad in position 3 lifts you right out of your boots. This casting was very healing and soothing to play.

The Soloist and Boundaries

This last weekend we exhibited the Muzoracle at the New World Fair in Pasadena. It was a pretty crazy event with lots of scattered energy, especially on Saturday.

I cast for a couple of people that can only be described as energy vampires: they bring all of their drama and baggage to the table, and seem hell-bent for leather on dragging you into it. One person in particular seemed just this side of the nuthouse, barely listening to what I was saying, grabbing cards and dice when he felt like it, and essentially yelling things like, "I WANT ANSWER! SHOULD I DO THIS OR NOT?! SO THIS THING DOESN'T WORK FOR FUTURE, ONLY FOR PRESENT AND PAST?! AAARGH! I TAKE OTHER CARD! I'M A VERY SPIRITUAL PERSON!" Oy, it was exhausting. By the time the day was done, I'd have rather ate from the catbox than do another casting. "I'm just the piano player, dammit!" I'm thinking. "Leave me alone!"

At the day's very close I had one more casting, and it was with another intuitive reader -- and she was present, immediate, and grounded as can be. Hallelujah! She gave me some very valuable tips -- stuff I'd heard about, but had no practical experience with. Most helpful was her advice on maintaining boundaries, about not making other people's stuff yours; and also about maintaining a certain authority while casting. Yes, the authority in terms of meaning belongs to the querent – but the form and flow of the casting is my job, and it is not up for grabs.

The next morning, while sitting at the booth before the show began, I cast for myself regarding the day ahead. The axis of the casting was the Soloist of Strings crossing a Perfect Fifth of Strings over the scalepoint of so: Initiative and Autonomy in the Realm of Feeling at the point of Challenge. It couldn't have been more clear: take charge of your feelings by remaining autonomous. Shortly thereafter I cast for my partner Hugh, who was also working the booth and was pretty frazzled himself. Two of the cards in his five-position spread were also Soloists: the Soloist of Woodwinds and the Soloist of Percussion.

In the Muzoracle literature, the Soloist is described as " autonomous, independent, a loner, a maverick, a star". The notion of boundaries is also implied: that which is self-contained has borders. Returning to this idea as Sunday ran its course, I saw that, in terms of energy drain, it takes two to tango. Something needy in someone else wants my support; something needy in me wants to please them, and we are drawn to each other like magnets. If I wish to avoid vampires, perhaps I should show a little less neck.

The scalepoint of so refers to broad challenges, to "life-lesson" kinds of challenges. The implications of the axis in my casting reach beyond the issues directly at hand, and beg deeper exploration of the Soloist within. When are our boundaries enforced, and why? When are they nonexistent, and why? What exactly is "autonomy", and what in us desires it? What is a "star", and who wants to be one? 

Mechanicality in Castings

I have come across some confusion among users regarding the scalepoints of re and le, especially in their ascending aspect. What does mechanicality mean, and how does it figure into a casting?

In the Muzoracle, mechanicality refers to unconscious behavior or beliefs. It speaks of what's operating within us without our intent, consent, or even knowledge: our habits, our reactions, our compulsions, our automaticity. Cards drawn above re or le speak of hidden forces driving things – sometimes within us, sometimes without.

Not all unconscious mechanisms are harmful. Indeed, they form as practical responses. Baby burns hand on stove; 20 years later, Baby doesn't have to think about it -- there is an unconscious mechanism that keeps its hand off the burner. If, however, Baby learns to equate abuse with love, and 20 years later finds itself in a string of abusive relationships, there may be an unconscious mechanism that needs to be addressed. When mechanicality appears in a casting, it simply speaks of things that are operating unseen; they may or may not be obstacles to what's at hand.

Sometimes the appearance of a card over re or le signals something repressed and of value coming to light: yes, it's been hidden, but the fact that it's sitting in front of us on the table means it ain't hidden no more. Cards over re/le might also indicate something that needs to be brought to light.

In the greater scheme of things, mechanicality looms large. Unconscious mechanisms within us give rise to behaviors, which in turn affect others, each of whom has their own set. How much of life is really one plane on autopilot bumping into another? What assumptions do we unconsciously make as a culture, or as a species? Who's driving this bus?

Damn, this looks complicated!

So I've heard! Actually, in comparison to other oracles, the Muzoracle is not particularly difficult to use or understand – wrapping your head around the way hexagrams move through the I Ching, for example, or getting a real handle on the Tarot, is not something that can be accomplished in an afternoon. Nonetheless, there is a certain commitment involved – the Muzoracle ain't one of those fast-platitude decks geared to make you feel warm and fuzzy as you're dashing out the door. Not that there's anything wrong with simple – or warm and fuzzy, for that matter – it's just that the Muzoracle is based on the laws of vibration as they relate to music, and well... that takes a minute.

That being said, a One-Up casting -- which can be quite juicy -- can be accomplished within 5 minutes of opening the box. The best way to approach the Muzoracle is to start small and work your way into it – just roll a die, pull a card, and look it up. Once you get the hang of that, you can start checking out the Full-Layout, if you like. If you want, you can go to the web and download the Casting Engine, so you can hear what your castings sound like – but it's not necessary. You don't need to always hear a casting to derive its meaning – I keep the cards and dice in my backpack, and do castings all the time miles from a piano or computer. If esoterica is your bag, there's plenty to be had, especially on the site – but you don't need that either. Keep it simple – take your time.

In these days of multi-tasking, fast cuts, and continuous demands on our attention, even the slightest commitment can seem daunting. Nonetheless, the fact remains: the deeper the investment, the deeper the possible return. Exploring our vibrating universe through music is a rich and useful experience – it's also vast and deeply interconnected with other disciplines. S0 start small, keep it light... roll a die, pull a card... and enjoy!