Remember

I received my second copy of Momma Zen. I read my first copy a couple of months ago, 7 months to be exact, and I read it so quickly that I forgot most of the details. So I am rereading it. I will write about it as I read it so that it sticks better in my mind. Because Momma Zen speaks my mind. It is the truth, it is wisdom, it is my belief system- it is everyone's. Yet I forget. Over and over again, I forget what this book is trying to teach me.

I am a baroque flute player. A professional musician. I studied with the best baroque flutist in the world, the man who was responsible for the revival of this old instrument that was played from about 1700 until about 1900, but varied greatly in between. He is almost unsurpassed in his abilities, which is rare, usually each generation gets better than the next. But not him; he gets better and better himself. Because he is humble, and he learns from everything and everyone, including his students. I studied with him in Brussels for four years, which is considered a long time. I noticed something after two years of taking lessons at least once a week, and listening in on many more: there were only about three different lessons. The rest were repeats. He said the same thing over and over and over again. But it took me three years to get it, and then one year to perfect it, and then he let me go. From there I flew.

I take the same lessons from Momma Zen, and from Cheerio Road almost every day. It is the same thing over and over. I know it, but I don't do it. With my flute practice it was physical. It was about breathing. It was about letting go. And it was about listening and loving every single note I produced. First, I prepare my breath, drop the bottom of my diaphragm. Then I breathe in the first note. As I play I must relax my fingers and my body, and then I must prepare every note before it comes out, and find the center, the resonance of each note that I play. Because every note has its core, even in a fast passage, I must find it. All this is technical, it doesn't require talent, or interpretation, or "understanding" the music. It is not about having something to say. It is about giving the music its life.

Parenting, and living, is the same. I must remember to breathe, I must relax my body, and I must love life, this life, my life, and cherish each second. This doesn't impede on any artistic interpretation. Nor does it mute our own personality. It doesn't even always work, because sometimes we forget. But that is ok. We all have bad concert days, we are human.

But the key is remembering.

This is my New Year's resolution.

Validation

This is what I was thinking last night as I was nursing Anise back to sleep for the fourth time in a 2 hour period: not only am I a full time mom, but I do also have somewhat of a career going, and that if I were anybody else, pulling off concerts without practicing would be next to impossible, and I don't get any credit for it.

Credit? From whom? Suppose I did: what difference would it make to my every day life? Would I feel better about myself? Am I performing just to boost my ego? Partially. I have been touring around the city for this government-funded program that helps bring classical music to the suburbs. Some concerts have had an ok audience, others had 10 people who clapped between movements. That is ok, it is still nice to perform, all I need is to touch 1 person in the audience and my work is done. But Sunday we had a concert in the heart of the city. It was a small hall that only holds 150 people but it was full. Full of regular classical music goers, full of a hardcore audience that would rather listen to live music than be outside Sunday afternoon on a beautiful fall day. We played really well. As I played I was thinking about how much I really do enjoy performing, and that I was pleased that the enjoyment was coming back (since Anise was born I have been enjoying it much less). We all felt nervous, and we all agreed afterwards on how rewarding it is to play for an appreciative audience. But wait a minute, that is not how it should be. One should not judge an audience, and their knowledge of music does not affect their enjoyment nor should it affect how we play.

I think as a performer we seek a thrill and the higher the risk the greater the thrill. Maybe there is an addictive quality to the adrenaline, similar to other thrill seeking activities, and the more we feel threatened and judged, the more we feel exposed, and the greater the risk.

This brings me back to validation. I guess part of who I am as a performer needs validation, maybe that is why I chose to perform. But I don't believe that is a necessary component for performing. I think it is a negative by-product. Or maybe I can blame my parents. Maybe I wasn't "seen" enough as a child and now I am constantly struggling to be seen. Either way I can go around in circles inside my head.

The thought process ends with "what do I really want?". Do I want recognition? A pat on the back? Do I want to be famous, recognized on the streets? Recognition from my peers? I don't know. If I had planned this I would say that the career/home balance was perfect. But it is not. I can't articulate why. I feel like I have reached a dead end and I only have half the desire and energy I would need to continue to get it going. What I want is a break, time off from thinking or worrying about career. I want to focus solely on child raising. I am too tired, and not in the right mental place to take the ups and downs that come with my career. I do not have the strength to swim against the current, nor the strength to ride the disappointment and push through anyway. I don't have the energy to shrug off competition and rise above the politics, and I cannot play the game. I don't have space in my head for ideas and programs, or strategies. I only have space for poo consistencies, sleep, games and food!

Ok, gotta go print programs...