Warum?

At a solo trombone recital I recently attended, a particularly convoluted piece (composed by my mentor, Art Gottschalk) was half musicianship and half performance art. It ended with the trombonist asking aloud, Warum? Several days later, that moment is still simmering in my head. Why?

Children are famous for asking the question incessantly, but almost everyone I know is intrigued by this question on some level: Why don't I have any money? Why did I get a promotion? Why is that person famous? Why are those people wealthy? Why did my grandmother die? Why can't I be in a functional relationship? Why did I get sick? Why did they make that decision? Why did that movie get made? Why is gas so expensive? And on and on.

In my life, I have been asking a lot of why questions, too. Why does composing matter to me? Why is it important to me that other people hear what I create? Why do I want to teach? Why do I want to live where I am? I want to know the reasons underneath my decisions and my actions, primarily so I can ensure that what I'm doing is based on something that matters rather than on my fear of what might happen.

The problem is that sometimes people will accept any explanation as an answer. Why don't you have any money? Because you haven't taken the right courses. Or because you work in the wrong industry. Or because you spend it unwisely. Or any other number of reasons. And there are enough answers that one can ignore the unappealing possibilities and focus on the more palatable ones. And justifying which explanations I accept (and act on) has been one way I've kept myself from truly creating what I want.

The truth is that sometimes we don't get to know why. Sometimes people get sick, and it doesn't have anything to do with their behavior or God being angry at them. Some people become famous or wealthy, and it might have more to do with their persistence than anything scandalous or worthy of criticism. Of course, it might seem more satisfying to come up with a convincing explanation that taps into our judgments and beliefs.

I could spend so much time researching or inventing feasible reasons why things are the way they are that I risk forgetting the most important thing: I can create what I want in my life. It requires knowing what I want, and it helps if I have a strong purpose. But there isn't a secret formula out there that is going to create it for me, and there isn't a proper way to do things that I need to learn. I'm not missing anything I need. It's just a matter of living out what I want to be. Why? Because I am who I am. No more and no less.

Waves

I went to the beach for the first time in a long time today, and I was delighted to be in the presence of my four-year-old nephew. The big attraction was wave jumping, and I noticed a ton of things as I observed and participated in this simple activity.

First off, I couldn't predict much about the waves. I could see them coming in, and I could be fairly confident that more were on their way. But there was not a regular interval between them, and there was no way to predict exactly where they would break. Sometimes they would look immense as they approached, only to break far enough out that their impact was minimal. Sometimes they would crash against us one right after the other. Sometimes I was surprised, and once even knocked over, by their unexpected force. And the waves didn't impact everyone equally, even people standing fairly close together.

My nephew's reaction to them was also very educational. He was primarily concerned with how the waves would impact him, nobody else. It was utter playfulness. He would mostly jump to try to clear them. Sometimes he would hold on to someone, jumping up but staying more or less in one place as a wave passed. Sometimes he would let the wave carry him a little bit. Once or twice he even got a face full of salt water unexpectedly, after which he quickly wiped off his face, smiled at his miscalculation, and got ready for the next one.

As much for myself as for you, I'll just connect the dots here. Life will happen. I don't know what it will throw at me, and even if I notice something approaching, I don't really know that I will accurately predict how hard it will impact me. My experience will be uniquely my own, but I can hold on to others when I want to maintain my stability. I can let life carry me or I can exert my own effort, but I can't control anything beyond myself. In any case, I can be playful with life. I might get an unexpected splash, and I might even get knocked down, but I can stand back up and smile and get ready for what comes next. And there will always be something coming next. Something moving. Something calling me into motion.

Powers of Observation

Tonight I enjoyed an Alley Theatre performance of Sherlock Holmes and the Crucifer of Blood. It has been awhile since I read any of Doyle's original stories, but I always enjoyed them. In tonight's play, however, I saw the character's remarkable powers of observation in a slightly new light. The claim that his conclusions were "elementary" had a bit of a gift in it.

Although many people fail to see what is there to be seen, the potential to notice still exists for all of us. It is not beyond human capacity to be awake and aware, it is simply not what many people choose to be. "Coasting along" or "sleepwalking" or whatever one wishes to call it merely requires less effort than consciousness. Or at least that is the way it seems sometimes. But the ability to notice is always there when we choose to tap into it.

For Holmes, at least in this depiction, the opportunity to use his powers of observation was a source of elation. He felt most alive when he was noticing all there was to notice and drawing connections between every detail. While I am not advocating going out and trying to solve mysterious crimes, I would like to suggest that Holmes was not all that unique. In many ways, I believe that willingness to notice life is what gives me a chance to feel more alive.

Stifling the Muse?

I have recently been accompanying a lot of standard repertoire for high school musicians. Some of the pieces are rather difficult (especially the ones that have an entire orchestral part reduced to a piano without leaving any notes out!), some of them are harmonically simplistic but technically flashy, and some of them just strike me as mediocre pieces of music.

There are a couple, though, that really grab me, and I think: I wish I had written this... I could have written this... I can write something as compelling and as beautiful and as fun as this... Why don't I?

Not very long ago, I would have said that self-doubt and fear of not being good enough were the biggest obstacles. When I check that with myself now, though, it doesn't ring true. I honestly believe that if I created the time and managed my energy for the task, I have plenty of music to compose. And although I am still a little caught up in the effort it takes to get a piece performed, I have been sending out compositions to contests and calls for scores for long enough now that I realize there will be ample opportunities to seek or create a performance once a piece is written.

So what am I waiting for? Well, nothing really. My days and weeks are packed with other things: my job, my marriage, accompanying, More To Life, life in general. I am working toward creating more space in my life for composing, but creating that space takes effort in and of itself. So I beat myself up for not making composing more of a priority right now. A part of me believes that I'm just being impatient and another part believes that I'm just being lazy.

Sometimes, I can't win with myself, even when everyone around me is acknowledging the value of what I am creating day to day.