all which isn't singing is mere talking
and all talking's talking to oneself
(whether that oneself be sought or seeking
master or disciple sheep or wolf)
gush to it as deity or devil
-toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles
name it cruel fair or blessed evil-
it is you (ne i)nobody else
drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing
-you are deafened every mother's son-
all is merely talk which isn't singing
and all talking's to oneself alone
but the very song of(as mountains
feel and lovers)singing is silence
e.e. cummings
Monday, September 17, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
The past few weeks have been, well, a bit interesting.
Everything at work has been on crack since the return of students and faculty. My job has become a lot busier and more demanding, which is exciting, but also tiring. I moved into my new office, where I'll be the rest of the year, and it is my little oasis of peace. I spend a lot of my day working with the students at the Helpdesk and running around to places on campus like the registrar and the finance offices to fix a zillion java plug-in problems, so I love coming back to my quiet nook of an office. I share the room with a lovely woman named Becky, and we have a big window with a view of beautiful trees and the old-fashioned dark red brick of Schneider and Billings Hall next door.
But it has been even more than work. This was a big summer for friendships and having to decide when something is healthy and when a relationship is toxic. There's also the transition of relationships that were easy to maintain during the stress-free summer months, which now require more attention and thought since we're all back to work full-time and living in different parts of the city. I've been feeling a bit emotionally drained lately, from all of the attention I've been giving these kinds of things.
I've also been experiencing a lot of miscommunication lately, which is not normal for me. Usually I can be effective with my communication skills, it's one of the reasons I feel so confident having so many friends I keep in touch with. This plus stress at work plus the return of some emotional complications from the end of my last semester, and you've got a tired Lucy with too many things to think about, floundering about unable to get anything done.
After about an hour of trying to start something and immediately forgetting what I was about to do this morning, enough was enough. The other night at an open choir rehearsal for the Boston Choral Ensemble, we sight-read one of my favorite choral pieces by Gabriel Faure, the Cantique de Jean Racine. Wellesley gives me access to Naxos music online, so I searched for the piece and just sat and listened to it. Then I searched for the newest addition to my performance repertoire, Cantata 51 by J.S. Bach for solo soprano. I listened to the two middle movements, my favorites of the piece for their yrical and floating melodic lines, and the balance between tension and sweet resolution. The accompaniment of the aria is stunning in its flowing and circular atmosphere, the foundation to a melodic line that is complex and unsure of itself at times. This seems to me to be a beautiful connection to the text, which is a supplication to God to continue to make each day new and beautiful. The text trusts in God's promise to remain the same, but there is still the feeling of uncertainty and a need for hope. The sequential patterns of the accompaniment are both stabilizing, but also searching.
This kind of Bach reminds me of his flute Sonata in B minor, which I played my sophomore year at Wellesley. Playing, singing, and listening to Bach, I realize, is something that utterly grounds me. The B minor Sonata was a piece that I felt I could play from my heart, because it is full of pain and seeming upsets and let downs, but there are still precious moments of hope and resolution. Put altogether, the piece is beautiful, but for me it was something like therapy to play it through on my crappiest days. I would leave the practice room more awake and content, feeling like there can be hope for resolution, no matter how dismal a day can be. I've been reading and memorizing scripture more lately, but I also need to remember that music is the way I connect with God the best. It is my path to feeling strength in His firm foundation.
A lot is going on now, and I can't say when it will stop. In the future, I'm sure I will face much more than this. So I will place my hope and trust in God and stop wearing myself out emotionally and mentally. I believe that He knows that path my feet will take, and the good my hands will do.He loves me, and even when I am surrounded by others who love me, I still need His love.
It's moments like this one, where I remember that I am truly, at heart, a musician, and that living with my music is something I don't just enjoy. It's something I need.
Everything at work has been on crack since the return of students and faculty. My job has become a lot busier and more demanding, which is exciting, but also tiring. I moved into my new office, where I'll be the rest of the year, and it is my little oasis of peace. I spend a lot of my day working with the students at the Helpdesk and running around to places on campus like the registrar and the finance offices to fix a zillion java plug-in problems, so I love coming back to my quiet nook of an office. I share the room with a lovely woman named Becky, and we have a big window with a view of beautiful trees and the old-fashioned dark red brick of Schneider and Billings Hall next door.
But it has been even more than work. This was a big summer for friendships and having to decide when something is healthy and when a relationship is toxic. There's also the transition of relationships that were easy to maintain during the stress-free summer months, which now require more attention and thought since we're all back to work full-time and living in different parts of the city. I've been feeling a bit emotionally drained lately, from all of the attention I've been giving these kinds of things.
I've also been experiencing a lot of miscommunication lately, which is not normal for me. Usually I can be effective with my communication skills, it's one of the reasons I feel so confident having so many friends I keep in touch with. This plus stress at work plus the return of some emotional complications from the end of my last semester, and you've got a tired Lucy with too many things to think about, floundering about unable to get anything done.
After about an hour of trying to start something and immediately forgetting what I was about to do this morning, enough was enough. The other night at an open choir rehearsal for the Boston Choral Ensemble, we sight-read one of my favorite choral pieces by Gabriel Faure, the Cantique de Jean Racine. Wellesley gives me access to Naxos music online, so I searched for the piece and just sat and listened to it. Then I searched for the newest addition to my performance repertoire, Cantata 51 by J.S. Bach for solo soprano. I listened to the two middle movements, my favorites of the piece for their yrical and floating melodic lines, and the balance between tension and sweet resolution. The accompaniment of the aria is stunning in its flowing and circular atmosphere, the foundation to a melodic line that is complex and unsure of itself at times. This seems to me to be a beautiful connection to the text, which is a supplication to God to continue to make each day new and beautiful. The text trusts in God's promise to remain the same, but there is still the feeling of uncertainty and a need for hope. The sequential patterns of the accompaniment are both stabilizing, but also searching.
This kind of Bach reminds me of his flute Sonata in B minor, which I played my sophomore year at Wellesley. Playing, singing, and listening to Bach, I realize, is something that utterly grounds me. The B minor Sonata was a piece that I felt I could play from my heart, because it is full of pain and seeming upsets and let downs, but there are still precious moments of hope and resolution. Put altogether, the piece is beautiful, but for me it was something like therapy to play it through on my crappiest days. I would leave the practice room more awake and content, feeling like there can be hope for resolution, no matter how dismal a day can be. I've been reading and memorizing scripture more lately, but I also need to remember that music is the way I connect with God the best. It is my path to feeling strength in His firm foundation.
A lot is going on now, and I can't say when it will stop. In the future, I'm sure I will face much more than this. So I will place my hope and trust in God and stop wearing myself out emotionally and mentally. I believe that He knows that path my feet will take, and the good my hands will do.He loves me, and even when I am surrounded by others who love me, I still need His love.
It's moments like this one, where I remember that I am truly, at heart, a musician, and that living with my music is something I don't just enjoy. It's something I need.
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