Read novels in a cozy chair
Watch the nature from my long window
Sip my mug of hot chocolate
Sing beautiful repertoire in Latin
Paint in oils on linen
Dance all night long
And walk through the trees, enjoying the crackles of leaves and melodies of birdsongs.
I see the mist, feel the chill on my cheek, and fear nothing.
My sweater is long and loose. There is a blue tinge to the air and I can smell the greenness of these woods. My heart beats powerfully with the thrill of intrigue and mystery. I am a little girl, stumbling through a forest, wondering what's about to happen next. It's a secret, it's an enchantment, it's a garden all my own.
I hum a new tune, thinking about Mozart and how I wish he were here so I could appreciate his genius and his struggle. Everything I see is a painting, or a potential one. I can't wait to get back to the studio and take this treasure before me into my own palette. I will recreate serenity in a medium that isn't quite permanent but still satisfies.
This solitude isn't loneliness, here in the dewy woods. I'm flattered to be here and I love exploring. Every tree, every stone or bush, is protecting and concealing. I want to know more.
I look up and can just see the distant sunlight reaching through branches and fog. It's my sign that I'm headed in the right direction. Inhaling, I close my eyes and relish the moment of earth and mist and freshness. I want to soak it into my bones.
I continue on and it's just a memory, that which is behind me. But I'm stepping on fallen branches and not trying to skirt around them. It's okay; I'm sure of myself here.
Horses and cloaks and carriage wheels. Tracks in the dirt.
Lanterns burning.
A child humming, stroking the yarn of her doll's head.
Whispers of fairies and stardust.
Nightgowns and stories by candlelight.
A braid over my shoulder, I carry my weight in firewood.
A violin serenades me with its delicate timbre. Chatter ensues.
Rough-hewn furtniture and dainty doilies. Handmade trinkets.
Tea and some biscuits, resting under dust, and a bottle of ink left uncorked.
The parchment stiffens, threatening to curl.
I made my home here, and I haven't gone back.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Monday, October 6, 2014
Stay alive...and live!
I had this thought the other day that I just have to write down. I don't think I can remember it exactly as it was in my head (and damn, it was so brilliant), but I'll try to flesh out the gist.
I was thinking about suicide. Not planning my own, but thinking about the idea of taking one's life and what it means. I thought about this while I was at a crosswalk in Madrid and watching all the cars and Vespas zipping by. One wrong move, one foot into the traffic and I could be killed in an instant. I thought about God and faith and that I can't believe that people who don't believe are just living their lives for nothing. How can so many people be on this earth and not know why they're here? I looked around at the people walking by on the city sidewalk and realized that this is exactly the problem - they don't know why they're living, so they're not really living. I scowled at all the people smoking (because practically everyone does here) and thought about the tragedy of how unhealthy it was; I thought about all the millions of other ways humans in general mistreat themselves on a daily basis. Drinking, hoarding, self-harm, and overall neglect are just a few. Cities make disease seem so prominent; I'm constantly taking note of people's skin, their facial features, their posture, and general demeanor, and I notice how indicative it all is of their wellbeing (or lack thereof). How truly sad it is that we waste our precious time, youth, and natural-born health destroying it all, and for what? We gain nothing.
I looked up at the scaffolding on a building under construction. I am terrified of heights, and every time I see construction way up high, I am in awe at the brave men working up there. How can they not be afraid? I thought. Don't they know they could so easily fall and lose their life? In one second? How are they not afraid of that possibility? It's not irrational or unrealistic, after all.
Then I realized this: the truth is that most of us don't actually value our lives. We're just afraid to die, so we keep on living, existing mundanely. We don't actually value our lives, in the grand scheme of things. And this scares me! We don't want to kill ourselves because we're afraid of what may or may not come afterward. If we didn't have that fear of dying, of the experience itself, and if we didn't think there would be any consequences, then maybe we'd all be jumping off buildings. Life is tough and unfair, and people can be cruel. We all experience struggle, and sometimes it can seem so unbearable it's just not worth living through. But we wouldn't actually go through with suicide as a means of taking the easy way out. Neither do we strive to look for God and meaning amidst the struggle and misery. So we settle for indifference, for apathy, and we just accept the fact that so many things in life suck. And we survive.
But if we valued our lives, we'd have a million times more of a reason to stay alive and live. If we actually knew, realized, admitted, acknowledged, celebrated the fact that there is no one like any one of us, and that God breathed life into each of us with our own unique purpose, then we might treat ourselves differently. But it's just so obvious that we don't care enough. Or we forget to care. There are so many other filthy humans walking around that it's easy to melt into the mix and forget that it is AMAZING that I or you even exist. I mean, there never has been and never will be another me. I am precious and valuable beyond anything I could imagine. Sure, I'm a sinner and I always will be one. But that doesn't make me or anyone else less special. Of course, I won't live forever, but that's only here. My body is on loan. My soul is eternal. What I do here does make a difference.
I've realized that no matter what I do in life, no matter where I am, no matter how many wonderful things could be happening for me, I can generally find something to feel depressed about on any given day. (It's just like that for me. I have always suffered from varying levels of depression.) But I also know that God is keeping me here for a reason. There's just no way that I could have gone through what I've gone through for absolutely nothing other than that's just the way life is. I believe that my struggles are all significant. I believe they're shaping me as an individual but that they're also affecting the world. I believe that God sent me here to change the world, because no one else can do it in exactly the same ways that I can, since there's only one me. I believe everyone else on the planet has a purpose to fulfill as well, not just me. We all can change the world because we are all equally loved by God.
The key ingredient here is believing in our own worth and the value of our lives as part of a greater context. My life isn't only important if I have family or friends who love me and make my time enjoyable, or if I have talents and hobbies that are interesting, or if I have enough money to donate to a cause and feed an entire village in Africa. No, my life is important because God made me. My life is important because it is human.
Humans are horrific and incredible beings. We're capable of so much (good and bad), yet our imperfect nature keeps us vulnerable. It should keep us humble as well, but interestingly enough, there still exist many humans who must face multiple trials in life before learning the key component of humility. I happen to be one of those humans. I didn't realize just how human I was until shit hit the fan. Thanks, God (no, seriously)! I really needed a kick in the butt. For real. I couldn't have gone on living so inauthentically because all I was doing was denying my own humanity for years, because I thought being a good person meant being a perfect person. Wrong!
I'm going to admit something to you (or probably just to myself, since I doubt anyone is reading this): I am afraid of mediocrity and the mundane. I want to be fabulous and famous (eek, it's horrible to write but I think it's true). I want every day of the week to feel special. I want to be on fire for God and for my life and its purpose at every moment. But that will never happen. We can't always feel that way, because the external world lets us down now and then. However, what I'm suggesting is that we at least think about this stuff more often. Remind yourself that no matter how lame or boring or difficult or distasteful or frustrating or unfair your life is, you will always be a priority for God. His love for you can never be defeated, and He always has your best interests at heart. He can never do you wrong. He is love, and He is all that is true and good.
I went to Mass last night here in Madrid, and the priest said something that really struck me during his homily (and I'm pretty psyched that I was paying attention at that moment specifically):
Wow! Okay, it sounded much better in Spanish, but that is my basic translation and I think you can still get the point. I was dumbfounded and also not that surprised...I mean, this is a pretty simple and what should be obvious conclusion. Why do we think God will love us or help us more if we do something good for our neighbor? That is so backwards! Why isn't God's love for us (which is the biggest Love you could ever hope to find) enough? (Well, it IS enough, but we don't always realize it.) Why aren't we doing more to act on His Love? God's Love should be a springboard for us to change the world. Yes, I realize that not everyone has access or the means or the capacity or the health to do all the amazing things out there...but that is why He created you and me! If not someone else, then why not us??!
I'm grateful for the gift of writing. I'm grateful for the gift of language. I'm grateful for the gift of beauty and my ability to see it and seek it. I may seem quiet on the outside, but there's a rumble inside that I know God is helping me to hone so that I can change the world. And maybe I won't make the history books or receive any recognition whatsoever, but that won't undo what I'm going to achieve in this world. The knowledge of God's Love for me and His purpose for my life will be enough.
I was thinking about suicide. Not planning my own, but thinking about the idea of taking one's life and what it means. I thought about this while I was at a crosswalk in Madrid and watching all the cars and Vespas zipping by. One wrong move, one foot into the traffic and I could be killed in an instant. I thought about God and faith and that I can't believe that people who don't believe are just living their lives for nothing. How can so many people be on this earth and not know why they're here? I looked around at the people walking by on the city sidewalk and realized that this is exactly the problem - they don't know why they're living, so they're not really living. I scowled at all the people smoking (because practically everyone does here) and thought about the tragedy of how unhealthy it was; I thought about all the millions of other ways humans in general mistreat themselves on a daily basis. Drinking, hoarding, self-harm, and overall neglect are just a few. Cities make disease seem so prominent; I'm constantly taking note of people's skin, their facial features, their posture, and general demeanor, and I notice how indicative it all is of their wellbeing (or lack thereof). How truly sad it is that we waste our precious time, youth, and natural-born health destroying it all, and for what? We gain nothing.
I looked up at the scaffolding on a building under construction. I am terrified of heights, and every time I see construction way up high, I am in awe at the brave men working up there. How can they not be afraid? I thought. Don't they know they could so easily fall and lose their life? In one second? How are they not afraid of that possibility? It's not irrational or unrealistic, after all.
Then I realized this: the truth is that most of us don't actually value our lives. We're just afraid to die, so we keep on living, existing mundanely. We don't actually value our lives, in the grand scheme of things. And this scares me! We don't want to kill ourselves because we're afraid of what may or may not come afterward. If we didn't have that fear of dying, of the experience itself, and if we didn't think there would be any consequences, then maybe we'd all be jumping off buildings. Life is tough and unfair, and people can be cruel. We all experience struggle, and sometimes it can seem so unbearable it's just not worth living through. But we wouldn't actually go through with suicide as a means of taking the easy way out. Neither do we strive to look for God and meaning amidst the struggle and misery. So we settle for indifference, for apathy, and we just accept the fact that so many things in life suck. And we survive.
But if we valued our lives, we'd have a million times more of a reason to stay alive and live. If we actually knew, realized, admitted, acknowledged, celebrated the fact that there is no one like any one of us, and that God breathed life into each of us with our own unique purpose, then we might treat ourselves differently. But it's just so obvious that we don't care enough. Or we forget to care. There are so many other filthy humans walking around that it's easy to melt into the mix and forget that it is AMAZING that I or you even exist. I mean, there never has been and never will be another me. I am precious and valuable beyond anything I could imagine. Sure, I'm a sinner and I always will be one. But that doesn't make me or anyone else less special. Of course, I won't live forever, but that's only here. My body is on loan. My soul is eternal. What I do here does make a difference.
I've realized that no matter what I do in life, no matter where I am, no matter how many wonderful things could be happening for me, I can generally find something to feel depressed about on any given day. (It's just like that for me. I have always suffered from varying levels of depression.) But I also know that God is keeping me here for a reason. There's just no way that I could have gone through what I've gone through for absolutely nothing other than that's just the way life is. I believe that my struggles are all significant. I believe they're shaping me as an individual but that they're also affecting the world. I believe that God sent me here to change the world, because no one else can do it in exactly the same ways that I can, since there's only one me. I believe everyone else on the planet has a purpose to fulfill as well, not just me. We all can change the world because we are all equally loved by God.
The key ingredient here is believing in our own worth and the value of our lives as part of a greater context. My life isn't only important if I have family or friends who love me and make my time enjoyable, or if I have talents and hobbies that are interesting, or if I have enough money to donate to a cause and feed an entire village in Africa. No, my life is important because God made me. My life is important because it is human.
Humans are horrific and incredible beings. We're capable of so much (good and bad), yet our imperfect nature keeps us vulnerable. It should keep us humble as well, but interestingly enough, there still exist many humans who must face multiple trials in life before learning the key component of humility. I happen to be one of those humans. I didn't realize just how human I was until shit hit the fan. Thanks, God (no, seriously)! I really needed a kick in the butt. For real. I couldn't have gone on living so inauthentically because all I was doing was denying my own humanity for years, because I thought being a good person meant being a perfect person. Wrong!
I'm going to admit something to you (or probably just to myself, since I doubt anyone is reading this): I am afraid of mediocrity and the mundane. I want to be fabulous and famous (eek, it's horrible to write but I think it's true). I want every day of the week to feel special. I want to be on fire for God and for my life and its purpose at every moment. But that will never happen. We can't always feel that way, because the external world lets us down now and then. However, what I'm suggesting is that we at least think about this stuff more often. Remind yourself that no matter how lame or boring or difficult or distasteful or frustrating or unfair your life is, you will always be a priority for God. His love for you can never be defeated, and He always has your best interests at heart. He can never do you wrong. He is love, and He is all that is true and good.
I went to Mass last night here in Madrid, and the priest said something that really struck me during his homily (and I'm pretty psyched that I was paying attention at that moment specifically):
We shouldn't try to behave well in life (i.e. make good choices, do good deeds) in order to make God love us; instead, God's love for us should inspire good choices and good deeds.
Wow! Okay, it sounded much better in Spanish, but that is my basic translation and I think you can still get the point. I was dumbfounded and also not that surprised...I mean, this is a pretty simple and what should be obvious conclusion. Why do we think God will love us or help us more if we do something good for our neighbor? That is so backwards! Why isn't God's love for us (which is the biggest Love you could ever hope to find) enough? (Well, it IS enough, but we don't always realize it.) Why aren't we doing more to act on His Love? God's Love should be a springboard for us to change the world. Yes, I realize that not everyone has access or the means or the capacity or the health to do all the amazing things out there...but that is why He created you and me! If not someone else, then why not us??!
I'm grateful for the gift of writing. I'm grateful for the gift of language. I'm grateful for the gift of beauty and my ability to see it and seek it. I may seem quiet on the outside, but there's a rumble inside that I know God is helping me to hone so that I can change the world. And maybe I won't make the history books or receive any recognition whatsoever, but that won't undo what I'm going to achieve in this world. The knowledge of God's Love for me and His purpose for my life will be enough.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Singing Mozart's Requiem...then and now, there and here
AY. DIOS. MÍO. Me he enamorado...¡de la música sacra de nuevo!! Hoy fui a un ensayo del Réquiem de Mozart en la iglesia, pero era un ensayo completamente diferente que normal. Esta vez cantamos en el santuario (no en la salita arriba), que es hermosísimo en primer lugar...pero también cantábamos con ¡LA ORQUESTA!
I was quite literally singing in a HUGE choir amongst a sea of violins, cellos, oboes, piano, trumpet, etc. all filling the church, with a super intense conductor leading the whole thing. You just HAD to be there. I wanted to take photos but all I had with me was my crappy Spanish phone whose camera is horrendous. Anywho, I literally felt goosebumps! The whole thing was amazing. There were four incredible soloists, all my age or younger, and my heart yearned to be one of them, to have an opportunity as a soloist in a piece this important.
I looked up at the altar, at the beautiful, colorful and immense paintings, sculptures of Christ and the holy family, ornate golden furnishings, a bright-patterned carpet covering the steps, the high, stone ceiling of this old church (the oldest in Madrid), and I listened to the music we were making. This all feels so royal, I thought. But why "royal"? Well, I realized, we were singing a Mass for the dead, and Jesus Christ is King. It's only fitting that His music be powerful enough to evoke a sense of royalty.
I sang every piece in the Requiem, even though it was my first time with the score. When we got to "Lacrimosa" my heart was in Heaven. It is such a moving piece, and it's the one that originally made me fall in love with Mozart. I am so happy that I get to sing it again! I first learned "Lacrimosa" during my freshman year of high school, in the chorus directed by Sue Thorpe. That was a magical year for me, musically speaking. I was challenged but I really blossomed as a result.
Ms. Thorpe taught me how to read music, which changed my life. She encouraged me to switch from singing alto to soprano. I had started as an alto because I didn't know anything about music (except that I loved to sing), and I can still remember Ms. Thorpe's words when we discussed my moving to the soprano section: "Go for the gold!" she said fervently. I had always been very uncomfortable and timid in chorus class, partly because I couldn't read music, and partly because Ms. Thorpe herself was pretty strict and demanding (although an excellent choral director). But that moment struck the right chord in me. I was thrilled at being encouraged in such a way. It meant that someone actually believed in me, and saw the potential in me as a singer.
I wish I were still in contact with Sue Thorpe. I wish I could tell her how much her instruction influenced me and changed my life. She left my high school for another job after that one year, and my choral experience was never the same again. But if I could tell Sue Thorpe today what her class did for me, I would tell her that she was the one who planted the seed of desire in me to continue studying music. Because of her, I knew that I would pick music as my major in college. And I did. (Well, it was one of my majors.) The music major was extremely difficult, in both colleges that I attended, and although in the end I decided studying music was not my jam, I'm still grateful for the experiences and the lessons. I'm still grateful that Ms. Thorpe made me realize that music is a legitimate and vital discipline of the arts, and that my voice is an instrument I must not forsake in life.
Thank you, Ms. Thorpe for what you contributed to my life. Had I not continued studying music, I may not have continued participating in choirs. And without my musical literacy, I would not be able to sing in two choirs here in Madrid, Spain, like I am. Thank you for your knowledge, your insistence on making good music, and the inspiration you were to me. I wish you could only know.
"Lacrimosa" is a lament sung in a Mass for the dead, but when I sing it, my heart rejoices and my soul rises in nostalgia.
I was quite literally singing in a HUGE choir amongst a sea of violins, cellos, oboes, piano, trumpet, etc. all filling the church, with a super intense conductor leading the whole thing. You just HAD to be there. I wanted to take photos but all I had with me was my crappy Spanish phone whose camera is horrendous. Anywho, I literally felt goosebumps! The whole thing was amazing. There were four incredible soloists, all my age or younger, and my heart yearned to be one of them, to have an opportunity as a soloist in a piece this important.
I looked up at the altar, at the beautiful, colorful and immense paintings, sculptures of Christ and the holy family, ornate golden furnishings, a bright-patterned carpet covering the steps, the high, stone ceiling of this old church (the oldest in Madrid), and I listened to the music we were making. This all feels so royal, I thought. But why "royal"? Well, I realized, we were singing a Mass for the dead, and Jesus Christ is King. It's only fitting that His music be powerful enough to evoke a sense of royalty.
I sang every piece in the Requiem, even though it was my first time with the score. When we got to "Lacrimosa" my heart was in Heaven. It is such a moving piece, and it's the one that originally made me fall in love with Mozart. I am so happy that I get to sing it again! I first learned "Lacrimosa" during my freshman year of high school, in the chorus directed by Sue Thorpe. That was a magical year for me, musically speaking. I was challenged but I really blossomed as a result.
Ms. Thorpe taught me how to read music, which changed my life. She encouraged me to switch from singing alto to soprano. I had started as an alto because I didn't know anything about music (except that I loved to sing), and I can still remember Ms. Thorpe's words when we discussed my moving to the soprano section: "Go for the gold!" she said fervently. I had always been very uncomfortable and timid in chorus class, partly because I couldn't read music, and partly because Ms. Thorpe herself was pretty strict and demanding (although an excellent choral director). But that moment struck the right chord in me. I was thrilled at being encouraged in such a way. It meant that someone actually believed in me, and saw the potential in me as a singer.
I wish I were still in contact with Sue Thorpe. I wish I could tell her how much her instruction influenced me and changed my life. She left my high school for another job after that one year, and my choral experience was never the same again. But if I could tell Sue Thorpe today what her class did for me, I would tell her that she was the one who planted the seed of desire in me to continue studying music. Because of her, I knew that I would pick music as my major in college. And I did. (Well, it was one of my majors.) The music major was extremely difficult, in both colleges that I attended, and although in the end I decided studying music was not my jam, I'm still grateful for the experiences and the lessons. I'm still grateful that Ms. Thorpe made me realize that music is a legitimate and vital discipline of the arts, and that my voice is an instrument I must not forsake in life.
Thank you, Ms. Thorpe for what you contributed to my life. Had I not continued studying music, I may not have continued participating in choirs. And without my musical literacy, I would not be able to sing in two choirs here in Madrid, Spain, like I am. Thank you for your knowledge, your insistence on making good music, and the inspiration you were to me. I wish you could only know.
"Lacrimosa" is a lament sung in a Mass for the dead, but when I sing it, my heart rejoices and my soul rises in nostalgia.
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