A Year of Wonder

I suppose a title such as this could imply looking backward or forward.  Absolutely!   

As the 25th anniversary year for Gloriae Dei Cantores comes to a close, we stand in awe of what God has brought about. Our final Gala concerts were at the beginning of December and what a joy it was to see - under one roof - so many people who have supported the work of Gloriae Dei Cantores. And moreover - to hear them share their stories!

I believe, that much like the past 25 years, every new year will bring many blessings, struggles, and surprises.

So - where do we go from here?  The sheer variety of repertoire that we were able to cover this past year was incredible! Of course, in terms of the choral literature, we have only scratched the surface of that which is available to sing. I can't wait, because when journeying with God, the level of adventure is always tremendous!

O Come!

Great Advent and the O Antiphons have held a special place in my heart ever since I was first introduced to them as a novice over 30 years ago. In fact, as novices, the tradition so fascinated us that we constructed an O Antiphon Tree and decorated it with homemade "O" ornaments like keys, roots, scrolls, stars, etc.......
They link the old and new testament in unique and clever ways. The kinds of ways that make you feel smart for discovering them.
They are the basis for the beloved carol - O Come, O Come  Emmanuel
So even today when their season arrives - advent kicks up a notch.
I sit a little more forward and try to find something new.

O Come!

What God Hath Wrought

(A letter from Gloriae Dei Cantores, printed in the program for our 25th Anniversary Gala Concert)

It was 1988, and under the direction of Elizabeth Patterson, the choir had just

finished two month-long study periods in Cambridge, England, singing more than

one hundred pieces of choral repertoire, and completing eight levels of the Royal School

of Church Music theory program, the Modus Novus sight-singing course, daily

classes of Gregorian chant, and weekly personal voice lessons. In this same year,

one of the Community’s Founders died, and the dream of the future Church of the

Transfiguration began to take shape.

We had no idea of the adventure that was about to unfold.

As the winds of dramatic change began to sweep across Eastern Europe and the

former Soviet Union, the breath of the Holy Spirit was leading the newly named

Singers to the Glory of God to sing his praises in countries that had been

closed both to America, and to the sung word of God. From the outposts of Irkutsk to

the mountains of Croatia, the choir bridged cultural and ecumenical divides,

sharing the love and hope of Christ in churches and concert halls in twenty-three

countries. No one but the Divine Orchestrator could have brought together the

people in the places at the time we were there, to fling open doors in ways that would never have been possible.

Over the years, the challenges were manifold and daunting, as we struggled

to achieve the excellence and beauty that would honor and glorify God. We

sometimes flagged -- in faith, in effort, in energy, and in charity. But there were

many who stood with us, encouraging, teaching, and challenging us to the highest

standards of performance artistry. And there were others who sacrificed time,

resources, and prayers, supporting the mission of inspiration and healing that

can come through sacred texts sung from the hearts of consecrated lives. Along

the way we had the privilege of wonderful collaborations and performance

opportunities, forming deep friendships through shared musical experiences across

this country and abroad. God took our feeble offerings, and like the miracle of the

loves and the fishes, multiplied them to feed a hungry world.

Join us tonight, as with heartfelt gratitude,

we celebrate 25 years of God’s abundant faithfulness.

Gloriae Dei Cantores

Crash

"In any real city, you walk, you brush past people, and people bump into you. In L.A, nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other just so we can feel something."  Opening Monologue, Crash (2004)

Keeping things at a distance makes for a life half-lived. I often feel that avoidance is the logical antidote to messy. However - I'm coming to realize that mess isn't so bad if I'm part of it.  Just like hearing an argument in another room is often far more intimidating than actually arguing.

The same is true in music. Not all works are major keys and Hallmark happy. The Magnificat was in fact as terrifying as it was joyful.  I'll only experience that if I engage.  I have to get my hands dirty - or "crash" into the music - to feel something. 

It is in the crash that new - present today - music is created.

Seeing Things in New Light

I love the fall. Especially here on the Cape. The summer has has had months to heat up the surrounding water - so frosts are delayed, but the air is still crisp. The sky morphs to a steely blue which contrasts beautifully with the browning beach grass and the water on the bay. The light changes too. It feels sharper and full of contrasts - like the weather.  I noticed it this morning on the stone walls and the bright frescoes in the church.  Even the singing sounds different. Everything seems it's best self.

Cheerful Whistling Permitted

Music has an innate ability to lift the spirits. It's a default that courses through our very being. Think about it.  How often do you choose to set out singing as you work? I never do - It just happens. (and oftentimes I'm not even aware of it until a co-worker asks me to stop)  Why is that? What is it about music that causes even tone-deaf howlers to whistle, hum, or sing unknowingly?  Worth exploring.....

Playing the Rests

"Playing the Rests" is a term or tool musicians use to help keep an ensemble together. In theatre you might say "play the pause". Essentially it means to consciously give energy and life to those moments where no notes are being played, or no words sung or spoken. Silence can never be just "time off" - it needs to be filled. Otherwise the performer is left with the arduous task of re-energizing after every rest.

It dawned on me this morning - life is a little bit like that. 

We just finished a concert - our next performance isn't until November 1. 

Inertia is a killer. The longer I take time off in the"silence" the harder it is going to be to re-energize for the next event.

Note to Self:

Play the Rests!

Mathias 150 - Surprised by Joy

I'm on Timpani for the concerts this weekend. I love playing - the choir is great , the church is stunning (both visually and acoustically), I'm a percussionist at heart, and I get to dress up in a tux.  What's not to like?

By the time we hit dress rehearsal I like to be ready. I do my prep. I know my music - what the piece sounds like, who plays when, major themes, etc....  I want no surprises.

My prep for this concert - the Mathias' Psalm 150 in particular -  was a real challenge. I've been away (or otherwise overwhelmed) for the last few weeks. There are no known recordings of this piece, so the usual youtube/itunes listening sessions were unavailable. All that was left to me was score study. 

I'm a very aural person. I would rather watch a movie than read a book, and would choose a conversation over an e-mail. So score study is like reading braille for me.

I came to rehearsal last night totally out of my element. I'd never heard the piece - ever!  

I knew my part. On paper I was ready - but if scores are braille - I was blind. 

Not the way I like to play.

Well......

Mathias took me on an unexpected journey. Being physically present and actively participating in my first hearing was such an immediate experience. The music was fresh - and therefore Psalm 150 itself became new and alive. I was truly surprised by joy.

Life lessons come in unexpected ways.

Embrace surprises.

Bringing "The Twelve" to Life

William Walton and W.H. Auden, classmates in Oxford as boys and ultimately two of their country's most famous men - composer and poet! Walton's "The Twelve", composed on Auden's text - truly acts as a miniature "Pilgrim's Progress"! This text is so poignant and the music so wedded to it that, as I sat in the first orchestra rehearsal last evening, I found myself embraced and embroiled in a story which lives in the instruments themselves. Personally, I have never heard a more moving orchestration - can hardly wait until the choir comes in and puts "face" to music with this text!

Hard Act to Follow

We have two concerts, back-to-back, with very different repertoire, just two weeks apart.
It's hard to compete with the likes of Faure and Mozart. (A little bit like following the the reigning gold medalist in the olympic trials.) But, my experience with the last concert has opened the door for a whole new appreciation of the newer works.  Getting under the skin of the Requiem and the Mass have inspired me to explore the why's and how's of next week's program.  I find that if I can establish a relationship with the works they take on a new life of their own. So hello Hanson, Berger, Bach, and Finzi - I look forward to getting to know you.

A Friend Called Death

Gabriel Faure said:  "it has been said that my requiem does not express the fear of death and sorrow, and someone has called it a lullaby of death. But it is thus that I see death: as a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards happiness above, rather than a painful experience". 

In four nights we will lend our hearts and voices to the vision Faure had of the beautiful passage called death, and as I sit here listening to the orchestra rehearse the Requiem I can feel what he means, and I find myself feeling a strange affection for this event I normally find so fearful. 

Even in moments of pain, there is light and beauty. 

Even when faced with what we do not know, there is comfort in the knowing that Love itself draws us. 

I want to see with Faure's eyes when my time comes. 

No wonder his Requiem has become so beloved- love answers Love.

Under the Skin

I'm the first to tell you that "Classical" music is not my first love. The radio dial quickly drifts to easy listening or pop when I am in the car. I've always assumed it was an indication of my immaturity (which it very well may be) - but when we, the orchestra, gathered to rehearse the Mozart Mass in C Minor the other night I was hooked.
It caught me totally by surprise.
What hooked me was not just the music - but the insights and anecdotes that our conductor was sharing. Suddenly - knowing the why's and where's, and the who's and how's - the work took on flesh. It became a breathing, living, work that I could relate to - that I wanted to know more about. And maybe that's where the immaturity comes in. I let the easily accesible lyric or clever rhythm catch me and pull me in, and too quickly dismiss those things that require work and investment to discover.
It's worth the investment!

Imitation is the Highest Form of Flattery

Mozart was, among many things, tireless when working to hone his own skills of composition! While working for one Baron von Swieten, Mozart actually studied and "copied out" works of Bach and Handel. In Mozart's great C Minor Mass, those influences are strongly audible! If you have familiarity with Handel's "Messiah" or Bach's B Minor Mass", you will instantly spot the influence of the two older masters within the work of the younger!

Gregorian Chant: The Grandfather of Muisc

Reposted from a Paraclete Press blog. 

Lately, Gloriæ Dei Cantores’ chant recordings have received a lot of favorable attention. We’re thrilled, of course—we view Gregorian chant as the beloved “grandfather” of all western music, and it provides the heartbeat of our monastic vocation. “Seven times a day will I praise thee,” says the psalmist, and we endeavor to join him faithfully through the Liturgy of the Hours. The fruits of this opus Dei—this work of God—are sweet indeed.

Now I know that not everyone views chant as the “full contact sport” that we tend to engage in here in our monastery by the bay. The CDs most of our customers hear in the peaceful setting of home, car, or office, with those clean, smooth lines and (hopefully!) unified voices are generally only achieved after a lot of mutual knocking off of corners and filing down of rough patches amongst the Schola members—a challenging process, but in the end, always a cause for gratitude. As regular folks, we have experienced the innumerable benefits of worshiping daily through this vibrant form of sung prayer—the experience of unity, the seeming secret language of prayer, the sparks of inspiration that occur when the critical mechanism of the mind takes a break and the heart opens.

We know we’re not alone in finding these sparks, because Gloriæ Dei Cantores sings a lot of other music—the early masters like Josquin and Palestrina, up through Bach, Mozart, Rheinberger, Brahms, Liszt, Faure, Vaughan Williams, and the list goes on—and we’re always excited to find that thread of Gregorian chant that has managed to weave its way through the music of the centuries, still living and breathing, into today’s choral music.
So if you’ve been reluctant to stray too far from the purity of chant, we invite you venture out into the other choral treasures that Gloriæ Dei Cantores has come to know and love—Gregorian chant’s great-great-grandchildren, if you will. It’s a lineage and heritage worth exploring.

A Faure Perspective

A new look at a beloved work - the Faure Requiem.

Very interesting that Gabriel Faure's Requiem, a work known in musical and non-musical circles alike - is so often heard in a version which he did not compose! The final version of the work - that which is most often performed today - has a much larger orchestra than Faure intended. It is amazing to study his original thoughts and score - as he says - he wrote this work "for the pleasure of doing so" and that he saw death not as terrifying end but as a welcome and peaceful beginning. It is that subtext which is illuminated so thoughtfully in his original scoring.

Anniversary

On a hot, HOT June day in 2000, The Church of the Transfiguration in Orleans, Gloriae Dei Cantores' home church, was dedicated.  We were packed in like sardines, standing room only, to celebrate the day we had been waiting, planning, working and hoping for for over 10 years!  You could practically taste the anticipation in the air - the electricity of joy contained, like a caged tiger, poised and ready to explode free as soon as the latch was lifted.  Where now, brilliant colored mosaic and fresco tells the tale of our heritage of faith, bare concrete walls held us, bouncing back the sounds of our celebration.

A bishop's staff on a bronze door, words of proclamation, a swirl of banners and the swell of people pressing through the doors.....and the music!  From the peaks and valleys of the Mass by Samuel Adler, to the soaring melodies of hymn tunes by Bruce Saylor and Mike Hale, to the other-worldly shimmer of Dominic Argento's "The Vision" with text from Dante's Paradise....it was as though all the sounds present in creation stepped in to receive our best efforts of praise.

June 16, 2013 - thirteen years later....the walls are adorned with pigment of frescoes and tiny squares of hand cut glass and stone - vibrant colors adding to the centuries of story past and yet to come - stories of He who we worship in this space - and among the colors are sounds -  carefully placed neumes from the Liturgy of the Hours morning and evening, the rumble of final chords by Widor , Bach and others who best brought forth the organ's voice, the cries of funeral hymns, the joy of weddings and baptism and the other 12 anniversaries.  And a myriad of words and tunes from Palestrina to Brahms to Mozart to Schoenberg....the Our Father sung in languages now loved and understood, Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, Agnus Dei!  And still the stone takes it in - no end to the capacity to contain what generations have put their pen to, and others have given voice.  So like the human heart - a bottomless well to fill with the sounds of conversation between Creator and created.

Tune the Ear

What an interesting discovery - to be able to "tune the ear".  

As Gloriae Dei Cantores has rehearsed the Vaughan Williams famous Mass in G Minor, we have discovered that Vaughan Williams often uses"modal" sounds - those sounds so common to chant. As we have rehearsed and noted these particular colors, we have also discovered that our ears became attuned to those sounds and gave us an entirely new appreciation and insight to this work!

Music of Our Time

I am always fascinated at the sounds of music of our own time. Gloriae  Dei Cantores is preparing for the upcoming programs which include works of William Walton, Howard Hanson, and Zoltan Kodaly - all of whom were extremely active as composers, educators, and conductors for a large portion of the 20th century. They have a "voice" unlike each other and  have unmistakable hallmarks to their writing. But, what is so amazing is that all of them managed - to some degree instinctively - to use traditional methods and musical colors in a new way at a time when many other composers were abandoning any sense of traditional composition! They found ways to invite the "common man" into their music,offering  an extraordinary experience with a musical language common to the day while leaping to the future. Hope you can join us to share in that experience!

Pentecost

A festive celebration of creativity and new life, remembering the first indwelling of the Holy Spirit, rushing winds, tongues of fire - what's not to like?  If I am honest with myself the fresh unpredictability that Pentecost unleashed makes me slightly nervous.  Sure,  when I'm calling the shots, or directing the creativity, I'm all for it.  But when the rudder is another pair of hands (which it really should be) - I'm not so sure.  Come Holy Spirit - Come Holy Comforter - give me the grace to let go.

To watch a lovely video called "A Gift and a Prayer for Pentecost" - click on the link below:
http://youtu.be/PcS_bshe7tY

The Little Things

In our concerts April 26 and 27, we sang a set of Four songs by Edvard Grieg.  The music and text, for choir and baritone solo, are a beautiful melding of folk melodies and of religious psalms and poetry.  The setting certainly has it's challenges - the tuning is crucial as Grieg's harmonies melt in and out, not to mention pronouncing the Norwegian correctly.  But the interesting thing is, if the details are in place, the piece sounds amazingly simple.  Because in the truest sense, it is.  As one Grieg scholar said "In each of the four psalms, Grieg allows himself to receive his key inspiration from the texts, letting them guide his forms. As a result, he lends their performance a natural, idiomatic quality..."  I was struck by how many people commented on the Grieg after the concert.  It's the kind of music that, in its simplicity, seeps into your heart almost without you noticing.  The kind of tune you could go away humming.  And it made reminded me, sometimes, it's all about the little things.  In music, in life - it's not always the thing that seems the most impressive that leaves a lasting impression.  

Well-tuned Instrument

I've been thinking recently about the voice as an instrument.  We all have vocal regimes in GDC and we each know what we need to do to warm-up, rest, diet, exercise, etc.....  

Like any athlete or musician.  But what you can't do with your voice is shoot a scolding look at your vocal chords when a wrong note or bad sound comes out - like you might with a squeaky reed or stuck valve.  You're it - there's nothing else to blame.  It's one of the most challenging things about singing.  My voice is like pulling-up my insides and saying to everyone "here, have a look".  And sometimes it's not pretty.  But isn't that what we respond to in a singer who moves us.  Not that their execution is flawless (although accuracy in the technical makes way for greater emotional impact|) but the willingness to share themselves - just as they are - through their voice-what the text has said to them and what the harmonies have taught them.  

Prayer

One of the pieces on the repertoire for this week's concert is Bach's "Jesu, der du meine Seele".  I love Bach - such joy and love in his music, as if he was always carrying a smile inside about some quietly understood truth that he was loved.

The text for the final chorale is a prayer to God, asking for his help not to despair.  He says, when death attacks me, I will trust your goodness until I see you face to face in eternity.  It's beautiful poetry but took on a new level of meaning this week after the bombing in Boston especially and the Texas fertilizer plant explosion.  Here I stood in my beautiful home, singing these words while in these two places, someone had lost a child or a friend, or had had their life changed forever by something destructive.  

Isn't that one of the powerful things about music.  That it can become a prayer for the people - that we singing it, can give it as a gift on behalf of those who need it.  

I think it is no wonder St.Augustine said "To sing is to pray twice"

Bopping

I will admit, music theory is not my favorite thing. A pre-requisite for joining GDC, I grit my teeth and plowed through late nights and repeated tests to audition. And hoped it would be over. It wasn't. But I don't think it was until this week I really (hopefully) had my opinion changed for good. We were working on Herbert Howells' "Te Deum Laudamus". It's a beautiful, thrilling piece with many potential traps - singing to the rhythm rather than the text, over singing... We stopped to discuss what we were actually saying and to speak it once outside of the rhythm. Then we dove back in to singing. But something wasn't working. So someone stopped to say "your subtext is all great, but we're losing it under the unbalanced harmonies and inaccuracies in the chords. That's where the subtext LIVES. So we took it back and went through "bopping"- singing on scat syllables with every note short. There's no sliding by with a slightly out of tune pitch or mis-balanced chord when you do it that way. We combed through that section and cleaned up note by note, balancing the voice parts, centering the pitches - then went back to put the words to it. I got it. You could feel it in the room - now the composer's vision could come through because the sounds he heard and wrote were happening. Time to dust off those theory books.

Awesome Responsibility

We have been preparing Bach's Cantata BWV 78 "Jesu Der du meine Seele" in rehearsals this week, working towards a large concert program next weekend. As we delve more deeply into the intricacies of this work, and the beautiful knitting together of text and music, I am overwhelmed by the awesome responsibility it is to sing a work of this magnitude, and be able to offer it as worship at a time such as this.

The translation for the final Chorale movement, (which is the summation of the Cantata) reads:

Lord, I believe, help my weakness,
Let me never despair;
You, You can make me stronger,

when sin and death assail me.
I will trust in Your goodness,
until I joyfully see
You, Lord Jesus, after the battle
in sweet eternity.

This message is extremely challenging and poignant for us as Nation. The horrific events at the Boston Marathon and the explosions and devastation in Texas have left many of us completely undone...
I pray that those of us singing might do justice to this music with every fiber of ourselves, so that the powerful words of comfort might be a balm to those thousands in shock and anguish around us, and might bring consolation to those personally affected by these tragedies.

Oklahoma City Bombing - 18th Anniversary

Today, on the 18th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing, please take comfort in this short tribute from Gloriae Dei Cantores when they sang the Lord's Prayer at the Oklahoma City National Memorial last fall. Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Oklahoma City, and with the people of Boston and Texas who so recently suffered from the tragedies this week. God bless you.

  Click Here to Watch the Video Tribute

Daily Foot-Washing

At the Maunday Thursday Service this evening we will hear again the story of Jesus washing his disciples feet.  In reflecting on this amazing story, it occurred to me that this attitude of humility and service is critical to those of us working in the creative arts- To "bow and to bend" as the Shaker hymn states, when we are attempting to link arms with other artists.

I am embarrassed by how often I try to put forward my ideas, and am less apt to get behind someone else's vision.  Rehearsing notes and rhythms is, in a sense, the easiest part of practicing in a group! The harder parts (for me) are to be truly united with my neighbor, to keep my sound in balance with his or her voice, and to be so attentive to the other parts in the ensemble that I forget about myself completely!  This attitude of washing each other's feet is a daily choice-one I often push aside.  

Passion Narrative

The passion narrative is one of my favorite parts of Holy Week. I don't know what it is - but it feels timeless and accesible. I look forward to it every year. I share it with you here -
http://www.paracletepress.com/the-passion-according-to-st-john.html
please click on the link to listen for yourself.  A Blessed Holy Week to you.

Changing Our Perceptions

One of the challenges of any good choral ensemble is to be ruthlessly honest with yourself and others. As singers we require loads of outside input and criticism because- let’s face it---how we sound in our own head is never how others hear us! How you sing in the shower “dies hard” when you are required to sing well with others!

It is easy to bristle at criticism and yet it is the very thing which allows us to improve. What if we decided to change our perceptions and not look at criticism as a personal attack? I could be hungry for criticism! What do I have to lose...really?

We recognize groups that have decided to approach their craft this way. They are infused with a certain energy and the group is stronger for it. Isn’t this one the many intangibles that draws us in and affects us when we see a spectacular performance?

A willing excitement to have our rough edges chiseled away…perhaps this is what makes great art!

Old Friends

When certain pieces of music have been in our repertoire for 25 years, or even 5, they become like old friends.  Picking up the piece is like a flash-back - stories of concert stages in foreign countries, faces we came to know personally, hours bent over the piece analyzing structure and form and asking God for a vision of what the composer was saying.  The music itself shows signs of familiarity - greasy finger-prints at the corners, spines that have been stapled and re-stapled.  And there's always that slight sense of letting out a breath when we see it's something we've wrestled with and come to love.  But, just like an old friend, there are always new layers to discover.  We sing the Mass for Double Choir by Frank Martin this weekend.  I remember cracking the piece for the first time and it felt so daunting.  Long sustained phrases with subtle movement requiring extreme sensitivity to all the other parts.  We've absorbed and lived with it now for a few years and I think it's safe to say we all love the work.    And it's incredible that still, after all this time, there are things we haven't discovered, a nuance we missed before.  And because WE change, and music lives, there are always fresh perspectives or a new vision to bring to it.  So that music, like an old friend, never becomes "old-hat"

Martin Mass for Double Choir

The choir is singing Frank Martin's Mass for Double Choir this weekend. It is a stunning Mass. I can still remember the first time I heard this work. Timeless......  It is obviously a 20th century composition - but it has the depth and gravitas of centuries ago. Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. If you can make it to the Church of the Transfiguration this weekend - please do. If not, click on this link and listen to a brief clip of the Kyrie. http://youtu.be/6ftFitCl478

Value Added

"Not adding value is the same as taking it away."  Seth Godin

All too often I'm content to just play what is written. Unfortunately, that is not really making music - It's simply doing what I'm told.  If I don't risk adding my life to the instructions on the page then I have shortchanged the process and shrunk my world.  But, if I do take the risk - the possibilities are endless.

Muscle Memory

Someone turned on a recording of Respighi's "Pines of Rome" last night.  My head popped up from what I was doing and craned to hear the melody that I haven't heard in probably 15 years - and I was caught up in the movement of it - back to a time in my teenage years when I was in a dance performance of "The Prodigal Son" and that was the opening piece.  Amazing how a piece of music can do that - recall all the senses of a time - as if it actually lives somewhere in your body waiting to be woken up. I think about what it must be like at this 25th anniversary for those who have been in the choir all this time. Each piece houses a set of memories and emotions, and just the opening notes can transport us back, like a musical time machine. And the amazing thing is, if we are generous with our experience, anyone hearing can come too. We can see the faithful Russian people in worship houses destroyed and rebuilt, hear the sounds of Herbert Howells ringing through an English cathedral, and feel the hope of faithful people in Albania having endured such suffering.  What an incredible gift music is, and what a journey.

Stories

Madeleine L’Engle writes, “It is not easy for me to be a Christian, to believe twenty-four hours a day all that I want to believe. I stray, and then my stories pull me back if I listen to them carefully. I have often been asked if my Christianity affects my stories, and surely it is the other way around; my stories affect my Christianity, restore me, shake me by the scruff of the neck, and pull this straying sinner into an awed faith.”
This helps me explain to myself why I need creative arts. I’m not a writer, but the “stories” that “pull me back” often come through learning music. These stories could be in preparing a Mass by one of the great masters, like Mozart, or in studying how the harmonic language of Herbert Howells can work so beautifully to paint poetry in sound.  An “awed faith” is a good description for the moments in singing that move me deeply, rattling something in my inner core that I can neither articulate, nor conjure up on my own, yet I know has happened.  I’m often scared at the power of these sporadic, unknown emotions which I don’t know what to do with; but these gifted moments are awe-inspiring enough to change my mood, to let me believe, and to send me back to the practice room to listen and hope for more.

Giving Back

True education is all about giving back. Over the last few months I have been in the presence of some great teachers. People who are accomplished, even famous, in their field of expertise. What I find so inspiring is not just what they share - but why they share. It goes beyond paycheck or occupation - and becomes vocation. They love what they do so much that they are compelled to share. It's changed their lives and they want it to change ours. That passion is contagious and it creates a desire to learn.
This concept could - if we let it - if we dive in with both feet - not only enhance how we learn, but change how we live. Imagine what it would be like at school, at home, at work..... if we all just "gave back". 

Surprised by Something New

In the closing week of 2012 I attended the the opening performance in Gloriae Dei's 25th Anniversary Concert Series. I'm not a classical music fan by nature.  I went to honor the 25 years of dedication and commitment - and support the singers (most of whom, are my closest friends).  It was such an unexpected gift. Connections between Langlais and Durufle, Sviridov alongside Bach, teens singing next to seniors, the beautiful mosaics and frescoes....  A perfect way to close out the year.
I've heard them sing hundreds of times (literally) - but it was different.  I look forward to being surprised by something new throughout 2013.  God bless you GDC - and thank you for 25 years!