Longer Phrases

I would like to take it as a sign of my growth as a teacher that I no longer finish a day and think, "That was brilliant!"  Or "That was totally off."  So much depends on the reception of the student and I can't really know that after one lesson.  It also depends on persistence over time, the building up of expectation and trust.  Maybe I delivered an excellent lesson, but if they were checked out for some other reason, it doesn't count.  Or maybe I was tired and less patient than normal, and it caught their attention in a way that woke them up and made them own their mistakes and focus a little more.  Made them go home and practice.  It's so hard to say, but kids are really perceptive and so there is always a feeling of a mirror being there.  They see through me in a way I can't really see, and I can't help but find it reflected after time.  How nice to have a chance to be with a group for awhile, to hone myself for them and to learn from what they show to me.  It's far more than a single day.  It's time to think in longer phrases.  

Lessons from the Self

Recently, for awhile, something between or within those two ideas, I've been feeling a need to reconnect with something.  Something feels foreign in my body, something feels distant in my spirituality.  Searching for my voice as a teacher, missing one that I had.

This morning I led myself through a Tae Kwon Do work-out.  It's been awhile.  I did kicks I had forgotten about.  Something about turning and jumping in certain ways opens my mind.  Something about determining how many sit-ups, push-ups, kicks, what I need and want to do next, made me check in more deeply with myself.  Where am I?  What is needed here?  To go through the physical hour somehow puts my mind in check in a way I had missed.

It also made me think more deeply about teaching and about the essential need to allow a student to do this.  The student is a whole person.  As someone who as led myself through musical and martial arts practice, my job is not to upload technique into them, but to help them become more self-aware and aware of their surroundings so that they can learn to serve themselves and others. 

Sometimes it is good to be away from something in order to miss it, in order to hear it more clearly when it opens itself again.

Time to Love

To whom does time belong?  When is it my time, when does the time belong to another?  Am I ever freely choosing, even in moments of solitude, even on days of no obligations?  If I serve another with with sincerity, even if I am being paid to do so, am I really serving?  Am I not the owner of the time as well?  

Filling out the time, defining the time, owning it.  It belongs to me, and to you and to everyone.  It is our communal space, which we can fill with love.

Tax Woman

My first visit to an accountant.  The first time I have a feeling that my taxes were done correctly.  I was grateful not only for her help, but also to be in her little upper east side home, apparently lived in for years, perhaps rent controlled, covered and crowded with canvasses from the days when she painted. She does taxes for lots of artists, and in passing mentioned a couple, an actor and a clown, that switched to a schedule A after years of schedule Cs and got audited.

It's another side of accounting.  To have a means to be an artist and a way to connect with many people from different walks of life.  She was very friendly, explained things very well, and now, before February, my taxes are done, my quarterly payments for 2017 organized, and my allowance for retirement funds determined. I'm really grateful to this person for being here in New York, for making a life of this, and helping me and others who have complicated financial lives that we don't understand, make the most of it.  

Waiting for the Bus

Again, in transit.  Or rather, sitting on a bench in the Harlem train station waiting for the MTA bus service to arrive.  Sometimes it's 10 minutes, today it's probably going to be closer to 45.  Luckily I have technology to let me know to stay indoors until it is approaching.

Although, in all honesty, I'm not waiting for a train.  I took one, but I'm waiting for the bus.  There are a lot of people that would like to spend the night in this space, but non-ticket holders are not allowed indoors. As I have the luxury of sitting here, I am aware of all the police officers chasing people outside.    What a world.  What privilege I have.  Showered, clean, white, undisturbed and undisturbing.  Granted, it seems that as long as one isn't loitering or panhandling, they don't have a problem, but it's hard to live several hours in the station unnoticed.  

I should go outside out of principle.  And yet it's cold and I have my cello.  It risks damage.  Do I have more to lose being outside?  What is valuable, what is left to be lost from anyone?   Livelihood, things hard won, our protectionism.

Now that I have been here for 30 minutes and the bus is on the way, I will compromise and leave, waiting outside likely for 10-15 minutes.  What is right?  What have I learned to do and what must I do?  

Orchestra Gig

It's been a long time since I've played in an orchestra, but this week I get to have two rehearsals and a concert for a gig sitting principal in a chamber orchestra.  Ideal type of orchestra situation.  The program is mostly Mozart to celebrate the composer's birthday on Friday, plus a modern piece, composed in the 1950s.  

It was strange yesterday to start preparing the parts.  In the past, I spent so much time reading music, trying to get it really clean and pristine, and these days I just don't do that.  I play much more from memory, or even improvising, and after 15 minutes of orchestral practice, I could feel familiar muscles working again, some with dull pain.  Probably fixing my gaze at a single point and forcing myself to follow the instructions it feeds me is not the most healthy thing for my body, but as musicians we spend so many hours doing just that.  How strange to come back to the practice after spending so much time in Dalcroze and finding creative ways to teach.

But there is something really thrilling about trying to fit in with an ensemble, about being a part of the sound it is creating.  The precision of rhythm, articulation, timing, pitch, and overall awareness are never fully achieved.  It's a chase to try to find them and we do so as we reawaken the breath of a composer, no longer living.  We bring him (her?) alive as we become alive ourselves, together.  

But there are familiar judgments, as well, of oneself, of others.  Am I playing out of tune?  Why isn't it together?  What's going on with the balance?  The blend?  And numerous other frustrations.  These are necessary questions and curiosities that must be a part of playing in an ensemble for it to work.  And for a short period of time, they are great.  But I was reminded of how they can build up, of how repeated issues can cause tension between people, and hierarchies of power can suppress freedom.  Principal players have a different role than section players, as does the conductor, as does the personnel manager, who gets to decide when we can and should have breaks.  It is not a free way to make music, and as much as I really enjoy it, I don't think it is the way I'm meant to spend my life in the medium. 

I love it, though.  I love Mozart's music and I love being a part of its creation and living legacy.  I enjoy the interactions with other players when we can have them.  In some capacity, I want to stay close to the athleticism and passion that orchestral playing can be.  But I'm also happy to have more in my musical world.  

Thanks, Elias

Elias usually comes into my lesson room around 1:40 to drop off the stools that my young cellists will need and to put away any chairs I haven't already put away.  He's a fast-paced and jovial guy, emitting many small particles or perhaps just bouncing off the ones that come his way in some balance of good heart and hard-won English.  He's a part of my Mondays and today I was even more thankful to him for giving me a large clear plastic garbage for my first semi-nor'easter that I most certainly didn't see coming.

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