A friend invited me to see a performance by mystical guitarist Estas Tonne last night. I was not quite sure what to expect. I had not heard of Tonne until recently, and my only exposure (after hearing about the show) was listening to a few of Tonne’s tracks through the iTunes store. My friend had informed me that Tonne’s show would be “a spiritual journey.” She was correct.

Tonne, a virtuoso on the guitar, started the night by lighting incense, haloed by bright spotlights above him, alone, on the stage. He took a few deep breaths, looked around, and cautioned the audience that we should not expect anything in particular. We should not expect to hear “songs” or see a show. He informed us that the music would be like “… a train. Prepare to let the music take you places, and allow your mind to travel where it will. Your mind may visit memories that are pleasant, or some that are not.” He then proceeded to play the guitar, nonstop, for about two hours.

It’s hard to adequately describe what this experience was like, but the closest I could come is to call it a loosely guided meditation. I am by no means a regular meditator, but I have done it, and I am familiar with the struggles our Western, busy, minds have with letting go of familiar thinking patterns and predictable paths. It’s not easy to quiet the mind and let go. During the one hundred and twenty minutes of Tonne’s seamless solo guitar-playing, my mind followed peaceful loops and troubled snarls. This was unlike any other “show” I had experienced: There was no program to follow and no interlude of artist chit-chat or audience applause to punctuate the various directions in which Tonne’s guitar took us.

Tonne’s music fluidly combines flamenco, New Age, Eastern European, and electronic elements and bathes the listener in a beautiful and ever-changing soundscape. In some ways, this was an enjoyably easy experience that transported me to many places in my mind’s past, present, and future. At the same time, the show was challenging in its structurelessness. There were moments when I longed for some narrative or a break in the music to provide a more familiar performer-listener dynamic. But, ultimately, I was moved and deeply impressed by Tonne’s skill, endurance, and spiritual earnestness. Other than the brief introduction and a few parting words, the only other verbal interaction Tonne had with us was some thoughtful philosophizing near the end of the journey, during which he spoke of how people, broken into billions of pieces, need to find ways of putting themselves back together. It was obvious that this performance was a sort of spiritual meditation for Tonne. I emerged, changed.