I recently discovered a new docuseries called Dear…
Each episode features a well-known figure — Oprah Winfrey, Stevie Wonder, Aly Raisman, Jane Goodall, among others — and letters they’ve received from people changed or influenced by their work. The content of the letters is woven into a biographical narrative, providing greater insight into the main figure and the life they’ve led.
One of the people profiled is musician and writer Lin-Manuel Miranda, of Hamilton fame.
Friends, my heart is heavy with the events of this past week: the violence, the riots, the hatred, the bigotry. It's hard to know what to say.
I'm afraid that hate is growing stronger + that we are growing numb to it.
But now is not the time to stay silent, to keep our thoughts and feelings to ourselves. To effect change, we need to start conversations, wrestle with ugly truths, and do the hard work of learning to be better.
This weekend, we passed Day 50 of shelter-in-place (or “pause” as we’re calling it here in NY State).
There are a few things I’ve learned so far:
You can get a lot of things delivered.
Teaching online is not as limited as I once thought.
That being said, Zoom fatigue is real.
I can give Steve a haircut.
Time is passing very slowly. Also, what day is it?
I can make pizza rolls (trying sourdough this week — wish me luck!).
Puzzles are a great way to pass the time.
Music is a gift we can give and receive right now.
What a month it's been.
My heart is with all those who are isolated and alone during this time. All those who are feeling the effects of the economic downturn, who have lost their jobs, their security, their peace. For those who have lost their health and those who have lost a loved one.
Who would have thought a few weeks ago that we'd be where we are today?
Social distancing. Staying home. Teaching online. A new normal.
Every day, we make thousands of tiny choices.
We choose what to wear, what to eat, what to say, how to respond to the changing world around us. We make decisions in music and teaching, what to write, what to play, what to focus on.
We are inundated with options and possibilities, a dizzying array of information and ideas.
We feel an obligation to make the "right" choices, a responsibility to make choices quickly and efficiently, to be decisive and smart.
Mix-and-match wrapping paper.
Bubble wrap for packaging.
Winter Berries stamps.
Cantata rehearsals.
Appetizer recipes on Pinterest.
(Endless) to-do lists.
Amazon packages.
Christmas cards to stamp and address.
Cookie swaps.
Shipping deadlines.
Various versions of Jingle Bells in lessons every week.
These are the things our December days are made of.
Real-life December means we're behind on our Advent calendar. Because part of me feels like if I don't turn the cards over, the days won't go by so quickly.
It means a stack of holiday sheet music (sorted by level) to bring into lessons and holiday-themed activities for studio class.
"What's the best thing that happened to you today?" I asked over coffee last week. He thinks for a moment before answering.
The reply is usually as simple as the question itself:
A moment of creative inspiration
A feeling of accomplishment
A kind word
It's a simple question and a meaningful daily practice. One that tilts our perspective toward the positive. It's an invitation to recognize those small moments that may be too easily forgotten, dismissed as too small or insignificant, lost in the shadow of something bigger and more dramatic.
(Because we all have those moments in our days.)
But what's really important? What do you want to remember?
A few weeks ago, I pulled out one of my old piano scores:
”The Italian Concerto” by J.S. Bach
It's a piece I played for my Eastman audition, a piece I knew almost backward and forward at the time. I've come back to it at various points in my career when I want to reconnect to the art or remember why I started.
I was thumbing through the pages one night after dinner, admiring all the markings my teacher added into the score—a different colored pen for every lesson. I stumbled through the first reading, my fingers stiff, struggling to remember how the notes go.
But then, something surprising happened.
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). 🍂
These are our cues that Fall is here, and with it comes the thrill of the new.
For some, it’s a new school; others, a new job or city. For most of us, it’s new routines and perhaps some new school supplies (because you’re never too old). 📓✏️
This month, I found myself doing a few things I don’t 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 Educators’ 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 don’t normally have the privilege of being part of.
