It's a weird time, isn't it?
I'm finding that I've never lived through a period that has got me so relentlessly focused on the minutiae of my every day (wow, I've eaten lunch and stared at the wall, what else can or should I be doing?). And, in contradiction but perhaps aided by the sudden loss of a hectic schedule, I'm also all the more focused on the explosive energy behind protests and calls for racial and economic justice in our country.
It's hard some days to not despair at the loss of live performance. In the past few years I had (finally) fallen into somewhat of a rhythm after leaving school. A rhythm where there were periods of planning and auditioning, preparing music, and, finally, performing. There were times when the schedule was overwhelming, to be sure, but it had an ebb and flow that was comforting.
And now?
I know from my own experience and in speaking to others that it is hard to stay motivated. Hard to find joy in practicing art. I have been grateful, however, to a couple of my church homes, St. Bart's NYC and the National Cathedral, for providing opportunities to contribute my voice virtually. It's not the same, but I've cherished seeing the finished project and my colleague's faces lined up next to my own.
I also had the chance to contribute to a national action in support of Black Lives Matter, singing with members of the DC choral community in front of the National Museum of African American History and Culture.
So this is me remembering and recording the ways that music is staying alive in my life and my world. I'm grateful to all who are moving ahead with caution and keeping the health and safety of singers, musicians and audiences as a priority.
Be safe!
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