(Minghui.org) Greetings, Master. Greetings, fellow practitioners.
My mother and I have been practicing Falun Dafa since I was a child. We faced persecution in China and were unable to return to our home, to avoid arrest. After moving to Japan, I participated in several Fa-rectification projects. Over nearly 30 years of cultivation, although I have stumbled many times, but I am grateful to have always been under Master’s compassionate protection. On the 20th anniversary of the Tian Guo Marching Band’s founding, I would like to share my cultivation experiences as a member of the band, and how I have been striving to fulfill my mission.
I attended a public elementary school that had a strong band program that had a solid reputation and repeatedly won awards in city competitions. When I was in first grade, my mother wanted me to develop a special skill, so I signed up to play a wind instrument in the band without giving it much thought. At this school, girls usually played woodwind instruments and boys played brass instruments. I initially wanted to play the saxophone, but my little finger was too short to reach the keys. The teacher said I should not play the saxophone or clarinet and suggested I try the flute. With no other option, I learned to play the flute. During my elementary school years, I studied the flute and participated in many city wind band competitions. Through this, I learned a lot about basic music theory and marching band formation techniques. Looking back, I believe this was Master’s ingenious arrangement to prepare me to join the Tian Guo Marching Band in the future. I am deeply grateful to Master!
I first lived in Nagoya after moving to Japan. In 2013, when I went to Tokyo to participate in the April 25 parade, I stayed at the home of a practitioner who was a member of the Tian Guo Marching Band. In casual conversation, I mentioned that I played the flute. It turned out that this practitioner played the piccolo. She immediately printed out the flute sheet music for the pieces they played and gave it to me, saying that I should practice them.
After returning home and looking at the music, my first impression was that it wasn’t difficult. So I set it aside and didn’t practice any of the pieces. Two months later, during a local group Fa study, a practitioner who knew about this asked me, “How is your practice of the Dafa music going?” I hadn’t practiced at all so I didn’t know how to answer, but in my heart I felt that Master was reminding me through this practitioner of what I should do. So when I got home I immediately began practicing, and worked through all the parade pieces. During the July 20 parade that year, I played in the band for the first time.
I realized that some members’ music fundamentals were quite weak, unlike what I had been taught. Some couldn’t even grasp the timing of playing notes (rhythm), which would not be acceptable in an ordinary people’s band. Since I didn’t live in Tokyo, I could not attend the weekend rehearsals. At the time, I was pretty content just participating in the parades and making sure I played well.
One day, another flute player asked me to come to her home and help her practice. I thought that if I could help, I should. So I drove over four hours to Tokyo. While practicing together, I was deeply moved by her steadfastness and her wish to validate the Fa by playing well. Without noticing the time, we practiced until after 3 a.m. While she repeatedly worked on the parts she couldn’t play well, I listened and thought to myself, “As long as she does not give up, I absolutely cannot give up.” I then decided I should move to Tokyo and do everything I could to help the flute players improve. Master saw my wish to help others and arranged a path for me. In less than a year, I found a suitable job in Tokyo, moved there, and began attending weekend band rehearsals.
Xinxing tests soon followed however. Many practitioners only wanted to practice the parade pieces but did not realize that playing them well requires skill in all the fundamentals. Simply wanting to “throw fast punches” without a foundation will not yield good results. I advised them, “If your flute-holding posture is incorrect, it will be impossible for your fingers to move freely and play the fast passages well. You should fundamentally change your posture and how you use your lips and mouth (embouchure) to play a wind instrument. Focus on the measures you haven’t mastered. Even if you can do them for just 10 minutes a day, it will be helpful. There’s no need to repeatedly play from beginning to end at exam tempo. That is not an efficient way to practice, because you are still playing the part you have trouble with wrong.”
However, when practitioners did not follow the plan I made or did not do as I suggested, I felt hurt. I had done so much for them—were my efforts in vain? Was moving to Tokyo meaningless? Negative emotions surged, and I lost patience. I did not treat the process of practicing with fellow practitioners as part of my own cultivation. Instead, I was showing off, full of zealotry and the desire for others to listen to me. I wanted quick results to prove my ability, and I had lost my initial motivation. I immediately corrected myself and realized that Master arranged for me to learn the flute in elementary school so I could fulfill my mission during this special period of Fa-rectification and help fellow practitioners improve.
I told myself, “I am merely using the abilities Master gave me to assist in Fa-rectification. Although some practitioners might be weaker at playing instruments, they may excel more than me in other areas. How can I be arrogant, show off, become zealous, or even complain?” I gradually rekindled my original motivation. I simply wanted to help my fellow practitioners. This responsibility is part of my mission within the band, and it is what I should and must do well. The initial thought, “As long as fellow practitioners do not give up, I absolutely cannot give up,” has remained ingrained in my heart for over a decade.
During the more than four years of participating in Hong Kong parades (2016 to 2019), there were times when we marched for hours and performed in heavy storms. But these physical hardships were nothing. What I found most difficult was eliminating my fear. I also struggled to maintain my righteous thoughts. Although four years was not a long time, for me it was a prolonged journey of struggling to make the right choices and gradually becoming able to make breakthroughs in cultivating my heart.
When a parade in Hong Kong was announced, it was extremely difficult for me to decide whether to commit to attending. My family was still in China, and I kept wondering if going to Hong Kong would bring persecution to them. Moreover, after hearing that some practitioners had been repatriated, I worried that I might face the same fate. Recalling the dreadful experience of being persecuted in China, I always hesitated. I was often assigned to lead the warm-up before the parade started. Standing in front of everyone, I was highly visible. This increased my pressure. I was afraid of being photographed by hostile groups, and of implicating my family.
I knew deep down that as a band member I should unconditionally participate in all band activities. Yet driven by fear, I found seemingly legitimate excuses, like, “Participating in activities in Japan is enough. If I go to Hong Kong, I must arrange leave from my job, and I can’t easily explain it to my company. It may cause misunderstandings about Dafa practitioners. Also, airfare would be a substantial cost if I were to attend all the parades in a year. I’m just one person and they don’t really need me. I won’t go this time. Maybe next time.” In 2016, I twice decided not to go, using these “reasonable” excuses.
After I got married in 2017, through discussions with my husband, who is also a practitioner, I realized that my fear had not diminished after coming to Japan; it had grown. I told myself I could no longer feed it, and needed to eliminate it. I did not want to make mistakes or miss opportunities. So we decided that whenever the band announced a Hong Kong parade, we would immediately buy airline tickets, leaving no time for hesitation or excuses. With this resolve, and with my husband’s encouragement and support, we participated in all the Hong Kong parades until 2019. I was tempered through this process, and my fear was gradually worn away.
Hong Kong can no longer hold parades, so if I had not seized those opportunities and eliminated my fear, I would truly have lost the opportunity. There will never be such an environment to help me eliminate fear.
The first Asia-Pacific Tian Guo Marching Band technical exchange conference was held in Taiwan in 2016. Practitioners from bands across the Asia-Pacific region collaborated with the Taiwan band to participate in the Double Tenth Day parade. That November, the Taiwan band traveled to Japan to join the Japanese band at Waseda University’s festival, which marked the beginning of joint performances between the Taiwan and Japan bands.
As part of basic training, the Taiwan technical instructors sometimes sent us ordinary people’s ensemble pieces as well as some wind-instrument exercises. “The pieces aren’t difficult,” was again my first thought. Though I could play them almost flawlessly, during rehearsals I was repeatedly told by Taiwan’s technical instructor that my playing was “living in my own world.” Basically, I wasn’t considering others and was overly emphasizing myself, often making my flute stand out from the rest.
At first, I dismissed what was happening. I believed my childhood foundation was solid enough. Although not a professional, my ability was more than sufficient for parades, and I did not intend to further improve my skills. Even though I regularly took lessons from professional teachers as required, I was not truly dedicated.
At the 2018 Asia-Pacific exchange in Taiwan, the Taiwan band performed some harmonic chords. Before it began, I felt jealous, thinking I could play that too. But when it started, the warm and resonant low voices instantly melted my ugly attachment. The harmonic triangle from low to high unfolded right in front of me. I was overwhelmed with awe and deeply moved. The blending of instruments, the balance between sections, the dynamics, and the expressive rises and falls reached a level that made me want to simply close my eyes and listen.
This exchange made me see my shortcomings. Reaching that level was not about one member’s skill, but the overall standard, which required each individual to have that ability. The Taiwan band achieved it through patient, correct guidance, and everyone’s willingness to let go of self and practice diligently.
From then on, I understood the importance of improving personal skills. Only by reaching a certain level individually can one truly support the whole and contribute to the overall sound. During performances, instead of worrying about correctness, one can be fully immersed without distractions.
Previously, during rehearsals and parades, I only listened to myself and wanted only to hear my own instrument. I often thought, “Look, I didn’t make any mistakes. I’m playing quite well.” I was truly “living in my own world.” After recognizing this, I increased my practice time and listened attentively to the professional teachers’ explanations about musical expression and cooperation with others. During rehearsals and parades, I focused on listening to the entire flute section and other sections, and I tried to blend into the whole ensemble.
When I did this, I found I could no longer hear my own sound. The first time it happened, I thought my instrument was broken, but it was fine. I realized it was because I had improved and let go of self, allowing my sound to blend into the ensemble.
Although I had studied the flute since childhood, I did not pursue professional training, and my understanding of music was limited to playing correct notes, rhythm, and basic phrasing. After watching Shen Yun’s dance performances and listening to its symphony orchestra, I understood that what truly moves people is not just technical skill, but the noble character, inner peace, and compassionate energy of the performers. Whether leading or supporting dancers, no one wants to stand out. By harmonizing with the whole, the overall effect reaches its best. When one person tries to stand out, the entire group suffers. The same principle applies to playing in a band.
Inspired by Shen Yun, in parades I shifted from playing loudly out of pride, to focusing on harmonizing, and not highlighting myself. When hearing others’ mistakes or seeing missteps, I try not to complain but gently remind people with kindness. During parades, I remind myself to maintain righteous thoughts, stay focused, keep a peaceful expression, watch the Falun on the drum major’s baton, and send compassionate thoughts so listeners can feel Dafa practitioners’ compassion. I realized that if every band member holds only compassionate thoughts, the overall music will be sacred. Even with technical flaws, the energy field can melt all beings.
I was so inspired by Shen Yun and hope to achieve that level of inspiration with the Tian Guo Marching Band. Though I still have many shortcomings, I firmly believe that through genuine cultivation, I can reach that goal.
I have been in the Tian Guo Marching Band for 13 years. I know that part of my mission lies there. There are things I need to do—cultivate and improve. I constantly remind myself, “As a band member, I must overcome difficulties and unconditionally cooperate in activities. My purpose is to harmonize the whole and help the band improve, so it can play a greater role in Fa-rectification.”
These are my cultivation experiences while participating in the band. If there is anything not in accordance with the Fa, please kindly point it out.
I am very grateful for Master’s ingenious arrangements, and I am thankful to my fellow band members.
(Selected article from the Tian Guo Marching Band 20th Anniversary Experience Sharing)