Earlier this fall I got it into my head that I was going to pen a Christmas carol. Whenever I try to write music, I don't like to think of it as a big masterpiece just waiting to be brought to life. Of course, I'm human, so that's usually where my mind goes, but usually I end up humbling myself through the time consuming process of pairing words with melodies and harmonies, something that takes just as much quiet contemplation and reflection as it does writing and erasing and plunking out notes. I like to write things I can share with friends and family, something for us to sing together. Masterpiece doesn't matter.
Now it's December 22nd, and the carol is nowhere near being finished--but that's ok.
Lately I've been thinking about the text I'm using. It's a poem by Madeleine L'engle called "The Glory."
Without any rhyme
without any reason
my heart lifts to light
in this bleak season
Believer and wanderer
caught by salvation
stumbler and blunderer
into Creation
In this cold blight
where marrow is frozen
it is God’s time
my heart has chosen
In paradox and story
parable and laughter
find I the glory
here in hereafter.
What strikes me most is the second line of the second stanza. As I read it, I can hear the voice of my Intro to Writing professor last spring saying, "Use strong language! Use those verbs!" Caught by salvation. Not given, not granted, but caught. I'm a wordy person who enjoys these little particulars. It makes me think of a nervous tightrope walker losing balance, then falling into the net below. These words sound joyous without being sugary. Just plain, straight clarity. I know we still have one more Sunday of Advent--of waiting in the darkness--and with the horrible killings in Newtown last week the dark feeling won't automatically be lifted from us come Christmas. But, there is goodness. Dark times can be remedied, Professor Dumbledore said, "if one only remembers to turn on the light." The net catches us tightrope walkers. We can at least give thanks for that.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
never too late
Years ago, I read a book by John Holt entitled, Never Too Late: My Musical Life Story. I had read other books by Holt, who started out as an educational reformer and ended up as a homeschooling advocate – writing books like How Children Fail, How Children Learn, Learning All the Time, and Teach Your Own. He had a remarkable gift for observing in minute detail how children learn, from practical, pedagogical, and emotional perspectives.
Never Too Late was a memoir of sorts, describing how Holt at age 40 took up the cello for the first time in his life and aimed toward professional competency. “If I could learn to play the cello well, as I thought I could, I could show by my own example that we all have greater powers than we think; that whatever we want to learn or learn to do, we probably can learn; that our lives and our possibilities are not determined and fixed by what happened to us when we were little, or by what experts say we can or cannot do.”
I remember reading his account when I was in my 20s, thinking of how I could be more responsive, respectful, and empathetic with my adult piano students. I was taking notes, as it were, but not really thinking the concepts applied to me, personally.
So now here I am at age 50, learning a new instrument myself, suddenly remembering the descriptions of angst and emotional drama that Holt described in his own learning.
I am a pianist, teacher, and church choir accompanist. A year ago, my very large suburban church installed a new million dollar pipe organ. It’s a fabulous instrument in every way. My music director/choir conductor has been programming wonderful choir anthems with pipe organ accompaniment. Of course the choir should sing with this wonderful instrument. But I am not an organist. Oh, my – suddenly I am updating my skill set.
I had one semester of organ lessons in college, 28 years ago.
For the past five years, I have had to accompany the choir on the organ about once or twice a year, increasing to three to four times in the past year.
You have to understand, this is not my area of expertise.
In the beginning, I thought of it as an exercise in stretching my personal comfort zone.
After a few tries, I thought of it as a grand lesson in humility.
Lately, I have realized that I am no longer learning to play a particular anthem for a particular occasion. Now I am really learning to play a new-to-me instrument.
At age 50, I can’t think of anything more humbling. I think of myself as a professional most of the time. Professional teacher, professional accompanist. I feel competent. I come prepared, I deliver an expected outcome.
Then comes the Sunday I’m scheduled to accompany on the organ, and I suffer tortures unimagined. I am awake at 3 AM imagining all the ways my feet could fail me, I half hope for food poisoning to incapacitate me, and I secretly bargain with God to do just well enough not to totally embarrass myself. Even when the playing goes well enough, the mental uncertainty exhausts me. I spend the rest of the day second guessing myself, replaying the performance, wondering if I should retire, and berating myself for not aiming higher than ‘getting through without embarrassing myself.”
All this has made me a much more empathetic teacher, especially with my adult students. Think of it – you’re the vice president of a major bank, but learning to play the melody of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star takes longer to prepare than your notes for a board meeting. You’re a college teacher, but keeping a steady beat through a Clementi Sonatina takes weeks and weeks of practice. You’re hell on wheels in the corporate world, but performing Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer on a recital has you shaking in your boots.
My own practice sessions on the fabulous pipe organ I am privileged to play are hilarious – I sneak into the building at 7 AM and spend days practicing with the softest organ stops available so that no one in the building will hear me fumbling about. It’s only when I am 90% sure I can dance through correct notes that I will “pull out all the stops” and practice with the sounds and open swell boxes that I’ll actually use in performance.
All in all, I am grateful for this opportunity, humbling as it sometimes becomes. Experiencing the learning process, entering the ‘beginner’s mind’ is instructive, humbling, and useful for me as a teacher.
My organ learning reminds me how it feels to be incompetent, reaching for competence.
Isn’t that what all of my students feel at some point in their journey with us?
Experiencing it, feeling it myself, helps create compassion and patience for others at that stage in their musical journey. It makes me a better teacher.
Never Too Late was a memoir of sorts, describing how Holt at age 40 took up the cello for the first time in his life and aimed toward professional competency. “If I could learn to play the cello well, as I thought I could, I could show by my own example that we all have greater powers than we think; that whatever we want to learn or learn to do, we probably can learn; that our lives and our possibilities are not determined and fixed by what happened to us when we were little, or by what experts say we can or cannot do.”
I remember reading his account when I was in my 20s, thinking of how I could be more responsive, respectful, and empathetic with my adult piano students. I was taking notes, as it were, but not really thinking the concepts applied to me, personally.
So now here I am at age 50, learning a new instrument myself, suddenly remembering the descriptions of angst and emotional drama that Holt described in his own learning.
I am a pianist, teacher, and church choir accompanist. A year ago, my very large suburban church installed a new million dollar pipe organ. It’s a fabulous instrument in every way. My music director/choir conductor has been programming wonderful choir anthems with pipe organ accompaniment. Of course the choir should sing with this wonderful instrument. But I am not an organist. Oh, my – suddenly I am updating my skill set.
I had one semester of organ lessons in college, 28 years ago.
For the past five years, I have had to accompany the choir on the organ about once or twice a year, increasing to three to four times in the past year.
You have to understand, this is not my area of expertise.
In the beginning, I thought of it as an exercise in stretching my personal comfort zone.
After a few tries, I thought of it as a grand lesson in humility.
Lately, I have realized that I am no longer learning to play a particular anthem for a particular occasion. Now I am really learning to play a new-to-me instrument.
At age 50, I can’t think of anything more humbling. I think of myself as a professional most of the time. Professional teacher, professional accompanist. I feel competent. I come prepared, I deliver an expected outcome.
Then comes the Sunday I’m scheduled to accompany on the organ, and I suffer tortures unimagined. I am awake at 3 AM imagining all the ways my feet could fail me, I half hope for food poisoning to incapacitate me, and I secretly bargain with God to do just well enough not to totally embarrass myself. Even when the playing goes well enough, the mental uncertainty exhausts me. I spend the rest of the day second guessing myself, replaying the performance, wondering if I should retire, and berating myself for not aiming higher than ‘getting through without embarrassing myself.”
All this has made me a much more empathetic teacher, especially with my adult students. Think of it – you’re the vice president of a major bank, but learning to play the melody of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star takes longer to prepare than your notes for a board meeting. You’re a college teacher, but keeping a steady beat through a Clementi Sonatina takes weeks and weeks of practice. You’re hell on wheels in the corporate world, but performing Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer on a recital has you shaking in your boots.
My own practice sessions on the fabulous pipe organ I am privileged to play are hilarious – I sneak into the building at 7 AM and spend days practicing with the softest organ stops available so that no one in the building will hear me fumbling about. It’s only when I am 90% sure I can dance through correct notes that I will “pull out all the stops” and practice with the sounds and open swell boxes that I’ll actually use in performance.
All in all, I am grateful for this opportunity, humbling as it sometimes becomes. Experiencing the learning process, entering the ‘beginner’s mind’ is instructive, humbling, and useful for me as a teacher.
My organ learning reminds me how it feels to be incompetent, reaching for competence.
Isn’t that what all of my students feel at some point in their journey with us?
Experiencing it, feeling it myself, helps create compassion and patience for others at that stage in their musical journey. It makes me a better teacher.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Vote vote vote.
I'm a news junkie. I love to know what's going on in the world, and learn about interesting people and places.
What I don't like is being surrounded by the college campus bubble, where somehow you become isolated from the outside world, being consumed by your homework and not having the time to be aware of things outside of your student life.
This Thursday night, I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed to listen to some news. I needed to feel aware again. It's election season, and being away working at a summer camp in the woods, then coming straight back to the college bubble made me feel completely ignorant, especially of the 2012 presidential race.
So, I got out my homework, hunkered down, and watched the Democratic National Convention on C-Span.
I cannot describe to you the level of giddiness I felt. I love C-Span so much! It's news ALL THE TIME, and unbiased, because most of the time, no one's there commentating! Just the straight-up live programming. You get to watch sessions in Congress, mass protests, official ceremonies, great interviews, and even the British House of Commons when they have Q & As with the prime minister. And during election season, C-Span is just plain addicting.
My roommates walked in as I was watching, and looked at me. I couldn't contain my excitement. "It's the DNC! It's Joe Biden! It's Bill Clinton! Gaaaaah!" They just shook their heads and laughed. But I don't care! Like Jimi Hendrix said, I'll wave my freak flag high!
What surprised me though is how productive I was while listening in on the convention; perhaps I should do my homework with C-Span in my head phones more often.
After months of being deprived of decent news coverage, I was happier than a hippie in a drum circle. But I realized the actual reason for my excitement is that this is my first year that I can actually vote! It gives me a warm and fuzzy, yet powerful, feeling that my one vote can join with others to bring about change in the world. Of course, it's not as simple as that, and neither is actually solving the problems of the world and sustaining the things that work. I just hope that whatever happens this November that voices will be heard, and that those voices will do amazing things.
In closing, I don't want to sound like a PSA or anything, but it would make me oh-so-happy if you could do these two things for me:
1. Vote, please and thank you.
2. Watch C-Span. You'll feel better about life, I promise.
What I don't like is being surrounded by the college campus bubble, where somehow you become isolated from the outside world, being consumed by your homework and not having the time to be aware of things outside of your student life.
This Thursday night, I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed to listen to some news. I needed to feel aware again. It's election season, and being away working at a summer camp in the woods, then coming straight back to the college bubble made me feel completely ignorant, especially of the 2012 presidential race.
So, I got out my homework, hunkered down, and watched the Democratic National Convention on C-Span.
I cannot describe to you the level of giddiness I felt. I love C-Span so much! It's news ALL THE TIME, and unbiased, because most of the time, no one's there commentating! Just the straight-up live programming. You get to watch sessions in Congress, mass protests, official ceremonies, great interviews, and even the British House of Commons when they have Q & As with the prime minister. And during election season, C-Span is just plain addicting.
My roommates walked in as I was watching, and looked at me. I couldn't contain my excitement. "It's the DNC! It's Joe Biden! It's Bill Clinton! Gaaaaah!" They just shook their heads and laughed. But I don't care! Like Jimi Hendrix said, I'll wave my freak flag high!
What surprised me though is how productive I was while listening in on the convention; perhaps I should do my homework with C-Span in my head phones more often.
After months of being deprived of decent news coverage, I was happier than a hippie in a drum circle. But I realized the actual reason for my excitement is that this is my first year that I can actually vote! It gives me a warm and fuzzy, yet powerful, feeling that my one vote can join with others to bring about change in the world. Of course, it's not as simple as that, and neither is actually solving the problems of the world and sustaining the things that work. I just hope that whatever happens this November that voices will be heard, and that those voices will do amazing things.
In closing, I don't want to sound like a PSA or anything, but it would make me oh-so-happy if you could do these two things for me:
1. Vote, please and thank you.
2. Watch C-Span. You'll feel better about life, I promise.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Comings and goings
There have been a lot of comings and goings in my life, home and studio this year. Son #1 moved home a year ago after having lived on his own for three years; he finished his last semester and graduated from college, got a job, and is now saving for a car and apartment while paying off school loans. Daughter #1 graduated from college two weeks ago (Daughter #2's account of that event is here), has a summer job in Marquette, Michigan and is apartment hunting in Milwaukee, where she'll be in grad school in the fall. Daughter #2 was home for three weeks following her first year of college, and last Monday we delivered her to Camp Onomia for a summer working as a camp counselor. Son #2 is the constant here at home, at least for the next three years.
In my studio, I've enjoyed an 'aging' of my students over the past couple years. More kids persevered through their middle school slump and went on to continue their music through high school. It's a hard age -- greater demands on their time from all sides -- homework, sports, activities, a first job. It's amazing that any of them continue their music study through the middle school minefield. The fun part for me as a teacher of middle and high school students is that I get to reap the benefits of all the investment of their early years. At this point, they know how to practice, they understand the cause and effect of time put in and beautiful music emerging. We're working on beautiful masterworks together. It's all good.
But it's hard to say goodbye when the seniors graduate. I had two seniors this year. One had studied with me since she was eight, the other just for the past three years. I loved working with them both, being able to transition from the role of teacher, guiding their every step and selecting every piece of repertoire, to that of coach and mentor, giving them independence, selecting repertoire together, guiding them to personal interpretations of the music based on their own depth of knowledge and musical experience.
I also said goodbye to a couple middle school students who sat with their parents, took an honest look at their commitments and dreams, and decided that their high school years would be focused on some dreams other than piano. As hard as it is to say goodbye to students who've been with me six years or more, I always respect and appreciate the intentionality of their decisions. Much better to go out on a high note, having put their best efforts into their final performances, than to slink out the back door feeling like they'd hung on six months too long.
So there's some room in the studio for a few new students this summer or fall. Or, perhaps there's room to downsize a little. Something to think about as I'm moving my own kids in and out.
In my studio, I've enjoyed an 'aging' of my students over the past couple years. More kids persevered through their middle school slump and went on to continue their music through high school. It's a hard age -- greater demands on their time from all sides -- homework, sports, activities, a first job. It's amazing that any of them continue their music study through the middle school minefield. The fun part for me as a teacher of middle and high school students is that I get to reap the benefits of all the investment of their early years. At this point, they know how to practice, they understand the cause and effect of time put in and beautiful music emerging. We're working on beautiful masterworks together. It's all good.
But it's hard to say goodbye when the seniors graduate. I had two seniors this year. One had studied with me since she was eight, the other just for the past three years. I loved working with them both, being able to transition from the role of teacher, guiding their every step and selecting every piece of repertoire, to that of coach and mentor, giving them independence, selecting repertoire together, guiding them to personal interpretations of the music based on their own depth of knowledge and musical experience.
I also said goodbye to a couple middle school students who sat with their parents, took an honest look at their commitments and dreams, and decided that their high school years would be focused on some dreams other than piano. As hard as it is to say goodbye to students who've been with me six years or more, I always respect and appreciate the intentionality of their decisions. Much better to go out on a high note, having put their best efforts into their final performances, than to slink out the back door feeling like they'd hung on six months too long.
So there's some room in the studio for a few new students this summer or fall. Or, perhaps there's room to downsize a little. Something to think about as I'm moving my own kids in and out.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
The other day I was reading an interview in the "Smithsonian" with the great singer/songwriter Rosanne Cash. She talked a lot about her music...and theoretical physics. Little did I know that's a subject that absolutely fascinates her.
I don't know about you, but I would never call myself a science nerd. However over the years I've been searching for a way to dig deeper into science. I love the history of it, and I think it's eye opening stuff, I just rarely find books or essays that describe the wonders of it all in language that I understand.
It all just made me think: In the last few years I have been captured by these mind-boggling concepts brought up in physics and quantum mechanics. And this was only because of "Nova, C-Span, TED, "Bill Nye the Science Guy," and historical and personal journeys through science like "Parallel Universes, Parallel Lives." This was just me hearing people who were passionate about their life's work speak about it in a natural, engaging, and even humorous way. Why don't you see that very often any more? Why so many dry, dense books and scientists? Granted, I fully acknowledge that something as complicated as astrophysicss or quantum mechanics is not the easiest thing to explain to me, a nonlinear-thinking musician who Waaaaaay back during the baby years of science, there was a different approach to learning about it. There was a conscious link in everyone's minds between the fantastic unknown world and a certain spiritual reverence towards that unknown, and the beauty of it. It seemed you couldn't explain scientific ideas without the use of poetry. Speaking about this very subject, in a column in "The Guardian," Ruth Padel says, "Both [science and poetry] depend on metaphor, which is as crucial to scientific discovery as it is to lyric."
Parallel universes, time travel, aliens, black holes and wormholes: These are things that inspire science fiction,"A Wrinkle in Time," "Star Trek" and "Lost." They grab our attention and make us not-so-scientifically-inclined people to see beyond ourselves in a new context, and ponder how incredibly huge and mysterious our world is.
I will never become a scientist. But I like finding things that remind me that I am one piece of the jigsaw puzzle of the world. God does that for me, music, and I increasingly find that science also does that for me. It is humbling. I only hope that since more schools these days are focusing on math and science, that they are teaching it in a way that can inspire that same sense of awe, because I am lucky enough to have found a way for science to connect to me.
In this interview, Cash talked about a BBC documentary called "Parallel Universes, Parallel Lives." It follows the journey of Mark Everett, frontman of one of my favorite bands, Eels. In the film, he strives to understand more about his father, Hugh Everett, a Princeton professor and the scientist who is known for introducing the theory of parallel universes. Imagine being the kid of the guy who came up with the biggest scientific idea since Einstein and relativity--and not really caring about science at all. Needless to say there was tension between the two.
I don't know about you, but I would never call myself a science nerd. However over the years I've been searching for a way to dig deeper into science. I love the history of it, and I think it's eye opening stuff, I just rarely find books or essays that describe the wonders of it all in language that I understand.
It all just made me think: In the last few years I have been captured by these mind-boggling concepts brought up in physics and quantum mechanics. And this was only because of "Nova, C-Span, TED, "Bill Nye the Science Guy," and historical and personal journeys through science like "Parallel Universes, Parallel Lives." This was just me hearing people who were passionate about their life's work speak about it in a natural, engaging, and even humorous way. Why don't you see that very often any more? Why so many dry, dense books and scientists? Granted, I fully acknowledge that something as complicated as astrophysicss or quantum mechanics is not the easiest thing to explain to me, a nonlinear-thinking musician who Waaaaaay back during the baby years of science, there was a different approach to learning about it. There was a conscious link in everyone's minds between the fantastic unknown world and a certain spiritual reverence towards that unknown, and the beauty of it. It seemed you couldn't explain scientific ideas without the use of poetry. Speaking about this very subject, in a column in "The Guardian," Ruth Padel says, "Both [science and poetry] depend on metaphor, which is as crucial to scientific discovery as it is to lyric."
Parallel universes, time travel, aliens, black holes and wormholes: These are things that inspire science fiction,"A Wrinkle in Time," "Star Trek" and "Lost." They grab our attention and make us not-so-scientifically-inclined people to see beyond ourselves in a new context, and ponder how incredibly huge and mysterious our world is.
I will never become a scientist. But I like finding things that remind me that I am one piece of the jigsaw puzzle of the world. God does that for me, music, and I increasingly find that science also does that for me. It is humbling. I only hope that since more schools these days are focusing on math and science, that they are teaching it in a way that can inspire that same sense of awe, because I am lucky enough to have found a way for science to connect to me.
In this interview, Cash talked about a BBC documentary called "Parallel Universes, Parallel Lives." It follows the journey of Mark Everett, frontman of one of my favorite bands, Eels. In the film, he strives to understand more about his father, Hugh Everett, a Princeton professor and the scientist who is known for introducing the theory of parallel universes. Imagine being the kid of the guy who came up with the biggest scientific idea since Einstein and relativity--and not really caring about science at all. Needless to say there was tension between the two.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Graduation
This weekend I was in Ripon, Wisconsin--home of Rippin' Good Cookies! Birthplace of the
Republican Party!--to celebrate my sister Mari's graduation from Ripon College. It was a gorgeous two days, with plenty of sun, but no sunburn. And we realized that the neighboring town of Green Lake possesses--what?!--a lake! Which is gorgeous as well! And not green! I felt it a small injustice that the exact day before we lose any reason to return to Ripon and Green Lake, Wisconsin, that we finally discovered the lake. Ah well.
There were many pictures. My favorite was when my grandma was trying to take a nice picture of my sister and mom. Just moments previously, our family of American history buffs had suggested that we go visit the birthplace of the Republican Party just for kicks and giggles. It's a little white schoolhouse in the middle of town. All I said was, "Hey, wouldn't you rather have your picture taken at the Republican place?" And as the camera flashes, she makes this face:
~~
It was weird to think that in only three years from now, I will be the one graduating, probably overheating in a black robe, getting an awkward burn line on my forehead from a funny hat, and going on to do who-knows-what with my newly earned degree.
I inwardly cringe when I hear people say that college is four of the best years of your life. To me, that makes it sound as if your life hasn't started yet. But mine has been...for my whole life (shocker!). So I will cherish my time at college, but not forget that there are bigger and better things down the road that I can't even anticipate.
Republican Party!--to celebrate my sister Mari's graduation from Ripon College. It was a gorgeous two days, with plenty of sun, but no sunburn. And we realized that the neighboring town of Green Lake possesses--what?!--a lake! Which is gorgeous as well! And not green! I felt it a small injustice that the exact day before we lose any reason to return to Ripon and Green Lake, Wisconsin, that we finally discovered the lake. Ah well.
There were many pictures. My favorite was when my grandma was trying to take a nice picture of my sister and mom. Just moments previously, our family of American history buffs had suggested that we go visit the birthplace of the Republican Party just for kicks and giggles. It's a little white schoolhouse in the middle of town. All I said was, "Hey, wouldn't you rather have your picture taken at the Republican place?" And as the camera flashes, she makes this face:
~~
It was weird to think that in only three years from now, I will be the one graduating, probably overheating in a black robe, getting an awkward burn line on my forehead from a funny hat, and going on to do who-knows-what with my newly earned degree.
I inwardly cringe when I hear people say that college is four of the best years of your life. To me, that makes it sound as if your life hasn't started yet. But mine has been...for my whole life (shocker!). So I will cherish my time at college, but not forget that there are bigger and better things down the road that I can't even anticipate.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Freshman year of college: check.
Now I'm home to enjoy a few relaxing weeks with my family until I start work as a counselor at a Lutheran camp.After unpacking all my crap and realizing I have the potential to become an exceptional hoarder, I made a trip to the library. For fun. For the first time in a year.
Because what's summer without books? My plan is to have my nose in a book at all times, so as to make up for the many months of un-fun reading at college. I keep an obsessive list of all the books I've read, and it used to be that I could find the time to finish four or five a month. When I looked at what I had put under the year 2012, it read one lonely title, "Great House," by Allison Krauss. One book for the entire year so far.
This is truly a tragedy.
So, I started my atonement by picking up three books the other day: "Sacre Bleu," by Christopher Moore,
"Einstein's God," by the wonderful Krista Tippett,and "The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson." Since I don't have much time to totally immerse myself in Emerson's Trancendental philosophy, I'm going to narrow down "the essential writings" to the "absolute essential three essays," and save the rest for another summer.
I'm really enjoying the books I started, butI'm at the point where I get to the library and feel like I've read everything already, so new authors and story suggestions are welcome.
Along with the reading, I'm keeping up the piano stuff as well (because it's kind of why I'm in school). A Bach Partita, Mozart sonata, and a few Debussy preludes are on my rep list this summer and fall, which should be fun, and while I'm here I'm going to finish up some pieces I've been trying to write. Already my sister has commissioned me to write "a hymn to Isaac Newton and gravity," after being inspired by this video.
So we'll see how that goes.
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