Reflections

Exhaustion

I am tired. I long to return to this beautiful small island and walk through the forest and climb among the moss covered trees.

Last September a young couple had invited me to their wedding. As one of only 40 guests I was very honoured to be there to witness the day. The ceremony took place to the left of that tree, in the forest, beside a small creek, with light rain falling. It was one of the loveliest weddings I have attended.

Almost three years ago my father and I visited the Cathedral Grove and walked around many giant Douglas fir trees in the old-growth forest. It was a place similar to Galiano Island where one can spend time just sitting or walking and breathing in the pure, fresh air and feeling such a close connection to nature.

It reminds me of the times in my youth when I would plop the canoe on the roof of my car, and drive down to the lake to canoe all on my own, soaking in the fresh air and enjoying the stillness. Life changed shortly after that, with marriage, children, work, career. All of that has left me exhausted. The next few days will be the busiest in a long time. I used to accept work to survive, now I need to decline work in order to survive.

Straight line

“No one heals in a straight line”. This is a quote from “The Choice” by Dr. Edith Eva Eger. No one heals in a straight line. This makes so much sense to me right now. I wish I could heal in a straight line, and feel better and better each day without the bumps, and twists and turns.

Repetition is key to steady progress with piano, or any other physical and mental skill. Natural talent has something to do with progress, and a good environment helps. But the real key is dedication and strong desire to learn. My experience with healing is a different story. For many days, months or even years in a row things appear to be fine and even improving, and then comes the trigger. Sometimes it is out of nowhere, and sometimes it is the final straw in a long line of tiny triggers that add up to that breaking point.

So, I hit my breaking point a few months ago and having been working since then to figure out a path to healing. Now I am realizing that the healing is often for hurts that affected me not just 20 years ago but even since childhood. Seeing those results in my own life, and knowing how some simple words affected me for my whole life has made me hyper-aware of how I talk to my students. Some of those children will have only 4 to 5 more lessons with me, but those must be positive lessons where each student will move on to their new teacher knowing that they are special, musical, unique, creative people and worthy of kind and gentle teaching.

Celebrating Creative Expression

Celebrating creative expression. This banner was prepared for the annual community celebration where homes and businesses creative window displays and other attractive displays for the last weekend in February. Fortunately, many people leave their handiwork visible for weeks or months.

This is where my “children” come to rehearse each week. I do celebrate their weekly achievements, which are different for each child. Some bring me great joy when they start to recognize how to make their voice match the pitch that the others are singing. Some bring a huge smile the very first time they are brave enough to sing out in front of their peers. Others are learning to accompany and help with warm-ups. My job is not only to celebrate but to encourage creative expression.

When I think about the encouragers of my youth, and I ever so grateful. There was Mr. R., our beloved band teacher, who encouraged every student who was in his class. He knew how shy I was, but trained me to take over conducting during classes and at concerts. With his encouragement and confidence in me, I had no troubles teaching all his classes while he was on medical leave the year after my graduation. There was Mrs. S., my piano teacher who gently reminded me how to bring out the expression in my playing. And of course, Mrs. H., our English teacher who encouraged me to write without critiquing. She would add a comment to each essay which just made me eager to write the next daily short essay.

As I teach, I think back to those and other encouragers who crossed my path. I know I have slipped up and caused discouragement in my students, when they haven’t practiced enough, or have come to lessons with a poor attitude. But, why can’t I find even one positive thing to say to them, to help each student discover their love of music, and celebrate their own creative expression.

Old and new

It’s almost time for our rehearsal to begin and I stick my head out the door to see if any of the children have arrived. This is the neighbourhood where I live; where ancient meets modern. The condo across the street only recently opened it’s doors for the new inhabitants. Tourists ride around the streets in a house-drawn carriage to learn about the history of the surrounding blocks. The 130 year old building where we rehearse is in need of new paint, yet warm and welcoming inside.

I moved into this neighbourhood eight years ago. Within a year the huge block where the condos and many other structures, new gardens and water pools and fountains now exist was a block of heritage homes and very old government offices. Nothing was more than two stories high, and vacant areas were covered in grass and concrete. The heritage homes were carefully moved down to the east end of the block and renovated, still looking like heritage homes but now housing several families each. A large pit was dug and the rebuilding started.

Over those 6 to 7 years Toffee and I watched a new community hub being built. Through a gap between new condos and office towers from the end of my street I can see the 129 year old legislature buildings. Every morning we used to walk around the construction zone, and gradually saw more and more of the pathways opening up. One of our favourite destinations was to climb on top of the new coffee shop, when the gate to the observation deck was open, to explore and take photos of the new patios and old buildings across the street.

I am thankful that the old structures still exist among the new.

Free spirit

Yesterday Milo stopped by for a visit. This time he didn’t run away as I stepped slowly toward the open patio door. I keep the screen closed in case a mouse or raccoon, or mosquito decides to come in and explore. He turned toward me as I gently called his name. Milo first visited when he was a kitten, and was running away from the young girls who had just acquired him. We, my neighbours, the young girls and I tried to help corner Milo, but he was and is a free spirit and did not want to get caught.

I think I am very similar to Milo in that I don’t like to be tied down. I like to be free to go where I wish; work when I want to and rest when I need to. Someday soon I will be like Milo.

Pussywillows…soft winds…

I’m reminded of the Gordon Lightfoot song, ”Pussywillows, Cat-tails, soft winds and roses”. Dad’s niche is a few feet away from this lovely planter. My son met me at the columbarium last week to see the new cover that was made for my father’s niche. When dad passed away there were so many unexpected decisions to make. Do we want to sprinkle the ashes or place them in a niche? Do we want a regular size square or larger rectangular niche? What about a box for the ashes? What do we want engraved?

My two siblings and I had many discussions by text, by phone and in person before any of the big decisions were made. I couldn’t imagine having to think this through on my own. What do people do when they are an only child?

I like to have plenty of time to make decisions, and normally I will discuss things with friends or family to get a more objective opinion. I don’t always follow their guidance when I have a choice, but it’s good to gather other ideas.

That day last week at the columbarium was a chance to stop the noise of life, and reminisce. I thought about dad’s involvement in that church and in the wider community. Looking around at the names of many of the other niches I could see that he was surrounded by good friends…people that I also had known. Over the years I played for many of their funerals and even some of their weddings. My son and I talked about dad’s love for roses and how fitting it was that the engraving includes roses laid on books.

It was important for some of the family that there be some sort of memorial where we could go and physically be nearer to dad. Of course, he is not there physically, but we now have a physical place where we can stop and sit and feel the soft wind, and remember.

Patio concert

Two years ago when we all went in to lock-down because of the pandemic, my next door neighbour and I decided to present piano recitals for each other and our neighbours. For me the days were spent walking Toffee, watching news, watching videos and webinars on how to navigate online piano lessons and choir rehearsals, and learning new music for the back yard recitals.

Some days I long for lockdowns to return. When life was simpler. This past weekend two of my students who were strangers to each other brought their parents to listen to them rehearse for the upcoming local music festival. I set these chairs up on my back patio for the parents, and the young singers stood to sing just inside my patio door while I played the piano for them. They each sang 4 songs, and within less than 40 minutes two families became friends. The two girls were full of encouragement for each other, and are now looking forward to singing again in a few weeks at the festival. Even though the festival is a competition, they seem to approach it as a positive learning experience.

Our normally noisy neighbours were quiet. The chickens next door made a lot of noise when the families arrived, but only listened while the girls sang. The little sparrows and chickadees in the trees and shrubs seemed to enjoy the songs, as they joined in. It was a perfect afternoon.

One of the best parts of my work over the years has been to see young people develop of a love of music. But, not only that, I get to see them grow in ability and leadership. To see the youth excited about learning music and performing, and treating each other kindness and respect is so rewarding.

Somehow, even if the pandemic ends and safety protocols are no longer required, I think I will continue with patio concerts.

Power of Music

Twelve years ago I had the opportunity to experience many “firsts”. Shortly after my husband died, I joined my daughter and the choir she was singing with on a trip to New York. Here are some of the firsts for me:

first time in New York City.
first time walking through (and getting lost in) Harlem.
first time playing a huge pipe organ located high above the choir.
first time being assisted by one of the greatest organists in North America.
first time watching the choir director through video feed while trying to sync with the choir.
first time playing flawlessly.

I have performed most of my life since the age of 10, playing in recitals, music festivals, churches and later accompanying many choirs and professional musicians. It was almost predictable when performing classical music that I was going to miss something — a note didn’t sound with the proper emphasis, my finger hit a wrong note, syncing with the other musician(s) wasn’t absolutely perfect. In fact from my experience, even though listeners didn’t always hear things going wrong, I could count on it happening.

That Sunday morning, maybe it was because I felt suddenly closer to Michael, whom I missed dearly, or maybe it was the gentle encouragement from the regular organist at St. John the Divine, or maybe it was the fact that I was very focused on supporting the choir. I can’t say, but that day it was the first time in my life, and maybe the last that I knew there was something or someone helping me present a flawless performance.

Usually musicians aim to affect the audience and help them to enjoy the music, feel the music or feel emotion from the music. That performance 12 years ago helped me to understand that I, too could feel the music, even when I was the one playing.

Spring gardens

After the ten years I spent living in a country with no real change in seasons, except hot, hotter with rain and rainy, I was excited to come home to Canada, where we enjoy four distinct seasons each year. Eight years ago I moved to Victoria. We do have four seasons, although they are much more temperate than in the rest of Canada. On Vancouver Island flowers grow all year round.

The gardens on provincial grounds and city parks are replanted at least twice a year for spring gardens, summer gardens and winter gardens. Fuscias aren’t annual flowers here; they come back in the spring! We have bulbs such as daffodils and tulips blooming late February.

One of my good friends decided last year to post a photo each day of a new flower that she discovered. She kept up with her “365 days of flowers” and even had a few extras, without any overlaps.

Whenever I walk from my home to downtown for errands or work, I walk past many beautiful gardens, including this one that is on the grounds of the Empress Hotel. Several years ago the hotel was covered with English Ivy. New owners decided that it needed a face-lift, and they removed the ivy, including the humungous root system below the basement of the hotel. They removed old (and ugly) shrubs and trees that people had obviously loved. Change is tough for many people, and I would walk by crowds of protestors who didn’t want any green or brown thing taken out of the ground. The protestors are no longer concerned. I think the flowers and new shrubs that have replaced the old dark trees have certainly brightened up the neighourhood.

I have decided that spring is my favourite season. I love to see the new buds shoot up through the moist soil, and watch the rhododendrons bloom with their beautiful bright flowers.

Home

I bought these tulips for mom two days ago. Yesterday morning they were looking revitalized, and standing taller! Mom was so happy to have the fresh tulips to brighten her home.

My flight home yesterday morning was cancelled about an hour before departure. Of course my first reaction to changes that are out of my control is usually serious annoyance, and feeling sorry for myself as all my careful planning goes to pieces….

But, as I often find, it was a blessing in disguise. With the extra time available I was able to meet my son and his wife for lunch, and take care of some more last minute legal business, that would have been much more difficult if I had not been in town.

When the rescheduled flight in the evening was finally fully boarded, the engine started up, then stopped. The pilot apologized and said that if he couldn’t get both generators going we would have find a different way home. He tried again and was successful. Somehow I could not relax at all during the flight, listening to every change in motor noise and watching carefully out the window. (It’s a lot of work keeping that airplane in the sky!)

As our direct flight to Victoria started heading down to land at the Vancouver airport, there was at first silence among the other passengers, then questions. Isn’t this Vancouver? Wasn’t this supposed to be a direct flight? Why are we landing? Why didn’t the pilot say anything? I looked around and even behind the masks I could see the look of shock and concern on the faces near me. Once we had landed the pilot apologized, commenting that the speaker system isn’t the only the thing needing repairs!

We were escorted onto a newer, cleaner airplane and flown safely to Victoria. It is good to be home.