Youth

Last post, I mentioned Joni Mitchell’s long and illustrious career. But in that concert video, it struck me that her songs I knew and loved mostly came from her first few albums— Big Yellow Taxi, Both Sides Now, The Circle Game, Woodstock, Chelsea Morning and all the songs on her album Blue. She went on to record some fifteen  other albums, but I suspect that others besides me don’t know many of those other songs in the same way.

For me, the same can be said for the work of Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, James Taylor, Paul Simon, Neil Young and many others whose creative output never flagged over decades, but seemed to write their most memorable songs in their youth. Am I alone in this observation? 

Perhaps part of it was the zeitgeist of the times. So many of the above were caught up in the extraordinary cultural whirlwind of the 60’s and early 70’s, when the need for these songs was profound and their influence deep. As the movie Almost Famous reveals, things began to change around 1973— coincidentally the year that I stopped listening to much of this music and switched to jazz. Now  commercial success, studio polish, musician’s lust for fame and fortune and the disco beat supplanted the garage band mentality of people gathering simply to sing what needed to be said, both from some place deep within themselves and in the surrounding community.

Some of this is the maddening dynamic of artistic creation, where each successful song, poem, novel throws down a gauntlet and demands, “Nice work. But now what are you going to do?” To keep leaping over the high bar you set is a tall order and I suspect every artist suffers from the sense that the next creation might not hit the mark. There’s a long legacy of one-hit wonders (in some ways, Carl Orff was one— Carmina Burana and then what?) and while we all should be grateful for that hit, I imagine the artist suffering from the pressure to keep creating masterworks. And as mentioned before, some of it is the need and readiness of the audience that determines how any new work will be received.

No problem to solve here, just something that the Joni Mitchell concert made me think about. There is a long, fascinating study of how artists develop and mature and many indeed go through an immature phase before finally finding their authentic voice. Yet others arrive full-blown in their youth and then struggle finding anything else to say with as much potency as their first creations. In my own tiny world of creating musical arrangements for kids in music classes, articulating pedagogical ideas, creating dynamic lesson plans, I’m often surprised that things I created like Step Back Baby, The Earth Day Rap, Intery Mintery, Six Guidelines for Developing Material and more all came from 1984, a prolific moment only 9 years into my 45 year career. I still do these with kids and adults and though I have a long, long list of other fun, musical and effective songs, dances, pieces and activities, these indeed hold up in my work with both kids and adults. So far, no one has confronted me and demanded, “Yeah, that’s fine, but what else do you got?!”

So hooray for the artists in their youth, passionately pursuing their art before mortgages, families, the land mines of fame and fortune and the impossible demands of outdoing themselves sully the pure impulse to create what demands to be brought to birth, to say what so desperately needs to be said. And perhaps I’ll start listening to Joni’s later work and see what moves me. Onward!

Irreplaceable

Yesterday I wrote: “The poet Miguel De Unamuno wrote, ‘Our greatest endeavor must be to make ourselves irreplaceable.’ The extraordinary amongst us do, find a voice so unique, so singular and yet so universal that no one else can duplicate it.” And then last night, I watched the PBS Joni Mitchell Gershwin Prize concert. No doubt about it— Ms. Mitchell is wholly unique and irreplaceable.

The concert gathered various artists paying tribute to her memorable music by performing songs from various stages of her long, illustrious career. Behind them were her paintings and various photos of her youngers selves and peppered between numbers were some biographical snippets. At the end, Joni herself, 79 years old and recovered from a life-threatening aneurism, came up and sang “Summertime” — and masterfully so. Not in that high soprano voice, but with great musicality and soul. The evening ended with all the performers gathering with her to sing “The Circle Game.”

When the camera panned out to the enormous audience, one could feel the palpable nostalgia as so many lip-sang along with the lyrics and were transported to an earlier time in their lives, brought back to that moment of their young selves filled with hope and innocence and romance and possibility. I felt it too and more than once, my cheeks were wet with remembrance. These albums were my companions through the thick and thin of those turbulent times, both collectively and personally and Joni gave voice to the full range of it— the sorrow and the pity, the joy and the hurt, gave language to the hope and the promise and the complexity of life viewed from “both sides now.”

The only discordant note was the presence onstage (when the award was given) of people like Kevin McCarthy and Susan Collins, part of the club that refuses to see “both sides now” and in fact, is trying to shut down any conversation, be it in schools or political discourse, that acknowledges there are multiple sides to issues and life and we would do well to consider them all, with intelligence and heart-felt feeling. As has Joni Mitchell. 

Oh well. They were just a blip in a magnificent tribute to a truly irreplaceable artist, forever a part of our sound-scaped memory. Thank you, Joni Mitchell.

Memorable

“Teach classes that are memorable, “ I often advise teachers in my workshops and remind them that this doesn’t happen by staying inside the lines. There need to be unexpected bursts of color and surprising irregular shapes and a palpable energy in the room that lodges in the cellular and muscular memory. Few people will remember your Powerpoint— unless it’s a Youtube video of the Nicholas Brothers in Stormy Weather or Hazel Scott playing two pianos at once! But they might remember the music you carry in your body that you transmitted so joyfully to theirs. 

Today, I visited a teacher who I subbed for one day over a year ago and as her 2^nd graders entered, they said, “I remember you!” And went on to sing and dance the Shoemaker’s song and dance I had taught them. One class over a year ago, but it was memorable and therefore, so was I. I was touched by their remembrance.

I was also moved by their intelligent comments, their expressive movements, their musical mastery and their curious questions. And so I will remember them.

The poet Miguel De Unamuno wrote, “Our greatest endeavor must be to make ourselves irreplaceable.”The extraordinary amongst us do, find a voice so unique, so singular and yet so universal that no one else can duplicate it. That’s a tall order for us average Joes and Josies. But the least we can do is make ourselves memorable. And that means taking the great risk of wholly claiming yourself, filling out the full measure of your character and acceptance and popularity be damned! We are all memorable to some, but as we live more fully, we become memorable to just about everyone we meet. 

 

Just a reminder. Be you a teacher, a cook, a car mechanic, a musician— whatever you may be—be memorable!

 

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. 

Revelation

One of my hopes as a teacher is to reveal that which often is hidden. Not the deep dark secrets and shadowy thoughts and emotions, but the buried treasures, the inner glories, the full measure of our character unhampered by worrying whether others will ignore it, mock it, scorn it or laugh at it. Whether a child or adult, it’s always a moment to celebrate when revelation visits the class.

So imagine my surprise when at the end of an exploration of what we might do with percussion instruments in a circle, we were grouped according to category and I demonstrated how one might spontaneously conduct the group. And then invited someone else. One person stepped forward, but I noticed that another was on the verge of jumping in. So after the second conductor, I invited that third to try her hand. That was a great decision!

Because she jumped into that circle like a hungry tiger who had awaited her moment to pounce on her prey and astounded, moved and inspired us all with her one minute piece. Here is where words fail to convey— you simply had to be there. I regretted that no one had captured the moment on video—and then discovered someone had! (Unfortunately, in two sections, but better than nothing!) So for my first-ever video shared on this blog, here is your chance to enjoy the moment with Siu Ping from Hong Kong stepping forth in her full radiant power and glory. 

Enjoy!

https://drive.google.com/file/d/19lPKzoxHW7fNE9V9dscKmKt-2WEcqIz3/view?usp=share_link

https://drive.google.com/file/d/19lPKzoxHW7fNE9V9dscKmKt-2WEcqIz3/view?usp=share_link

 

Fun, Fun, Fun

After my usual non-verbal 30 minutes of starting a workshop with music and dance, I talked a bit about the purpose of gathering together to some 45 teachers in Macau. Some were music teachers, some classroom teachers, some worked with preschool, some with elementary. I suggested that the primary thing I had to offer besides great material and enticing ways to develop it further was giving them all permission to have fun. I told them if they’re not having fun, it could be for some of the following reasons and gave simple suggestions to solve each one.

1. You don’t know what you’re doing. Train yourself.

2. You don’t like the age kids you’re working with. Change to another age.

3. You love music, but you don’t love teaching. Perform.

4. You love teaching, but you don’t love music. Switch subjects.

5. You love teaching, but you hate what the school makes you do. Change schools. Or-

6. You love teaching, but you hate what the school makes you do. Shut the door after the kids come in, stay under the radar and “be the change you want to see in the world.”

7. You love teaching, but you don’t love kids. Change professions. Or your attitude.

8. You love kids, but you don’t love this particular class. Stop blaming them or wishing they were different. Meet them where they are and figure out how to reach them, to help them, to love them. 

9.  You love to have fun, but have drunk the Kool-Aid that tells you that teaching is a series of pre-programmed steps meeting all National Standards. Don’t listen to them. I’m here to tell you that you better have fun with it all or it will eat you up and spit you out exhausted, dispirited and burnt-out. You will not only hurt yourself, but harm innocent children. 

And then we returned to two days of non-stop fun. 

How Sweet It Is

I’m thinking of the night of Obama’s election, Biden’s election victory, the Giants World-Series win that I saw on big screen TV’s at Yancey’s bar, the Warriors NBA Championships at the same place. The roar of the crowd as we collectively exulted that something extraordinary had happened, the wave of united emotion as strangers became instant friends. That was the chill up my spine when I logged into Stephen Colbert from Hong Kong and heard the hooting and hollering of his audience as he announced the long-awaited sentence: “Trump is indicted!!!!” 

The day already was filled with so much joy and beauty with 50 mostly-new participants in my workshops so gleefully playing children’s games and creating inspiring little group compositions/ choreographies/ group improvisations. There was the extraordinary lunch vegetarian banquet with some 15 different dishes made from tofu. There was the daughter of one of the participants who gifted me with a package of Ritz crackers because she worried I might get hungry working so hard. There was the reunion of several SF International Summer Course graduates, so happy to be together again in joyful music-making. There was last night’s weak wi-fi suddenly strong and the next Warrior’s win on Youtube highlights and a dinner ahead at a Portuguese restaurant.

But nothing topped the indictment news. It was like a broken fairy tale where the bad guys getting their just desserts kept getting postponed time and time and time again— for almost seven long grueling years, to be exact. All that anticipation foiled over and over until we grew helpless and hopeless and despondent that the right thing would ever, ever happen. And now here we are. Still many obstacles between indictment and conviction, but sitting alone in my hotel room, I felt the surge of the Colbert crowd and was lifted to the skies.

I know as a Buddhist that my happiness should never depend on outside news, be it good or bad. But damn, this feels good. Knowing the unleashed crazies who can follow the bastard’s lead to wreak more havoc in his name, I should be cautious here about exulting too much. But let me have my moment. 

Finally, finally, finally, the right thing is happening. How sweet it is.