It's a hot summer evening in Baltimore. Apparently, no one told the weather that tomorrow is September and it's time to cool off. However, the harvest moon that now rises before my eyes heralds the coming of autumn.
It's the dawn of a new season. The energy is back at Peabody. New and returning students swarmed the campus this week, bringing an end to months of a quiet campus. They bring with them excitement, anticipation. and perhaps some fear and anxiety as well. What will this year hold?
Things are starting to take shape for me as I look at the year ahead. I know I'll be playing for some of the rehearsals of Don Giovanni, as I had hoped as I began learning it this summer. I'm excited for the opportunity and the challenge. I will also be running the first few rehearsals of Ariel's Tempest, which Nadja and I pioneered last year. Two other gals in our studio will be music-directing it this year, but I will help to start them off with a better foundation than we had!
My classes will most definitely not be as challenging as those of last fall. The bulk of my work this semester will be practicing, which has its pros and cons. Sometimes it's nice to have "real" homework which can actually be completed....with practicing, there is ALWAYS more to do.
And as I write, my new roommate, Rebecca, is putting her bed together in our bedroom. It will be both a joy and a challenge to live together, I'm sure, in such close quarters. I am both sad to say goodbye to this season of solitude, and also thankful to welcome in companionship. With the dawning of something new, comes the loss of something else, perhaps even something cherished. But the moon is no different. Would its gleam be nearly as beautiful if it wasn't contrasted against the black of the night sky? If we hadn't let go of the brightness of day?
The harvest moon bears silent witness to the coming of a new season. In weather. In schedules. In relationships. And yet the moon also bears witness to the constants of life. The same moon has been rising and setting - waxing and waning - all summer long.
Sometimes, as the seasons change, I find myself caught up in the excitement - the preparation, the anticipation, the butterflies, the hope of what's to come. And sometimes, I just need to rest in the constancy of the things that haven't changed.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Sunday, August 19, 2012
The Big Apple
This week I ventured up north for my very first visit to NYC. Alison, my recital partner, has just moved there, so I had a place to stay, as well as a friend to take me around the city.
I marveled as I thought of the millions of immigrants that sailed through this harbor. 100 years ago, this statue would have been the tallest structure around; I can't imagine the beacon of hope this must have been for the immigrants, seeing it for the first time, after days, weeks, months on a ship.
It was so wonderful to be out on the water, and take a whiff of the saltwater. (Although Baltimore has a harbor, the water doesn't smell the greatest...). Being on the ferry reminded me of the hundreds of thousands of trips I took to my grandparents' home on Bainbridge Island. Needless to say, I felt right at home!
We got back on the ferry and headed over to Ellis Island. It was incredibly moving to be there, knowing that I have relatives on both sides who walked through this hall. I was really thankful for the opportunity to be there and retrace their steps.
One of the highlights of my trip was getting to see James and Jillian (my sister-in-law's sister...although, I just usually call her my sister!) - and be the first to congratulate them on their engagement. James had surprised Jillian with tickets to "The Lion King" on Broadway - so she called me on Monday to tell me that she would be in NYC. And it happened to coincide with my trip there! James proposed the night before I got into the city, so I was so excited to be the FIRST to see the hardware, as opposed to the LAST when I'm home at Christmas time.
It rained a little...OK, a lot....so we didn't get to do much, but we enjoyed drinking coffee, and then trouncing through the puddles a bit.
The next day, Alison and I wandered past Lincoln Center and saw the Metropolitan Opera building as well as the buildings which house Julliard.
We sat for a few hours, watching the games, and then wandered past fountains and lakes...and there were times that I totally forgot I was in the middle of the city.
And, it was wonderful to spend time with this dear friend. I will miss her, now that she is graduated and making a go of it in NYC, but it was great to have this "last hurrah" together before I start school in a couple of weeks.
I won't lie; it wasn't easy to come back to Baltimore. There was an energy about NYC that Baltimore just doesn't have. I felt safe there, at all hours of the day - which I don't feel in Baltimore, sometimes, even in the middle of the day. And overall, I sensed a spirit of community in the people of New York - they are proud to call that city home, no matter where they hail from. In fact, I don't think I ever walked two blocks without hearing another language being spoken. It was incredible. Baltimore doesn't share the same kind of multi-cultural community, and its residents certainly don't boast the same kind of pride or care for their city.
So I'm glad for the experience...glad I finally got to experience "the city." I can't wait to go back...I'd love to go see a show on Broadway or at the Met. I'd love to explore the multitude of museums and historical sites. Or maybe I'll just go for the weekend and spend three days getting lost in the park....
Friday, August 10, 2012
communitas
I just returned from a long walk. I had planned on venturing out to Fort McHenry (about 4 miles from my apartment), which may indeed be my favorite spot in Baltimore. However, when I was about a quarter-mile from my destination, I happened upon a thunderstorm...or rather, it happened on me. As a result, I returned a bit sooner, and a great deal wetter than originally planned....
As I walked, I continued to ponder some thoughts that have been percolating in my mind for a few months. It's been a year since I moved to Baltimore, and in that time, I have experienced, firsthand, what it means to build community from nothing. It's not really something I've had to do before. When I think back on the transitions I've lived through, I've never really done them alone. I was with my family, or in some cases, other friends had gone ahead of me. Some of the groundwork had already been laid.
So this was uncharted territory for me. And while I've made wonderful friends in the last year, and know that I'm not alone here, I also find myself longing for something more.
It's no mystery to me why I have such a longing. I left behind wonderful communities in the Seattle-area and in Spokane - well, actually a plethora of mini-communities. Colleagues at work. Small group. Church. Students. Family. Friends. I was blessed to be surrounded by people shared my heart to live in intentional community - to purpose together to live life together. And, while I have seen people who hold fiercely to their independence and self-sufficiency, I hold fast to my belief that we are meant to live in community.
So then the question comes: how is community formed? Not even just, how will I find community here in Baltimore? But more than that, where do others find it?
I began to keep my eyes peeled for the answer to my question. And I found community popping up in the most unexpected places.
As I walked downtown last week, I passed a couple of employees taking a smoke break. I smiled to myself as I realized that I had happened upon two people living life together. I found myself wondering how long they have been sharing that time together. Months? Years? I wonder how much life they have processed together, as they share conversation in those few minutes several times a day. Community.
I marveled today as I rode the bus with a bunch of wet passengers. There was energy and excitement and joy in our shared, common experience. Normally, we play the game of as-little-eye-contact-as-possible and maintain our solitude, even as another person is standing 4 inches from us. But not today. Today we abandon our independence and laugh together at our failed attempts to avoid Mother Nature's fury. Today we are one and the same: businessmen, teenagers, mothers of three, tourists. United in laughter as the water drips from our eyelashes. Community.
I walk past the local laundromat several times a day, as I go to and from school. Billy, the owner, is usually sitting in his chair outside. He waves "hello" to me, pausing mid-conversation with one of his regulars. How many stories have they exchanged, as they've waited for that final sock to dry? Here, again, I find people living life together. Community.
Being the nerd that I am, I was curious to know the origin of this word that we throw around in the Christian world, as well as the secular. As expected, the first part of the word comes from the Latin, cum, which means "with/together." But I wasn't prepared for what I read next. The second half of the word is derived from the Latin, munus - "gift."
Somehow, there is ingrained in us, the knowledge that we cannot do it alone. We need each other. Life is meant to be lived together. And that togetherness is a gift. Sometimes it happens in a home around the dinner table. Sometimes it happens in the alley with a cigarette. Sometimes it happens in story-telling and laughter. Sometimes it happens in silence. But whenever it happens - whenever we stumble upon it, wherever we work to create it - life lived together is a gift.
As I walked, I continued to ponder some thoughts that have been percolating in my mind for a few months. It's been a year since I moved to Baltimore, and in that time, I have experienced, firsthand, what it means to build community from nothing. It's not really something I've had to do before. When I think back on the transitions I've lived through, I've never really done them alone. I was with my family, or in some cases, other friends had gone ahead of me. Some of the groundwork had already been laid.
So this was uncharted territory for me. And while I've made wonderful friends in the last year, and know that I'm not alone here, I also find myself longing for something more.
It's no mystery to me why I have such a longing. I left behind wonderful communities in the Seattle-area and in Spokane - well, actually a plethora of mini-communities. Colleagues at work. Small group. Church. Students. Family. Friends. I was blessed to be surrounded by people shared my heart to live in intentional community - to purpose together to live life together. And, while I have seen people who hold fiercely to their independence and self-sufficiency, I hold fast to my belief that we are meant to live in community.
So then the question comes: how is community formed? Not even just, how will I find community here in Baltimore? But more than that, where do others find it?
I began to keep my eyes peeled for the answer to my question. And I found community popping up in the most unexpected places.
As I walked downtown last week, I passed a couple of employees taking a smoke break. I smiled to myself as I realized that I had happened upon two people living life together. I found myself wondering how long they have been sharing that time together. Months? Years? I wonder how much life they have processed together, as they share conversation in those few minutes several times a day. Community.
I marveled today as I rode the bus with a bunch of wet passengers. There was energy and excitement and joy in our shared, common experience. Normally, we play the game of as-little-eye-contact-as-possible and maintain our solitude, even as another person is standing 4 inches from us. But not today. Today we abandon our independence and laugh together at our failed attempts to avoid Mother Nature's fury. Today we are one and the same: businessmen, teenagers, mothers of three, tourists. United in laughter as the water drips from our eyelashes. Community.
I walk past the local laundromat several times a day, as I go to and from school. Billy, the owner, is usually sitting in his chair outside. He waves "hello" to me, pausing mid-conversation with one of his regulars. How many stories have they exchanged, as they've waited for that final sock to dry? Here, again, I find people living life together. Community.
Being the nerd that I am, I was curious to know the origin of this word that we throw around in the Christian world, as well as the secular. As expected, the first part of the word comes from the Latin, cum, which means "with/together." But I wasn't prepared for what I read next. The second half of the word is derived from the Latin, munus - "gift."
Somehow, there is ingrained in us, the knowledge that we cannot do it alone. We need each other. Life is meant to be lived together. And that togetherness is a gift. Sometimes it happens in a home around the dinner table. Sometimes it happens in the alley with a cigarette. Sometimes it happens in story-telling and laughter. Sometimes it happens in silence. But whenever it happens - whenever we stumble upon it, wherever we work to create it - life lived together is a gift.
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