Slouching Towards Paris

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...

Most of us recognize these opening lines of William Butler Yeats' poem, The Second Coming.  Most of us have probably never read past these four ominous lines. When I heard about the terrorist attacks in Paris, Yeats' words were ringing in my head. Our world is falling apart. We cannot (or choose not) to hear what each other is saying, needing, hoping. What scares me most is that, in this year of violence, from bombs to bullets to drowning refugees fleeing more bombs and more bullets, the ubiquity tricks me into thinking this is now normal. It tricks and tempts me into not caring, into turning off the news and magnifying my comparatively minute struggles. 

This needs to stop.

For the first time since discovering Yeats' four lines many years ago, I decided to keep reading.

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

Yeats could have been a psalmist.

Surely some revelation is at hand.

Surely by now every child in the world could go to school. Surely by now we'd be on our way to alleviating poverty. Surely by now our world would have no qualms with investing in our best defense: the wellbeing of its most vulnerable. Our Least-Likely-To-Succeeds. The people who don't receive the lovingkindness, security, or dignity they deserve as human beings, because of racism, colonialism, war, and despotic governments. In closing, Yeats asks,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

His idea of a 'second coming,' a 'revelation,' something to shake up the world, is vastly different than the Christian image of innocent, little baby Jesus. I love the image of slouching towards Bethlehem, because it implies how hard the journey towards light and love, and justice--towards true transformation--truly is. We wish we didn't have to, and our feet drag. Our shoulders hunch and our backs curve from the weight of our burden, but we carry it, because it is what we must do. 
It will be our gift to the world, to never stop slouching. 

A Full Life

A lot of things have happened since I last posted on this blog. I've come to accept that learning to be an adult doesn't happen all at once, and a lot of us are still 10 years old, just wearing bigger clothes. This first hit me as a teen, when my cocoon of security got it's first little crack, and now after college there's at least 10,000 more little cracks in it. Still waiting on the butterfly part to happen, but all in good time.

The school year brought with it a nice rhythm to the days and weeks, which was a nice change from the loosely structured summer months. And isn't that the kicker, spending months wanting open-ended time and sunlight and green grass, to find myself in July realizing my wardrobe and energy level is much more suited towards a perpetual October. Turns out I crave routine more than I thought. My mistake was assuming a routine would present itself to me, and that someone would tell me what to do. People told me building a professional life wouldn't be easy, but I naively thought I was a unique and special snowflake, and it certainly wouldn't be that hard.
Well...you know what they say about assuming.

I'm learning to be patient and put myself out there, though, and things are steadily looking up.
I'm teaching piano, so I'm working in my field of study, and learning the ins and outs of running a studio. My students are enthusiastic, sharp, and hilarious. One of them keeps calling it the "dumper" pedal instead of "damper," and it brings me so much joy. Little things, my friends, it's the little things! I also have a few accompanying gigs lined up, and would love to do more.

This summer I wrote more for the MPR Classical blog, which you can find here, here, and here. MPR's programs have shaped how I listen, study, and experience music, so writing for them was a thrill. It makes me want to find other opportunities like it, because writing has always been the thing I've been scared to pursue, despite how much I love it and desire to get better. What tips would you share with me as a writer?

As a composer, the last seven months have been astonishingly productive and exciting. Five years into writing music, and having ideas come to life successfully still kind of startles me.
The six-month mentorship program with VocalEssence was a huge vote of confidence, and I am PUMPED to hear the end result premiered next week at the MN-ACDA conference, for a roomful of music educators, many of whom will be from my alma mater. Who knows what will come of it! If anything, it will be a fun day. About half a dozen other projects have happened along the way. Mainly because when I got frustrated with Important Project #1, and was sick of staring at it,
I'd toy with another idea to keep the creative juices flowing. So you'd guess correctly that with half a dozen side-projects, IP#1 was pretty frustrating. Which is good, because I was playing with ideas that were new and different for me, and I wanted to grow. Some of those side-projects will be performed by others eventually, and some will sit in my notebook and simply exist. Both are good things, because it reminds me that I'm doing my job, which is to create!

It's a full life, my friends.