better late than never.

I've already learned a lot in 2010. And it's only a dozen and a half days in. Granted, most or all of those things were well on their way in '09. So, I've been inspired to make a list of New Year's Resolutions.

In no particular order:

- I resolve to face all relationships (strangers, family, friends, romantic, all of 'em) without reserve and with hospitality, kindness, and honesty.

- I resolve to pray more.

- I resolve to be proactive, both in my academic and personal life.

- I resolve to stay reasonably organized- I find that I am truly less stressed when I take that extra bit of time to take care of the little things.

- I resolve to put less stock in what other people think/feel about me.

- I resolve to take care of myself by making good choices in regard to both my physical health and the protection of my heart. Yeah, yeah: cheesy.

- I resolve to work freaking hard. I am capable of a crap ton, and that is what I am going to accomplish.

- I resolve to unashamedly be my dorky, silly, sarcastic self. It's just more fun than being self-conscious.

- I resolve to learn more about music every day.

- I resolve to continue working toward figuring out what it means to be a child of God in this crazy world.

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What are your resolutions? How well have you kept them? It's not too late to pick them back up... Happy 2010, friends!

A Conglomeration.

There are many, many things that I wonder "why?" about (Bump-its, for starters). This week, the one that's been nagging me is this: Why does music help us (or me, I don't want to assume anything here) connect to God (or feel like we're connected with God, again with the the assumptions) in such a profound way?

Well, I don't know.

But I DO know that as I'm listening to Lauridsen or Pärt or any cello piece lately or a capella choral stuff, I get all these tingles, and, I won't lie, sometimes tears just fall and fall (and I like to let them rather than wipe them away, is that weird? Maybe).

OR sometimes the connected-ness feeling doesn't manifest itself physically quite at all, but I feel it just the same. But WHY??

There are lots of ideas as to the solution ricocheting around my head, try to follow me as I journey through them if you like.

1. As I wrote in another blog "Manifesto", I have a theory- and it holds true according to studies and just plain common sense- that people are relational beings. (Gasp! Revolutionary!) Thus, human beings have a need to feel like they belong to something- a group, whatever, label it as you please. Here's where it gets a little less certain- Music fulfills this need because it is reassurance that something exists that is bigger than the individual. I mean, how can it not? Unless you composed the music, built the instrument, and played it for solely your enjoyment, how can someone else not be fundamentally involved?

To sum up so far: Music makes us feel connected. But that doesn't answer the whole God thing. Nor does it explain why certain (types/genres of) music makes us feel more or less integrated.

2. I'll address the latter point first. Here's another earth-shattering proposal- everyone is different. Therefore, we all feel different degrees of attraction toward any one type of music. I like to think that, since I am in fact a music major, I've gained an appreciation for, and therefore a draw towards, music of a more classical feature that most people never have the opportunity to acquire (and perhaps they don't even care to, and that's all good and fine!). And if I like classical music and don't care for country, I obviously won't feel "in my element" enough to feel connected to others and God whilst listening to country. Substitute genres to your taste; the argument remains.

To sum up so far: Certain music functions as a "connector" for certain people because of the simple fact that we are all different. Let's take the classical thing a little farther, though. And I'm working on getting to the God part, I haven't forgotten.

3. *The upcoming paragraph has the potential to get pretty jargon-laden, so feel free to skip on through if you don't want to read about harmonic analysis and minimalism and the like. Then again, I haven't written it yet, so it might not.*

Arvo Pärt's "Fratres" has been a big part of this whole web of messy ideas. The violin/piano version especially. It begins with quick broken chords on the violin-- media has ruined me and I at first pictured a wide shot of a car driving through the woods in a scene from any number of scary movies. THEN, then, the violin stops and the piano strikes several open chords in moderate succession. Honestly, the rest of the piece is all a blur, the first two minutes are done so well. As I reflected on this piece, I just assumed that, despite the rhythmic simplicity, the piece must be fairly complex in its harmonic structure in order to be that moving. Today, I found the sheet music and sight-read it. The whole piece consists of just six different harmonies. Six! For a ten-ish minute piece! Yet that dang piano entrance made me fall head-over-heels in awe of a 74-year-old Estonian man.

To sum up so far: Music makes us feel connected, different styles for different people. I, being a fan of pieces belonging to that of the more classical persuasion, learned that musical potency certainly does not necessarily equal complexity. Implications? Not sure yet. On to God.

4. I am more susceptible to the power of God's presence when I'm listening to music. Maybe it's because, since I feel connected to more than myself, I'm more prepared to feel in tune with God? Maybe I'm being exposed to something so powerful (yet so taken for granted) that it's impossible to not have an emotional reaction, and my personal corollary is the connected-ness I've been trying to analyze? Or maybe no one else really does feel the way I do, and I'm just a fiery music major who's hungry to feel more God in her life? Or maybe I'm drawing circles around the answer, or maybe there isn't even an answer and I should be okay with that.

Any way you slice it, it's beautiful.

As you can tell, I have by no means figured anything out, nor have I expressed my attempt to escape confusion in the most eloquent way. So, I appreciate your reading this and will appreciate even more your thoughts on the matter.

Manifesto.

This is a pretty selfish post, people. I'm writing it so that I can come back and read it when I question why I'm in the whole music business thing. But hopefully it will also help some of you along your journey of lost and again rekindled passions..

Those goosebumps that you get when the sopranos nail a sustained high A flat above the choir- that's why music is important. The look you share with someone great when the orchestra swells and fades again in your headphones- that's why music is invaluable. That surge of emotion that has nothing to do with how your day is going but everything to do with the word painting in a Lauridsen piece- that's why music is essential.

I'm no professor; I don't even have my bachelor's yet, but I can tell you this: there's something astounding at work when sound waves mesh and blend together at pre-determined frequencies. Heck, I can't tell you what exactly that something is, but I can surely say that human beings are inherently predisposed to its effects. Why else would music be everywhere- and I mean absolutely everywhere- in our cars when we're driving, in the locker rooms before a football game, our ringtones,... unless it was important to us as a society?

And why is it important to us? I'm not sure about you, but for me listening to (good) music provides confirmation that there are bigger things out there than myself and my immediate environment- that other people have felt the same things we have. And that makes me feel way cool, because we all innately want to feel connected to people and our world, right? We want to feel like we belong, and music is one of the greatest amalgamators there is. I think lots of people feel this way about music too, therefore the whole societal significance thing.

--

So I've talked about listening to music, which is all good and fine, but I could listen to my heart's content without spending 18 hours a day in the music building. Creating music is a whole 'nother level, man. It intensifies that sense of belonging, not to mention the feeling of accomplishment we musicians get when we help other people feel the way I've been discussing. It gets tough, of course, because in order to be a true musician, you have to practice, study, and be dedicated enough to keep going.

Oh! And here's yet another musical echelon- the path I'm traveling and endlessly excited about- teaching music. I mean wow. Do I really need to say more about how awesome it is (or will be, in my case) to pass on that capacity to feel something greater, something albeit unexplainable but nonetheless absolutely powerful?

Like I said, it gets difficult to stay enthusiastic sometimes. It's all too easy to undervalue the things that we're exposed to on a constant basis. It's also very discouraging when a piece or technical aspect isn't coming along as quickly as it would if we had it our way. Yes, it's important to work on these things, because how else can we learn to make better music? But it's also imperative to keep a wider perspective and to remember things like that collective sigh in the audience at the end of a particularly poignant piece. Because when I think about it- really mull it over- there's no nobler calling than music, because there's nothing more important than other people.

Quit trying so hard.

I'm sitting here listening to live jazz, thinking about something my friend the drummer said not too long ago.

We're constantly making choices. It's simply unavoidable. Just as an improv solo is up to the soloist, our lives are up to us. There are chord changes to follow if you so choose, but you have free will. You have the potential and ability to make it awesome or a complete suck-fest.

That said, what if we do screw up? And what if we decide to go for a note or rhythm we thought would sound cool and it ends up only hurting eardrums?

Well.

We want to brood about it and beat ourselves up and be upset that we made such a dumb mistake- "how did I ever think an F# would fit in an E Phrygian scale (thank you jazz improv 1)?" What we tend to not do is think about that mistake, forgive ourselves for it, and not make the same mistake again. I mean in the big scope of things ("perspective, Jess!", as my friend the drummer would say) what does it matter if we fail a class, or end a relationship that in all sadness and honesty just isn't going anywhere (not that ending it's a mistake, but it can sure seem like it at the time), or don't practice that extra hour and therefore don't have a piece memorized on time? Sure we'll have to pay the consequences, deal with the repercussions, but as weird as it sounds those can be beautifully liberating things. And the freedom to make a mistake is in no way an excuse, quite the opposite. We have the power to make not so good choices, and we also have the brains to learn from them. That's what's important.

I like the quote by someone I can't remember, "God is perfect, I don't have to be." I guess what I'm trying to say here is that stinking up a jazz solo doesn't mean that every solo from then on out will be horrendous as well. We're free in Christ, people, and that includes being free to forgive ourselves.

Easier said than done, I know. You can do it.

What the heck.

I mean seriously.

I'm so very confused right now. You gave me this passion, just a few weeks, ago, and now- what did You do with it?! I'm going through the motions, trying to understand and live out what it is I thought You put me here for. But that's really it nowadays. Going through the motions.

You gave me this deep desire to love- really love- through action and not just my thoughts or words. What happened? Now I'm just practicing three hours a day to catch up from all that procrastinating I did during the opera, not visiting homeless people every night or even taking the time to put some thought into how ethical a consumer I am.

You gave me this longing to know You more- I still have that longing, but I feel like I'm not really getting anywhere.

And You gave me this idea- more like planted it, really. Seminary, God? Whoa. Talk about throwing me for a loop. So I went with it, God, I watered the quite large seed you planted, and when KC asked me to talk a couple of times during the sermon, I said of course and I spoke. But why didn't anything moving or life-changing come out of my mouth? Aren't those the kind of things that pastor's say?

I'm taking a firm stance in apathy, God, and why are You letting this happen.

Oh, ha. Right.

I have to do at least some of the work.

Living for You doesn't mean simply saying that my life is now officially Yours, God. It's officially taking every minute to remind You that we mean business.

Past, Present, Future

Note: This is the hopefully equal, probably not better second draft of a blog that I thought was going to be published about five minutes ago. I will say nothing more than: Curse you, NAU Central Authentication Service.

Back to the good stuff.

I was reading through an old journal of mine the other day- you know, the kind that I was all gung-ho about when I first got it, and then preceded to fill up about a tenth of the pages with my thoughts until I kicked the habit. I came across one particular poem while I was taking a walk down memory lane, and, I must say, it presented me with much more to think about than just the nostalgic feeling i was expecting. The poem went like this-

I want to be more,

Not just two hands on a clock,

Ticking relentlessly,

Waiting for shock.

More,

I refuse to live betting on races

Whose winners have

Unrecognizable faces.

I'll work for the change,

I'll sweat for the difference,

I'll make people see past

their ignorant inference.

Apathy's a pandemic

that will not infect me.

I'm determined to be everything

that I can be.

And I don't expect the whole world to believe it,

But More's always there, you just have to retrieve it.

---

The "More" that I was so passionately referring to was, in a nutshell, talent. I wanted to prove to everyone around me that I was good enough, and that in fact I would end up being something probably better and more successful than they were.

Geez.

How can it be that something that was so deeply a part of me a couple of years ago can resonate just as fully now, when I feel like a completely different person?

I think it's because while reading I redefined a key word in that piece. I took "more" from it's previous meaning, self-progress and self-glory, and turned it seeking more for myself so that I can be more for others, and ultimately more for God.

The big difference, though, is that a couple of years ago "more" was concrete. It was a stationary goal that I would reach and remain at. Now "more" is so...liquid. It's something that I can't get a decent grip on and it's so frustrating and so beautiful at the same time.

So I still identify with what I wrote a while back, except for the last couple of lines. I decided to rewrite them to more accurately reflect how I view the rest of the piece.

And I'll give myself for the world to recieve it,

For More's always there, you just need to believe it.

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I wonder how I'll read this poem a few years from now..