Lunch and Lessons

We are walking statues among walking statues.  Sometimes we must squint at those familiar friends in the distance, sometimes we feel the eyelashes of a new acquaintance upon us.

How do we walk among ourselves?  Are we open to those we see?  Do we move closer, or shy away?  Or are we pulled and pushed by a current that only vaguely resembles reason?  Perhaps it wears a deceptive dye.  Perhaps we are actually dancing on our own two feet, flying with our own wings.

Orchestral Perspectives

Roughly 150 years ago a Polish Prince decided to compose a mass and called it, "Mass in F."  He had hoped to bring it to America, but sadly fell ill and it never made it.  Until now.....

Tonight's concert was the first performance of the piece in New York, orchestrated from the original organ score for a small ensemble.

But what to do with those squirrelly sextuplets in the 5th movement?  They move along so quickly, voraciously devouring B-flat minor and everything around it.  The searching spotlight, scanned each member, the timpanist, the bassist, the trumpet, the horn, and fell upon.....the poor bassoon.  An extremely accomplished musician, she was certainly up for the task, but in the middle of so many projects, the unending string of deedledeeedleees was just really not fun.

So she called me, and we devised a plan of passing off the unwanteds, hopefully in a beautiful graceful arch.  We cut and pasted the measures, practiced in and outside of rehearsal, and things were going to be ok.

But somehow in the concert, there was confusion about which measures belonged to whom.  It seems that she had penciled and repenciled so many times, that the "play here" and the "don't play here" all fell together.  Some measure left hanging.

It's funny to be on the leaving side of things, to have nothing I need to prove in this group or to these people because I'm not climbing anywhere here.  To make a mistake is not terribly troubling.  And it is noticeably easier to be compassionate to those around me because of this security.  I'm willing to take a risk, to work it through.  And it is so natural to let things fall away and dissipate.  Again, there is nothing to lose.  I'm leaving.  This is the last gig, things will be forgotten.

And the funny thing is, that is always the case.  Yes, it matters to play well overall, but the stress and insecurity that result in orchestral musicians is fanatic and eats away at some of the more important parts of music making- the people we are sharing it with.  It's a fortunate thing to be able to have this perspective.  And also to have been able to play with this great group of people.

Bidden or Unbidden

The sound of the orchestra and the chorus seemed to echo all the way to China.  The huge arches went up as though past the Himalayas, the hard stone reflecting all it was given.  Surely it was impossible that Times Square was less than a block away; the reality of its existence denied our seemingly infinite expansion.  How can a church this huge be "tucked" away, hidden under all the lights, obscured by scaffolding?  And yet it is, and so many others are the same in this city.  It is an undeniable and strange quality of New York, that churches maintain pockets of peace and sanctity, in plain sight, but hidden from the pace of quick footsteps, myopic smart phones, hurried and important schedules.  Their doors are magical portals to other worlds, squeezed within all the other things that are New York.

Meetings

There is a lot of joy in being able to introduce two people that I care about to one another.  I woke up this morning excited that I would get to introduce two of my students that live far away from one another.  They both had to travel over an hour to get here and then again to get home, but from different directions, so no wonder they've never met!  Any day that I get to teach either one is exciting, but both of them, one after another, was a real treat.  

Last Lessons (I)

Today was the first in a series of last lessons.  Last, the end, no more.  For some, we've put it off and will have a last lesson in the not so distant future.  But it's coming.

There are so many waves of realization, of adjustment, of acceptance, of appreciation especially as we have to say goodbye.  To see a face, to interact with a body, to hear a voice, a sound, a way of moving, and to honor it as a human being, unique and beautiful, worthy of love.  To kiss every moment as we release it to the next.

Anniversary Weekend

It's been 1 year since we got married and this weekend we went away for a wonderful 24 hours, a suspension in responsibilities and routines.  And I came home, took a shower, and answered a knock on the door to find a student that didn't realize we didn't have a lesson.  They come from Queens, so.....

Life has a way of asking so much.  How flexible should we be?  On what level?  How many points do I have to spend in a day, in an hour, in a minute?

The air was green, we lay in an open field by the river, watching a peregrine falcon circle above, ate pie and ice cream, had a nice dinner as the sunset on the Hudson River.  This morning we woke up and enjoyed the breakfast part of our BnB, went for a long hike with lots of other suspiciously New York City people, and collapsed on a train ride home.

It doesn't matter what it is, what is done, how the time is spent.  I feel so lucky to be able to spend it with this person.

Behind the Scenes

It was loud and chaotic and hot and sweaty in the downstairs gym/cafeteria.  Upstairs the first group was slowly, too slowly, getting set at the front of the church to play.  Up there is was cool, and calm, and the sounds of strings and applause.  But down below the kids were chasing each other with their bows and violins, jumping over cellos, stealing water bottles and throwing them.

Slowly, too slowly, one group got called to go up, and there were fewer kids; and then another; and then finally the last, the performance wending its way through the smell of wax and stale incense.  I found a place in the middle of the cool stone pillars and listened as the whole group played Twinkle Variations together.  The sounds echoed and got lost, the beat blurred, but how miraculous these young beings, all together, playing together.  Who could remember that space downstairs, where minds and bodies begged for freedom?   Here, the sound echoing to heaven in the tall arches, without the baggage mere minutes before.