Em wrote a choral piece. Some of her college friends performed it in concert. Here's the text by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, then a link to the audio.
God of the day, and of the night
In me there is darkness but with you there is light.
I am alone but you will not leave me.
I am weak, but you will come to my help.
I am restless, but you are my peace.
I am in haste, but you are the God of infinite patience.
I am confused and lost, but you are eternal wisdom.
You direct my path, now and forever.
Amen.
https://soundcloud.com/user210700361/09-god-of-the-day-and-of-the
Monday, November 4, 2013
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Welcome
I’m being welcomed back to many places this week. Concordia.
The music department. My multiple workplaces. To new apartments and dorms. To
the Land of the Healthy People after having bronchopneumonia for two
weeks. But I felt the full-on hugging feeling of welcome most when I went to
church this morning.
Usually I go with a group of friends, but this time I went on my own. I scanned the sanctuary to see if there were any other
students or people that I knew. Nope. But wait! I saw Lyle! He’s a kind, older
gentleman that introduced himself to me and my friends our first year, showing
us his Class of ’59 ring, and ever since then I’ve run into him and his wife at
church, chapel services on campus, and even at the coffee shop. When I played
piano for chapel last year, he would always say, “I don’t remember your name, but I’m
looking forward to hearing you play that piano again!”
It’s been quite a few months since I'd seen him, and since he doesn't always remember names, and I recently cut off 18 inches of my hair, I sat
down next to him expecting him not to recognize or remember me. Which made it
all the more touching when he shook my hand and said, “It’s good to see you
again! You must be in your third year now? I’m looking forward to hearing you
play piano again!”
One of the readings today was from Hebrews 13:2, which I
felt fit my situation perfectly: “Do not forget to show hospitality to
strangers, for by doing so some people have shown hospitality to angels without
knowing it.” No matter how much of a community I have built for myself here, I
always have an underlying feeling of being the stranger. I’m not claiming to be
an angel. But I’m thankful for the people who have reminded me that I am not a
stranger, that I am always welcome.
One thing I'm sure of in life is that there are lonely people in this world. Sometimes I’m one of them. What I
wonder is, how can I be the one to welcome in the stranger? Why is it so hard
for us, not only to be the welcomer, but also sometimes to even accept being
brought to the table?
Why can’t we all be like Lyle?
Monday, July 15, 2013
On Trying to Play Piano Away from the Piano...
I put a lot of time into being a pianist. But people don't always realize how much time and energy goes into it.
I tell them it's like exercise. You have to do it every day. I can't just stop for a couple weeks, then dive back in and expect to play my Mozart concerto (my first ever--squeeee!) at the same level as before. It hurts my head, it hurts my hands, and is a tedious struggle getting back on track.
Rachmaninoff nails it, saying,
"If I miss practice for one day, I notice. If I miss practice for two days, my critics notice. If I miss practice for three days, everybody notices."
But some days it's a fight to drag myself to the piano. Some days practice is boring. Sometimes life gets in the way and my time is forced to be spent elsewhere. The solution?
Score study! The fancy name for what's basically the Think System, Professor Harold Hill's ingenious method of practicing away from your instrument. But unlike his students in "The Music Man," I'm actually making progress.
Nowadays, I bring a score to the coffee shop and play on the table top, or to my receptionist job for when I have a break. The library. The park. Long car rides. I'm amazed at how much this mental weightlifting
has helped me improve this summer, and how much time I save. By the time I practice at the piano, my fingering and rhythm is already solid, and I can dig deeper into the music. It also gives me the feeling that I am an invincible musical wizard. Or a Jedi. I can't tell which one is better.
Sometimes I get curious looks from people. They ask how I can call it practice if it's not at a piano. What am I actually doing? A lot, as it happens, and it's paying off.
I tell them it's like exercise. You have to do it every day. I can't just stop for a couple weeks, then dive back in and expect to play my Mozart concerto (my first ever--squeeee!) at the same level as before. It hurts my head, it hurts my hands, and is a tedious struggle getting back on track.
Rachmaninoff nails it, saying,
"If I miss practice for one day, I notice. If I miss practice for two days, my critics notice. If I miss practice for three days, everybody notices."
But some days it's a fight to drag myself to the piano. Some days practice is boring. Sometimes life gets in the way and my time is forced to be spent elsewhere. The solution?
Score study! The fancy name for what's basically the Think System, Professor Harold Hill's ingenious method of practicing away from your instrument. But unlike his students in "The Music Man," I'm actually making progress.
Nowadays, I bring a score to the coffee shop and play on the table top, or to my receptionist job for when I have a break. The library. The park. Long car rides. I'm amazed at how much this mental weightlifting
has helped me improve this summer, and how much time I save. By the time I practice at the piano, my fingering and rhythm is already solid, and I can dig deeper into the music. It also gives me the feeling that I am an invincible musical wizard. Or a Jedi. I can't tell which one is better.
Sometimes I get curious looks from people. They ask how I can call it practice if it's not at a piano. What am I actually doing? A lot, as it happens, and it's paying off.
Love is Love
On Monday, I witnessed history.
It was a last minute decision. My friend and I drove to the Capitol to watch Governor Dayton sign the same-sex marriage bill into law, which as of August 1st gives gay and lesbian couples the legal right to get married.
We got there a little early and explored the Capitol building. Turns out it contains a lot of sketchy hallways and tunnels, a cafeteria with walls decorated with German table blessings, and more people in suits than I was prepared for.
So many people were milling about, and you could sense the excitement.
As it got closer to 5 o'clock, we gathered in front of the Capitol steps. What followed is a problem that I've been dealing with all my life.
I couldn't see anything. I'm around 5'2. We were near the media crews, so we were rather close to the podium. I'm glad we showed up when we did, because there were thousands of people there. Except I didn't know this, because I couldn't see past the people in front or behind me! I must admit, I was somewhat disappointed--I wanted to take great pictures to post on here. This was a big deal--my friends are finally getting the equal rights they deserve! I felt like I couldn't be a good witness to it now.
But let me tell you what I did see.
I saw families. Moms and moms, dads and dads, with their babies and toddlers and 8 year olds and teenagers. This was the most meaningful part for me. I don't consider family to be just about shared genes. It's about people who you share a bond with and are with you every step of the way. These families with gay parents were always families in my mind, and now I felt an indescribable happiness knowing that they would soon become legally recognized as such, and would enjoy the same benefits and protection that any straight-parented family might have.
Rainbow flags. Raised high, waving in the air, held by old guys and and 20-something moms. One of them was 10 feet tall, each color with a different streamer, being held up over the grass between the Capitol steps. On our way out we walked by and it almost swallowed me like Charlie Brown's kite-eating tree.
Dizzy, dehydrated, sunburned, but nonetheless happy people. And I was one of them!
Middle-aged 9-5 desk-job types standing next to frisbee-throwing hippies. I love America.
No signs of a protest. I'm sure there must have been some anti-gay marriage group there. It's sad that I assume so, but we live in a time where it's always within the realm of possibility. But from what I could tell, it was a joyous, calm event, celebrating the fact that equality had triumphed.
It was a last minute decision. My friend and I drove to the Capitol to watch Governor Dayton sign the same-sex marriage bill into law, which as of August 1st gives gay and lesbian couples the legal right to get married.
We got there a little early and explored the Capitol building. Turns out it contains a lot of sketchy hallways and tunnels, a cafeteria with walls decorated with German table blessings, and more people in suits than I was prepared for.
So many people were milling about, and you could sense the excitement.
As it got closer to 5 o'clock, we gathered in front of the Capitol steps. What followed is a problem that I've been dealing with all my life.
I couldn't see anything. I'm around 5'2. We were near the media crews, so we were rather close to the podium. I'm glad we showed up when we did, because there were thousands of people there. Except I didn't know this, because I couldn't see past the people in front or behind me! I must admit, I was somewhat disappointed--I wanted to take great pictures to post on here. This was a big deal--my friends are finally getting the equal rights they deserve! I felt like I couldn't be a good witness to it now.
But let me tell you what I did see.
I saw families. Moms and moms, dads and dads, with their babies and toddlers and 8 year olds and teenagers. This was the most meaningful part for me. I don't consider family to be just about shared genes. It's about people who you share a bond with and are with you every step of the way. These families with gay parents were always families in my mind, and now I felt an indescribable happiness knowing that they would soon become legally recognized as such, and would enjoy the same benefits and protection that any straight-parented family might have.
Rainbow flags. Raised high, waving in the air, held by old guys and and 20-something moms. One of them was 10 feet tall, each color with a different streamer, being held up over the grass between the Capitol steps. On our way out we walked by and it almost swallowed me like Charlie Brown's kite-eating tree.
Dizzy, dehydrated, sunburned, but nonetheless happy people. And I was one of them!
Middle-aged 9-5 desk-job types standing next to frisbee-throwing hippies. I love America.
No signs of a protest. I'm sure there must have been some anti-gay marriage group there. It's sad that I assume so, but we live in a time where it's always within the realm of possibility. But from what I could tell, it was a joyous, calm event, celebrating the fact that equality had triumphed.
Hymn sing
Yesterday in worship we had a hymn sing. They had taken a poll, asking members to name their favorite hymns. So we sang and listened to a few people talk about why a particular hymn was significant to them.
It brought my Grandma to mind....
I attended a Lutheran grade school where for eight years, every week on Fridays we studied a hymn. And memorized it. So I have all these hymns in my head, which is a wonderful gift even though I learned the version with 'thee's and 'thy's that have now been changed to you and your.
Having memorized a bunch of hymns came in very handy when I was 19 and spent the last morning of my Grandma's life sitting at her hospital bedside. The day before I had been there when the pastor came to visit, he read a verse and we sang her favorite hymn, Behold the Host Arrayed in White. So on the morning of her last day, the hospital called at about 4 AM to say she was agitated, would someone come? My uncle and I took the first shift. Unlike the day before, when they only let us into her ICU room for ten minutes every hour, and only two at a time, this day they welcomed us and let us stay. So I held her hand and talked with her, but she was restless and not at ease, breathing fast and shallow. So I sang the song from the day before. She took this really deep breath, relaxed and her hands stopped clutching at the sheets. I thought she fell asleep, so when I got to the end of the verse I stopped singing. She startled, looked at me, and squeezed my hand. I started singing and she relaxed again.
I sang everything I could remember for the next several hours until other relatives came to sit with her. Every time I stopped, she squeezed my hand.
It brought my Grandma to mind....
I attended a Lutheran grade school where for eight years, every week on Fridays we studied a hymn. And memorized it. So I have all these hymns in my head, which is a wonderful gift even though I learned the version with 'thee's and 'thy's that have now been changed to you and your.
Having memorized a bunch of hymns came in very handy when I was 19 and spent the last morning of my Grandma's life sitting at her hospital bedside. The day before I had been there when the pastor came to visit, he read a verse and we sang her favorite hymn, Behold the Host Arrayed in White. So on the morning of her last day, the hospital called at about 4 AM to say she was agitated, would someone come? My uncle and I took the first shift. Unlike the day before, when they only let us into her ICU room for ten minutes every hour, and only two at a time, this day they welcomed us and let us stay. So I held her hand and talked with her, but she was restless and not at ease, breathing fast and shallow. So I sang the song from the day before. She took this really deep breath, relaxed and her hands stopped clutching at the sheets. I thought she fell asleep, so when I got to the end of the verse I stopped singing. She startled, looked at me, and squeezed my hand. I started singing and she relaxed again.
I sang everything I could remember for the next several hours until other relatives came to sit with her. Every time I stopped, she squeezed my hand.
Behold the host, arrayed in white
like thousand snow-clad mountains bright,
that stands with palms and sings its psalms before the throne of light!
These are the saints who kept God's word;
they are the honored of the Lord.
He is their prince who drowned their sins
so they were cleansed, restored.
They now serve God both day and night;
they sing their songs in endless light.
Their anthems ring when they all sing with angels shining bright.
It's not my all time favorite hymn, but it brings my Grandma back for a moment, squeezing my hand, telling me to sing some more.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Summer.
Wait, what?
Seems like the universe pushed the fast-forward button on everything, and now here I am, sitting in my house in the opposite end of the state, typing away at something non-scholarly. How good it feels!
Adjusting back to normal life (school being the opposite of normal) is going slower than I thought it would, though. I need a summer hibernation, not a break.
But summer will prove to be busy, so if anybody would like to buy me coffee so I can stay awake for it, please do.
I plan to work on German by reading some young adult novels ("For fun?" the librarian asked), hoping to absorb some good grammar by osmosis. I also am trying to keep up my Swahili after not speaking it for quite some time. Prepare to hear a really strange mix of things when I talk. You've heard of Spanglish, right? My Deutsch prof says English+Deutsch=Denglish. And here I am, throwing one more thing into the pot of linguistic stew, trying to sound comprehensible speaking what comes out as Swangdenklish. Es ist sehr mgumu sana, mensch!
My attitude towards piano practice this summer: Attack! Charge! Show no mercy! And other piratey-sounding things.
I will also be awkwardly practicing conducting in the mirror while blasting choral music in the background. Gotta get ready for choral conducting class with a Grammy-winning professor somehow.
Compose (and finish) some things. Finishing is the tricky part. Please remind me from time to time that I should be working on something...
But all of this is trumped by my continued search for a job. My options are limited, because I've been accepted to the Adamant Music School in Vermont, where I'll be studying piano for three weeks (!), so I need to work around that, and because I don't have a car. If it was safe for a small redheaded female of my age, I would pack my bag and start riding the rails with my guitar, Woody Guthrie-style, working where I can. But let's face it, I would probably get stabbed by hobos and gangsters. I also imagined cutting my hair and selling it, like Jo March in "Little Women," where her sister Amy so tactfully exclaimed, "Oh Jo, your one beauty!" and made enough money to buy a train ticket. But then I saw "Les Miserables," where Fantine, played by Anne Hathaway, sells her hair in desperation, and then promptly dies in poverty with a few less teeth and a lot less dignity. I haven't hit that point--yet. So, if anybody hears of anything--and I mean anything--that sounds like a promising opportunity for me, let me know. Trying to keep my energy level up in the face of the constant "no" I keep hearing proves more difficult than I thought.
Wait, what?
Seems like the universe pushed the fast-forward button on everything, and now here I am, sitting in my house in the opposite end of the state, typing away at something non-scholarly. How good it feels!
Adjusting back to normal life (school being the opposite of normal) is going slower than I thought it would, though. I need a summer hibernation, not a break.
But summer will prove to be busy, so if anybody would like to buy me coffee so I can stay awake for it, please do.
I plan to work on German by reading some young adult novels ("For fun?" the librarian asked), hoping to absorb some good grammar by osmosis. I also am trying to keep up my Swahili after not speaking it for quite some time. Prepare to hear a really strange mix of things when I talk. You've heard of Spanglish, right? My Deutsch prof says English+Deutsch=Denglish. And here I am, throwing one more thing into the pot of linguistic stew, trying to sound comprehensible speaking what comes out as Swangdenklish. Es ist sehr mgumu sana, mensch!
My attitude towards piano practice this summer: Attack! Charge! Show no mercy! And other piratey-sounding things.
I will also be awkwardly practicing conducting in the mirror while blasting choral music in the background. Gotta get ready for choral conducting class with a Grammy-winning professor somehow.
Compose (and finish) some things. Finishing is the tricky part. Please remind me from time to time that I should be working on something...
But all of this is trumped by my continued search for a job. My options are limited, because I've been accepted to the Adamant Music School in Vermont, where I'll be studying piano for three weeks (!), so I need to work around that, and because I don't have a car. If it was safe for a small redheaded female of my age, I would pack my bag and start riding the rails with my guitar, Woody Guthrie-style, working where I can. But let's face it, I would probably get stabbed by hobos and gangsters. I also imagined cutting my hair and selling it, like Jo March in "Little Women," where her sister Amy so tactfully exclaimed, "Oh Jo, your one beauty!" and made enough money to buy a train ticket. But then I saw "Les Miserables," where Fantine, played by Anne Hathaway, sells her hair in desperation, and then promptly dies in poverty with a few less teeth and a lot less dignity. I haven't hit that point--yet. So, if anybody hears of anything--and I mean anything--that sounds like a promising opportunity for me, let me know. Trying to keep my energy level up in the face of the constant "no" I keep hearing proves more difficult than I thought.
Friday, April 5, 2013
Artistic Ambassadors
I'm getting ready to go on another Minnesota Music Teachers Association Artistic Ambassadors tour.
Last year was the first one. Two solo pianists, a violinist, a saxaphonist and accmpanist. Two days, four schools, one community concert. Fabulous music. Incredible conversations. Wow.
One of the responses from an elementary music school teacher: Most of my kids have never heard classical music live. Most will never experience it again. Two weeks later, they're still talking about it.
A response from one of the Ambassadors: can I audition again next year?
Last year's inaugural tour was such a hit and a highlight that I'm afraid this year will be automatically a let down.
Don't go there.
Really, I'm expecting the same incredible high. Take fabulously talented college musicians, introduce them to kids and a music loving community, give them time and space and a good instrument and recital hall....what can go wrong?
This year our ambassadors include a fabulous cellist and collaborative pianist, doctoral students at the U of M. A singer from U of MN and her collaborative pianist. An undergrad solo pianist from Concordia College, Moorhead.
We're going to do four school performances and one community concert in two days. Excellent music for audiences who are eager to hear it. Bring it on!
Last year was the first one. Two solo pianists, a violinist, a saxaphonist and accmpanist. Two days, four schools, one community concert. Fabulous music. Incredible conversations. Wow.
One of the responses from an elementary music school teacher: Most of my kids have never heard classical music live. Most will never experience it again. Two weeks later, they're still talking about it.
A response from one of the Ambassadors: can I audition again next year?
Last year's inaugural tour was such a hit and a highlight that I'm afraid this year will be automatically a let down.
Don't go there.
Really, I'm expecting the same incredible high. Take fabulously talented college musicians, introduce them to kids and a music loving community, give them time and space and a good instrument and recital hall....what can go wrong?
This year our ambassadors include a fabulous cellist and collaborative pianist, doctoral students at the U of M. A singer from U of MN and her collaborative pianist. An undergrad solo pianist from Concordia College, Moorhead.
We're going to do four school performances and one community concert in two days. Excellent music for audiences who are eager to hear it. Bring it on!
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