CailinSPEAK

Attended a rather satisfying performance of “Twelve Angry Men” this evening, and was touched deeply by the efforts of the young actors.

A few heated discussions later, I began to consider what seems to be a running theme for so many people in my life.

Difficulty, or adversity, takes various forms — some more intense than others. Often, one finds it easier or more convenient to buckle and give in to the mounting pressure, not daring to stand in opposition to the seemingly impossible odds.

However, every one of us has some hero or exemplary person we look to or hold up as a model of perseverance. We know this person’s story better than our own. We use their example for inspiration, for validation. We hope to find that same fount of strength, without taking the time to examine the process — the experiences — that yielded such courage.

Firstly, let me say that such courage does not come without the experience of a great deal of pain, of whatever form: failure, rejection, disappointment, heartache — some sort of loss. The self-knowledge that one gains from surviving the darker depths of the human condition is invaluable, as it not only gives one a full picture of their abilities to cope, but give past evidence that one can cope.

But most of these “heroes” don’t just cope, right? They seemed to not only survive, but flourish, out of the most dismal of situations.

Where does this will to fight come from? This belief that some great good will come from the current suffering?

Some point to a religious faith, but sometimes that can be incongruous if that faith seeks to either deny or transcend the natural or “living” world. This also seems a hollow explanation to a more humanistic mind. It begs the question: why seek to make life better when you hope to be released from it?

Morals change, views are attitudinal and situational. However, we all like other forms of life, lesser or greater, have a survival instinct. We all burn with the fire to preserve our lives, unless — for some reason — that spark has been seriously compromised.

Somehow, we all are tested to find that impetus to live, and to live and love abundantly. Sadly, as evidenced by the suicide rate in our time, many do not find sufficient cause to live on. I have known a few too many people who have chosen to give up.

I don’t claim any answers to such a boggling question. I do know that the process of finding what ignites us, drives us, fuels us to live on with both passion and compassion — that is the preeminent work we must do in a world that increasingly treats life and its necessities as commodities for sale, barter, or trade.

Find your spark, find your source whatever it may be, whatever you wish to call it. Faith, passion, love, justice… a cause or vocation. Whatever it is, find it. Once you do, know that you’re far from “done.” You will have to fight, and ardently so, to LIVE that.

At least you will know what you are fighting for, even if you don’t know to what end.

That spark is the seed in you that will bear fruit. Find it, nurture it, feed it, defend it, fight for it.

At long last, my voice is slowly returning to normal… as is my life, it seems.

Taught some very rewarding lessons, and cooked an enjoyable dinner.

Still sorting through all the tasks for the week, and finishing a few long-standing projects. Very excited to see how things develop by the end of the week.

Tons of work to do, and an orchestra/choir concert this weekend. My mind is a little too spent, but I can’t wait to be swept in some Vivaldi and Schubert.

Good night!

Arose around 6:15am this morning with no hope of going back to sleep. Laying out the household finances for the month, I enjoyed the stillness of the house, the quiet outside, the warmth of the sun streaming in the window. I had the most peaceful few hours that I’ve enjoyed in quite some time.

Though my body is still playing catch-up, I am finally starting to feel refreshed. We ran quite a number of errands in the early afternoon, though at a leisurely pace, and marveled at how much MORE crazy the masses were driving today than during yesterday’s freak snowstorm. 

During a relaxed dinner, both the husband and I began to worry about many things. I, of course, was obsessing about vocal fatigue and getting enough vocal rest, and he was worrying… about me.

The last month or so hasn’t been the easiest for us as a couple. We’ve had some very difficult challenges to face in terms of health, time management, and finances… and all of it heaped on at once. Murphy’s Law in full effect, and massive doses of stress to boot. We even at times had our trust in each other called into question.

However, we have weathered it, together, thus far. The current mess is FAR from over.

Days like today remind me just why we are together. Our errand-running became QUALITY TIME. Our mutual worrying at the dinner table caused us to recognize mutual appreciation. We —- and our Wii — had great fun almost falling over each other trying to do Michael Jackson choreography. Tristan was NOT amused.

Our relationship holds, as any healthy one does, not solely because we love each other. Hell, there are a few people I’ve loved that I’m NOT currently with, yes?

Life, and all that comes with it, tests your love, your trust, your motivation, your sense of duty. Life itself IS the great challenge, the great tester. We are powerless to change that fact, however cruel or brutal it seems.

We choose to act and treat each other, every day, in a way that befits the love we profess. We act with the display of love for each other as our focus. This is NOT foolproof, and it seriously backfires time and time again. It’s gut-wrenching, excruciating work, but this is IT. This is US. This is our experience of each other, with each other, one step, one day, one problem, one joy, one challenge at a time.

We are STILL “goin’ through it.” Make NO mistake about that… but I’m ready — determined — to hold on a little tighter for the bumps ahead.

Besides, he’s been doing the lion’s share of the driving around. :)

Happy 3rd Anniversary with all my love.

The last two days have, as usual, been full of activity… but each turn, each new task, focused on reconciliation and reconnection.

I spent most of Friday reconnecting with myself and a few of the people who are the closest to me, as well as helping my students find more direction and figure out what their inner motivations are.

Today, after reminding my orchestra of the standard they must meet — that of their highest selves — I spent the evening enjoying the company of long-time friends, and reconnecting with very alive parts of my past.

As much as many of us learn to let go of the past, the wonderful and positive experiences of our past, and the people we shared them with, can give us fuel to believe and invest in an even more fruitful future. I saw that in SO many faces and felt that in SO many hugs tonight.

Congratulations, Shana and Steve… and, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

As planned, I used today to take a step back from everything, and attempted to rest, enjoying the company of both husband and dog, as well as multiple helping of one of my hearty, slow-cooked fall/winter soups.

I did some well-needed vocal exercise earlier — Handel is great for that — and then committed myself fully to being a vegetable. Mind you, “vegging” is not easy for me.

A few Anthony Hopkins movies and a Bill Maher episode later, I found myself wishing that the day would extend so that I could gain the feeling of complete refreshment. Alas, wishful thinking is not reality, and my penchant for stretching the fabric of space and time has gone sour as of late.

I do feel prepared, though, to face another full day of teaching, and I’m looking forward to a great Vivaldi rehearsal in the evening.

I need to comb through my calendar to find “the rest of the rest” I require, and I could rant about that… but look at the time!

Time to power down. Until tomorrow, blog!

Well, another busy day in the Manson studio, and as the title of this post tells you, I spent it on the piano bench.

A great deal of good work and great music is going on around me, so I have to be pleased with that, right?

I am pleased, but I don’t HAVE to be.
I realized a number of years ago that perspective is crucial, but it is only part of the equation. One can see a problem clearly, but unless one chooses to act on that awareness — to be responsible for that knowledge — that “sight” becomes a fact to be collected. A book written but never read.

I have been fighting, the last few weeks, with keeping a steady pace: dealing with all my daily tasks in an orderly fashion, efficiently executing one after the other, prioritizing… you name it.

I haven’t necessarily given myself the time to weigh the emotional impact of all of it — at least not sufficient time.
I hope to use the next day, after morning errands, to step off the world completely.

Even if all I gain is an inventory of just how drained I am and how much MORE rest I need to get, that would equal multiple steps in the right direction. Perhaps, I’ll figure out a way to act on it.

Promises, promises…

It seems that I have forgotten that I had a blog. However, the time for journal writing has sprung anew, though in the brisk rush of Autumn.

Life has been its ubiquitous mix of stress, trouble, joy, fulfillment, heartbreak, and triumph… and with all the turmoil in the world, Occupy Everywhere, etc., spending the time to hash out one’s own miniscule problems or musings can seem trivial.

But it is time for the physician to use some of his own medicine. Throughout the year, I have advised others to take full stock of what is vexing them and work with it — hopefully to gain the ability to work past it.

The clamor of the outside world’s troubles, and the magnitude of those issues, may allow you to gain perspective on your own to a degree, but never let them cause you to deny the truth and mental-emotional impact of what is rocking your personal world.

So, here I am, crawling back to the blog.

I’m not asking for forgiveness, though I know I need a ton of that. I’m not looking for any answers, though I have a myriad questions.

I’m looking for insight. Just that. IN-SIGHT. SIGHT-IN. I need to look into myself and yet again take stock of what’s there. What’s grown, died, been found, been lost, destroyed, created, challenged, accepted, loved, hated, neglected, nurtured. What have I gained, and what have I given up?

Value added and value lost. I search to take stock of that, and in doing so, perhaps I will be ever more fully myself. Take it or leave it.

“Extremely good, but tough.” My reputation is preceding me, even into my own process.

Here I stand, at the end of yet another music-filled season, trying to take stock of what has passed and what is to come.

Truth be told, I’m not standing at all. I’m lying here being watched by the movie “Tootsie,” with my companion in the reckoning being a stiff 151 and Coke.

Throughout my life, at least my artistic and professional life, I have always taken the reins. I knew, early on, that if I was going to make something of the talent I had been given, the results relied ultimately on my own effort and force of will. Granted, in the arts, willpower to do it is NOT enough to make it happen. Many great artists have said that LOVE and DEVOTION for the art, for that which is greater than oneself, is a must in order to make, or even survive, a life lived FOR art. I would agree, but I know, from experience, that sheer force of will is a necessity.

Despite my devotion, there are many days when the last thing I wish to do is sing, conduct, or teach. It’s effortful, draining, and very taxing. The feeling resembles a pitcher constantly pouring itself out. The equation works out if there is some vessel being filled by this “pouring out,’ and if my pitcher gets filled again.

Usually, there’s another project replenishing the reserves, or the satisfaction of work well done. However, at the end of the season, there is no such recourse. I’m in a sort of dimensional limbo between seasons, ending one while planning the other… which, in turn, adds to more of that feeling of being “poured out.”

Anyway, the pouring isn’t the problematic part of the equation. Sometimes, the receiving vessels are troubling.

I have learned from my own trials, and the trials of some colleagues, to effectively and efficiently close up shop when no one’s buying — to move on to the next prospect, the next town, the next horizon and find more willing receptacles there. If there are none, I know what I hold has enough intrinsic value to be maintained and cultivated.

But as an artist — and a performing artist in particular — it must be SHARED. Many have SHARED their treasures with me, and I, in turn, must share those treasures and my own with others. However, I was grateful to them. I was loyal. I always credit my champions, supporters, and mentors with showing me how to become more fully myself; I was shown how to search for my own truth, not to settle for what was easy nor be defined by what others thought was best or acceptable. I have done my best to pay the blessings forward, and I will continue to.

What is disheartening, nay sickening, is that of all the artists I’ve mentored through the years, there are only TWO I can count who exhibit this rare quality. I did not need to nurture this quality in them — it was already there. This saddens me beyond belief, and leaves me feeling just a bit more “glass half-empty” than “glass half-full.”

Speaking of which, my actual glass is empty, so time for another! Be well!