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| A colleague of mine passed this on to me, and it's the most refreshing, inspiring thing I've read about music in a long time. It has begun to answer a fundamental question I have wrestled with for the last few years: Is music worthwhile? (And, is music a worthwhile pursuit for me?)
Here is a brief excerpt of the welcome address to parents of incoming students at the Boston Conservatory in 2004 by the director of the music division, pianist Karl Paulnack, entitled "A Contemplation on Music".
On September 12, 2001, I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn't this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.
And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.
At least in my neighborhood, we didn't shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn't play cards to pass the time, we didn't watch TV, we didn't shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang We Shall Overcome. Lots of people sang America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.
You can find the full text at the Boston Conservatory website, here. | | |
| I'm inspired by my friends who continue (or have recently begun) to blog. I love reading other people's blogs. I guess I've been neglecting mine because I haven't had the creative urge to write for a while. My life has been pretty eventful this past year-- I've been caught up in experiencing life, so much so that I've been neglecting its documentation. The urge to connect with people online has been largely filled by a social networking site, which doesn't require a commitment of writing regularly. There is no end to the things that can be written, but recently a constant flow of self-commentary has seemed superfluous.
Perhaps the writing bug will bite me again. Until then, best wishes to all.
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| It's been a long time since I've posted! I'm happy to report that teaching is going very well. I miss performing, but I am enjoying the kids a lot. The good thing is that teaching really does still keep you in touch with the instrument. When the time is right, I'll go back to doing more practicing and performing. I feel pretty confident that it will be there for me, better than ever.
Here is what I've been up to since September of last year:
- Took swing dance classes
- Reported for jury duty for the first time (and was not selected)
- Played several orchestra gigs
- Roasted my first Thanksgiving turkey (which turned out wonderfully)
- Hung out in New York City
- Was a member of a live TV audience on "Clash of the Choirs" on NBC
- Got engaged to be married
- Spent Christmas in Ohio
- Visited California for the first time since I moved away nearly three years ago
- Planning my wedding-- Less than a month to go!
- Moving to a new apartment
I'm not sure what the fate of this blog is going to be in the future, but there may be more to say to the world when things have settled down again. Until then, cheers!
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| Fall came unexpectedly, and with it 33 violin students, 4 viola students, and a string quintet for me to coach. During Labor Day weekend I was still planning to take an orchestra audition or two and pursue more freelance gigs, but things changed almost overnight. Now I'm flooded with children four days a week, from the ages of 4 to 17 (plus one adult student). It's fun, challenging, exhausting, satisfying, and often surprising.
I know there was a pretty long incubation period for this transition from my one-track mind on performing, to full-time teaching, but I still feel a little dazed. How did I go from woodshedding in the practice room every day on the Brahms concerto, fiendish finger exercises and orchestral excerpts, to this strange new world of fixing little baby bow holds, Mississippi Hot Dog, teenage attitudes and toddler-sized attention spans? I love getting paid regularly, but what if I forget how to play everything except Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star? Will I lose all my perspective? What if I atrophy so much that I start getting rigid with my teaching, rather than having a vision that this chubby child standing before me has the potential to play the Brahms concerto, which requires me to be remember what it's like to play the Brahms concerto?
And yet, maybe through teaching I will be able to pursue music with greater freedom. Gigging for a living can turn into a financial and artistic straitjacket. You sit by the phone and wait for calls to come, and meanwhile the bank account is steadily draining away. A call comes, and then you have to play whatever you're given, and commute wherever you must, and do whatever you're told. The benefits of a consistent paycheck are not lost on me. As a teacher, maybe I will actually manage to save some money for a vacation, or a new bow, or some lessons, or simply for a rainy day. I get to actually make a personal difference in the lives of children, their families, and their futures.
Ideally, I could keep playing violin as an avocation and find greater enjoyment and freedom in it than ever before. Practically speaking, though, I wonder where "real life" will finally take me.
There's a song that comes to mind that I used to sing years ago:
Don't let my love grow cold - I'm calling out, Light the fire again
Don't let my vision die - I'm calling out, Light the fire again
You know my heart, my deeds - I'm calling out, Light the fire again
I need your discipline, I'm calling out, Light the fire again...*
*By Brian Doerkson. Copyright 1994 Mercy/Vineyard Publishing
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| Recent scientific studies have shown that fatigue can cause just as much impairment as alcohol. Common sense probably should have made that obvious. I can provide further evidence with the following list of symptoms I (and many others) have personally exhibited when under the influence of fatigue, sleep deprivation, or other related, altered states of consciousness:
1) Losing one's train of thought mid-sentence
2) Stuttering and stammering
3) Loss of balance
4) Clumsiness (dropping things, tripping over things, bumping my shins, bashing my shoulder into door jambs, etc.)
5) Spoonerisms (A recent example: "Glades of brass")
6) Making wrong turns
7) Losing all sense of direction
8) Irritability, mood swings
9) Losing consciousness at random moments
10) Difficulty with reading comprehension
11) Difficulty with speech comprehension
12) Loss of appetite
13) Increase in appetite
14) Dizziness
15) Silliness, giddiness
16) Talking or laughing very loudly
17) Forgetfulness
18) Dysphoria
19) Muscle weakness and/or soreness
If you witness someone exhibiting four or more of the above symptoms, and other causes can be ruled out, there is a strong probability that this person is tired. The best solution is to bring them to a safe, quiet place to sleep it off (Warning: this could take as long as 12 hours or more, and sometimes it must be repeated over several days to take full effect). Caffeine consumption, blasting loud music, cold air or a cold shower may provide a temporary reprieve, but using any of these temporary fixes only delays a true cure and may actually prolong and eventually worsen symptoms.
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