Life These Days, And Hello Again!

This poor Something Ivory has gotten a bit of neglect these last few weeks but today is Friday! (I always feel inspired on Fridays.) And I wanted to check in and post a little update.

First of all, though I never thought I'd be one of the many writers/bloggers to ever say this, I think that Instagram has begun to replace my blogging in some ways. I almost always spend more time crafting the caption than taking the photo and I see it as a chance to tell a little story. When we were abroad our friend Jim asked midway through the trip if I'd blogged yet. I answered no, I hadn't, but that I'd started to think of each of my Instagram photos/captions as a mini blog post. Not everyone uses Instagram like this but I love trying to thoughtfully share real glimpses of my life this way.

Even though I haven't been blogging I've still been writing privately. To be frank, there is something in this season of my life that I'm struggling with deeply and that is too personal to blog about (for me, anyway). But there are many days where I wake up and can't imagine writing about anything else. So I write privately.

In better, kinder news, my life as a business owner/freelance artist/teacher/musician has taken off! I now have close to 15 students in my private studio. I've developed friendships and partnerships with several other young professional musicians and I can tell you, few things are more fun than playing music with your friends. And then gabbing about life over lunch. The best.

A few months ago I was asked to take on the role as vice president of the Charlottesville Music Teacher's Association which made every introverted muscle in my body tense up. I took a day to think about it, then gulped and said yes and it is now my job to plan each of our group's monthly programs for the whole year. We're going to Skype with an expert on performance anxiety, I've invited a soprano and a pianist from UVA to perform some German art songs for us and one of our own members will run a discussion on studio policies and practices. (Among many other things!) This has been enormously fun for me and a huge honor. And time-consuming! More writing emails and less writing blog posts. :)

This time in my life–personally and professionally and inwardly and outwardly–is one of change and growth. It's one where I feel quite proud of myself at times and at other times feel completely raw and vulnerable. Sometimes I'm confident and other times I doubt myself. I have made several incredible, close friends here in the last year. I'm learning how to do adult female friendship well and I'm so thankful for this gift. I feel fulfilled by my musical life and so sure that I'm in the right line of work. I also have realized that we are very much not in control and that we must take every blessing and every hardship alike to God. My prayer life has deepened necessarily.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that life these days is both harder than ever and more beautiful than ever. Is it possible that both could be true? I'm learning that yes, I think so. There's a rare sort of beauty that is found in suffering. And everything else, it's made lovelier by comparison. Glory be to God for this not-so-small miracle.

Inspired

Yesterday was so inspiring.

I performed in a chamber music concert in the morning for a group of fellow music teachers. To say that I was extremely nervous about it would be an understatement but the moment I began to play, the anxiety was replaced with an acute awareness of the majesty of the music. Performing is magical that way. It's like playing a piece for the first time in some ways, hearing it as the audience does, fresh and new.

In the afternoon my dear friend, neighbor, and sometimes-piano student came over to play me a medley she had written for her husband years ago. It was composed of a few of his favorite pieces--The Parting Glass from Waking Ned Devine, an Eagles song, Simple Gifts, a Scott Joplin tune. It made me tear up it was so gorgeous and heartfelt and so obviously inspired by the most real love.

Then in the evening I went to see a documentary called Seymour: An Introduction and just about melted into a puddle in my seat. It's about classical pianist and master teacher Seymour Bernstein and it was the most poignant tribute to art I think I've ever seen. Bernstein says that music is the "God inside us" and watching it, I got a familiar but at the same time rare feeling that I can only describe as intense gratitude for the music inside me, in my fingertips, in my soul. Gratitude that this art that touches me so deeply is my art, that of all the professions in the world this is the one I'm called to.

You know, the nervousness before a concert, the hours of practicing, the frustration and feelings of inadequacy that are inevitable in a life devoted to a craft, they can cloud you and bring you to dark places. I think it's because music is inherently soulful and it makes you vulnerable. It's so so hard to do justice to a late Beethoven sonata, a fugue by Bach. It takes such extraordinary effort and emotion. So when I am able to step back and be reminded, as I was over and over yesterday, of the richness and beauty and purity and sheer goodness that make up the tradition of music, it can be so profound and overwhelming it makes me cry.

All of music--the composers who make it, the poetry of art songs, the lessons we learn by studying it, the people who inspire it and whose names are written lovingly on manuscripts, the natural grace of the piano itself--all of it is our gift.

Virtual Choir

A lovely friend of mine introduced me to the most beautiful thing, and I can't believe (especially being a musician) that I'm just now hearing about it.

It's called the Virtual Choir. Eric Whitacre is a contemporary classical composer and conductor and he is the musical genius behind the idea. For each piece they perform (they've done a bunch), Whitacre puts out a call for YouTube submissions from singers around the world. He makes his scores available and asks singers to record their part--soprano, alto, tenor, bass--and then the voices are spliced and edited together to form this incredible, 21st century, international choir.

You must watch and listen.

I keep hitting repeat on this video and every time, I get chills and my eyes well up. This is what art is all about. It's transcendent and fundamentally human and soulful and despite the oceans and continents and languages that separate these people, here they are making heavenly music together. It's astonishing, really.

I hope you love it as much as I do.

Friday Musings

I find myself really looking forward to weekends these days. There's something so special about December weekends--cozy, twinkly, not overly planned, full of cider and tea. This weekend I hope to finish up my Christmas shopping and gift wrapping and convince my husband to watch Love Actually with me (a Christmas tradition, and actually, he loves it too). ;)

Now for some Friday Musings...

**

I enjoyed this insider scoop on Kate Middleton that was published in Vanity Fair this week. How I wish I'd gotten to see her in New York!

**

I was invited by my neighbor to the most fun event this week--a sing-along to Handel's Messiah. This was the 47th year it has been held at UVA and while I'm not a singer, I had such a wonderful, giggly, time with my neighbor and her friend. There's something so exciting and festive about a bunch of people, musicians and non-musicians, singers and non-singers, getting together to make music and belt out those jubilant choruses.

**

You can probably tell from some of my past posts, but I'm convinced I'm the luckiest piano teacher in Charlottesville. My students are the most kind, interesting, curious, funny, sweet, and dedicated group of people and how did I ever get them to sign up for lessons with me each week? I'm not sure, but I feel so blessed to get to work with each and every one of them. (And they all practice!!!)

**

This lipstick has become my go-to perfect holiday red.

**

A few weeks ago I found myself craving Jane Austen. But I've read all of her six novels and I'm not a big re-reader, so I headed to Barnes and Noble and found this collection of her unfinished works and I just started reading it yesterday. I couldn't agree more with the scholar who writes this in the introduction: "There are some great writers who wrote too much. There are others who wrote enough. There are yet others who wrote nothing like enough to satisfy their admirers, and Jane Austen is certainly one of these. There would be more genuine rejoicing at the discovering of a complete new novel by Jane Austen than any other literary discovery, short of a new major play by Shakespeare, that one can imagine."

**

Happy December weekend, friends. May yours be cozy and bright!

Things Come Around

A few years ago I wrote this post about Crowley Hall where I spent many, many hours as an undergraduate, and I wrote about how I developed such a fondness for this slightly dingy old music building. My loyal readers will know by now that me loving an old thing isn't exactly unusual, but believe me when I say that Crowley wasn't the charming variety of "old." It was the broken variety, the outdated and desperate-for-some-TLC kind of old.

Yet when I graduated I couldn't even bear to give back my practice room keys. We grow to love imperfect things despite and sometimes even because of their flaws and shortcomings and problems. I probably used those keys more than 1000 times to unlock a cramped room containing a piano that inevitably had at least one broken key, but in spite of the lack of space and the dud keys, music happened in those rooms. Beauty lived there. We made sure of it.

It's funny how things come around. Starting next fall, Notre Dame will begin construction on a brand new music building that will be attached to the south side of the stadium. It will be a state-of-the-art facility--practice rooms, sound-proofing, new instruments, a recital and rehearsal hall, a music library. And I'm thrilled about it. So, so thrilled and proud of the university for making this decision and my old professors who more than deserve this space and excited for the new students who get to unlock those brand new practice rooms and christen the halls with Bach and Mozart and Brahms.

Do I wish this building had been constructed during my time at school? Of course. It's going to be wonderful.

But I also feel so proud of all of us music majors who had only little old Crowley Hall. I like to think we helped pave the way by showing the university what we could do and what our professors could teach us. We put our passions on display and worked hard despite the limitations we faced and it took awhile, but our persistence paid off.

Friday Musings

This week has been unexpectedly wonderful. I can't put my finger on why, exactly, but I've felt so peaceful and calm and content for about 4 days straight now, and I'm so thankful for it! I've written before about my worry habits and so when I'm blessed with extended periods of non-worry, it's a thing to rejoice over.

I mostly believe that the peace I've been feeling has been bestowed on me as a gift but there were a few things I can pinpoint that made my week an especially good one:

***

I had some really great teaching moments. If I do say so myself. I started teaching a new student this week, an adult, and we had a fantastic first lesson together. By the end of the hour he was able to play a simple melody and read a bit of music on his own. After he'd gotten the melody down I accompanied him with the teacher duet part and the look on his face after we finished the simple little piece was priceless. The accompaniment part fills out the melody and creates quite a pleasant little chord progression, and I could tell he felt so pleased he'd been a part of creating that sound, making that music. He uttered a surprised "Ah!" with a smile and for me, these moments are what teaching music is all about.

My sweet husband had a birthday. We had a simple little celebration, just the two of us. I made a delicious pot roast and a mini German Chocolate Cake (the good man has been faithfully keeping to a very healthy diet these past few weeks) and opened cards. I have a feeling that when I'm old it will be these times I look back on when I think of our early marriage. Finishing up a lesson in the studio, checking the pot roast that has been stewing away in the oven for hours, waiting for my husband to come home. Setting the table with a white tablecloth and our good silverware and a few candles. Playing music and dancing in the kitchen as I roast the carrots and check the time, carefree and focused solely on making the man I married happy on his birthday. 

I bought a new shampoo and it's amazing. Not as deep as my first two pieces of evidence, but this stuff made my morning shower extra luxurious and added some awesome sleekness and shine to my hair. I never thought my hair was dry before but my hairstylist recently mentioned he thought it could use some extra moisture. I think using this stuff regularly will do the trick.

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous, Virginia. Oh my goodness, the area we live in is incredible this time of year. Perfectly cool yet sunny days have been the norm, and when the wind picks up the leaves go wild, swirling and dancing and showering the earth with their colors. Like a rain storm but with leaves instead of droplets of water. This happens regularly in our neighborhood and I love watching and feeling it.

This quote from the book I'm reading: "For many years a tree might wage a slow and silent warfare against an encumbering wall, without making any visible progress. One day the wall would topple; not because the tree had suddenly laid hold upon some supernormal energy, but because its patient work of self-defense and self-release had reached fulfillment. The long-imprisoned tree had freed itself. Nature had had her way."

***

Also, there were laughing fits and kind neighbors and a new printer I proudly set up myself. There was Brahms and yoga and jasmine tea and hugs. And tomorrow I get to have brunch with my mom! How lucky am I. I say none of this to brag but purely to share the joy that comes from being gifted, undeservingly, with a wonderful string of moments and an overflow of peace.

Weeks like this remind me that Someone is listening.

Happy Friday, dear readers. :) 

(Photo above is of the doorknob in our bathroom. It fell off twice this past week, both times when guests were opening the bathroom door, but it's easy to forgive something this beautiful, right?)

Over-Thinking Meets Trust

Yesterday, I was practicing a scale exercise (the kind of practicing that drives the other member of my family, whose office is directly below my studio, a little mad). The point of the exercise is to train your hands to switch from one pattern to another very quickly and it's surprisingly difficult to play it well.

As I was working my brain tuned out for a moment and I noticed that as a result I was playing much more cleanly and precisely than I had been when my mind was fully engaged, thinking about what came next, anticipating the next scale pattern. I had put in enough practice time that my fingers and hands knew the exercise better than my brain. I would even go so far as to say that my over-thinking mind was getting in the way.

I had to smile to myself when I realized that because, really, what's new? 

Teaching and Learning

It might be true that teachers do almost as much learning as the students in their charge.

My students teach me so much during our lessons, probably without even realizing it. It might be a raised eyebrow when we're discussing time signatures (a topic that brings up questions for most beginners--ugh, math!) and my challenge is to use new words, to figure out how their mind sees and understands, to use analogies and imagery and charts if necessary to help them make sense of it.

Notebook And Pencil For My Studio

I recently bought this pretty notebook and even prettier pencil both for practical reasons and as a little treat to myself for making it halfway to one of my teaching goals. Hooray! It's fun to celebrate little achievements, don't you think?

House Tour: My Piano Studio

I've shared quite a few glimpses into our home on this blog but I'd love to do a little tour, room by room, starting with my piano studio. I hope you enjoy!

New Studio Website

Hi friends! I've been missing this blog over the last few days but I've had a great excuse for not writing: my little brother was visiting! He left this morning on the train to D.C., and while his visit felt too short it was oh so sweet. We had tons of fun and it was a blast having him here and showing him around our new town.

Friday Musings

I had the best afternoon yesterday. Without saying too much (there will be a post coming on it next week) I spent about three hours cleaning, measuring, cutting, and assembling copper pipes. And then turned them into something I'm awfully proud of. As far as DIYs go it was a first for me, and it might be my favorite project yet.

*

I taught my first piano student this week! Hooray! It was a fantastic first lesson with a very interesting student and I feel so lucky to be able to do this job that I love. First lessons are a little nerve-wracking for me--it feels a bit intimidating to let strangers into your home, have them sit at your piano, and proceed to talk for 30 or 60 minutes about one of your deepest passions. It's a vulnerable business I'm in and anonymity and privacy aren't really available. But that's one of the reasons it's so rewarding. I ended the lesson really believing I'd passed on something valuable and important and enriching.

From 10 to 100

Moving from lower Alabama to Charlottesville has been like going from 10 to 100 in terms of all there is to do. So far I haven't been able to keep up with my own mental list of all the places I want to explore and the things on my summer list and the many great spots we've been told we must see/do/visit. It's incredible to be in a place with so much culture and history, so many cool restaurants and thrift shops, yoga classes and hiking areas, churches and parks and book clubs and everything else under the sun.

I'm also just now feeling a little more ready to begin marketing myself as a pianist and teacher now that the pianos are tuned and my studio feels more and more put together each day and the chaos of moving is beginning to calm down. I'm both excited and nervous about this. Basically, I'm trying to run a small business and when I think about it that way, in the most realistic terms, it can feel pretty overwhelming. But then I think about kids and parents knocking at the door each week and the feeling I get after a really productive lesson and what a blessing it is to teach what I'm passionate about. I do feel much more prepared now than I did fresh out of grad school, two years ago, so I guess my teaching experiences in Alabama seasoned me more than I realized. I have a much better handle on the "business" aspect of running a piano studio out of my home, and having a bit of extra self-confidence is everything.

All of this to say: I feel so stimulated and encouraged and awakened by our new surroundings. There isn't enough time in the day to do all I want to do! I need to remember that getting to know a new city and finding my place in it is a slow, patient process and that I shouldn't rush it. I'll gradually get to know the nooks and crannies and holes-in-the-wall in this cute little town of mine, and it'll get to know me.


p.s. On today's schedule: head to the library near the historic downtown area for some good books, buy ink at Staples so I can print business cards and my studio policy, and figure out where the nearest post office is.

p.s.s. Above is a little sneak peek of my piano room. I'm thinking of recruiting my brother to take photos of our house when he visits in August so I can do a real "house tour" on my blog! His photos will be a million times better than mine. 

I'm Doing Just Fine

Scene from yesterday: a billowing curtain and fresh April air.

Sometime last week, I was having a bad day. I was discouraged and getting worked up and not feeling super happy. On that same day, my mom sent me this WSJ article called, "Advice For A Happy Life." My bad day and the timing of her email had nothing to do with each other--purely coincidental--and my mom meant nothing other than to send me an article she knew I'd like. But I do remember reading just the title and thinking--ok good, yes, this is what I need to read right now. What am I doing wrong?! Why aren't things going according to plan?! I'm not having a happy time of things right now, and maybe it's my fault. I need this advice!

And then I read the article and realized, I'm doing just fine.

Here are the author's five pieces of very wise advice for leading a happy life:


Consider marrying young.

Learn how to recognize your soul mate.

Eventually stop fretting about fame and fortune.

Take religion seriously.

Watch "Groundhog Day" repeatedly.


Here I was, thinking I was going to get a very welcome spiel on not taking yourself so seriously, focusing on the present and choosing to let tomorrow's worries go, learning how to laugh in the face of difficulties. After all, that's usually how these kinds of articles go and honestly, I would have been all ears had this been the advice. My fears were getting in the way of my happiness that day, and I suppose I wanted some justification that I was unhappy for good reason. I suppose I wanted to be told that if I can only laugh at myself, I'll feel better. I wanted to be told that these thoughts were normal but ten deep breaths would go a long way toward feeling peace. I guess I wanted this article to sympathize with me and then provide a quick fix.

But this article wasn't fluff. It was wise and honest and true. And it provided me with something much more valuable than justification and some flimsy pick-me-ups. It made me realize, I'm doing just fine.

I don't know what my one-year plan looks like, let alone my five-year plan, but I've got a husband and he's going through every step with me and we're going to look back on this time of not knowing and be so glad for the richness and the lessons and the love in these early years of our marriage.

I don't have control over a lot of the things my heart desires, but I've found my soul mate. My heart has found its resting place and even on days it feels heavy, my heart isn't lost. It belongs.

Wondering how successful I will be as a piano teacher and a musician and an artist scares me, and I don't know what my niche in the creative world will be just yet. Thank goodness I never cared about fame and fortune! I was talking with one of my students last week about when we are planning to move, and he told me that things just won't be the same without me. We started his lessons the same month he relocated to Alabama with his family so he's seen me every week for the whole time he's lived here. It was so touching and helped me to remember that if I can influence and inspire even just one young pianist, I'm doing ok.

I have so much to learn about faith and trust and godliness but I am 100% committed to the discovery. And I'm realizing that God teaches us so much through our trials, I need only be open to what He is trying to show me.

I've only seen "Groundhog Day" once, but I've got time on my side.

Would I Have Grace For You?

A little song for your Thursday....it's about strangers and invisible connections and wondering about the person ordering coffee in front of you. I just think it's sweet and felt like sharing it. I love this line, would I have grace for you and you for me? 

If nothing else this song is a nice reminder to be kind to strangers. I don't know the day you've had. There have definitely been times when a smile or compliment from a random person at the grocery store really lifted my spirits. Isn't it neat that we all have the power to do that?

I hope you enjoy!

Homemade Molasses Cookies

If I could only pick one cookie recipe to make at Christmastime for the rest of my life, I would choose these Molasses Cookies. The recipe came from a good family friend of ours who was also one of my very first piano teachers. Often when I showed up for a lesson, the smell of baked goods would envelop me and she'd take me into the kitchen where a warm piece of chocolate cake was waiting, or sometimes a mug of cinnamon hot chocolate. Now that is the way to start a piano lesson. Not only did she teach me to love the piano but she also made me feel welcome in her home and happy to be there each week.

These Molasses Cookies are just perfect. They are crispy on the outside but so soft and chewy and melt-in-your-mouth as soon as you take a bite. I love how they really flatten out in the oven, too. There's something about a delicate, thin cookie that is so inviting. And the combination of molasses and spices is so festive and cozy for this time of year. I could eat these every day for breakfast with a cup of hot tea.

This recipe is in our cookbook, Finger Lakes Feast, if you happen to have a copy. But I wanted to share it here too in case you're itching to get out the flour and cookie sheets this weekend but need some inspiration. 

Patsy's Molasses Cookies

3/4 cup butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 egg

1/4 cup molasses

2 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

3/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1 teaspoon cinnamon

3/4 teaspoon ground ginger

Pinch of salt

Powdered sugar (for dusting)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Cream together the butter and sugar. Add the egg and molasses. In a separate bowl, combine the dry ingredients. Gradually add the dry ingredients into the wet and mix thoroughly. Bake on ungreased cookie sheets for about 7-10 minutes (really depends on your oven) or until just set. Let cool and roll in powdered sugar.

Be My Rock, My Light, Forever My Trust

A long time ago, I put this sticky note on the inside of my book of Beethoven sonatas. I came across this prayer (which Beethoven wrote at the end of his life while he was composing his breathtaking mass, Missa Solemnis) sometime during my music studies, and I'm really so moved by it.

This prayer could be interpreted in many ways but knowing what I know about Beethoven, I imagine that these words were scrawled in a moment of despair and agony. Beethoven wasn't an expressly religious man and was in fact by many accounts sort of a brute, but I do believe he had a deep and abiding faith. His music is too heavenly, too inspired and divine, for me to be convinced otherwise.

But nevertheless, this prayer is somewhat of an anomaly. Beethoven didn't often write things like this. I don't think he attended church and he kept the faith he had very private.

So when I read these words that are so powerful and trusting and heartbreaking--I submit myself to all vicissitudes--I think of Beethoven's deafness and the fact that had completely lost all hearing by this point and how it tortured him. And I think of how suffering seems to go hand in hand with creative genius--in Beethoven's case, the kind of creative genius that only shows up maybe one or two times in a generation. He was referred to as "The Master" by his contemporaries but inside I wonder if he felt fragile. The weight of exposing his soul through his art and the obligation he felt to do justice to the music that stirred in him must have been enormous.

That's why this prayer means so much to me and why I put it in a place where I knew I'd stumble upon it regularly. God so often works most powerfully in people who are tortured or who feel like outcasts, people who suffer greatly in this life. Beethoven certainly suffered, he was imperfect and flawed, and he may not have always Believed. But I think his heart made its way to God and there can be no doubt that his music glorifies Him.

An Environment For Inspiration

Artists Sketching in the White Mountains by Winslow Homer

When you're a creative person, sometimes it can feel like you're at the mercy of inspiration, that elusive river that comes and goes, sometimes raging strong inside of you and shining light on your work, other times trickling away and leaving darkness in its place.

I have felt the ebb and flow of inspiration and it's a mystery to me. One thing I do know is that as an artist, you have to work even when you don't feel that light embrace, that force pushing you along and guiding you. I learned this during my years studying piano--if I'd practiced only when I felt that creative spark and energy, I don't think my recitals would have gone very well.

Our issue of Notre Dame Magazine arrived in the mail yesterday and the cover of the magazine says, "What Inspires Us." I eagerly flipped open to an article entitled, "My Desk Is An Altar." It's a beautiful piece about writing and Christianity, but I was particularly struck by what Heather King wrote about inspiration.


On an ideal day I work for several hours...Every late afternoon or early evening I take an hour-long walk, during which I observe the tops of trees, the shapes of leaves, people's faces. I play the piano for 15 or 20 minutes. I try to say Evening Prayer and do a short examination of conscience. I listen to the birds again.

Within that framework, inspiration flows: perpetually, abundantly, in ever astonishing and ever new ways. Inspiration flows and then I do the packhorse work of writing, shaping, revising.


She treats inspiration as something to be continuously cultivated. She does things each day that stir her and awaken her, and also things that make her calm and contemplative and point her toward Christ. She creates for herself an environment for inspiration, and I love that.

I still do believe that inspiration isn't a given, no matter how many beautiful or thoughtful things we fill our days with. It does come and go no matter how hard we try to capture it. But I'm learning more and more, both through experience and through stories like this one, that we can and must try. Like Heather, taking walks outside breeds creativeness in me. So does making things with my own two hands. Often, cooking makes me feel alive and inspired.

The next time I have a dry spell, I'm going to remember that I must try to find inspiration, must look for it and not give in to the flatness. I'm going to remember Heather's words: So ask, seek, knock. Look out the window. The scales will fall from our eyes...

If Ye Love Me

This gorgeous Renaissance choral piece is one I've been meaning to post on Something Ivory for awhile now. My blogging got off to a later start than normal this morning, and I think this is the perfect excuse to share some beauty in sound. I hope this beautiful music will bring a little extra meaning to your Thursday morning.

Washing Away The Dust

The Concert by Johannes Vermeer

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life." -Berthold Auerbach

I can't remember exactly where or when I first heard this quote. I had forgotten all about it until recently when I pulled out a notecard from an old journal and was reacquainted with these words, written in my own handwriting. I think I must have written this quote down when I was in college and put it up on my bulletin board. I do that only with quotes that are meaningful enough to have a real effect on me every time I look at them.

And this one surely fits that bill. When I was feeling drowned in the stress and anxiety that always comes my way as I prepare for major performances, this quote would remind me why I was doing this. It would give me strength and force me to keep my perspective open and wide, to remember the joy that comes from making myself vulnerable and sharing my music (sharing my heart and soul, really).

This quote is true for me. And I've been re-discovering that in an entirely new way over the past few weeks. I had been feeling lost, musically, to be quite frank about it. I'm a year out of graduate school and there's been a nagging feeling in the back of mind--feelings of guilt (am I doing enough?) and doubt (how can I fit into the very real, very competitive world of classical piano?) and fear (that old fear, the anxiety, the discomfort I've never been able to shake when it comes to my playing). I've been feeling lost because, for the first time in 6 years, I haven't been surrounded by other musicians, other students pursuing the same hard path. It's isolating to live in a place where your art isn't well understood, yet I realize that I need to become better at forging my own way despite it all.

But over the last few weeks I've felt so reinvigorated. I still don't know any other classical musicians in our area, I haven't totally swallowed those doubts and fears, but I have my music, and it's been doing wonders for me. I'm playing Bach, every day, an exquisite arrangement of one of his most cherished pieces, and not just playing but practicing. It doesn't matter, right now, that I'm not working on it for a specific performance. It's washing away the dust.

I'm working on a Schubert Sonata, one of the ones that poured from his fingertips in the last months of his too-short life, one that wasn't even published until a decade after he died. Yesterday I was sight-reading Chopin Preludes, and decided this one would be a perfect new piece for one of my students. I've been moving my fingers, I've been absorbing sound, I've been relishing in the joy that comes from being able to pick up a score and just play. What Patrick Dunne, in his piece that I recently shared, describes as "doing what the composer once did at the height of his creative genius, thinking what he thought, feeling what he felt, knowing what he knew, moving as he moved, breathing as he breathed, creating what he created."

I still have a long way to go on this path to figuring out my life in music. But for now, these magical works have been joyfully washing away the dust and cleansing my soul, and I couldn't be more thankful.




p.s. Today's the last day! Leave a comment on this post to enter my Favorite Things Giveaway. The winner will be announced tomorrow morning. Thank you all!