Arrival in Madison

I'm back in Madison, Wisconsin.  There is something frightenly clear about the quality of the air here.  I don't have a vocabulary to describe it, perhaps it is "blue," or "hopeful."  People might usually use the words "clear," or "clean," but I think it is so much more than that.  Not magical.  I think it could be measured and compared to the air of New York, but I just don't have the verbal means to describe it empirically.  

I'm staying at a friend's house, (who actually lives in New York) but another friend is living here, one who picked my up from the airport, and suggested some of the restaurant choices in the neighborhood, Thai, Laotian, Mediterranean, African, American, all within 3 blocks.  Just step over or along the bike path in the backyard and you're there.  

The sky is so huge.

I am here for a belt test tomorrow.  And then a dinner.  And the following day to Pittsburgh for an audition.  There are so many things going on all once.  So many growth spurts in such a short time, like  that evening I had my braces laced and my smile changed overnight.  Sometimes I worry that I am losing perspective.  But I am very glad to be here, and very much looking forward to being in Pittsburgh, and on a long train ride, and back in New York, again.  There are many celebrations to be having.  The sky is open.  

Sharing on the Bus

A man on the bus today shared with me that his late wife had played the violin.  "Where do you play?" he said with a smile.  "Oh around, here and there."  "My late wife played, had her masters."  He had gotten up for his stop, so the doors opened and with a good-bye acknowledgment, stepped off.

People touch me sometimes.  What made him need to tell me this?  I have some inking, can't really know, but can imagine.  And that touches me, makes me grateful for his sharing.

Bottleneck of Appreciation

This coming weekend is a bottleneck.  Two things that I am very excited about but probably for that reason, want to give my full energy.  It is an opportunity for stress as much as it is an opportunity for joy.  And important to remember that both opportunities are there.  How often is it possible to turn stress into joy?  We are often stressed about things that we care for.  Maybe it is a matter of discovering the source of our care to do something well, and to see stressful anticipation or experiences as chances to actively try in the service of those things more fully.

But as much as it is important to see that it might be possible to find joy in the things that can cause stress, so too is it important to really acknowledge stress and its power.  Sometimes we can mitigate it by turning it on its side, but sometimes we need to step away from it, to identify the way that it is manifesting in unhealthy ways.  It is a powerful and helpful tool, but not if it rules us.  Learning to take the reigns, perhaps it is a lesson to learn a million times throughout life.

It is a such a privilege and pleasure to be preparing for an audition.  And I am so grateful to have the Tae Kwon Do community and thread which runs alongside the rest of my life, strengthening it and reminding me that there is something more than the day to day that can seem to unrelentingly force our service upon it.

This is a bottleneck of appreciation.  And after that, a bike and spring.

Parks in Manhattan

I enjoyed two parks today, one with a salad and my cello in Hells Kitchen, and one with Andrew, walking in the green in Riverside.  There was a patch of trees with incredible blossoms and a wonderful smell, and people were out with their dogs, taking pictures of them posed under the white and purple branches.  It is really wonderful to have someone with whom to go for a spring walk in the park.

Mahler at the Local Symphony

Last night and tonight we were able to attend the New York Philharmonic for programs of late Mahler.  After sitting in an orchestra for so long, compromising listening and remembering to play, it is a great pleasure to simply listen.  Each player is meaningful, each section, the sound of the hall, the interaction of the musicians, the balance and blend, the ensemble.  These were things to which I was very attentive as a performer and so they continue to strike me as a listener.

The music of late Mahler is filled with the edge of mortality.  To me it seems he was trying to write himself a lullaby, some song of comfort that would reconcile the beauty that he loved in the world with the emotional and physical pain that living was for him.  He never heard either of these works, Das Lied von der Erde or his Ninth Symphony.

But we get to hear them, relived hundreds of times beyond him.  But still the final tonic never comes.

Deciding Days

Being good at making decisions means you know exactly where you stand on a given issue.  Or sometimes it means that you know exactly who you are.  It's nice when you don't have to choose and can be lots of things, but sometimes you have to decide.

Today has been a deciding day.  After buying my tickets to go to Madison for the belt test, which happens two days before an audition in another city, I've spent the past month deliberating if it was the right choice.  It is my last color belt test and something the Madison club does as a farewell before the black belt.  But doing extra traveling, being unable to practice solidly for three days, and doing something physically and emotionally strenuous, are about the last things a person should do if they are taking an audition seriously.  Yesterday I decided that I should side with my musical dedication and really go for the audition.  I would change my tickets.

But today as I tried to change the tickets, I realized it would cost me $600 in addition to the money I already spent on tickets.  That's a lot of money to spend in order to not do something that I've been thinking I want to do.  And so I'm going to go.  Life is a challenge sometimes.  But I know that I am really committed to the audition, first and foremost and will be at the belt test to celebrate.

And I also received an email today offering a gig as a principal player for a very nice group.  All the dates check out, except for about 15 minutes when I would need to be getting to the final recital at the school where I've been teaching.  Am I a musician or a teacher?  Am I trying to get into the gigging scene, or uphold the obligations that I have?  How much does it hurt if I'm missing from the beginning of that recital?  Inside of me I think a lot.  And yet maybe the kids would be fine sitting in the auditorium without me.

I'm walking the middle zone.  Martial artist, orchestral musician, teacher.  Sometimes you don't have to decide and you can do lots of things, but some days are deciding days.

Remembering the Word

I spoke with my mother the other day.  She said it was exciting to see the leaves coming out.  It is, and it is also wonderful to have a mother that is excited by these things.

I sat on a bench by Riverside Park this evening as the sun went down and stared at the sky and the tree branches and their tiny budding green.  I walked by the vibrant tulips with their uncategorizable color, something surrounding and within pink and orange and yellow.  I saw the purple flowers embedded among them and wondered why I don't know their name.  Are they unimportant to me?  Somehow I have looked past them, have nothing to call them, no way to reference or remember them.  Fleeting and gone.  And all the people, other sides of me, in different states of mind, talking on phones, running, texting, biking, walking with urgency.  There's no time for daily, weekly, yearly miracles.

My mother has lived through over 60 opening-of-the-leaves and it is still beautiful to her.  She's given me this, when I remember to recall it.

It was a full and challenging day.  One with many rewards and good feelings.  In the morning I guided two group classes of students just learning to play their instruments and in the afternoon, played an informal house recital with Andrew.  There is always so much more to learn.  We are only ever moving in some direction, hopefully towards greater mastery.  What is needed to help this? What can be done to allow the journey to flow more harmoniously and sincerely?  For myself as a musician, for my students as they begin to learn, and again, for myself, as a teacher.  

For the Joy of It

There is a delicate balance between being a professional musician and enjoying music.  There is something about having to be paid to do something that detracts the joy inherent in it.  This choral experience has been a different story as I have actually paid to be a part of it, which is also a different sort of relationship to music.  I miss the days of making music in school, where money had no part in it, or at least it was hidden from the exchange in which I was taking part.  It's a funny thing what money does to a relationship.  If only we could freely be joyous.

Busy Weekend

The choral community in which I've found myself seems to be a special one.  The members of the choir are an interesting cross section of New York.  One is a conductor, another a lawyer, a private tutor, a children's book publisher, a retired musicologist, and so many others that I am just coming to meet.  Yesterday we had a concert at Rutgers University which required a long train into New Jersey and a late and long train ride home, the latter of which I shared with another new choir friend.  She shared with me stories of her last few years since graduating from college, trying to find her way, and the pivotal role that some of the members of the choir played in that search.  The effort shown by the board is incredible and touching, all done as volunteer service.

And from what it seems, the musicianship of the members and the level to which the director holds us is quite unique among volunteer choirs in New York.  I have only known this one so it is hard to know.  Next year I'm hoping that I can still justify the time and money to be a part of the group.  I think it gives a lot to the people who are in it, myself included.

But it was a late night getting home.  And when I woke up this morning I didn't realize that the Instrument Discovery class I had agreed to teach was at 11 and not 11:30.  I made it with plenty of time, but not without a bit of stress.  It is another strange teaching experience, trying to get two groups of very young children to learn to play the cello enough to decide if they would like to pick it to study the next year.  Usually learning to play is preceded by pedagogically informed exercises and games, and individual attention to assure good set-up from day one.  But in this case, some details will have to be overlooked so that they can play something or at least get a sense of what it will be like to play it.  I went a lot further this morning than I intended, feeling the push of the children and the administration and co-teacher to have them get their hands on it.  They have already gotten to know the violin, piano, and guitar.  They are beyond the excitement of seeing an instrument for the first time.  And it is probably good to just let them get some experience on it.  I feel that I am often compromised as a teacher by circumstances such as these, but I think it is less the circumstances themselves than my willingness to compromise.  My hope is that with experience and perhaps status, I will be more assured by what is ok and what isn't and assert my beliefs more strongly.

Andrew suggested (persistently) that we go for a walk in Central Park today.  We are both stressed by the need to establish ourselves in this city and in our respective careers, and if it is not made to happen, leisure simply won't.  But there were several bluebirds and cardinals and the blossoms were just starting to come out.  It has been a busy weekend.  But it will be a busy life forever.  I really enjoy it, but it is also wonderful lie on a rock in Central Park and stare at the blue sky.

Spring Will Come

My mind is all over the place.  New opportunities are cropping up, new faces and voices.  It's spring, it's all green and blossoms, and exciting.

Maybe I'm just not ready.  Maybe I miss winter too much right now to embrace the buzzing that is all around me and in me.  There are so many things to do, things that I need to do but that also align with what I want to do and sometimes to do something, you do have to choose.  If I want to be here and now, I cannot be tomorrow or yesterday, or any concoction of possibilities in my imagination.

And yet at the same time, out of chaos comes order.  Sometimes there needs to be a seismic shift, or several in order to break apart the habits that are there, the way of life that is there.

New York is moving all around.  I wonder what that texture of space does to me.  It is exciting, invigorating, and keeps one on their toes.  But how does the mind find respite?  Perhaps here I must learn to shift very quickly to find it.  A moment on the train, at a crosswalk, as I sit in front of a screen with a flurry of things to do.  Just a moment.

Training Around

Six times today on the trains.  The first one was very crowded and I couldn't grab a pole.  A woman offered me her arm and then started talking about her son enjoying crowded subways and a trip to Chicago where she said all the people were so nice.  Maybe she forgot she was in New York when she offered her arm.

Above, on the street when I exited, I headed to the grocery to get some milk and saw a small group of police cars and bullet-proofed officers carrying heavy guns.  But all was quiet, no tape, no one seeming to care.  I had forgotten about it completely until walking by there again for my last journey of the day.

And earlier a young girl sat next to me.  Again, a crowded train.  "Is your mother or father here?" I asked her thinking they might like to sit next to her.  "Yes,"  she said and pointed to the far door where I assumed was a parental figure hidden behind the many passengers.  It seemed like too much to shuffle so I stayed put.  A few stops later she got up to go to her father, and the woman taking her seat checked that she was leaving and asked her if she was OK, if she had a parent.  New York was looking out for her.

There are so many people in this city and so many things to see.  Sometimes they all blur together, the buildings and feet, the kindness and defensiveness.

Spring in Japan

I got a message from my friend in Japan, a sharing of the seasons.  One was simply a picture of the cherry blossoms, and another with friends from the orchestra.  There were the faces of Nuria, Chiai, Midori, and Yuria.  Such beautiful faces that are as impossible as the river I used to bike along.  Spring is beautiful, but it is beautiful everywhere.  People are remarkable, because they are all so irreplaceable.  And the beauty unseen, Chihiro, sharing an appreciation of a yearly miracle, in a language that continues to fade yet be understood.

First NYC Gig

Tonight was my first time playing in an orchestra since August.  It is my first gig in New York and it is a pretty good sounding group of musicians.  We're playing Ginastera's Concert Variations and Harp Concerto, so there is ample opportunity for people to show their abilities.  It is an honor to be playing with them.  

I have a hunch that my stand partner, a seemingly very well-seasoned free-lancer in New York, is quite accustomed to playing these sorts of gigs.  There is a feeling about seasoned orchestral musicians, a take it or leave it when it comes to conductor suggestions, a need to express one's own feelings about how things are going in a subtle and secretive way.

It is once again exciting to be in the presence of so many sounds and colors and once again, amazing to realize the limits of our listening abilities.  At several points in the rehearsal, I realized that I had no idea what was being rehearsed.  Never when it pertained to me.  I have a trained orchestra musician's ability to tune out when it regards someone else, but can hear rehearsal numbers when it is time to start again (like the way Japanese people sleep on the trains but never miss their stop).  But what narrow-minded approach!  At some point in the process I realize the flute is playing a solo, or that we are together with the timpani.  There is so much to hear, so much to discover, and it is so easy to just be in one part of the whole drama.

And exciting to have another opportunity to live this challenge again.

Emotional Space

I wonder what space does to our emotions.  In front of us, behind us, turning to the left, to the right, with a leg, with a shoulder.  Two nights ago I remembered biking the so-familiar bike path along the river, the turns and the bumps, what was to the left and the right of me, occupying that space, dodging the tree branches, swerving around their roots.  How does the space around us imprint itself upon our memories and the feeling of a time?  If I lived in an open field my whole life, with no walls or corners, how would that be different?  I remember that I used to have a hard time doing Tae Kwon Do outside because of the lack of orientation.  We are so used to filling the space in which we live in a certain way.  What does that do to us?

And how does music fill that space?  Music goes up and down, deep and surface.  It seems to move us, to suggest that we move our bodies in different ways.  It stomps, it flies.  It has a body to which we can relate.  It is a magical thing.

But why is that important?  Is it important to teach it in some way, to become aware of our space as an integral part of becoming aware of ourselves?  Might there really be a way to do this through music and how might we know that there is merit in it?

Laban has movement scales, Dalcroze has myriad exercises for movement in space and time, and I can feel inside myself the moral importance of approaching art in this way.  It seems there is something vital in connecting space and sound, something that might help make sense of the confusion of our ancient bodies in this modern world.  But is it really there?  Is there a way to know?
Memories and experience lead me and it seems important.  We can only live the truths that we know, and keeping looking in the places that we don't.  New York is a new place; and it has many new opportunities and communities and experiences to explore.  Some for me and some for the future.

Choir Day

I made the trek to Rutgers University today to join the Riverside and Kirkpatrick choirs for a rehearsal of Durufle's Requiem and Poulenc's Gloria.  Looking forward to performing at Rutgers in a week and at Alice Tully in two weeks.  It has been wonderful to sing with them this year and I hope to be able to make it work time and money-wise next year.  But for now, enjoying the sacrifice it takes to do it.

Evening walk

The sound of rain on leaves is one of my favorite sounds.  The sight of light green leaves and blossoms against darkened trunks and branches, the smell of wet dirt,  unexpected rain storms in parks.