Reaching Beyond: Improvisations on Jazz, Buddhism, and a Joyful Life

2006).

ONE

JAZZ, BORN FROM THE PEOPLE

Ikeda: Dialogue is a kind of music created among human spirits. I am eagerly looking forward to creating music of the heart with my two friends, world-renowned jazz musicians Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter. You are artists of the first rank. Both of you have won numerous Grammy awards for your outstanding work.

While performing around the world, you have consistently engaged in valuable efforts for peace. Your admirable contributions are a source of great pride to SGI members not only in your homeland of America but around the world.

Hancock: Thank you. I am truly happy to take part in this discussion. For Wayne and me, it is a great honor with special significance to have the chance to talk with you not only about Buddhism but about jazz, the music we have spent many years exploring and introducing to the world.

Shorter: I feel that, you, Mr. Ikeda, are creating a new model of dialogue for the world. The courage you show in promoting dialogue for a new age is an eye-opener for a lot of people.

Ikeda: The American people take deep pride in jazz, which originated in the United States. An American scholar, Jim Garrison of Virginia Tech, once suggested to me that there were four great spiritual treasures of America: the writings of American Renaissance philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson, the educational philosophy of John Dewey, the civil rights struggle of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and jazz, born from the lives of the people.

I have already discussed the first three—Emerson, Dewey, and King—with leading experts on their lives and philosophies,¹ and now it is time to discuss jazz. It’s been more than fifty years since I first traveled to America, and I feel as if our discussion will be, in a way, a kind of consummation of my long relationship with my friends in the United States.

Today, artists practicing Nichiren Buddhism are active around the world. Through our dialogue, I want to explore with you the bright future prospects of a cultural movement based on Buddhism.

As you have been steadily and sincerely engaged in SGI activities over the years, I am certain that your insights and experiences concerning kosen-rufu ²—our people’s movement for peace—will serve as a source of powerful encouragement to many.

To begin, let’s explore what jazz is and how it originated. With the vibrant spirit of youth, I want to learn as much as I can about jazz. I am looking forward to a special lecture from you two on this subject.

Hancock: I feel I am the one receiving special lectures from you, Mr. Ikeda. We have had the great honor of being present at SGI meetings where you’ve spoken. I have had a chance to see the improvisatory nature of your delivery, which is very much in keeping with the spirit of jazz.

Shorter: When I first heard jazz on the radio, at age fifteen, I felt that the performers were taking chances and striving for perfection at the same time. When I tried to do the same thing in my early years, I discovered that I was not really prepared to improvise truly, in the way the innovators of Bebop, or modern jazz,³ could. I realized that practice in and of itself does not allow the musician to be true to creative expression in a way that is free of ulterior motives and manipulation.

Ikeda: Improvisation—the ability to create value freely and on the spot—requires absolute commitment and conviction. Nichiren, the Japanese Buddhist thinker and reformer, wrote, As life does not go beyond the moment, the Buddha expounded the blessings that come from a single moment of rejoicing [on hearing the Lotus Sutra] (WND-1, 62).

Right now, at each moment, we can demonstrate wisdom and power brimming with joy. At the same time, one needs intense training and practice to cultivate the ability to improvise successfully. Leading up to a dialogue like this, I carefully study about my partner or partners—both out of respect for them and as an expression of my sincere desire for meaningful exchange.

After this preparation, the dialogue itself is a matter of playing it by ear. Once a dialogue or musical performance begins, each unfolding moment requires absolute concentration. Buddhism emphasizes the wisdom of the truth that functions in accordance with changing circumstances (OTT, 177). Making use of this wisdom, one strives to create the greatest value possible. This is the marvel of improvisation.

The most important things in dialogue are trust and sympathy—the belief that whether you are speaking with a nation’s leader, a fellow citizen, or someone from a culture or country unfamiliar to you, you can communicate with each other and achieve understanding as human beings. This is the spirit in which I have always met and spoken with people, striving to build bridges of peace and amity.

When I visited China in 1974, for instance, I remember meeting a sweet little girl. She asked me where I had come from, and I replied that I was from Japan and that I had come all that way just to meet her. The girl smiled.

Hancock: Your soulful dialogues have a lot in common with jazz, which depends on dialogue. This concept is quite familiar to jazz musicians; it’s something we value, something we experience every time we play. Jazz is also a very spiritual music.

The dialogue that happens within the performance is not frivolous or casual. The dialogue embodied in jazz is very serious, even when it’s playful. In many ways, it’s a celebration of the joy of life. It is a pure and direct method of communication, a cry issued from the depths of human emotion.

Shorter: In 1961, at the Apollo Theater in Harlem, I met an old man who said something that made a big impression on me: I hear that stuff you young gentlemen are playing. I hear it. I don’t understand what you are doing, but it sure makes me feel good! Within the improvisational essence of jazz, an artist is challenged with having to create—with authenticity, vision, and courage—a dialogue of inspiration and compassion that embraces the dignity and value of all humanity.

A New Sound Reaches the World

Hancock: Jazz grew out of the slavery system in America and developed from the influence of blues, gospel music, and African culture. But it is a new expression that goes beyond the spirit of a particular national culture. The proof is that people throughout the world love jazz. It is especially popular in Japan—very far away from both Africa and the United States.

This is a gift that African Americans gave to the world and that came from the oppression of African Americans. Their suffering gave birth to it. Jazz is no longer limited to expressing pain, though; it has expanded well beyond that. They turned suffering into joy through creativity rather than into revenge—poison into medicine.⁴

Sharing and openness are also characteristics of jazz. It enthusiastically adopts influences from other cultures and genres while at the same time strongly influencing them. These traits—sharing, openness, and turning suffering into joy—are the core of human spirituality.

Ikeda: I can’t help seeing this openness as the incredible power of jazz, and music in general. What gives rise to these qualities and what is the source of jazz’s appeal and power? When one explores the culture of jazz in earnest, one is bound to discover an expression of the great soul that pulses within the lives of all people. Buddhism awakens us to this supremely noble life residing in the depths of us all.

Shorter: Buddhism has taught me that culture—meaning artistic talent—exists in all human beings. It must be brought to the surface through the overall awakening of human life.

Mr. Ikeda, how did you first encounter jazz?

Ikeda: I first heard jazz in my youth, soon after World War II. During the war, jazz was seen as enemy music, and it was forbidden to either play or listen to it. But in September 1945, a month after Japan’s defeat, the radio began broadcasting Japanese musicians playing jazz. I was seventeen at the time, and it made a vivid impression on me. For the Japanese, having survived the incredible hardship and suffering of the war, it was a sound proclaiming the arrival of a new, liberated age. It was a time when we were energetically rebuilding our lives, and jazz was a source of great encouragement for us.

Among the tide of reforms being introduced through American leadership during the Allied occupation, freedom of religious belief was finally established in Japan. The Soka Gakkai, which had been persecuted by the militaristic Japanese government during the war, could then act freely and without government interference. My mentor, Josei Toda, understood the significance of this development and the debt we owed to the United States.

The point is that nothing is more powerful than culture, which makes us fully human. It is a light that illuminates society and changes it for the better. This is why the Soka Gakkai has consistently focused on the importance of culture.

Hancock: In a way, culture is the voice of the people, an expression of the individual as well as the social environment to which the individual belongs. Sometimes that voice is raised in opposition to miserable conditions. At other times, it expresses hope for a brighter future. Jazz represents freedom. The most oppressive government can’t suppress freedom of the heart.

Shorter: Jazz is a creative process, an improvisational dialogue that can break through the superficial constraints of dogma, decrees, and mandates.

Ikeda: It represents the essential freedom of the human spirit. Nichiren writes, Even if it seems that, because I was born in the ruler’s domain, I follow him in my actions, I will never follow him in my heart (WND-1, 579). Buddhism teaches the ultimate freedom of life, a freedom that is unrestricted and fearless.

The Soka Gakkai’s history, in which countless individuals have won this spiritual freedom, has been closely linked to many songs. Mr. Toda used to say that wherever a people have flourished, there has been song. The development of the Soka Gakkai, he added, would also be accompanied by the appearance of many new, inspiring songs. Such songs can rouse our courage and hope. Our tradition of performing Soka Gakkai songs has encouraged our members facing challenges and enabled them to rise up and fight on. With songs as the source for joy in life, our members have made great progress.

Shorter: I would like to play music that speaks of people’s hopes, of dreams worth fighting for—a never-give-up sentiment expressed musically in ways not often encountered in today’s marketplace of instant gratification, a new music that challenges the illusions of fame and success.

Hancock: The most important thing is the purpose. The purpose really is to share your discoveries with the audience—to have the courage to bring them out, to present them unadulterated directly to the audience.

Ikeda: This is the essence of true art. Nichiren teaches: ‘Joy’ means that oneself and others together experience joy…. Then both oneself and others together will take joy in their possession of wisdom and compassion (OTT, 146). True joy is something to be shared; sharing it makes it grow.

Art does not have to be intimidating. It can encourage us to open up and share our joy with others. I am certain that passion in your art reverberates with your listeners and speaks deeply to them.

Hancock: Even though the roots of jazz come from the African American experience, my feeling has always been that jazz really developed from a noble aspect of the human spirit common to all people—the ability to respond to the worst of circumstances and to create something of great value, or as Buddhism says, to turn poison into medicine.

It is also a type of revenge, but unlike the ordinary kind, it is against the fundamental darkness, the most deeply rooted delusion inherent in human life. It’s an attack against that. And I believe that is what this music really represents. I uncovered this deeper and more important meaning through my practice of Nichiren Buddhism, which teaches that life is a continual struggle between one’s inner enlightenment and one’s inner darkness.

Ikeda: Jazz indeed represents an indomitable way of life.

In its early days, the Soka Gakkai was belittled as an organization of the poor and sick. It was in this context that Mr. Toda—upholding the Buddhist principle of the sanctity of life and motivated to eliminate all misery from our world—tirelessly, warmly encouraged one suffering individual after another.

I stood up as his disciple, sharing his aims, and worked together with noble, ordinary people to build the Soka Gakkai that exists today. Now, I am eager to communicate the spirit of those pioneering days to young people.

Buddhism teaches that earthly desires lead to enlightenment, that the sufferings of birth and death lead to nirvana (enlightenment). Problems and suffering are the source of growth, the keys to attaining a great, expansive life state. By continuing to chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, or the ultimate Law of life and the universe, as we regard both suffering and joy as facts of life (WND-1, 681), we can live with the greatest of all joys (OTT, 212).

Precisely because jazz was born from suffering and tribulation, it possesses the power to stir and revitalize us. This is the ultimate power of culture.

Shorter: In a world where instant gratification is prioritized, the challenge for jazz is to open new pathways for people of diverse origins and cultures to interact with more humanity, humility, openness, and trust.

Hancock: Jazz is still in the process of development. The interesting thing is that jazz has continued to survive, through good times and bad. In that sense, I personally believe that jazz will last for eternity.

Shorter: I like to say that playing jazz builds our humanity in that it presents us with the challenge of not knowing what is going to happen. And not knowing what is going to happen is what improvisation is all about. There is an element of the fear of the unknown, the fear of something different, or the fear of being outside your comfort zone. Hesitancy and reticence, to a certain degree, create the monster called fear.

Onstage, it’s something like being vulnerable—we forget music lessons. We want to depict moments of struggle—to have the audience see us struggling and then breaking out of those moments and creating victory, reaching for something that transcends the temporariness and unpredictability of life. Tragedy is temporary. But the mission is constant. Playing jazz gives us courage to challenge and conquer any difficulties even under unexpected circumstances.

Ikeda: That’s wonderful, and very moving. Both life and art are a struggle—a struggle for endless self-improvement and value creation. One needs courage to win in a struggle. Both of you have courageously overcome numerous trials and sorrows. You have demonstrated the greatness of the individual and of the cultural weapon of jazz.

Our times are increasingly troubled. A continuing series of unexpected crises demand our immediate response—an improvisational performance of the highest level, if you will. This is why I believe it so