I'm a voice teacher who also loves to read and write. I have a huge personal library, but have cut back on the buying and I'm borrowing more from the library. As the books in my library will show, I have far too many interests. If I could go to school forever (and for free) I would be a marine biologist, an epidemiologist, an actress, a theologian, a linguist, and a historian. I'd also learn to speak fluent French, German, Russian, Swedish, Hebrew, Latin, Greek, and maybe some Czech. In my spare time, I'd play the French horn and the cello.
"How Firm a Foundation" is one of my favorite hymns. For years, it has given me comfort and encouragement, reminding me that I have someone in my corner. Many of the verses are clearly from God's perspective.
Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed,
For I am thy God and will still give thee aid.
Recently I've been thinking about how we are God's hands here on earth. We are the ones that do his work. When each of the "I" statements becomes about me personally, rather than just God watching out for me, it reminds me of my responsibility to reach out to others, to be the aid that they need.
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand
And it isn't just about about helping others. It's about standing with them, mourning with them, bearing their burdens.
For I will be with thee,
It's about holding them near, caring for them, lifting them up.
Like lambs shall they still in my bosom be borne.
The final stanza is a beautiful promise that God will never forsake us. It's also a reminder of the kind of person I want to be--the person that never turns away one in need.
The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose, I will not, I cannot, desert to his foes; That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, I'll never, no never, I'll never, no never, I'll never, no never, no never forsake.
It's time for my Top 11 Christmas Songs list. (It was just going to be 10 and then I found something else.) I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, because that's how I work, but today, these are the songs that I love and that speak to my heart.
There are certain sounds that just make Christmas real.
I'm old enough that Bing Crosby, Andy Williams, and Perry Como are still the voices of Christmas to me. Some of the most beautiful Christmas music is choral music.
If I was stranded on a desert island and I could only have one Christmas recording it would be Chanticleer's Sing We Christmas.
It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
Silver Bells
This song has some special memories because my mom and I used to sing it together.
White Christmas
Christmas just isn't Christmas without Bing Crosby singing White Christmas.
And if you are a music nerd and haven't seen this yet, it is a must watch video.
Christmas Like a Lullaby
This song is actually fairly new to me, but I love it. We listened to a lot of John Denver when I was growing up, especially on car trips, so he is an old friend, one I listen to frequently.
Thankful
This song is not necessarily a Christmas song, but Josh Groban recorded it on his Noel album. I was just introduced to it this year when a student brought it in to sing at her voice lesson. The words spoke to me, especially considering all that has occurred in the last few months. "It's up to us to be the change."
Breath of Heaven
Amy Grant's beautiful song lets us feel Mary's doubts, fears, and faith as she ponders her destiny as the mother of Jesus.
Christmas Lullaby
This beautiful song is from Jason Robert Brown's Songs for a New World. It takes us one step beyond feeling what Mary felt, like we hear in "Breath of Heaven", to becoming like Mary. You can read the text here.
In the Bleak Midwinter
This beautiful poem by Christina Rossetti has been set by numerous composers. The tune that most will recognize is the Gustav Holst setting as performed here by the Choir of King's College, Cambridge. You can read the full text here.
Here's is the Chanticleer recording.
O Come, O Come Emmanuel
I first fell in love with this song when I found Patrick M. Liebergen's arrangement for solo voice and an obligato instrument. You can buy the book here, or sheet music here. We often sing only a verse or two of this, but those verses we sing are from a much longer poem found here. The melody itself is haunting, but this setting is particularly beautiful. I didn't think I could possibly find another that I loved as much, and then I heard this recording by the Piano Guys.
Silent Night
Written original for solo voice and guitar, arrangements have appeared for possibly every instrument and ensemble. Go here to read the verses that we don't often hear. Here are a couple, one in the original German, and one arranged for orchestra, choir, and congregation.
What are your favorite Christmas songs and recordings? Please share.
I'm in the process of planning the music for church for the next few months. As I flipped through the hymnbook, I found 3 songs that I absolutely love that we don't sing very often. One of the reasons we don't sing them often (even when I'm choosing the hymns) is that people comment that they are depressing or that they are funeral songs. While appropriate as funeral hymns, that's not what they are. They are hymns of hope and light, hymns of encouragement, hymns of peace.
"Lead, Kindly Light" is one of my favorite texts and melodies. This arrangement by Mack Wilberg lets us hear the Light (yes, with a capital letter) that is in this song. You can read the full text here.
Eliza R. Snow's beautiful poem "Though Deepening Trials" does speak of trials, ills, and tribulations, but it also proclaims, "press on, press on"and "lift up your hearts" and "ye shall have peace". Seven verses are printed in the LDS hymnbook.
"Each Life that Touches Ours for Good" is a lovely hymn that is very appropriate when dealing with the loss of someone you love. I think that message is bigger than one of comfort. I think it is a reminder of how God works through his people. The song is also a challenge to be one of those people that touches other lives. It doesn't have to be big. I can be as simple as a smile.
I have a gift. It really is a gift even though for most of my life, it has caused me a lot of pain. I've decided that instead of letting it keep hurting me, I need to embrace it and use it for good.
The news and Facebook and Twitter tell me that there aren't many people like me left in the world. I'm really hoping that is not true. Because what the world really needs now is more people like me, or maybe just for those of us that have suffered with this gift to step up and reach out.
I have the unique gift to be able to see and understand both sides of any argument. Seriously. Test me. Maybe it should have been obvious when in Jr. High I chose to do a paper on Hitler. I am in no way condoning any of the atrocities he committed, and genocide is about as far as you can get from my philosophy of love and compassion for all. But...I also saw a man that had been deeply hurt. Does it excuse his actions? Absolutely not. However, I did feel his pain. I felt the pain of a nation that had been beaten. I saw how easy it would have been to follow this leader, one who actually did a few good things and was determined to make his country a world power again after the loss of World War I had crushed them.
My gift has caused a lot of pain and anxiety in my life. Election season alone nearly did me in. In the past two weeks, two other events have shaken my Facebook world. I'm purposely being vague here, because I don't want people searching for these topics and finding my blog and leaving nasty comments. (I'll probably get enough of those from my paragraph on Hitler.)
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, a church launched a new website about a certain minority group. I felt that it was a step in the right direction. A small step, but a very good thing. But some of my friends didn't see it that way. And I get it. They were very hurt by the policies and cultural practices of the church during the 70's, 80's, and 90's. They see it as too little too late.
Then, some lovely women I know created an event to open a dialogue about issues that concern them. Whether or not this is the right way to start the dialogue, they put themselves out there, embraced the vulnerability that is necessary for true connection...and were viciously attacked. Although some good conversations have grown out of it, there has also been a lot of hatred--name calling, threats of violence, even one documented death threat. I just don't get this. It is so completely foreign to me that I don't know how to deal with it. This was my FB status a couple of days ago, and it was the only way I knew to address all my feelings of frustration from the last several months.
I'm grateful that I have friends that are so passionate about what they think and believe. I just sometimes wish that some of them could take a little more time to discuss the issues and try to understand the other side rather than just condemning them or resorting to name calling and threats of violence. The fact that you have not experienced something does not mean that no one has ever had to deal with it. The fact that you haven't felt it doesn't mean that no one else feels that way. Empathy and love, people. That's all I'm asking.
Today, I have a new plan, well at least the beginning of a new plan. People are yelling so loudly that they are not listening. People are so afraid of being hurt or losing something that is important to them that they can't see or feel what the other side sees and feels. I refuse to continue to sit quietly watching people I care about destroy each other. It's time to be a bridge. It's time to be a peacemaker. It's time to listen. It's time to help others see what I have seen.
I love this post from Shannon Hale. You should also check out the other post she references.
Finally, watch this video. Then really think about it.
Tuesday I wrote about darkness. Today, I'll write about why cold gets a bad rap. And it's not just the temperature. As a culture, we've chosen to call a respiratory infection a cold. When a disease gets named after you, you are either brilliant or hated, or maybe a little of both.
When I reference my favorite book on the planet, I see almost an entire column dedicated to synonyms of the word cold. And four of the other lines in that column are for cold-blooded (which continues on the next page.) We seriously have a lot of words to use when we talk about cold. How many of them do not automatically have a negative connotation? Not many for me. Most speak of misery, death, anti-social tendencies, and boredom. But does cold have to be bad?
Cold preserves. Think about what refrigeration does. It allows us to keep foods for longer than would be safe if we left them out at room temperature. Cold slows the growth of organisms that can be harmful to us.
Cold reduces inflammation, soothing injuries.
OK, I'm out of good things about cold. And I need to buy more sweaters. Is it summer yet?
It's my birthday, but other than lunch with my co-workers, I'm not really doing anything special. It's the story of my life. My birthday is often on a day when I have several other things to do. During the 40,000 years I spent in college (undergrad and grad school), it always seemed to fall during finals week. Today I taught 13 voice lessons, took care of some business stuff, and I'm going to the musical that my high school students are in. I was supposed to go Sunday, but that performance was cancelled due to snow. So here I am. 14ish hours at school on my birthday isn't so bad. On the plus side, I did take a tai chi break today and practiced the form for the class I'm subbing for on Saturday. Yes, it's work, but it is a different kind of work and helps me focus and relax, so it was wonderful.
Tomorrow is a light day (all I have to do is get the car fixed, write a convention session proposal, pay my taxes, teach one lesson, clean my house, and get a massage), so maybe I can fit in some fun birthday celebration then.
This definitely counts as a "not quite what you'd expect" moment.
Last night I forgot to take my CD player to tai chi class. Not a big deal. I had my computer with me and I had a Deuter album on iTunes that I really like to listen to while doing tai chi. You can listen to samples from each of the tracks with the link to amazon, or you can get an idea of what the whole thing is like from this.
So, I got to class, turned on the computer, started the music, and then greeted the students as they arrived. Class went very well, and we were just getting ready for one final run through of the form, when suddenly the Deuter was over, replaced by another German.
I've been sharing tai chi principles and even some of the forms with my voice students. It's actually been quite helpful. I just never expected to share Dietrich Fischer-Diskau with my tai chi students.
What is it about the human mind that makes us think that if opposites exist, then one must be good and one must be bad? What makes us think that opposites are really all that opposite?
As part of my "learn to love December and winter" plan, I've been thinking about darkness. Why do I assume darkness is bad? Darkness can be good. Darkness can focus our attention on where the light is. Why do you think they dim the house lights in a theatre or concert hall?
Darkness can make us pay more attention to our other senses. In the dark, you rely much more on touch or sound than you might if you had the sense of sight available. Does darkness scare us because it can hide the unknown? It shouldn't. It only hides from us what we would normally see. There are other ways of knowing.
The darkness of winter brings a time of rest, a time of introspection. I recently read that darkness is not the absence of light, but the absorption of it, meaning that the darkness gives me a chance to explore that light deep inside of myself. I can nurture that light until it is once again ready to reveal itself.
I still rejoice in a day of sunshine, but I'm learning to see the beauty, value, and inspiration of the darkness.
Today we had the first major snow storm of the season. In the morning, I thought it was lovely. As we got closer to noon, I started worrying about getting to the school for the 2PM performance. I like snow, just not on the roads, in my driveway, and on the places I need to walk. As I thought about snow and winter, and my goal to find something good about it daily, I found this article that compares snow to knowledge from God. Do I get picky too picky about when and where I want to receive my knowledge? Do I only want it at times and places that are convenient for me, or am I open to that gift whenever it shows up?
I hate December. To be fair, some years are better than others, but so far, this is not one of them. Winter is not my season. It's cold. It's dark. It's slippery. I drink gallons of water, but my skin still dries out. I use super-duper-heavy-duty-can't-get-any-stronger cream, but my heels and finger tips crack. I put on lip balm and lotion at least once an hour. I become the queen of static. I fry the display on the thermostat when I forget and touch it before I touch some metal to get rid of the shock.
There are too many things to do in December. Parties. Shows. Recitals. Concerts. College recommendation letters. College audition recordings. Shopping for Christmas presents. Planning for January events. Basically, I just want to crawl in bed between my flannel sheets and under my four heavy blankets, and just stay there until Spring.
I've decided that I don't want to hate December or winter anymore, so every day, I am going to find something to like, or something that brings me a little inspiration or peace. Plus, I'm going to post about it. My updates may show up here, or on Facebook, or on one of my other blogs, but I'm committing to changing my attitude, at least for a few minutes a day. I can do this.
Today, I shared the FB post of an author I adore, Anne Lamott.
I've been thinking a lot about vulnerability lately.
I teach about vulnerability in voice lessons. Singing is about taking chances. Kids have issues with performing sometimes because singing is so intimate. I'm not saying that playing for a piano or flute recital won't scare you, but if you make a mistake while playing an instrument, you can always blame it on the instrument. "This piano is stiffer than the one I'm used to playing on" or "The key stuck". At the very least, you have an instrument to hide behind. But not with singing. It's you on that stage with nothing between you and the audience. Even if there is an problem with instrument (your voice), it is still part of you, and therefore YOU had a problem. And in our current world, particularly in the arts, anything less than perfection is failure.
Vulnerability is essential to singing. Singing, real singing, is about baring your soul for the world to see. It's trusting them to see the beauty through the flaws. It's trusting them to know that sometime the beauty is the flaw. It's trusting yourself enough to let the beauty created by the poets and composers carry the performance, and not getting caught up in what the listeners think about you.
A few weeks ago, a friend made a reference to these videos in a Facebook conversation. I've done quite a bit of reading about vulnerability and shame, so I thought, "That's nice. I'll come back to that later." After multiple friends shared these videos, I decided that maybe the universe was trying to tell me something. One watching was not enough. Next time, I'm sitting down with a paper and pencil and taking notes. Yes, the videos are that good.
My third recent encounter with vulnerability was reading the book The God Who Weeps. In a few days, my book review will be up on my new book blog. One chapter is specifically about God's vulnerability. God feels our pain and sorrows and frustrations. God chooses to love us, and because of that love he opens himself to sympathy and empathy, and weeps with us.
When I was a child, I was taught that we could become as God. If we lived this life well, we would eventually become gods and goddesses ourselves. To be honest, this has always bothered me. My heart weeps for this world, and this world is not my creation and these people are not my spirit children. I invest a lot in my students and it is hard for me to see them struggle. I don't really want to watch billions of my children hate and kill each other. I just don't think I could live with that kind of vulnerability. I think I would have to be a god like so many people today have decided that our God is: one who sets things in motion, but then turns his back, unwilling or perhaps unable to do anything about it. I would have to separate myself to prevent the pain.
I am extremely empathic and sympathetic. I've built walls, not just to protect the core of me from the outside world, but to protect me from being overwhelmed by the pain and suffering. Over the last several year, I have become much more open to letting the world see the real me. On that level, I think I'm getting good at vulnerability. The walls that protect me from the pain and suffering of the world aren't solid brick. They have doors and windows that I can open to let it in at the small doses I can handle. At this point, I don't know if I am supposed to be learning to open the doors and windows wider and more often, or if I am supposed to take down the wall completely. What I do know is that love and connection can't get in or out through the brick walls. Moving through the open windows and doors (and maybe even taking down the wall) is the only way that compassion can work. And I believe in empathy and compassion, so maybe it's time to explore more vulnerability.
