Hello music lovers!
In July, I said yes to something that scared me, and it changed how I think about music.
I’m writing to you from my deck in August, getting ready to start another day at the music center. First thing this morning, the summer team text thread has been firing off with plans for the day, everyone is in sync.
Behind the scenes, there is a structure to support the wild energy of enthusiastic youth and there is constant communication to track the details as they unfold. We set the container to allow for the unexpected to happen. I love being able to witness the team diving into the day fully, showing up together to be part of something while it’s forming. I get to observe the kids thriving, knowing that they’re in a place where they are being challenged and celebrated at the same time. They can look to each other for bravery and playfulness, they can look to their counselors for warmth and connection, they can look to their director for guidance and the north star of the day, and they can look to the coordinator to sense orderly direction in the background.
We are our own orchestra! Every player has a part, the directions are set and reset, the group does retakes and repetitions to get it right, and the team debriefs to inform the next move. To me, this is a creative, dynamic community at play. The feeling of togetherness is unmistakable, the growth is inevitable, and the imprint of belonging is real.
To someone dropping by during the day, it may seem chaotic! And there is a messiness to it. Gathering a group of kids or teens, a set of leaders, and a plan for a performance to take place in a matter of days is a sprint not a marathon. The energy and drive that fuels the group leaves an unforgettable memory of being part of something that matters. I’m grateful to be able to work upstairs while this is all happening, remembering the days when I was there moment to moment as an educator myself. The empathy and appreciation for our team runs deep.
I had an awesome opportunity in July to participate in recording an album of new music, the work of Freeway Clyde composed by Michael Chorney, and arranged by Matt LaRocca. It’s weeks later -- as we’re getting ready to wind down our summer season -- that I’m realizing how much the summer camps inspired me and gave me courage. Being in a creative environment, no matter what the age range or level of experience, gives me a boost and reminds me how essential it is to PLAY.
For this recording project, I was invited into the cozy, spacious Tank Studio in Burlington’s north end to play solo piano pieces, a piano duet, and collaborate alongside a string quartet. I was thrilled to join MCMC faculty members Stefanie Taylor (viola) and John Dunlop (cello at Chamber Music Camp), along with Brooke Quiggins and Matt LaRocca, all talented musicians from the Vermont Symphony Orchestra, check them out here!
We had just one rehearsal and a single day to lock down all the takes. Each piece emerged as special, unique, and gorgeous, creating a vivid sense of place. More soon on the music and where to find it…
The session pushed me. I was prepared. I had put in my reps prior to the day, and yet the final gelling of the pieces happened on the spot, in real time. I felt like I was in a pressurized cabin of creative forces, making one magical take after another come into form. Even after there is musical understanding, informed muscle memory (which is different from mindless repetitions that leave the final result up to chance), and reliable recall, so many more invisible layers have to happen to make the final result.
Here’s the inner narration from the bench:
Concentrate, but not too tightly.
Focus, but not too narrowly.
Flow, but don’t let go fully.
Release, but don’t go slack.
Basically, the mindset can be summarized in one word: stay. Stay present. Let it happen but guide it. It is a remarkable state of flow that happens when this calibration takes place. And to be fair — it fluctuates! I fell out of the zone many times, and two things caused that: fatigue and self doubt. Fatigue is basic and easy to explain, the brain is a muscle just like any other that needs rest between periods of exertion. Self doubt is more complex in some ways, but at this point for me, it has become radically simplified. It is a side kick, and an ever present part of my internal team. I’ve come to appreciate it, but not let it take the reins.
In September’s post, we’ll dive into exploring how self doubt can actually serve us.
Even though I left my comfort zone to say yes, I left the session feeling like I was really alive that day. Even more important than the inner calibrating to make the music happen was the reminder that anything we do creatively we do together. I was so fortunate to be in the same room as the composer and the arranger. Sitting on couches, following along note by note while I played, being right there to give feedback to go into each new take. The blend of words, feelings, responses, sensing the way together, it was a shared experience that I am so grateful for.
May this message meet you today with the reminder that has helped me so much this summer. Creativity and risk happen together, with other people. Each of our voices matter, and our efforts matter. The effort we put in on our own to finetune our craft, our voice, our piece of the contribution only elevates the shared outcome. We are not alone on islands when we practice music alone for hours. We’re part of a larger conversation that thrives when individual voices are heard and as we can positively influence each other.
Keep going. Whatever you’re pouring your energy and attention into today, remember that it is serving something beyond your individual scope. You may have more influence on others than you could ever imagine.
