Before I came here, I only knew that the town was nicknamed "The City of Trees and PhDs," and that David Foster Wallace lived here until he killed himself. But I don't think anyone blames Claremont for that. And my friend M lived here as a youth and his father owned a liquor store in Pomona, I think; at least he was in one of the nearby towns into which Claremont merges. I noted that it was 30 miles east of LA, and up against the foothills, and my hostess said that down the street from the house was a trail up into those very foothills. I have yet to take that trail: the daily dog walk goes past the trail-head, but apparently it's not a good venue for Cookie and Didi, and it's been too hot to hike later in the day after the walk.
I figured I'd probably go into LA several times and that there would be wineries and parks and things to do in the area. Well, that is true, but it took some time to get out of the house. Halfway through the stay, I finally planned a trip to LA, to the Mark Taper Forum. I hadn't heard of the play, Heisenberg, but many of my favorite actors have worked there, so it's been on my list. Otherwise, I've let fear of traffic and the non-pedestrian-friendly vibes keep me solidly home-based.
My first week was spent getting the dogs and cat to love me. Actually, that was very easy. They are affectionate critters, and they miss their peeps, so they have snuggled with me from the very start. After the first week or so, they stopped taking C and S's tshirts into the living room when left alone, and started toting my clothes instead. Fortunately, all they seem to do is lick them: the fabric is still intact.
My first Friday here I checked out the downtown music scene: there are 4 outdoor venues scattered about, and different music is featured in each. Jazz seems to be centered in the Plaza area, which is where I located the local cinema and some really nice looking restaurants. The other nice restaurants seem to be around College and 2nd street, near the Library (which I didn't visit until the end of my stay.) I didn't get a picture of the fountain that night, because it was surrounded and filled with people, and it's architectural and winding in nature, so it isn't easy to capture the stone and metal dragon that it seemed to be.
I used the online city calendar to locate events and places to visit, and C left a list of places to check out. I developed a shopping routine and a schedule for walks and swimming in the pool: the former needed to happen when it was coolest, and the latter when I felt like taking a nap or when I returned from an excursion, hot and sweaty. And, as I've said in other posts, I have enjoyed not being forced to explore the city or the area.
Now I am embarking on my last week. I'm at the Huntington Gardens, watching people wander into the ornate and mannered structures of the Chinese Garden, listening to their inanities (but somehow it's okay if the words are tinged with an Asian accent or the people are speaking French: those are the most common voices.) I bought a membership after the first visit, because I had not managed to make it to the Library, and at $25 a visit, it seemed to make sense. It actually doesn't, but I will likely break even, and it's good to take some time to absorb the beauty. It also feels like I did something besides sit under a dog.
In addition to exploring the neighborhood on my walks and joining the Vocal Forum, I have explored some of Claremont. I went to the art museum and learned about the Russian Village and heritage trees. I attended the Butterflies and Brews event at the Santa Ana Botannic Gardens. I wandered around Pomona College at the fireworks and attended a play at the Greek Theatre (but left early because I was sooo sleepy.) I did some research at the Library, which looks like a bunker but is blissfully free of the smell of the unwashed which characterizes most downtown libraries.
If I lived here, I'd probably go to Pasadena for most things: I've fallen in love with the various museums and have discovered some fabulous ice cream places. But, Claremont is a pretty community. The trees and architecture make for pleasant walks and drives. There are outlets for music and the arts, especially because of the Claremont colleges. I met up with some people attended a string quartet workshop at Scripps: if I'd been aware in January that I was coming here, I could have done that!
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Monday, September 11, 2017
Monday, August 14, 2017
Joyful Noise
A few weeks ago, I texted with one of my sisters. The topic was worshipful songs: she is the only sibling who goes to church and is interested in discussing spiritual matters, so I turned to her naturally.
I didn't say most of this in my segment of the video, but I find myself thinking about it now that I am preparing to leave this religious community. I feel like I have joined them under false pretenses. Still, when I joined the group, my first words were "Is music happening here?" And I never claimed that I was Lutheran, or even Christian. But most people think that someone joins a church choir because of a belief in the liturgy. That is not the case for me. I join because it's a comfortable way to join a community and make music. And, I'm curious. I continue to read about many forms of religion, worship, and spirituality. Right now I'm reading Karen' Armstrong's The Great Transformation. Some concepts resonate more than others. Some of my friends are Christians, some are Buddhists, some have evolved a practise that works for them, and some are permanently alienated from the whole idea of religion. I'm not alienated, but I still remember my Grandma Shapira telling me that I could meet a nice man if I went to church, and I responded that I didn't want to meet a nice man. I was in my 20s, but not much has changed in that regard. Suffice it to say, I have been involved with many churches (and men for that matter), but have formally joined none of them. As a source of spiritual meaning, the jury is still out on organized religion. I find the familiarity comforting and the sincerity of the religious people I've met is very attractive. However, if I'm looking for community, I usually go for musical organizations. And if I'm looking for the divine, I go towards nature or the Swedenborg concept of god in the here and now, an infinite being made finite by time and man's ability to experience it. Here in Claremont, the two sources dovetailed.
I found this group through the Claremont Chamber of Commerce calendar, the same way I found Sumi and the Farmer's Market. The Vocal Forum met for 8 weeks in the summer on Wednesday evenings. It took place at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, so I checked out the description on the church web page and learned the following:
Good Shepherd is proud to host group vocal classes focused on technique, diction, anatomy, and worship. Come and be surrounded by fellow singers all engaged in a common goal, to sing to our God-given potential. The event is led by Music Director and organist, Adan Fernandez. Masterclasses will be given by soprano Dr. Candace Bogan. Materials are provided. All you need to bring is a willing spirit and joyful song!
It sounded worth checking out, even though they were already 3 weeks into it: I've sung all my life, but it's been awhile since I've taken any voice lessons. Various choral directors have taught methods and I've learned vocalizations and physical ways to influence the voice, like using the Alexander Technique. The Unitarian Choir had annual workshops, and the Choral Arts Ensemble met at Menucha every fall for a weekend of instruction, community-building, and learning music. But all this was long ago, in Portland, and it had been a year since I sang with the Taos Community Chorus, and several years since I sang with the Santa Fe Orchestra Choir and the Coro de Camera.
Practical matters aside, it seemed like a good way to connect with part of the Claremont Community. There really is nothing like a shared goal to bring people together. I hit the jackpot in another way, as well: since basically everyone in the Forum was part of the music making at the church, I had a built-in weekly activity as well.
I learned at the recital that Adan had an equally practical purpose in conducting the forum: he takes his role as music director very seriously, and he wanted to address the annual musical hiatus that takes place in most churches. The Forum gave the choir members a chance to learn musical techniques, build musical confidence, and prepare for the next year. The real goal, though, was to give people a chance to express themselves musically. And he reached that goal. I was impressed that he found a way to help each person improve. Some could not read music, some had no breath support (hey, that's me!), some had difficulties with finding and reproducing notes, etc. etc. And sometimes Adan addressed those issues, but mainly he found a simple thing that, once recognized, made a world of difference. By the time of the recital, the improvement was amazing, and the recital was great fun.
You would think that, since this was a church-sponsored group, the music would be sacred. You would be wrong. I had a chance to find my inner torch singer with Cry Me a River. One of the younger singers gave a powerful rendition of Jekyll and Hyde's Confrontation (and I thus learned of another Wildhorn musical and spent much of today relearning Pimpernel songs.) W sang a Disturbed version of Sounds of Silence, which was a revelation to me. There were several Disney songs, and songs from other musicals that I hadn't heard in years. I learned about the Lumineers, via a moving version of Nobody Knows. What it comes down to is that you don't need to be singing religious words or tunes to be making a joyful noise. Just as it is possible to pray by experiencing the beauty of nature, so it is possible to worship by the mere act of breathing in air and letting it back out in song. It's not as complicated as I make it out to be.
I feel blessed to have reconnected with old favorite songs, to have become acquainted with new ones, and to have allied myself with a welcoming community. At dinner after the recital (a dinner that was curtailed before it started by a blown transformer in the neighborhood), I learned a bit more about just how welcoming this community is. One audience member joined us, and thanked us for our gift of music: she is undergoing dialysis, and music is healing to her. I thanked the group for letting me in, and they responded with a prayer circle of held hands and a wish that God bless my travels, and that I keep in touch and return. It reminded me of being held in the thoughts of my fellow Chamber Choir members at the Portland UU First Church, during post-rehearsal sharing time. And on the drive home, I sang in the car, making a joyful noise.
- Btw, the music director is in charge of the service this Sun, and he's interviewing some of the vocal forum people regarding a favorite worshipful song and why it's a favorite. He asked me to be taped and I'm having a hard time thinking of a song. Any ideas?
- Some of mine: Lord of all hopefulness, what wondrous love is this, Praise to the Lord, Love Divine all love excelling
- I don't think I know any of those! 😄
- I do like immortal invisible
- That was Dad's favorite
- Maybe that's why
- Check out the others sometime. Great melodies, harmonies, and lyrics. Oh, and Joshua fought the battle of Jericho.
- Of course, there are oodles of Christmas favorites. Check Wikipedia: did you know Immortal Invisible was a Welsh tune?
- Most of my favorite hymns started out as secular tunes
- Love divine has several tunes, but I think the one you like is probably Hygrydol, a "stately Welsh tune". Unitarians sing it to different words: blue boat home
- And Praise to the Lord the Almighty the king of creation? I know that one too. Good choices
- Love Divine tune was written by Rowland H Prichard. It was one of the first songs I learned to sing harmony.
- Now I have to pick one and say why... it's all in the music of course
- Yeah. I can't just ignore the words. My favorite may be Lord of all hopefulness because it is
- a prayer that covers the whole day.
- Maybe I'll just read this discussion!
- Just listened to it on YouTube: I love that one too!
- 😊
I didn't say most of this in my segment of the video, but I find myself thinking about it now that I am preparing to leave this religious community. I feel like I have joined them under false pretenses. Still, when I joined the group, my first words were "Is music happening here?" And I never claimed that I was Lutheran, or even Christian. But most people think that someone joins a church choir because of a belief in the liturgy. That is not the case for me. I join because it's a comfortable way to join a community and make music. And, I'm curious. I continue to read about many forms of religion, worship, and spirituality. Right now I'm reading Karen' Armstrong's The Great Transformation. Some concepts resonate more than others. Some of my friends are Christians, some are Buddhists, some have evolved a practise that works for them, and some are permanently alienated from the whole idea of religion. I'm not alienated, but I still remember my Grandma Shapira telling me that I could meet a nice man if I went to church, and I responded that I didn't want to meet a nice man. I was in my 20s, but not much has changed in that regard. Suffice it to say, I have been involved with many churches (and men for that matter), but have formally joined none of them. As a source of spiritual meaning, the jury is still out on organized religion. I find the familiarity comforting and the sincerity of the religious people I've met is very attractive. However, if I'm looking for community, I usually go for musical organizations. And if I'm looking for the divine, I go towards nature or the Swedenborg concept of god in the here and now, an infinite being made finite by time and man's ability to experience it. Here in Claremont, the two sources dovetailed.
I found this group through the Claremont Chamber of Commerce calendar, the same way I found Sumi and the Farmer's Market. The Vocal Forum met for 8 weeks in the summer on Wednesday evenings. It took place at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, so I checked out the description on the church web page and learned the following:
Good Shepherd is proud to host group vocal classes focused on technique, diction, anatomy, and worship. Come and be surrounded by fellow singers all engaged in a common goal, to sing to our God-given potential. The event is led by Music Director and organist, Adan Fernandez. Masterclasses will be given by soprano Dr. Candace Bogan. Materials are provided. All you need to bring is a willing spirit and joyful song!
It sounded worth checking out, even though they were already 3 weeks into it: I've sung all my life, but it's been awhile since I've taken any voice lessons. Various choral directors have taught methods and I've learned vocalizations and physical ways to influence the voice, like using the Alexander Technique. The Unitarian Choir had annual workshops, and the Choral Arts Ensemble met at Menucha every fall for a weekend of instruction, community-building, and learning music. But all this was long ago, in Portland, and it had been a year since I sang with the Taos Community Chorus, and several years since I sang with the Santa Fe Orchestra Choir and the Coro de Camera.
Practical matters aside, it seemed like a good way to connect with part of the Claremont Community. There really is nothing like a shared goal to bring people together. I hit the jackpot in another way, as well: since basically everyone in the Forum was part of the music making at the church, I had a built-in weekly activity as well.
I learned at the recital that Adan had an equally practical purpose in conducting the forum: he takes his role as music director very seriously, and he wanted to address the annual musical hiatus that takes place in most churches. The Forum gave the choir members a chance to learn musical techniques, build musical confidence, and prepare for the next year. The real goal, though, was to give people a chance to express themselves musically. And he reached that goal. I was impressed that he found a way to help each person improve. Some could not read music, some had no breath support (hey, that's me!), some had difficulties with finding and reproducing notes, etc. etc. And sometimes Adan addressed those issues, but mainly he found a simple thing that, once recognized, made a world of difference. By the time of the recital, the improvement was amazing, and the recital was great fun.
You would think that, since this was a church-sponsored group, the music would be sacred. You would be wrong. I had a chance to find my inner torch singer with Cry Me a River. One of the younger singers gave a powerful rendition of Jekyll and Hyde's Confrontation (and I thus learned of another Wildhorn musical and spent much of today relearning Pimpernel songs.) W sang a Disturbed version of Sounds of Silence, which was a revelation to me. There were several Disney songs, and songs from other musicals that I hadn't heard in years. I learned about the Lumineers, via a moving version of Nobody Knows. What it comes down to is that you don't need to be singing religious words or tunes to be making a joyful noise. Just as it is possible to pray by experiencing the beauty of nature, so it is possible to worship by the mere act of breathing in air and letting it back out in song. It's not as complicated as I make it out to be.
I feel blessed to have reconnected with old favorite songs, to have become acquainted with new ones, and to have allied myself with a welcoming community. At dinner after the recital (a dinner that was curtailed before it started by a blown transformer in the neighborhood), I learned a bit more about just how welcoming this community is. One audience member joined us, and thanked us for our gift of music: she is undergoing dialysis, and music is healing to her. I thanked the group for letting me in, and they responded with a prayer circle of held hands and a wish that God bless my travels, and that I keep in touch and return. It reminded me of being held in the thoughts of my fellow Chamber Choir members at the Portland UU First Church, during post-rehearsal sharing time. And on the drive home, I sang in the car, making a joyful noise.
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
Community
People ask how I'm liking retirement. They ask how the assignments are working out. M, my slow travel expert, asks how I'm connecting with people and places while I'm traveling. Do I have intentions to become part of the communities in which I stay? If so, what will I do 1st, 2nd, and 3rd to see what's available to me?
To answer the first two questions: I'm loving it. I was mainly exploring during my time in northern CA, as well as setting up logistics. And of course, I started with the sister trip in May, and in June had a week with G in San Francisco and its environs. Now I'm in the first few weeks of my second longest assignment: Claremont, CA. I'm trying to set up a practice and writing schedule. I am following through on my daily texts and 4 minute diaries and budget entries, but otherwise I'm most successful at walking dogs and swimming laps in the house pool. Other than feeling guilty for being so unproductive, I'm ridiculously happy with this. I send messages about the triple digit weather to obviate my guilt: see, it's TOO HOT to explore, my asthma kicks in if I'm out in this poor air quality for too long, etc etc. But really, I need to stop focusing on that. As Abraham (Esther Hicks) would say, I need to activate something better than guilt, something more vibrationally satisfying than asthma. Or, as the Buddha would say, I need to stop focusing on desire, the desire to be an admirable self.
In my need to be productive, I am not seeing the reality, which is perfectly delightful. I have dogs to cuddle, books to read (or listen to), tomatoes to harvest from the garden, good pinot grigio to drink. When I feel sleepy, I go out to the pool, usually sans suit. I take a slow breast stroke/scissors kick towards the deep end and the sitting garden, looking at the tall bird of paradise trees, the flower arch with bright pink blooms, the little smiling turtle light. At night, the arch is outlined in tiny white lights, and the solar lights in jars line up along the pool. I reach the end of the pool and lean back for the even slower side wiggle back stroke. At the shallow end, I flip my feet under me and go back towards the garden and the deep end. The water is warm later in the day, cool in the morning, silky on my skin. Sometimes the surface is dusted with pollen and little seeds and occasionally I dodge a fuzzy insect body, pushing it towards the filter or away to the side. Although I am swimming laps, I do not count them or work at them. I swim until I don't feel like swimming any more. Sometimes I lie on the lounge chair, baking both sides before sliding back into the now-chilly water. Sometimes I read, sometimes I listen to an audio book, the ipad carefully placed in the shade under the plastic side table. Sometimes I nap, but not too long. Even with sun-screen, I don't want to hazard this heat for too long. The dogs come out through the kitchen flap and circle the pool, watching me and then finding a shady place to wait while I finish what I am doing. They are very attentive to me, as the source of food and cuddles and walks.
I did look into some things to explore. As with Santa Rosa, my host had some ideas of things to do: the Huntington Gardens, the Arcadia Arboretum, 4th of July fireworks, the Botanic Garden, Monday night concerts in the Park, Temecula wineries, Santa Monica 3rd street shopping, Long Beach, Descanso Gardens. Then, as M suggested, I looked into ways to be part of the community. The Chamber of Commerce had a calendar of events and activities for Visitors, and I discovered the Claremont Forum as well. The result is a Google Calendar filled with events that I may or may not attend: outdoor concerts (it's TOO HOT), the weekly Farmer's Market, art exhibits, Shakespeare in the Park (Much Ado, and Hamlet, quite the contrast.) Those were not really ways to connect with the community, so I looked at classes and music offerings. I am now involved in the Vocal Forum, classes put on Wednesday nights by the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, and as an offshoot of that, I'm singing in their summer choir. On Sunday, the communion music was provided by an excellent violin/flute duo, so I approached the violinist after church and asked her about local amateurs with whom I could play (she was clearly a professional.) She took my number, and we'll see. Today I connected with a fabric artist who teaches Japanese at the Claremont Forum, and we're booked for a single session at $50 to get me started on my studies in preparation for the December gig in Nagano.
These are all pleasant ways to occupy my time, but they don't feel necessary. It's nice to have something to write about in my daily texts, of course, and it soothes my guilt to think that I'm being productive. The vocal class even got me to get out my violin and do some practicing, thereby justifying both my Housesitter Profile title (Musical Librarian) and the space and logistical issues caused by lugging the instrument around. Today I practiced voice, violin, and Tai Chi Chih, And now I'm writing. So, see? I'm being productive!
But....I don't really feel invested in any of this. I am happy just being. My day has a pleasant arc to it: wake up to the meowing cat, pet the dogs. If it's early enough, take a walk, either before or after breakfast for all 4 of us. Sit with coffee and toast and the crossword. Check email and Facebook. Then progress with the day. Do I need to go shopping, clean up the house, water plants? Do I have something scheduled for the day? Do I want to log into Tutor.com and float, in hopes of some tutoring sessions? Do I want to write? Practise? Swim? Listen to an audio book and knit? Write? Call a friend or family member? Eventually, I take a nap, sometimes inadvertently. Soon it's 5 pm, and time to look at the evening. If I have nothing scheduled, do I still need to walk the dogs? Go to class? Log in for a tutoring session? I need to send a text to the folks who are tracking me, reassuring them that I'm still alive and well. And the next thing I know, it's time for bed. The dogs, who have been following me all day, follow me there as well, and we all settle in. I don't feel like I've wasted the day, but what have I done? As I texted once, don't know where this day went. Surely I didn't spend the whole day sitting under a dog and coloring online? 'Fraid so. And that's fine. When it's time to get active, I'll get active. And phooey on the whole meditating (Buddha) and examining (Plato) options. That's another sort of desire, it seems, the desire to reach some sort of meaning or nirvana, to have purpose in my life. Right now my purpose is to keep someone else's fur babies happy, and that seems sufficient.
All of this begs the question: am I lonely? I don't seem to be. The difference between working and living in a community and house-sitting in random places seems to be one of focus. When I was caregiving for E, I was living like this, but I felt trapped by the 24/7 responsibility of it, and I felt like I had to get out in the larger community and make music and see people. When I was working in libraries, I felt trapped by the schedule, and my health was compromised so that I didn't get out into the community enough. Now, I'm in a 24/7 situation of sorts, but I am free to get out when and how I want. And now I find that I don't want to get out much. All of that need for community and activity was apparently manufactured by some other need: the need to escape my entrapment. I find that, while I miss my PDX and ABQ and Taos and WitsEnd peeps, and I feel wistful about the various groups with which I've been involved, I'm not lonely. It helps that I have the internet, but mainly it helps that this is what I want.
I think about this. L, when she was dowsing, said that I needed a community. When I was video chatting with W, she said that people who live happily into old age do so when they are in a community. So, the question seems to be, what constitutes a community? Is it the physical contact? I get that with the dogs and cats. Is it the emotional contact? I get that through correspondence and chatting. Is it meeting needs? I get that through emergency contacts and activism. Is it passion? I don't seem to have that, but I do manage to find music wherever I go. Is it relationships? That's the missing link, it seems: can relationships be sustained long-distance? Does a community need to be local? Are the social and personal networks sufficient? Now that I'm no longer trapped and I seem to have what I want, do I have what I need? Do I have a focus? Do I have a community?
Time will tell. Or my heart will. Or both.
To answer the first two questions: I'm loving it. I was mainly exploring during my time in northern CA, as well as setting up logistics. And of course, I started with the sister trip in May, and in June had a week with G in San Francisco and its environs. Now I'm in the first few weeks of my second longest assignment: Claremont, CA. I'm trying to set up a practice and writing schedule. I am following through on my daily texts and 4 minute diaries and budget entries, but otherwise I'm most successful at walking dogs and swimming laps in the house pool. Other than feeling guilty for being so unproductive, I'm ridiculously happy with this. I send messages about the triple digit weather to obviate my guilt: see, it's TOO HOT to explore, my asthma kicks in if I'm out in this poor air quality for too long, etc etc. But really, I need to stop focusing on that. As Abraham (Esther Hicks) would say, I need to activate something better than guilt, something more vibrationally satisfying than asthma. Or, as the Buddha would say, I need to stop focusing on desire, the desire to be an admirable self.
In my need to be productive, I am not seeing the reality, which is perfectly delightful. I have dogs to cuddle, books to read (or listen to), tomatoes to harvest from the garden, good pinot grigio to drink. When I feel sleepy, I go out to the pool, usually sans suit. I take a slow breast stroke/scissors kick towards the deep end and the sitting garden, looking at the tall bird of paradise trees, the flower arch with bright pink blooms, the little smiling turtle light. At night, the arch is outlined in tiny white lights, and the solar lights in jars line up along the pool. I reach the end of the pool and lean back for the even slower side wiggle back stroke. At the shallow end, I flip my feet under me and go back towards the garden and the deep end. The water is warm later in the day, cool in the morning, silky on my skin. Sometimes the surface is dusted with pollen and little seeds and occasionally I dodge a fuzzy insect body, pushing it towards the filter or away to the side. Although I am swimming laps, I do not count them or work at them. I swim until I don't feel like swimming any more. Sometimes I lie on the lounge chair, baking both sides before sliding back into the now-chilly water. Sometimes I read, sometimes I listen to an audio book, the ipad carefully placed in the shade under the plastic side table. Sometimes I nap, but not too long. Even with sun-screen, I don't want to hazard this heat for too long. The dogs come out through the kitchen flap and circle the pool, watching me and then finding a shady place to wait while I finish what I am doing. They are very attentive to me, as the source of food and cuddles and walks.
I did look into some things to explore. As with Santa Rosa, my host had some ideas of things to do: the Huntington Gardens, the Arcadia Arboretum, 4th of July fireworks, the Botanic Garden, Monday night concerts in the Park, Temecula wineries, Santa Monica 3rd street shopping, Long Beach, Descanso Gardens. Then, as M suggested, I looked into ways to be part of the community. The Chamber of Commerce had a calendar of events and activities for Visitors, and I discovered the Claremont Forum as well. The result is a Google Calendar filled with events that I may or may not attend: outdoor concerts (it's TOO HOT), the weekly Farmer's Market, art exhibits, Shakespeare in the Park (Much Ado, and Hamlet, quite the contrast.) Those were not really ways to connect with the community, so I looked at classes and music offerings. I am now involved in the Vocal Forum, classes put on Wednesday nights by the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, and as an offshoot of that, I'm singing in their summer choir. On Sunday, the communion music was provided by an excellent violin/flute duo, so I approached the violinist after church and asked her about local amateurs with whom I could play (she was clearly a professional.) She took my number, and we'll see. Today I connected with a fabric artist who teaches Japanese at the Claremont Forum, and we're booked for a single session at $50 to get me started on my studies in preparation for the December gig in Nagano.
These are all pleasant ways to occupy my time, but they don't feel necessary. It's nice to have something to write about in my daily texts, of course, and it soothes my guilt to think that I'm being productive. The vocal class even got me to get out my violin and do some practicing, thereby justifying both my Housesitter Profile title (Musical Librarian) and the space and logistical issues caused by lugging the instrument around. Today I practiced voice, violin, and Tai Chi Chih, And now I'm writing. So, see? I'm being productive!
But....I don't really feel invested in any of this. I am happy just being. My day has a pleasant arc to it: wake up to the meowing cat, pet the dogs. If it's early enough, take a walk, either before or after breakfast for all 4 of us. Sit with coffee and toast and the crossword. Check email and Facebook. Then progress with the day. Do I need to go shopping, clean up the house, water plants? Do I have something scheduled for the day? Do I want to log into Tutor.com and float, in hopes of some tutoring sessions? Do I want to write? Practise? Swim? Listen to an audio book and knit? Write? Call a friend or family member? Eventually, I take a nap, sometimes inadvertently. Soon it's 5 pm, and time to look at the evening. If I have nothing scheduled, do I still need to walk the dogs? Go to class? Log in for a tutoring session? I need to send a text to the folks who are tracking me, reassuring them that I'm still alive and well. And the next thing I know, it's time for bed. The dogs, who have been following me all day, follow me there as well, and we all settle in. I don't feel like I've wasted the day, but what have I done? As I texted once, don't know where this day went. Surely I didn't spend the whole day sitting under a dog and coloring online? 'Fraid so. And that's fine. When it's time to get active, I'll get active. And phooey on the whole meditating (Buddha) and examining (Plato) options. That's another sort of desire, it seems, the desire to reach some sort of meaning or nirvana, to have purpose in my life. Right now my purpose is to keep someone else's fur babies happy, and that seems sufficient.
All of this begs the question: am I lonely? I don't seem to be. The difference between working and living in a community and house-sitting in random places seems to be one of focus. When I was caregiving for E, I was living like this, but I felt trapped by the 24/7 responsibility of it, and I felt like I had to get out in the larger community and make music and see people. When I was working in libraries, I felt trapped by the schedule, and my health was compromised so that I didn't get out into the community enough. Now, I'm in a 24/7 situation of sorts, but I am free to get out when and how I want. And now I find that I don't want to get out much. All of that need for community and activity was apparently manufactured by some other need: the need to escape my entrapment. I find that, while I miss my PDX and ABQ and Taos and WitsEnd peeps, and I feel wistful about the various groups with which I've been involved, I'm not lonely. It helps that I have the internet, but mainly it helps that this is what I want.
I think about this. L, when she was dowsing, said that I needed a community. When I was video chatting with W, she said that people who live happily into old age do so when they are in a community. So, the question seems to be, what constitutes a community? Is it the physical contact? I get that with the dogs and cats. Is it the emotional contact? I get that through correspondence and chatting. Is it meeting needs? I get that through emergency contacts and activism. Is it passion? I don't seem to have that, but I do manage to find music wherever I go. Is it relationships? That's the missing link, it seems: can relationships be sustained long-distance? Does a community need to be local? Are the social and personal networks sufficient? Now that I'm no longer trapped and I seem to have what I want, do I have what I need? Do I have a focus? Do I have a community?
Time will tell. Or my heart will. Or both.
Wednesday, July 5, 2017
10 Thousand hours
Tonight I stopped by the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, about 6 minutes away from my 2-month home. I saw advertised in the Chamber of Commerce calendar a Vocal Forum, and I thought, well, that's a way to get some musical connections while I'm here. Turns out, most of the members were congregants at the church, which makes sense, and the classes were run by the director of music, a slender short young Hispanic male with an engaging smile.
I was a little disconcerted to realize that we weren't singing, much: it really was a class, and this particular class was about forming a habit of practise. While I could definitely use that habit, the various tools he shared were not inspiring. I've done lists and categories and schedules, and they do not work for me. The only way I can make myself practise is to have something specific for which I must practise, that is, a rehearsal or a performance. And even that doesn't totally work: CD and I would get together to play duets and we'd say, "oooh, we should work that up." But I never would. She was better than me, being a professional musician who was also taking lessons. I get by on my ability to sightread and to fake, and on my basic knowledge of the repertoire. After 42 years of playing orchestra repertoire and an equal amount of time playing chamber music, duets, trios, and quartets, I do have a number of pieces that I've faked my way through. Experience does help, even if you don't work at it.
In the course of the discussion, one of the gentlemen in the group mentioned the 10,000 Hour Rule: if you spend 10K hours working at something, you become an expert. I thought, huh. No wonder I'm not an expert at anything. And then I thought, wait a minute, I've spent at least that much time on a lot of things over the 58 years, 21,170 days, and 508,080 plus hours of my life. Why am I an expert in none? And, I've come to the conclusion, it's not the number of hours, it's the number of focused hours. (The article to which I link above verifies that conclusion.)
It's more than that, though. It's a lack of confidence, a lack of self-respect in the endeavor. I feel embarrassed to be caught working hard at something, I think that over. Yes, embarrassed is the word, but why? It's akin to stage fright. There's a sense that, if I am nonchalant, if I act like I'm not really trying, I don't really care, then the inevitable poor performance will not matter. It'll be bad because I didn't try, not because I am incompetent, untalented, a loser.
And that is truly embarrassing. Why would I feel that way at this point of my life? Why would it matter that the amount of work and time I put into something is not productive of something of comparable value? Who cares but me? If I'm going to do something, why cannot I do it with passion? Why cannot I respect the years, days, and hours of my life, and use them?
Well, maybe tomorrow I'll practise a bit, in addition to walking the dogs, swimming, and (new task) replacing the just-discovered burnt-out headlight. As Scarlett O'Hara says, tomorrow is another day!
I was a little disconcerted to realize that we weren't singing, much: it really was a class, and this particular class was about forming a habit of practise. While I could definitely use that habit, the various tools he shared were not inspiring. I've done lists and categories and schedules, and they do not work for me. The only way I can make myself practise is to have something specific for which I must practise, that is, a rehearsal or a performance. And even that doesn't totally work: CD and I would get together to play duets and we'd say, "oooh, we should work that up." But I never would. She was better than me, being a professional musician who was also taking lessons. I get by on my ability to sightread and to fake, and on my basic knowledge of the repertoire. After 42 years of playing orchestra repertoire and an equal amount of time playing chamber music, duets, trios, and quartets, I do have a number of pieces that I've faked my way through. Experience does help, even if you don't work at it.
In the course of the discussion, one of the gentlemen in the group mentioned the 10,000 Hour Rule: if you spend 10K hours working at something, you become an expert. I thought, huh. No wonder I'm not an expert at anything. And then I thought, wait a minute, I've spent at least that much time on a lot of things over the 58 years, 21,170 days, and 508,080 plus hours of my life. Why am I an expert in none? And, I've come to the conclusion, it's not the number of hours, it's the number of focused hours. (The article to which I link above verifies that conclusion.)
It's more than that, though. It's a lack of confidence, a lack of self-respect in the endeavor. I feel embarrassed to be caught working hard at something, I think that over. Yes, embarrassed is the word, but why? It's akin to stage fright. There's a sense that, if I am nonchalant, if I act like I'm not really trying, I don't really care, then the inevitable poor performance will not matter. It'll be bad because I didn't try, not because I am incompetent, untalented, a loser.
And that is truly embarrassing. Why would I feel that way at this point of my life? Why would it matter that the amount of work and time I put into something is not productive of something of comparable value? Who cares but me? If I'm going to do something, why cannot I do it with passion? Why cannot I respect the years, days, and hours of my life, and use them?
Well, maybe tomorrow I'll practise a bit, in addition to walking the dogs, swimming, and (new task) replacing the just-discovered burnt-out headlight. As Scarlett O'Hara says, tomorrow is another day!
Saturday, July 1, 2017
Daily texts and notes, June 2017
June 1
I joined another wine club: lovely gardens and wine. Not to mention lavender. (Matanzas Creek). Rudy and I had a nice walk through Jack London State Park first, and he charmed everyone at the winery.
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| Jack London state Park, Matanzas Creek winery, And much puppy love |
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| .A walk to Wolf House And a wine and cheese pairing. The dog liked the first. |
Picked up E and spent the afternoon/evening with her. Dinner at Rosso with Jan. Amazing Bach concert. EB was phenomenal in the Brandenburg 2, and the trumpet was unreal.
June 3
Today's message, not a text because I wanted to share these pix.
Loved the one of E grimacing. The food was out of this world:
house made yoghurt and sourdough, house-cured bacon, and imaginative
versions of the classics. EB treated, and took the pix, so you
don't get to see her.
Took a long route home from dropping
E back at her place in El Cerrito: I hope to see her again before I
leave the area. She has literally no short term memory left, but she
still remembers me, and it's so wonderful to see her.
June 4
Woke up at 3 am, slept to 11,. Only outings were dog walk, but 'twas a good day. Did an NYT crossword, listened to an audiobook, wrote a few things, drank some good wine.
While we walk I think,
Thoughts both airy and deep, yet
I dream of coffee
Tonight we're greeted
By two girls in bathing suits:
They're selling "fresh air."
June 5
I'm switching carriers and phone, so there will be some glitchiness until G brings my new phone on June 11.
June 6
A windy day at Dillon Beach. According to my new friend T's Fitbit, we walked over 9000 steps! Rudy rocks!
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| Outside Tomales bakery |
June 7
Found a winery (Paradise Ridge) close by, along with a sculpture garden (Voigt).
Thu June 8
My last day here is grey and rainy, so I spent the morning cleaning.I think Rudy knows something is up.
It rained last night and
Today it's dim and misty.
I avoid the snails.
Fri June 9
Today was glorious but very windy in this hilltop house. I swam and sunned and read and napped. My hostess informs me that Northern CA is not hot! (Inland heat causes build up of fog at the coast). I'm glad I brought sweater and warm socks.
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| Last month, heirloom seeds Then a tart shrub with breakfast. I'm sensing a trend. |
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| Her garden sculptures: She says they're functional, but I say they are art. |
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| Waiting to see Wonder Woman in the most comfy theatre EVER! |
Got up early to pick up G at the airport. He's sleepy. Wandered around the San Mateo area after picking G up at SFO; surfers at Half Moon Bay, wine walkers in San Carlos (where we're staying.) Missing the Pride parades.
Mon June 12
Posing at MOMA
Followed by deep dish pizza
With Golden State fans
A piece of art or a piece of work?
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| He's petrified. I'm not |
Spent the day at the Asian Art Museum. They housed the museum in an old library building.
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| Interactive installation at UN Plaza |
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| Looking oh so noir At Godfather's Burger Lounge: He sports the smug hat. |
Wed June 14
Long walk down the Embarcadero and a nice time on historic ships.
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| In a strange structure by the maritime museum |
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| An homage to EB: altered oil slicks dripping down the Balclutha |
Thu June 15
2 days avoiding
Giants and Warriors fans:
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| Closeups of the art At the Legion of Honour: Best selfie ever |
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| Ancient coffee beans Decorate sacred objects. They so had it right. (At the De Young) |
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| View from the hill. |
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| G liked this art. At the CA Legion of Honor, Urs Fischer |
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| I covet these shoes: So much walking and standing. Art isn't easy. |
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| At the CA Legion of Honor, mimicking Rodin |
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| He's so patient: Breakfast at 8am (Cafe, not time) |
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| The shapes and colours Of a good hearty breakfast At 8 am (cafe) |
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| Clouds at Golden Gate. He's likely wise to avoid Today's sailboat trip. |
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| He walked and saw whales, But the captain let me steer! We both were quite pleased. |
At the CA Academy of Science
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| Really great eco roof at CA AofS |
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| G provides scale for a really huge piece of quartz |
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| Just a few amazing And true colours and textures From Golden Gate Park |
8-hour drive south, arrived at Newport Beach in time for Baroque concert. Now crashing at my airbnb. This one is not so nice: musty smell in the room.
Mon June 19
EB skeet shooting at Mayur Restaurant, pre-concert. A demonstration of life as an artistic director of an early music festival.
  | |
| I love napkin folds. The shirt fold is new to me. Now I must learn it. |
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| Before the concert, a pic for Esther |
Tues June 20
In a garden listening to rehearsal. Lovely.
Sherman Library and Gardens, in Corona del Mar
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| It's not Chihuly Nor yet SanFran Botanic, But it's quite lovely. |
Wed June 21
Zinc Cafe, at Corona del Mar. A vegetarian Reuben, with beets and cabbage. Excellent, but no Reuben substitute.
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| It's going to be rough But one can get accustomed To anything, right |
Thu June 22
Just learned my voicemail did not apparently transfer over to CREDO. Will fuss over that tomorrow. Also discovered that tea does not prevent a caffeine headache. Sigh.
Fri June 23
Lounging after a day of fighting with the computer; still recovering from yesterday's migraine. Tonight I meet the ex. Mom and son are fighting about packing. He's 20, time to grow up.
Sat June 24
These SoCal dogs chase
Lizards up the tall tree trunks.
I've seen no squirrels.
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| Found another Little Free Library on the dog walk. Wonder if I'll see any in England?! |
Sun June 25
They're on their way! And the natives are restless. I'll have to take them on a walk once my coffee kicks in.
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| Still life with crossword |
Mon June 26
Other than skinny dipping and tutoring, I've done very little. Too hot. But this is an excellent home for lounging in the heat of the day.
Tues June 27
.
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| When you wake early And go swimming in the dark, The pets are confused |
Wed June 28
Each hour is a gift
This morning I hear
Warbles, flutes, twitters, and cheeps:
It's a bird riot.
Behind a huge frond
In the Bird of Paradise,
A bird's silhouette.
They lick my limp hand
And I doze, slowly baking.
The water's chillin'.
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| At the Rancho Santa Ana Butterflies and Brews |
I leave for 2 hours, return,
And the dogs go nuts.
  |  |
| It's impossible To share the immensity Of these native trees |
It's what they do, when they aren't fighting over my lap.
Don't know where this day went. Surely I didn't spend the whole day sitting under a dog and coloring online?
Fri June 30
OMG, the DOG caught a baby bird! The little feet were sticking out of his mouth and I couldn't get him to drop it so I pulled on the feet and only half came out. So gross. I had to swim several laps to recover and when I came out he was LICKING my legs. I'm going to have to disinfect everything.
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