It all starts with that first breath of crisp air. The quiet mornings with fewer bird songs. The announcement from Starbucks that the Pumpkin Spice Latte is back (sad, but true). š
These are our cues that Fall is here, and with it comes the thrill of the new.
For some, itās a new school; others, a new job or city. For most of us, itās new routines and perhaps some new school supplies (because youāre never too old). šāļø
This month, I found myself doing a few things I donāt normally do.
First, there was the inspiration to write a few short poems on the back of my boarding pass on a plane-ride south. When I came home, I pulled the texts out of my bag in between lessons one afternoon and sat at the piano, sketching them into a few short choral pieces (more to come!).
Then there was the invitation to play with the Music Educatorsā Wind Ensemble at Eastman for a reading of a new piece. I sat behind the piano on a Tuesday evening - counting measures and trying to come in on time - and participating in a collective, shared experience that I donāt normally have the privilege of being part of.
A hush came over the room as she spoke. Soft piano music accompanied her words, covered by the sound of fan noiseāa welcome breeze on a warm summer night.
It was Thursday evening, the last day of Music and Worship Arts Week at Lake Junaluska. We were gathered in the chapel, the open stained-glass windows ushering in the night air.
āIām learning as I get older that itās simpler and simpler day by day,ā she said with a smile. Her voice was kind and inviting.
āThereās a flow of love that started when the stars began, and every morning we get a chance to decide to live into that love and then ask, āWhat's mine to do?āā
It was a typical Monday afternoon.
My 2nd-grade student came bounding into the room, full of questions and things to tell me since Iād seen him last.
He sat down on the bench, eager to play an arrangement of āSweet Molly Malone,ā a piece I suggested last week might be good for our end-of-year recital.
Slowly, he made his way through, wincing out loud every time he missed a note. When he finished, I complimented him on his thorough practicing this week and offered a few suggestions:
Do you hear what I hear?
Itās true in any good conversation, whether weāre gathered around the dinner table or the table in the conference room; sitting in the living room for book club or a committee meeting: you talk and then you listen. You take turns. It seems simple enough, right?
But so often, we find ourselves focused on what weāre going to say next. We fixate on sharing our own ideas and opinions, offering the *best* solution, and planning what weāre going to say and how to say it, like weāre being interviewed.
Change.
Itās something we all face - change in address or job title, relationship status or identity, eligibility or health.
Big or small, change is often associated with inconvenience and uncertainty. Sure, the novelty of something new can be exciting and a welcome change of pace from the life weāve been living, but deep down, thereās still something unsettling about it all - stepping from the known into the unknown.
