For me, it’s usually from the top down.
Heaven.
Head.
Heart.
Feet.
How to Change
Music Is My Nature
Sometimes I forget, in the business of teacher life, that music really is my home base. I find myself centered after singing, playing, or writing. It could be a performance or even a long rehearsal, but as long as I’m in the music, my self becomes balanced again.
The Cross centers me, likewise communion and reading God’s word. But when there is no room to weep, no wine around, and no Bible in my hands, there is music. It becomes my direct input, built in from the start, from my Creator to my Creator. It’s God saying, “I’ve got this; you’re good to go,” which is often just what I need to hear, feel, know.
120 students depending on my leadership, my open arms, my positivity, my knowledge, my precision, my support, is a real feeling to me. In this, it is easy to feel like I have to be intense and driving hard for excellence 100% of the days. This is stressful. How can I be so on point so often? I certainly can never be perfect. I can’t say all the right things at all the right times. Or plan a world-changing lesson. All I can do is step into the music around me and let everything else, including all my pieces, fall into place.
I am dumfounded that I can forget such a simple truth.
Today, I had a moment of doubt just before picking up my baton. I doubted myself. Could I really conduct this group, completely new to me, through a successful and profitable rehearsal? Would I be enough for them as a leader? I was succumbing to the pressure of my work and even my heart’s desire to be good. And not good in the sense of accomplished in my tasks, but good in the sense of worthy and worthwhile to have in the room. Good in the sense of good-natured and inviting. I took a breath and decided that no matter what the outcome, I was in it for real and for good, for there simply had to be good at the double bar line.
Beat 1 was enough. I clicked into my true nature. Musician, interpreter, believer.
I’ve Earned My Badge and I Wear It Proudly
Sitting in a rainy co-worker smoke break at the mall entrance today, I surprised myself. It wasn’t that I was doing anything so spectacular or beautiful or stunning. It wasn’t even that I was doing anything stupid or embarrassing or cheap. No, I was proudly displaying my age badge.
We were having a conversation about some mid-twenty’s troubles (boys, weird health issues, retail stress) and I chimed in saying, “When I was twenty-four…” One of the girls chirped, “Oh, so long ago” to which I proudly replied, “I’m twenty-nine.” And my eyes sternly said the rest. She was quiet and listened to my yes, oh so wisened wisdom.
The rest of the meaning in my eyes was that five years really does make a difference. Things smooth out with the guys, you get a hold of your health (if you haven’t already; I hadn’t at 24), and you stop stressing about how your manager doesn’t know what she’s doing. You go with the flow.
Unlike P.H. who consistently says, “I’m thirty now. It’s time to start growing up.” I believe the time to start growing up is generally eighteen and you should be finished by the time you’re thirty, at the latest. Most girls I know in their mid-twenties have real jobs and careers ahead of them, but then something dramatic happens and they really solidify their grown-up selves.
Big events that have impacted girls I’ve known ages 23-25: marriage, first real-man boyfriend, a significant break up, terrible health issues like inexplicable daily vomiting for a year, a promotion, resigning for the first time from a stressful job, graduate school begins, graduate school ends, moving back with parents, moving out of parents’ house (again), moving to an unknown city for a guy, first no-roommate apartment, and transcontinental single living…In fact, these things have happened to multiple girls I’ve known.
So when I’m twenty-nine and chatting with a group of colorful, stressed out, mid-twenty’s girls, I am proud to be able to tell them to hang in there. Keep your head up and your heart soft. Make the changes now. Now is the time; this is the age for troubling troubles so go ahead and deal with it. You’re growing in ways you’ve never expected.
What surprised me most today about myself was the ease with which I shared my age. I’ve known these girls for over a year and I never told them my age (expect for the one who is twenty-eight, so she doesn’t count). But somehow today, I was okay with it. In fact, I almost said, “I’m thirty.”
(Maybe I should say that anyway, just to practice.)
A Lesson From Tom Willett
Here is the most memorable life lesson I learned from one Tom Willett back in 2003 during my stint at The Real School of Rock/Are you for serious?: Generously use the phrases “right now” and “to me” pretty much in every conversation. I am 8 years into this advice and I think I’m using those words more than ever.
- “At this time, I feel apprehensive about that.”
- “Right now, I am more than upset about this situation.”
- “In this moment, I see myself as out of place and I see you as where I want to be, but I’m really unsure.”
- “To me, I feel comfortable with that right now.”
(Tom extended the lesson to encompass beliefs, belief systems, and theology, but feelings are quite big enough for me today.)
These conditional words are not cop outs. In fact, they are a hard opposite. They permit free and complete ownership of thoughts and feelings, while humbly allowing for error and growth. These words promote change in the person, which is the general idea as a Christian.
Insert nervous shaking, “What?! I have to change something about myself?!” Absolutely!
But I cannot do that, I cannot change, if I am not honest with where I am at. I cannot go somewhere without knowing where I’m starting. A good point would be that Abraham did not set out on a journey without knowing where he started. Abraham set out, by faith, not knowing where he was going. (Hebrews 11:8)
I, also, set out by faith not knowing where I am going in this journey of self. Oh, I have vague ideas, like Abraham. My ideas don’t include descendents as numerous as the stars, but they do include health, graciousness, and maybe an honorable mention in someone’s graduation speech.
I used these words at least 6 times today and they totally helped me laugh my way through a sticky conversation. Self, don’t take yourself too seriously. At least, that’s how I feel today.
*Please note that this is meant to be used when discussing real feelings, concerns, nervousness, etc, not petty grievances like “I don’t like they way you load the dishwasher; it makes my life feel unstable.”
Engaging in Mystery
As Good Friday draws to an end, I am reminded that so much of life is a mystery. I am surrounded by mystery. For many years, my biggest mystery was “why.” Now that I am older, my mysteries are “what” and “who.”
In a desert somewhere, after already making some life changing decisions, Jacob went out and wrestled with a tangible, body-full shadow. An angel. A mystery. He dropped to his knees and engaged. He reached out his hands and dove in. He wasn’t looking for a why. He was looking for what and who. And after he experienced, he changed.
If Jacob, in the midst of his prosperity, generosity, worry, tenacity, on-track and busy life, must stop to wrangle and contend with who and what God is, how much more must I?
Genesis Chapter 32 בְּרֵאשִׁית
The File
Link pulled out her file. One gay. One man in another state. One 40-year-old Italian. There were some obvious problems with the file considering the title–“Men I Have Considered Marrying.”
What happened between Link and these three men was nothing short of ordinary. Each story filled with hope and commonality, then crestfallen–or gay. Link sat in her Kansas prairie attic and thought for a while.
Link’s impressions:
#3. I immediately thought of you as Emile DeBecque, that dashing Frenchman in South Pacific. This was appropriate for the obvious reason that DeBecque was played by the Italian actor Rossano Brazzi in the film version of this slightly offensive musical. Distinguished and knowledgeable–these adjectives were etched into every muscle, bone, and movement of your body. Tall, fit, strong, quiet, greying. The appeal was undeniable. I found myself sincerely hoping you had a wife and family so that I wouldn’t have to deal with the superlative manliness. Fortunately, this turned out to be the case. Unfortunately, I did not discover this until 8 weeks into our relationship, friendship though it was. Oh, I was anguished at night, but you knew how to lessen the torment by teaching me to cook real, delicate Italian food. Food that took timing and intention. I have to say, I also learned some lessons on love in that tiny kitchen of yours–like that it also takes timing and intention. If you were not 40 and married, you would have been enough for me. Your gentle teasing, strong arms, and grounded nature made you enough. Did you know that?
#2. Norwegian guys were once my greatest ambition. I grew up with them and found them the epitome of simplicity. They consciously stayed away from drama. They showed excellent sense in driving their trucks to the other city cafe to avoid stirring up trouble. You, sir, were a great Norwegian. You had jokes and made them appropriately. What’s more, your jokes made me laugh honestly and like a whole person. Further, when I first looked in your eyes, I saw a depth of sincerity often absent in men your age. Your humor was neat, direct, clear, and appropriate. You didn’t push limits for the sake of pushing them. You made choices as you spoke and I could see them, but you appeared relaxed and off-the-cuff at the same time. It was this delicate balance of intention and spontaneity that drew me. But in all of this cleanliness, your passion stayed your own. If you had but sought me, you would have been enough. Your focused speech, easy spirit, and wide smile made you enough. Did you know that?
#1. Days were easy with you. My whole body relaxed. This was true even before I knew you were gay. Perhaps it was an innate knowing that allowed me to set aside my impressing genes. I did, however, like to wear impressive jeans when I was with you. We matched in so many ways. Musicians. Writers. Composers. Loud Laughers. People who knew what we liked to eat and drink–however more adventurous I was in that area than you. Communicators. We could talk for hours on end and still have more to say. But you were not for girls. If you weren’t gay, you would have been enough for me. Your honesty, creativity, and style made you enough for me. Did you know that?
Link dumped her file in the trash, realizing it was defective and defunct. It wasn’t working to only tell herself of the possibilities. She needed to start showing others. A file was not the same as a letter, or a conversation for that matter. Link pulled out a new manila folder. “Steps I Am Taking Toward Telling Men They Are Enough for Me.” She stared at it for a while.
Naphtalia 