I love to read blogs. I take that back. I love to read well-written blogs that either enrich my life or cause me to think more about the daily struggles. There's something comforting in reading about the adversities and accomplishments in others' lives--it makes me feel that I'm not quite so alone on this planet.
Mark's horn teacher, Angela Cordell-Bilger, recently began a blog. (She told me that this blog was a small part of the inspiration she had to create hers which is a huge compliment to me.) She is such a kind, generous person, and her soul runs deep. Today, I popped onto her blog, having received a notification of a new post. I have copied it exactly, and I hope that you will read through it, especially if you are one of the few people left on the earth who has completely dedicated yourself to the pursuit of music:
From time to time I find myself flipping back and forth between the front-page headlines of the New York Times to the Arts section, struck by the fact that these two categories can even be in the same paper. I am prone to feel a pang of guilt. “Shouldn’t I be doing something? I mean REALLY doing something?” I’m not a diplomat, I’m not an ambassador, I cannot look for cures for diseases. It is easy to feel helpless and useless when big-world things are happening. And what am I doing? I’m going to a rehearsal, or I have a concert. All I do is play the horn!Sometime during the first year of my master’s degree at Juilliard (and my first year in New York), for whatever reason, I was feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. At some point in one of my lessons with Jerome Ashby (former Associate Principal of the New York Philharmonic who has sadly departed this world all too soon), I reached a point of frustration and said something to the effect of “I don’t know why I’m blowing into this piece of metal!” He leaned back and paused for a while, and then in his laid-back, gentle way said something to the effect of “I think you know it’s more than that.” I don’t remember how the conversation proceeded, but I do know that pretty soon, we went back to working on Till Eulenspiegel or Ein Heldenleben or Tchaik 5 or whatever I had on my plate for that lesson.
More recently, living in Philadelphia, where the orchestra is in contract negotiations and the mood is a bit dark regarding possible outcomes, there is a slightly different feeling of helplessness. When our fellow musicians in Detroit are facing complete ruin, and it seems that classical music is losing its importance and relevance in society, and that no one would care if these wonderful organizations ceased to exist or became unrecognizable artistically, it is very easy to wonder “what’s the point?” if you are someone who has worked very hard your entire life offer the absolute best of yourself and your talent. Does anyone care?
I expressed this feeling to a very wise woman recently and she paused, and then proceeded to share with me a saying of Julian of Norwich, and medieval woman mystic - ”All will be well.” - a response that is not so different from what Mr. Ashby said in the face of my frustration and sense of pointlessness. About a week later, I ran across her again, along with a man who had recently heard a concert I had played (and was only a small part of). We were all three standing together and the man proceeded to tell me how moved he was by the concert, and to please tell my husband too (who played in the same concert) how much he enjoyed it. My wise friend just listened and smiled, and after the man left she said, “See? You just have to do what you do!”
So, what I learn over and over again is that, actually, the Arts section is very appropriately placed in the New York Times. In fact, the more violent the headlines, or the more dire the economic situation here at home, or the more uncertain the future, the more important the Arts section seems in a certain way. It deals with the questions, “What is important to us? How do we respond creatively to our world? How do we tap into the wisdom of previous generations? How do we go forward from here?” Apart from the love and care we give to our families and friends and whoever else is given to us to love and care for, what more important thing can there be than to “do what we do”? This means different things to different people, but for a musician it is simply picking up our instruments day after day and participating in life in our own way. Whether you are performing on a big stage, or a smaller stage, or teaching children, or playing in a nursing home, or participating by being an audience member, it is relevant, and important, and beautiful.
This is not to say that changes won’t happen in our professional lives or that we may at some point decide to participate in life a different way. It’s just that, for now, with various kinds of turmoil and uncertainty around us, (and at the risk of sounding like a Pollyanna) I believe we can find a sense of “helpfulness” in the world instead of helplessness. I can get out my horn this week, rehearse, play, teach, and not feel as if it isn’t enough or that it doesn’t matter. It is enough. It matters.
Now, let’s face it, we musicians are not dealing with life and death. There is no one on the operating table. We cannot take ourselves quite so seriously. But we ARE dealing in life! And we can be generous with that and take heart and be aware that the smallest of rituals can have unknown and unanticipated effects. I was very surprised when a neighbor (a particularly nice one, it must be said) told me “you know, I think all of our neighbors open up their windows to hear your scales!” I’m not sure I believe her, but anyway, she was very nice to say it, and for today I’m choosing to believe it – until someone knocks on my door and says, “will you please keep that racket down?”
In the words of the Brits: Keep calm and carry on!
Man alive--Angela addressed the main concern that John has for Mark in choosing to pursue a career in music. Is it all worth it? After reading this post, I decided to look and see what comments there were. To my surprise, I found this. I couldn't have asked for a nicer moment in my very nice day.
I have always had these feelings come through my mind, especially during such a stressful time as high school, when there are so many distractions that keep me from practicing or focusing on music. I used to think about it so much sometimes that I would wonder and think to myself: What’s the point? When will music ever change things in the world or create a significant change in the majority of people? Why should I continue studying and working so hard when there are so many other things to do?
The answer came a year ago almost to the day while I was attending the Region III Pennsylvania Music Educators Association music festival (for chorus in fact) and our conductor, Dr. Kiver from Penn State, was growing quite frustrated with the lack of musicality and feeling we had in rehearsal. The piece we were singing, My Flight to Heaven, is probably one of the most beautiful pieces for me still, and I remember it fondly. Anyways, he took the whole choir, spread us all around the auditorium, and gave us this huge pep talk before we ran the piece, and the extent of what he said really struck me and has changed my view of music and it’s importance. He openly stated that he knew some of the participants were there simply to have another thing to put on their college application, or because their friends were there, or because they would get out of school. But to him, none of that mattered. In his eyes we were all musicians, and no matter what, we all had the same reason for being there, the summary of which goes as follows: “No matter the reason you came here, the reason you all make music is because you want to experience a “moment” in the music that changes who you are as a human being. You go to rehearsals and festivals and performances and study hours upon hours in the practice room to have “moments” where the harmonies are tuned, the articulation is right, the intent is there, the conductor and the ensemble are on exactly the same wavelength and the music truly flows through the musicians. You look to music as a way to release, and to give you personal enlightenment about who you are as a person and a musician. Music is not built for the audience, but is built and created and intended for the musician performing to feel emotion and to receive a rest from life, if but only for that perfect moment.”
I had one of those moments that following day during the concert of that festival, and in fact had one the previous year at the same festival. I have had since then many more, where I openly felt like either crying for an upwelling of emotion or like I had to scream to the world what a joy it is to play french horn in orchestras and sing in choirs. And the funny thing is, although they only lasted for a second during for example, that obscure concert in the middle of central Pennsylvania with 179 other kids I barely knew, they make all that time and effort and work and perseverance totally worth it!
I love this post because even when it may seem that classical music is fading or becoming less important, it is in fact vitally critical to the actual musicians who play it because of the huge amount of feeling and emotion that they put into the music. And even though we’re not changing the world through our “pieces of metal”, without classical music, I know I would be VERY different person and I’m sure many other people would be too. The world can’t be changed instantly by anything, but if one person, you, is affected by the music and allows you to express yourself and gain a brief release from reality, hasn’t the music fulfilled it’s purpose?
Thank you so much Angela for always being so insightful into music and it’s importance in the lives of musicians!
Mark Kennedy
Thank you so much for posting this!
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