Honoring
the Silence
Lessons we learn as a child have a
funny way of coming back to us. I
was reminded of a childhood lesson the other day while in a session on group
dynamics with my fellows. The day
was full, yet at the end, we took a moment to be silent, breathe, and take in
the thoughts of the day. During
that time, I began to think about something my father always said.
It began in high school; I always
struggled with the “in-class essay.” The thought of reading the essay question,
having to quickly decide what I wanted to say, and then eloquently present the
ideas AND with legible writing was frustrating. Often, I would overwrite, my essays becoming a jumbled mess of
run-on sentences and incomplete thoughts.
One day, I was complaining to my father, so he stopped me and said,
“It’s simple. All you need to do
is say what you to want to say and stop.
Nobody ever wins by saying too much.” At that moment, my father was referring to my Grapes of
Wrath essay; however, years later I still remember those exact words and
for different reasons. The idea of
only saying what you wanted to say, then stopping and listening seemed like a
much more authentic, humble and respectful approach.
When he first said those words to me,
I believed him because that’s exactly the person he is. I’ve always admired my father
because he has an uncanny ability to always honor and embrace silence. I too observed the power of silence at
college orchestra and choral concerts. I found myself most engaged the moment
right before the conductor gave the first beat or after the last chord was
played. The stillness created a
haze of anticipation between the orchestra, conductor, audience, and me. Though these moments were rich with
energy, nothing was said, only felt.
There is so much power in the nonverbal, the pause, and the rest. Just like in music, sometimes the
unexpected rest says more than the melody. Allowing oneself to be at peace with life’s pauses is
difficult and challenging and requires patience beyond measure. I used to believe that not speaking
meant I had nothing to say; yet as I grow older I am realizing that often times
it’s more important to honor the silence
and simply listen.
Encouraging
the Heart
As
a child, we are told that it’s okay to be scared. There are night-lights in our bedrooms, parent’s beds to crawl in after scary dreams, and a Babar
(my teddy bear) to hold.
Unfortunately, as we grow older, there are no tricks to help with the
scary reality of “real life”. The first reality test for many is leaving home. For me, this was at 18 when I left for
college. I
craved independence, new challenges, and the thought of no curfew. Bekah, my roommate/incredible friend, and
I used this to our full advantage.
That meant late night doughnut runs, weekends of doing nothing but
watching One Tree Hill, and most importantly,
taking a road trip to West Virginia to get a chocolate lab/new roommate,
Daisy. Soon all of that ended, and
I was tested with the reality of leaving behind school and joining the “working
world.” Scary. Yet I came to enjoy my new life in
Charlotte and absolutely loved my job at the Charlotte Symphony. I had a fantastic team and amazing
kids! They were all hard to say goodbye to when I moved to New England.
Now, in Boston I feel like I’ve been
tested in unimaginable ways, not only mentally and intellectually, but also
spiritually and personally. The reason I moved to Boston, my passion to use
music as a tool to strengthen communities, is also my struggle. I say I’ve struggled because often times
I am scared by own vision. I’ve
noticed that theoretically I can talk about what I hope to see change, but the
actual “doing it” part is far more intimidating. Recently, when speaking with a Venezuelan administrator he
said something very powerful to me, “Just stop worrying. It’ll come. If it is in your heart, you will find a
way. Just encourage your
heart.” Encourage my heart? The only person who had every said this
to me was Greg Kandel, our Arts Nonprofit professor and arts consultant. I was stunned by the same message. Was fear written all over my face? Probably, and yet I’ve
decided a little fear isn’t a bad thing.
In my childhood, I had safety, my night-light, parents, and Babar. As I grew older, I maintained this safety
net through amazing, supportive friends, family, colleagues, and also the
music. Sometimes we need our heart
to be scared in order to become courageous enough to try. So stay tuned…. J
A donde el corazón se inclina, el pie camina.
While living in Madrid, I studied
art history, visited amazing museums, ate the best tapas, paella, and churros,
and attended the most exciting soccer game ever- Real Madrid vs. Germany. Although my daily schedule varied, I
always ended my night by watching soap operas with my host mom before she made
nightly calls to her children.
After a week, I noticed she always ended her phone conversation with the
phrase “A donde el corazón se inclina, el
pie camina.” In Spanish, this
is similar to our saying, “home is where the heart is.” However, it has a slight difference. A
donde el corazón se inclina-means “where the heart is inclined,” el pie camina-“the foot will follow.”
During the holiday break, I began to
think about this saying more and more.
I had spent the last five months taking classes, traveling, meeting new
colleagues, and learning as much as possible about el Sistema. It seemed as if my passion for the work
was growing stronger, yet I still felt a reluctance to let all inhibitions go
and just follow my heart, always over thinking everything. I find reassurance in believing wherever your heart is inclined, your feet will
follow and that our paths are simply made by our heart’s intuition and our own hard work. Often our logical thinking leads our hearts
and our feet are dragged along for the ride.
My heart is full with precious
memories of family, friends, and music, shaping my life and my soul, fueling my
passion. Home, music, passion-these
all morph into one solid shape, one direction, one image. Not only does this image comfort and
strengthen, but always includes and combines memories filled with loved ones
and music. I was very fortunate to
grow up in a supportive home filled with harmony. My parents always encouraged me to pursue my heart because
wherever my heart went; they knew my feet would follow. I want to provide this confidence, THIS
HOPE, and this dream for all the children I will teach. For
if home is where the heart is, why not have every heart filled with music? Remembering to always allow the music of our hearts to guide our footsteps.
