Don't only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets

 “Don't only practice your art, but force your way into its secrets...”  - Beethoven

Music is a peculiar thing to study.  It is a subject that lingers so close to the heart of many, and is often considered a universal language.  Often I think this degree is downplayed and disregarded by much of the general public.  Despite the fact that Music is a simple passion, it is a complex dream.   This art form, one that I have found myself studying serioulsy for almost 4 years, began as a quest to seek out its secrets.   My intentions were honourable and my motivation unwavering.   I was un-phased by the realities that I saw in the distance, and quickly approaching.   

The problem with studying music is that it is so close to my heart.    My desire to sing initially overflowed, but those waters of passion seem to have dissipated drastically due the list of demands that music now has.  This reality is like little hits that slowly wear you down.  Perhaps it is my skewed perception of what to strive for.   I know that I expect excellence from myself; I strive for perfection, whatever "perfection" may mean that day.   I know and recognize that this is an unattainable trait that becomes like the carrot at the end of the stick.    I find myself walking to practice rooms to make attempts at a search for my art’s secrets, only to leave feeling as though the wind was taken out of my song.  

My question is when does beating out melodies and repeating phrasing relentlessly become more harm than good?  We are required as music students to spend hours locked inside a windowless practice room, to knock off the illusive 10,000 hours.  Pursuing perfection is a disease that affects us all, at least to a certain extent.   In a faculty of exceptional talent, I am ashamed to admit that the yardstick sneaks out from my back pocket to measure where I line up.  According to the standards I set for myself I rarely do.  

One thing that isn’t discussed is how to cope with the stresses of this career path.  I feel that this is vital to a healthy approach and the longevity of an art form as we just approach the trailhead.    What can be done when your love of your art, instrument or song fades?  Where can motivation and purpose be found again?   When you desire a lush passion, and not a dry desert void of desire, where do you go?  

September, what is up? Lets talk.

After an unwelcoming first week back in Winnipeg, where wet clouds overflowed in the heavens and spilled down onto the streets, the feeling of complacency cast a shadow on the bright mentally I had initially brought to the academic table.
The grey clouds that hover above seem to have the ability to suck up into them any sense of motivation, comfort and energy I might feel before prying opening my blinds first thing in the morning.
How those fluffy greyish, white puffs of matter have the ability to rid me of all these things is beyond me.
Trying to muster up the enthusiasm to exit my quaint little hamlet on a day like today is a task unto itself, without even considering the challenges that await me outside of my front door.
If I had my way, each day that threatened rain would be spent by a big brick wood burning fireplace, with a fabulous book, and a large glass of something red with my love near by.  
I think I am now of the opinion that grey days are best spent with the person you care most about, near something warm.

september

The commencement of the scholastic year typically is the calm before the storm.  As the academics,  slowly slide into our responsibilities a routine is established to help set the pace and rhythm of the year. This year however, looks on paper as the most intense semester yet. This realization has been intensified by my distaste for the changing season.  Left with a bitter taste in my mouth after saying goodbye to the most magical summer months, the feeling of fall is much like that of unwanted visitor.

Well...what was once a winter waste land has now been transformed into an oasis of green with leaves that cascade over blankets of grass. This green has come with gallons of unwanted rain that is uncharacteristic of Winnipeg.   The torrential downpours reminds me of the lower mainland in early winter. It makes me wish for a cozy sweater, a certain pair of tattooed arms to be wrapped around me and a cup of hot chocolate. (in no particular order)
Le sigh...
This weather is not conducive to a productive september.  

The end of summer. The beginning of...

Forcing my feet forward, despite the feeling that they each weighed 100 lbs, robbed me of my strength. As I pried myself out of your arms the realization hit me that this day we had been dreading has arrived.  I loaded myself in to a car that would drive me hundreds of miles away from you and felt the chasm between us take shape. The distances is suffocating.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, this I believe to be true.   I know that all good stories have a conflict, and this perhaps can be ours.  A conflict that has the potential to define us by the strength and character that will grow in us and our relationship despite the dreaded distance.

Goodbyes are the worst.

I know that this time is important, it will provide opportunity to grow.  But even that knowledge isn't sufficient to silence the whimpers of lonely heart. 

Rest and summer.

It feels like life has been in a constant state of flux for the past 4 years.  This theoretically could be my last year of university, but because I transferred I am bound to the life of an academic for an additional annum. This summer I sought to find myself again after a year of dizzyingly difficult situations and changes.   I limited my work week to part time, a sacrifice financially, and allowed myself time for me.   My mental state going into the summer break was brittle and tired.  I needed reprise from decision and deadlines, heart ache and the hardship I found myself surrounded by in Winnipeg.   Thankfully I found the serenity I needed, and it came in a different way than I expected. 



I made the decision this summer to rest, and not feel pressure to perform or practice or please my inner perfectionist.   I gave myself a break which, looking back I might regret as the work piles begin to form and the outline of my next two semesters are traced in my mind.   I doubt, even as deadlines race towards me that I will regret even a minute of my summer free of school-like thoughts.  I think in the midst of packing, good-byes and change I forget the exhausted state I wearily brought myself home in.  I see only what is coming and almost view the much needed reprise as an oversight, or ill timed decisions.  

I know I am happier than I have ever been.  My heart nearly burst today as I was surrounded by family and dear friends that I have grown to love deeply.  My summer, although unproductive in many aspects was invaluable because it allowed me time to breath, and remember what life could and can feel like.   As I embark on another scholastic year, armed with knowledge that I am loved and cared for by not only an amazing family, but also the love of my life, I know I can tackle challenges I couldn't have faced without these three months of rest and rejuvenation. 

 

Summer is quickly coming to a close.   These words that it pains me to write as I hate the thought of separation between me and the ones I love.   As the distances grows larger, I hope and pray that our bounds grow stronger.  

maybe a little cheesy... sorry. Sort of.

I have been a little distracted this summer.  What started out as a half hearted attempt to discover if I still in fact have a heart has lead me to find that I not only do I  have one but it has the capacity to be fuller than I could have ever hoped.   I've heard that good things come to those who wait but that wasn't true, the best things come to those who wait.   The nervousness I felt was a kin to what I expect the jitters before jumping out of a plane feels like.  I took my seat and watched as the rain made the streets glossy.  Before I knew it, 3:00 came and in walked a beautiful blue eye blond haired boy. Silently I thanked God that he looked like his picture and in fact was somehow even better in person.  It's been a few months since that pivotal day in time, and since then I have a new best friend and I've had more adventures than I could have hoped for, and this is just the beginning!  

I guess the moral of the story is that you never know who is right around the corner.  I wasn't expecting anything like this.   

Daisies

                 You, gentle and white sit on a cushion of sunshine. You embody happiness.  

A wise actress, after receiving a bouquet of daisies exclaimed, "Daisies are the friendliest flower."  This is a statement that I stand behind.  

What I love about this flower is the simplicity.  A daisy awakens a youthful joy in me.  I love that they are an every mans flower, they are everywhere in the summer and if there was enough time in the day, bouquets could go for miles.  They dance, and seem to glow in the sunshine.  They are pleased to simply exist.