The Headless Fluteman

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Shakuhachi Improv 1

Following the Hawk’s directions I found the closed grounds of the old Washington Irving estate, just at the border of Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown, nestled on the eastern shores of the Hudson River.

With dusk settling in, you can listen for the sound of the brook in the glen and the slight echo of my shakuhachi flute bouncing off the treetrunks in this desolate wood. A small bird can be heard keeping me company.

Afterwards I was trying to figure out why I had selected to play the Shakuhachi – I knew there was a reason besides the fact that I had just had my first official lesson with a Shakuhachi Grand Master in the Boston area the previous evening.

Suddenly it came to me in a flash: the Komuso Zen Monks of ancient Japan who wandered the countryside playing flute for alms (and spying for the ruling Samurai) were thought to be Priests of Nothingness. These musicians wore straw baskets on their heads to maintain their anonymity, which perhaps could be equated with the menacing headless horseman who, many moons ago and in the dead of night, threw his hollow pumpkin head at the terrified Ichabod Crane as those two raced along the nearby roadway!