The virus crisis should make us more mindful of our place on the planet (Letter to the Editor, Chicago Sun-Times)
In this time of extreme worry and deprivation I can’t help but see another aspect to the dilemma. The earth must be breathing a deep sigh of relief. For the first time in ages it isn’t feeling our machinations. The emissions, the footprints, the traffic, the garbage have all stopped. Our lack of consumption has lessened waste in every aspect globally. In just four days the earth, air, and water have been spared tons of pollution. When we continue to deny climate change and our responsibility for caring for this earth, we court grave danger. This virus, invisible and silent, has shown how vulnerable we are and how all the things we do to create our lives, building, buying, and taking up all the green space, can create a future which sends us all inside. It is my great hope that as we come out of this crisis, we can be more mindful of our place on the planet and how we contribute to its well-being. We’ve already got a full head start. We have had to instantly adjust to living with a situation that would have been unthinkable just a week ago. We didn’t need to have meetings or discuss the ramifications beforehand. It just happened and we are here. Maybe when we roar back, we can roar back in a more mindful way about how we use the resources on the planet and realize that all we do has an effect and we are vulnerable and no amount of money or things protect us. We need to live kindly and mindfully with each other and the earth to sustain our humanity.
Technology: written after attending the January 22nd Concert (Program notes, International Chamber Artists performance)
We are in the throes of a brave new world. The 21st century demands an entirely new construct of learning and communicating. From my standpoint, it seems everyone has not only embraced it, they truly love it, seek it out; they have “technolust”. We’re becoming more and more removed from our natural surroundings, people walking with their heads down, staring at the phone for everything; directions, words, sounds etc. No more looking at the clouds, the wind in the grasses, the oncoming cars, the faces of the passerby. Seasons pass. My day came full circle and with a touch of irony when I attended an ICA concert. I’d spent the entire day at a technology symposium. I was completely awestruck at the level of technology use and opportunities we have now. 1st graders are using Ipads in the classroom; twelve year olds can publish a story and share it with the world. The whole concept of a teacher imparting knowledge is becoming antiquated. It’s much more a steerage through the digital forest. Information is now in everyone’s hands, instantly. One could be on the computer 24 hours a day, there is so much to use and discover. It is amazing and fruitful and challenging and remarkable. Technology is a real and true tool and one that can be used to great good. But it is not art. Art comes from another place. Art comes from a silence, of a mind free from distraction. I can’t find a way to justify my not wanting to use the phones and Ipads and Facebook. Am I a Luddite because I’m happy to lie on the couch reading magazines all day, or staring out the window at the sunset or taking long walks and watching the wind through the trees? Am I backwards, disconnected, unfulfilled because I’m not always holding my phone ready to be in touch with someone? I get such joy looking at the differences in each day, the colors of the sky, the way the cardinals start to sing in the first days of February. And the moon. The eternal moon which has inspired artists since the dawn of time. There is no app to compare. I want to be embracing of the new. I enjoy learning something new every day. I want to be part of the brave new world, but there is something so magical about simplicity. And simplicity is an art. So back to the concert. Contemplating where I fit in, I found my way to the ICA concert, a simple walk from my home, performed in a glorious church. There we heard stellar chamber musicians creating magic with their astounding talent and physical stamina; all breathing together in astute concentration and interpretation, creating an otherworldly experience for the listener. To think that such a high caliber of performance is available just down the street on an easy Sunday afternoon is a miracle in itself. This music was written as an expression of the artist’s world, to be interpreted and performed for generations. A wonderful aspect to the ICA concerts is that they play a bit of each movement beforehand to give the audience a glimpse of what to listen for. I laughed when we were shown how the composer used one motif to describe the moon and another to describe the wind. Yes that’s it! The sublime mystery of art inspired and delivered, interpreted and eternal, born of our natural world, ever mysterious and awe inspiring. These musicians and those of us drawn to listen are not missing out on anything as we sit there and allow our senses to be taken away in melody. It’s alchemy, an experience, and though it can be played again, it is never the same. Like the sky each day. If we become so obsessed with our phones, of staring at the bright screen, we lose a bit of ourselves. We are waiting for action rather than imagining our own. We are being dazzled and made lazy, whereas sitting still and creating something out of that stillness, whether it is music or a painting or a story, we touch something in our humanness that is essential. An artist took a quiet moment in the marveling of nature and created music. Transcendent music. Timeless and ever accessible. This creation can last a lifetime, can be passed along to inspire and surprise. It won’t disappear with a newer technology. It takes an ear, a proclivity, hard discipline and focus to achieve artistic expression. One is not wasting their time pursuing the necessary time and space to practice and read and sing and draw and study. And what comes of this pursuit of art and listening is sublime beauty, a definition of the world, a soul stirring acknowledgment of our oneness on this planet and our shared experiences. Art can define us, find us, challenge us, soothe us. Children need cultural and artistic exposure. Through the magic of art, the sound of a note, a few carefully chosen words strung together, a person is able to touch an unseen yet universal truth, known but unarticulated and from there curiosity is sparked, imagination released. Television and computers are fascinating but they, in a way, are too tangible. They do the work for us. We don’t take the journey, everything presented is instantaneous and of course, that is its allure. The marvel of hearing something and being moved, then experiencing and questioning that reaction, are all part of a more wondrous awareness that leads to further exploration. Children are still so connected to their God mind. They look into the eyes of animals and delight at the yellow of dandelions; they have enthusiasm and questions. This is an essential time to expose them to the wonders of art and how we as humans create, and in that, they see more of the world and inevitably become better citizens. I often ask my students who have earphones in their ears holding both the music player and a phone in their hands, what they would do if the satellites were disabled. How would they get a message to their family, how would they find their way to the nearest safety, what would they do with their time in darkness? We cannot forget how to write and sing and color. It is the essence of our lives. And always, amid the darkness, someone will pick up a drum or a bow and sound out a definition of our way.
Why I Belong to the Parish Choir (Website, St. Gregory the Great)
For all of my adult life I’d been seeking an opportunity to sing and a church I could call home. I found both by an Easter miracle 14 years ago at St. Gregory the Great. I walked in and felt immediately comfortable. There was nothing forced or off-putting. I felt a palpable peace I hadn’t felt in years and the design of the church reminded me of the churches I’d just seen in Paris. Then the piano played. I turned to my husband and asked, “Who’s the piano player”? It was brilliant playing. There is an “it” factor in art. Many artists can be technically gifted but there isn’t that other indefinable something that rises out. I was hearing that something. I joined the choir that day. It was that easy. I went upstairs, introduced myself and in the most welcoming manner, Patrick said “of course”, rehearsal is Thursday and he handed me a ritual song book. No auditions, worries, judgments, fear. I waltzed into some of the most meaningful experiences of my life that day.
The music aspect is truly extraordinary. We sing challenging pieces in all genres and languages. We prepare these in 2 ½ hours to sing for Sunday. Most of us are volunteer singers. Patrick teaches the music without criticism or calling out. He is always patient, funny, kind, discerning, encouraging and believing we can do it. And we do. It is a master class in music and we are growing and learning every day. We have fun and there is warm camaraderie without egos. To be allowed to participate in such an elevated creative endeavor is a gift that I know we all cherish. Many members have come and gone but we never lose our connection to each other or to the music. And if that’s not enough, we travel and sing in Europe every two years, seeing and singing in the most sacred spaces. When people ask me what I am, I often say a singer and a traveler. Both of these I found at St. Gregory the Great.
I spoke of the music first but it’s the faith and sense of community that also sustains me. Never have I felt such a kinship and safety with the Catholic community. I have become a true faithful; praying, seeking and loving God in every day. My life has been immeasurably blessed and it just gets more so. I have this group of singers, friends and parishioners who I truly care for and care for me. I bring who I am as others do, and we honestly share the faith of God. It is a miraculous blessing that after such a long search, I’ve found a renewed faith and an opportunity to sing that faith. The reason I belong to the Parish Choir is because it is here I truly belong.