Confession

What made me choose the word “confession” in titling this Blog? Was it a marketing ploy to attract people to discovering my deep, dark secrets? An affirmation of vulnerability as a positive human quality? Or simply a bit more compelling than “reflections from a traveling music teacher.”

Truth be told, I don’t know. And when I looked up its etymology, there were some interesting origins. One meaning was “an assertion of religious faith,” another “an acknowledgment of fault or wrong” and a final one “an admission of guilt made in court.” Strike “religious” and I think the first is most relevant, an ongoing testimony of my faith in the value and meaning of music education, of travel, of culture. Along the way, I hope I’ve shared some of my doubts and vulnerabilities alongside my certainties, because indeed, there are plenty.

All of this brought up by some culture shock I’m experiencing as I return home from my recent travels, immersed in cultures that not only have a practice of revering teachers, but also immersed in the work that brings out the best in me and aims to bring out the best in my students. And so I feel that sense of both blessing and being blessed, that constant stream of deep appreciation and sincere gratitude. Not mindless adoration or fan mentality, but the real deal of feeling seen, known and valued.

I’m well aware that returning to family and friends and American life is a whole different dynamic. No one cares about your marvelous trip, those workshop epiphanies, those fun and loving dinners out with people who sincerely like you. They just want to make sure you remember it’s garbage night and don’t forget to take the bins out. I get it.

And yet. I can’t help but feel that there is something in various diverse cultures that understands me better than my own. That allows me to feel more at home in Thailand, Macau, Spain, Brazil, Colombia, Ghana, Iceland, even Canada, than I do in my own home country. Something in these cultures that values intellect, humor, physical presence, artistic sensibility more than—or differently than— the good ole U.S.A. It’s a big topic and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m confessing here that I feel the contrast. 

That’s all.