Listing

Late yesterday afternoon I plopped onto the family room sofa next to my husband and sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?" he asked, being well versed in my language of sighs.

"I can't believe it's already 5:30 and I haven't made it more than a third of the way through my list," I pouted.

He glanced away from his list... the extensive choices on his TiVo menu... and looked over at me.

"Why do you make your list so long?" he said calmly.  "You know you haven't got a chance in hell of getting all that stuff  done in one day.  You're only setting yourself up for failure."

Nonplussed, I just shook my head and wandered into the kitchen to start dinner (which was not even on the list).

It's maddening, but he's actually right.  I do set myself up for failure because my expectations are always far too high.   There are always so many things I want/need/ plan to do, and never enough time to do them.  I seem to have lost the art of relaxation.  It's so difficult for me to put the list aside and sit down with a book or go for a walk without feeling utterly guilty, my thoughts returning to the unattended items on the daily list.  There seems to be an increased sense of urgency to every day, and it makes me feel tired and out of balance.

 In future, perhaps  I should actually make a list that looks like this...

~Tea in the garden

~Bike ride through the park

~Shopping

~Pedicure and facial

~Lay in the chaise under the tree

~Watch a movie

~Long soak in the tub with candles 

I have a feeling this list would get completed in a jiffy.

How about you? Do you make lists?  Do you check off every item? What would be at the top of your "me only" list?

Getting Different

Art doesn't develop in a Darwinian sense. We don't get better and better; we get different. We tend to think of progress in the scientific way, but it doesn't apply to art. The only way to discover your true original voice -- and there is infinite possibilities for originality nowadays -- is by being honest with yourself and striving to write the best music you can, and not think about what category the critics might put you in or if this might start a new trend.  Lera Auerbach, Composer, Poet, Pianist in an interview with the Detroit Free Press, May 30, 2010

I'm at something of a crossroads in my musical life.  I won't be playing in my church handbell ensemble next year (for reasons which are too complex to discuss), which means all my participation in church music will be at an end.  I  have enjoyed accompanying for the middle school, and will continue to do so, because it's quite user friendly in terms of time and demand,  and in general an all around enjoyable experience.

But I feel as if my musical "career" is petering out, and I'm not ready for that to happen.  I don't want to let everything I've learned in the past decade and a half simply go to waste.  On the contrary, I'd like to expand on the musical and personal knowledge I've gained and continue to challenge myself in other musical venues.

Reading the interview with Lera Auerbach, a young Russian composer, poet, and pianist, in this morning's Free Press, I was struck by her comment about artistic development.  "We don't get better and better; we get different."  She was referring to her evolution as a composer, but I think it applies to any creative process.  Her idea is in keeping with the thoughts that have been swirling around in my mind of late, at least in regard to my musicianship.   I'd like to "get different" - not join another bell group or find another accompanying gig, but something completely and totally new.  Because I think "getting different" is vital to "getting better."  By exploring different aspects of our art, we can't help but become better artists.

Auerbach made a life changing decision for herself when, at the age of 17, she felt she was at a "dead end."  Upon the completion of her first America tour, she decided to defect.  "I had taken in everything Russian culture had to offer. I was at a dead end. I needed to be in New York, in a global city, with exposure to everything. I was hungry for it." 

Obviously, there's nothing so drastic in my future, but I recognize that same hunger for something new. 

If I'm honest with myself, as Auerbach advises, I know I must be involved in a group, because that's how I function best.  Even if the group is only two (but preferably more), I need someone sharing the spotlight with me.  I also know I want to explore a more contemporary avenue, something that involves innovative new arrangements and ensembles.  There may not be a "category" for the type of music I want to do, but that's alright - according to Auerbach, categories don't matter.  And I know that I have to perform.  Strange as it may seem from one who was once paralyzed by stage fright, performance is the key to a satisfying musical experience for me. 

SO - there are my parameters for change.  I have the summer to start mulling over how to make it happen, to begin looking for those shooting stars of opportunity that sometimes fall through my galaxy. 

How about you?  Are you looking for ways to "get different" in your art or in your life?

 [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwMhAmcJ1_M]

Sunday Scribblings- Mantra

She  tells herself over and over that it doesn't matter, it's perfectly normal, that no one cares nearly as much as she about the state they've come to.  But no matter how often she repeats the words, her heart refuses to believe them.  They fall like hard stones against the silence of her spirit. Because she still remembers what it was like before, in the days when their eyes shone with eager anticipation, when their  lips met with fierce hunger, their bodies entwined with unquenchable desire.   She remembers when a moment apart was a slice of hell, and the hours together were all of heaven one could ask.

It is unreasonable, she knows, to expect emotion to remain at such a fever pitch, especially after decades  - and decades and decades gone by.  So she tells herself over and over that what matters is their strong devotion, their true committment, their shared history encompassing children, grandchildren, parents, friends, and all the experiences of their life together.

She watches him sleep, slack-jawed and snoring, the television blaring ceaselessly into the ignominy of the room.  And she knows she will need this mantra for many years to come.

~for this week's Sunday Scribblings

Nesting

Spring cleaning was a huge ritual around my house when I was growing up.  Mind you, I was never involved very much.  My grandparents lived with us for most of my childhood, and my grandmother was the queen of clean. I recall coming home from school on late spring afternoons to a flurry of cleaning, painting and redecorating inside and out.  My mother would tie a scarf around her hair and actually wear jeans (something ladies in the 60's hardely deigned be seen in).  My grandmother would cover her oldest housedress with a faded apron, and they would tie in.  In fact, I think this went on for most of the summer.   And if they weren't cleaning they were cooking, the two of them in our cool basement kitchen turning out homemade bread, fried chicken, and fresh fruit pies.  But I was always shooed out the door, never asked or even allowed to take part in these domestic dramas.  Whether they didn't trust me to perform up to their standards, or were simply spoiling me by allowing me to play all day, I have no idea.  Consequently, I'm not much of a domestic diva.  When I got married and moved into my own house, I literally didn't know how to change a roll of toilet paper.  Really.

After 34 years of housekeeping, I guess I've managed to learn most everything I need. And once in a while - usually in spring and fall - I get the urge to spruce and shine up the place. 

So that's what I've been doing today.  Red impatiens went into the front border beds, along with solar lights.  The bathroom walls got washed with Murphy's Oil Soap (just like my grandma used) and an old wicker shelf was taken down from the wall and tossed into the trash, replaced with some framed prints from our own collection of photographs.  New rugs and linens are up in the kitchen, a cool moss green color and design. 

For dinner, there's salmon marinating in my favorite sauce, to be grilled and served with asparagus and wild rice.  Because I'm feeling so domestic, I'll even share the recipe with you.

Becca's Favorite Asian Grilled Salon

2 T Dijon mustard

3 T good soy sauce

6 T olive oil

1/2 t minced garlic

Whisk all ingredients together.  Marinate salmon fillet in 1/2 the mixture for 30 minutes, and grill.  Pour the other half of the marinade over hot, cooked salmon.

 Obviously, even The Byline was not exempt from my nesting frenzy today.  I like this clean new look,  particularly the notepad design which is in keeping with my love of notebooks and paper. 

How about you?  How are you nesting these days?

Blossoms

Suddenly it's summer, and everything's blooming.  I continue to have this feeling that it's later than it really is - you know the sensation, I'm sure, when Monday feels like Tuesday, or Thursday feels like Friday.  But I certainly don't want to hurry time, for time passes much too quickly already.  Do you remember when you first noticed time flying?  For me, it was my 16th birthday.  That was young, wasn't it, to realize that concept of time on the wing? ?  I recall looking at my birthday cake with all the candles, and wondering how I had gotten so old so fast.

How funny, 38 years later. 

So we're heading into summer now, and I'm thinking back to last year at this time, when I was busy planting a new perennial garden in the back yard, looking forward to the long hours of daylight ahead.  In just a couple of weeks, we'll be at the first anniversary of my uncle's death, an event that seemed to spark a series of  life changing events which turned the summmer of 2009 into what felt lika an ambush by life.  

After last summer,  I look at the calendar with some trepidation.  We meander along, minding our own business, until suddenly fate reins us in with a sharp, painful tug.   All those empty squares on the calendar when anything could happen.

But all the blossoms remind me that the "anything" need not be sadness - it could be something beautiful and new.  There is rebirth and regrowth every summer, on ever day of the calendar.

Pencil me in for that.

How about you?  What's blossoming  in your life and your garden right now?