still i rise

that moment when I forego the spoon and just dig my hands in.

There is something so therapeutic to me about making cinnamon rolls. Something all at once grounding and freeing about digging into that dough. I don't remember when I first started doing it...I was probably in jr. high. I used to make them for my team when we led worship on Sunday mornings and had to be there at O-Dark-Thirty.

I must confess that I have often been guilty of impatience...it always seems to take longer than I thought it would. Somehow, halfway through the first-rise when it feels like it has been 6 hours already, I suddenly have that sinking feeling.......they have to rise again...

that moment when I turn the bowl on its end and watch its contents spill onto my counter.

I started the process about 7:45 this morning, and the dough was prepped for its first rise by 8:30. The recipe calls for 1.5 hours of rising time. But I know the dough is always better the longer you leave it. And I'm in no rush.....on this, the Sabbath day.

that moment when the flour cloud rises up as I work it into the dough.

There is something about this process that slows me down. There is nothing I can do to speed it up. There is nothing to do but wait. And my soul slows, stills in the waiting.

that moment when I know it's enough, when the elasticity is just right.

I spend the first two hours on a cross-continental phone call. And even with the delay, even with her one-year-old clamoring for attention, we connect, share our souls. The first rise comes to a close, and I am already feeling full. I spend the next two rising-hours reading, journalling, curled up on my couch with my coffee.

that moment when I know I didn't kill the yeast...not this time...

It has risen.

I have risen.

The weekdays are heavy. The work is piled on my sagging shoulders, and the tension in my back pulls my gaze downward. I look at myself, I see how much I lack, I feel the knot in my stomach growing weightier by the second.

But the Sabbath, the Sabbath is for rising.

Rising does not always come naturally to me. Muscle memory is a powerful thing. But in the stillness, in the patient-waiting, the rising kneads itself into the knots in my shoulders. As I fret about whether the water was too hot or not hot enough, I suddenly look down to find the dough, doubled in size.

It is risen.

I have been reading through John, in this Lenten season. And today, of all days, I ventured into chapter 11. But it isn't until now, as I write, that I recognize the significance of it.

I am the Resurrection and the Life.

The One that called Lazarus from the tomb. The One that raised him from the dead. The One that could not be conquered by the grave. The One that lives, forever risen.

He is risen, indeed.

when faces called flowers float out of the ground

I am happy to report that spring has officially arrived in Baltimore...although I am not convinced that we ever had winter. We've had at least 2 straight weeks of 70+ degree weather....and we're not complaining! I have dug my flip-flops and tank tops out of my closet...and am enjoying not having to keep cycling through all my winter sweaters. We are just hoping that the lack of winter and spring's early arrival does not mean a swelteringly hot summer!!

It is wonderful to see the trees in bloom. Here is a photo of George Washington, perched atop the monument (I walk past him every morning on my way to school).

Peabody is on break this week, so I have enjoyed time with friends outside in the sunshine (when I am not practicing of course!). Here is a photo of Suzanne and I on a walk. I am looking forward to having her move in with me this summer. We will be squeezing into my one-bedroom apartment next year. It will be cozy - but I think we'll have fun. I have enjoyed having my own space and alone time, but I am ready for a new season as well.
I had some friends over for dinner this week (L to R: Alison, Suzanne, Elizabeth)...well, really, they brought dinner with them - all I provided was dessert. And we watched "Sleepless in Seattle." For those of you movie trivia buffs, one of the scenes was filmed just outside Peabody (it actually shows the Washington Monument) and one was filmed inside Peabody. It's strange to see all the familiar Seattle places juxtaposed with these places I now know in Baltimore!
Today my friend Katie and I headed out to a state park on the Chesapeake Bay. It was wonderful to get out of the city and be in the sunshine. We had originally planned on going hiking - and it wasn't so much a "hike" as it was a nature walk, but it was still wonderful to be outside and breathe in the freshly seasalted air.


When I got back from the Bay, Alison and I did a complete run-through of our recital. We will be performing it on Monday for the Elderhostel program at Peabody. They have groups of senior citizens here nearly every week, listening to lectures and attending recitals. So it will be a joy to share our music with such a receptive audience...not to mention the fact that it will be great for us to have a dry run of our program!!

Recital Details

I realized that I haven't written much about my recital, so here are some details, for those of you that would like to know more:

This is my first of two degree recitals I am required to give as a part of my program (yes, we are the only masters program that requires 2 recitals). It will be held on Saturday, April 7 at 2pm in Griswold Hall (the most coveted of Peabody's 4 concert halls, especially for vocalists - the acoustics are wonderful!). It is a GORGEOUS room - as you can see. The windows overlook the Washington monument. Hopefully, we won't have to have the curtains completely drawn (they often have to be, due to the acoustical challenges of balancing the piano with the voice).

Since I am an accompanying major, I can choose one of two options for giving my recital:

I can either give my own recital...meaning I choose the repertoire and find people to sing it...so I might end up with 4 or 5 different singers, who are basically doing me a favor by singing on my recital. The other option is to do a joint recital - meaning I only do it with one other singer - and it counts as a degree recital for both of us.

Originally, I had planned on the first option - but as I've discussed before, I made the switch to the second option in January. So now, this recital will count for my degree as well as Alison's. She'll be singing the whole time, and I'll be playing the whole time.

For those of you who are interested, here's a list of the repertoire we're doing:

Motet - "O Qui Coeli" - Antonio Vivaldi

Claude Debussy (three early songs):

- "Romance"

- "La Romance d'Ariel"

- "Regret"

Richard Strauss: "Madchenblumen, op. 22"

3 Brazilian songs:

- "Lundu da Marqueza de Santos" - Heitor Villa-Lobos

- "Melodia Sentimental" - Heitor Villa-Lobos

- "Engenho Novo" - Francisco Emani Braga

Phillip Rhodes: 5 Songs on Children's Poems

e·piph·a·ny

noun, plural -nies.

1.

an appearance or manifestation, especially of a deity.

2.

a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

6:50 AM. I walk past the bus stop, as I do every day at this time, on my way to begin my morning practice. Most days, I see a little old man there. He is usually wearing his flannel jacket, which hangs loosely on his tiny frame. His eyes have a look of hollowness, of lost-ness about them. And I often wonder what they have seen, what thoughts are buried in the recesses of his mind....what his story is. I don't know where he comes from or where he is going so early in the morning - but as I walk past, I smile and sometimes offer a simple, "Good morning" - though, my efforts are usually met with a blank stare.

But things can change in a moment.

Yesterday I left my apartment a few minutes early. As I paused to lock my door, I heard another door close and the elevator beginning its ascent up the 8 floors. I hurried down the hallway, hoping to catch it, and as I rounded the corner, I nearly stopped short.

There he was, getting ready to enter the elevator.

epiphany.

He lives in my building.

He lives on my floor.

How did I miss that in my 6 months in Baltimore?

But then, this morning, it happened. He spoke. A good morning. A comment about the weather. It was nothing major. But it was a step. Movement. Who knows where it will lead? Maybe nowhere. Maybe somewhere.

10:20 AM. It's Tuesday, which means at any moment, my friend Eric will waltz in the door to my "office" - wondering what delightful music I'm practicing today. I will have been in my office for 3 hours, and I will be ready for a little break. Sometimes he shows me music that he's been working on, sometimes he sightreads along with whatever I'm doing. Sometimes we just chat about life and missing the West Coast (he's from Portland).

I am in the middle of Strauss when the door bursts open. Here he is, right on time.

I've been at it for a good 30 minutes...the same piece...which we labored over in my lesson yesterday. It's just not coming. My sound is not good. I'm tensing up. And the frustration is not helping me to stay relaxed. My teacher thinks I move too much when I play...which is absolutely true. But if I think about remaining still, I tense up as well. It's a vicious cycle. One I've been stuck in since September.

I know the end result. I know the sound that I want to produce.

I know some of the things that will get me there. Good posture. Less movement. Relaxation.

But I don't know the first step.

Eric watches me for awhile. He points out the tension in my neck. The tension starts there, not in my arms.

"Try exhaling as you play that."

It takes a few tries, as I attempt to coordinate my breaths with my gestures.

epiphany.

My sound is different. I hear it immediately. My fingers are freer. It's almost an out-of-body experience. I'm not working so hard. It's easier.

this is right.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry or scream or dance.....whether to quit for the day and ride the high...or keep playing so I don't forget the sensation.

7:00 PM. I am rehearsing recital music with Alison. I apply my new-found technique to a different song, and I am amazed to find that creating sound feels effortless and free. I still have to fight to not return to the old way of doing things. This new way is right - but it is not habit yet. It will be a long time before it becomes that.

But Alison is encouraging.

"Live in the moment. Do it right this time. If you keep doing it right this time, you will be doing it right every time."

epiphany.

I love the dual-definition of this word. We use it to describe sudden insights - break-throughs, if you will. And yet, there is another layer to its meaning. It is a glimpse, an appearance, a manifestation of a deity. A flicker of divine comprehension. A glitter of the extraordinary, among the dust of the ordinary. A sunbeam of understanding piercing through the clouds of confusion and frustration.

And isn't this what we live for? The knowledge that there is more to life than the material world. The belief that the very moments of our lives are sacred gifts. The hope that we can stay still enough, attuned enough, eyes-wide-open enough to not miss the mini-manifestations, the every day incarnations of Christ.

pieces of home

It's been a full few weeks.

The weekend before Audition Week, I was privileged to be able to go to the women's retreat at the church I've been attending. The retreat was held in Gettysburg, PA - so it was a gift to get out of the big city for a few days. I enjoyed connecting with some of the women from the church - and made a new friend who lives a few blocks from me, and is also new to the city. The speaker at the retreat was Ann Voskamp, author of "One Thousand Gifts" (quickly becoming one of the favorites on my bookshelf). It was a joy to hear her speak and to get to meet her!

I came back to Baltimore, intent on getting ahead on homework and practicing....which didn't QUITE happen as I had planned...but I still got a decent amount done.

The week concluded with visits from two dear friends from Spokane. Stephanie, a member of my small group from Spokane, was in town and came by for lunch. It was wonderful to see her and have a piece of my Spokane family here in Baltimore.

Time with Amy was also a precious gift. We explored Baltimore on foot...walking roughly 16 miles in 2 days (and braving 40 mph winds!)....cooked together, drank wine, and just enjoyed being present with each other. She got to see my world and meet "my people" here. I was refreshed and filled by the gift of time with my soul sister.

I'm looking forward to another "break" (no classes = more time to practice) in a few weeks when spring break arrives!!