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.
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