Changing Horses Midstream

In the midst of composing a theater piece for woodwind quintet and a set of miniatures for chamber ensemble over the past several weeks, I've also started the libretto for a first opera.  The story is familiar, and it's been told many times over on the screen, and that's a good thing for a new opera.  It's also a rather convoluted story, though, which means that a lot of information has to be conveyed to the audience in order for everything to make sense.  That's more of a challenge in an opera. 

Maybe it's worth taking a moment to explain that comment.  In a book or a movie, even in a ballet, a great deal of information can be communicated through visual cues.  When the camera pans to a particularly illuminating piece of evidence in crime drama, no one really has to say anything for the audience to interpret that it's significant.  Some stories are about car chases and explosions and stunning visual effects.  Operas are about emotion.  In an opera, the most significant moments are when the momentum of the story stops and one or more characters reveal emotional responses to their circumstances that the audience relates to on a very deep level.   Those moments are more difficult to plan when a great deal of detailed factual information has to be communicated as well.

It's possible that I chose poorly in terms of opera subject, but as I was thinking of this a few days ago, the thought occurred to me: Well, what story would make for great opera, given this understanding of the art form?  So I outlined a different tale altogether, conscious of where arias and ensembles would work well, and limiting the amount of factual information that would have to be communicated at any given point in the story.  What I wound up with is a compelling and interesting tale with plenty of opportunity for the characters to give us some glimpse into their psyche.  My only concern with its viability at this point is that it's not a story everyone already knows, and most new operas are adaptations of best-selling novels or award-winning films. 

Still, it isn't easy to let go of the original plan.  I had shared the idea with a few trusted people.  I've already done quite a bit of work on it.  It seems like a bit of a failure to give up on the idea and switch to something else.  Of course, I'm not deleting what I've written so far or throwing my hard drive into the fire, and I can come back to it at some later date.  But there are so many societal lessons that I'm ignoring about perseverance, staying the course, sticking with the plan, and on and on.  You aren't supposed to change horses midstream, right?  I know the new story has more potential as an effective opera, and I'm pretty excited about telling that story.  There's just a bit of judgment against changing course that's getting in the way of fully embracing it.

Sometimes changing course is the wisest decision.

Idioms and platitudes aside, the new idea is more workable, and I'm going to follow through and see what I'm able to create with it.  I actually think that starting with the more challenging idea is what got me to the better idea, so it wasn't wasted time in the least.  There are times when the bit about staying the course might make sense, but there is no reason to remain loyal to a plan that is clearly fraught with problems when another plan avoids those problems while still getting to a desired outcome.  After all, my purpose--my desired outcome--is to compose a compelling and enjoyable opera.  Sometimes, radical change to a plan of action just makes the most sense.

100% Certainty

The puzzle began a little over two months ago. A group of friends were gathered around the table on a hot afternoon in early July, and a drop of water landed on the table. Searching the ceiling, we guessed that it was coming from a seam between the wooden slats there. It had been raining that day, so we thought it could be a roof leak. There was no plumbing in the attic above that room, just an air conditioning duct and a couple of vents. And the drip hadn't come from either of the vents. Still, as time went on, I became fairly confident that this drip had some connection to the air conditioner.

I don't really know anything about finding roof leaks or air conditioning problems. So, armed with our two best guesses, I called a roofer to come take a look, and I called our home warranty company to request an A/C specialist to check that out the other option. The first roofer was positive that it wasn't a roof issue, and the air conditioning specialist said he couldn't see any reason for the drip to be caused by the A/C. It was a just a mysterious drip, but it persisted and became more of an issue over the next couple of weeks. It happened infrequently, always on hot days when we had the air conditioner running, and with our two best guesses shattered, we had started seeking less likely causes.

The best less likely cause we heard about was poor ventilation. Supposedly, on hot and humid days, if the attic didn't have enough ventilation, a "cloud" could form up there that would account for our drip. Since attic ventilation was a roofing issue, I called a different roofer to come and take a look. He looked around and said that we seemed to have plenty of ventilation. In fact, the only thing he saw that could cause any problems in that part of the attic was the air conditioning system. So, I called the air conditioning expert back to have another look.

Imagine my disappointment when he couldn't find any reason for the drip. I had been fairly certain that the drip was an A/C issue, but then I heard some stories from other people about water leaking from one place and then running along a beam or something to a completely different spot before succumbing to gravity. So I went on a bit of exploration. I couldn't really see anything leaking or any water running along any beams. What I did see surprised me, though.

We have a lot of insulation in the area of the attic above that leak. I mean, a mother lode of insulation. So much, in fact, that I couldn't really get to the spot where the drip was happening without removing bales of insulation. I thought, I wonder how that A/C specialist was able to check this out without moving all this insulation out of the way. And then it dawned on me. He hadn't. Rather than remove all of the insulation, I called our home warranty company back and asked them to send the A/C man back, explaining that he could not possibly have done the job I paid him to do when he had visited my home previously.

He returned and briefly explained to me why he didn't need to move the insulation to know that it wasn't an issue with the air conditioning system. I pressed him, and he said, "I can 100% guarantee you that this isn't being caused by anything with your air conditioner." I was impressed by that. He certainly hadn't said that before. And he was the expert in that area.

So when he left, I looked up at that wooden ceiling and realized that the only way to really figure out the issue would be to tear down the planks (which were starting to show some signs of water damage by this point). I hoped that our home owners insurance would cover fixing the problem and any damage that had resulted. They sent out a few people of their own to diagnose the issue.

Their plumbers confirmed that there was nothing up there to leak in the way of water pipes. That was reassuring. I hadn't missed anything as obvious as a pipe spouting an arc of water across the attic. The air conditioning expert the insurance company sent out actually found the problem within about a minute. It was a problem with the A/C duct. Really.

Now, since the issue is the result of normal wear and tear, the insurance company won't cover it, and any damage caused by the water also isn't covered. But the home warranty company covers matters of normal wear and tear. So now, two months later, I have an answer to the mysterious drip, and I know how the matter can be solved. I am prepared to be tenacious with the home warranty company, the repair company with whom they contract, the Better Business Bureau, and anyone else that can have an impact on taking care of the problem completely.

The thing that bothers me most about the whole ordeal is that I knew what the problem was from the very beginning. I had no real knowledge or experience of my own to rely on, so I trusted someone who specialized in the area of concern. His 100% certainty turned out to be faulty, so I'm grateful that I got a second opinion. If I had trusted myself a little more in the beginning, perhaps I would have been a little more insistent with Mr. 100%.

It just seems like it shouldn't have been so difficult to get an answer. It seems like it shouldn't have gone on for as long as it did. It would be easy to slip into a victim mentality with all of this. What I want instead is to stand up for myself and get the services I've paid for, performed at a satisfying level of quality. It is actually about being able to care for and value myself while still seeing another person's humanity. Sometimes it can be a challenge.

(Not) Accepting Defeat

Last week, my top priority was to complete a new video course for Envision Coaching Solutions, upload the file, and get everything set for people to purchase the course from the website. One of my goals with Envision is to reach more people than I can help through one-to-one interaction, so this video course on building purpose is an important facet of that objective. Since it's the first paid product I've put online, there were a few unexpected challenges in the process.

I had the actual course completed on Saturday, so I expected to finish uploading it and making it available to people by Saturday evening. But the file would not upload to the shopping cart program I am using. I tried using different web browsers and formatting the video into different file types. Eventually, I asked for help from technical support (feeling grateful that they were on call 24/7!). I learned that the file was too large to work with their software and that I needed to compress the file before uploading it.

So I went back to the original video and began a trial-and-error process of finding the right level of compression that would still preserve the quality of my work. This took some time, and in the course of my exploration I discovered .zipx compression that helped a great deal. It also solved the challenge of including a printable workbook with the video. Finally, I had a satisfying blend of quality and compression, so I tried once more to upload the end product. And once more there were issues. I wound up calling tech support again, and was told that .zipx files aren't compatible with their software.

Frustrated and feeling defeated, I resolved to find a way to make the course available. I made several calls and checked out several alternatives. On a lark, I even tried one more time to upload the .zipx file... and it worked! I called tech support again, concerned that if the file type was incompatible with their software that customers may have trouble downloading it. I learned that if I was able to upload it, others should be able to download it with no problem.

I also learned that there was no reason why .zipx files shouldn't work with their software. That's right, someone had just invented that because there was no other reason why my upload shouldn't have worked. And I spent the better part of a day hunting down other options. But I was happy that the process was complete, and I was able to celebrate that success. It was four days later than I had originally hoped, but I had prevailed.

When I told this story to a friend of mine, her response was shocking. "You really let people give you run around sometimes." What? I had overcome the obstacles! I prevailed! The project was online and available for people! True enough. But some of my time had been spent trying to find solutions to problems that didn't exist, just because someone told me that what I wanted wasn't possible. It was easy to believe that. I'm getting better at believing that I can have what I want in my life when I'm the only one responsible. But when someone else is involved, it's still almost automatic to accept that I can't have what I want. That life isn't easy or simple. That things won't go the way I plan.

I'm still celebrating that I got the course online, and I am proud of the end result. I'm also looking at how much I still expect defeat, or at least a struggle. There's really no reason why someone else being involved should limit my success. In fact, some facets of my success are all about partnership. It's worth it to me to start expecting that there is a way for me to have what I want, even if it isn't immediately obvious in every circumstance. In fact, that can help me to inspire creativity in the people with whom I partner, rather than expecting people to disappoint me or make my life more challenging. I'd much rather live in the truth that others can be inspiring, creative, and supportive, too.

Counter-Inertia

In a conversation with someone this week, I heard about a desire to scale back involvement in an organization. There were some frustrations about the way meetings and other issues were handled, and it seemed that some well-ingrained habits within the organization have been undermining its purpose to some extent. It is a familiar scenario in many places where "the way we do it" is what it is because that's the way it's "always" been done. We can become entrenched in habit very quickly, especially if it means we don't have to use our time and energy devising methods that are more ideal to our purpose and intention.

Once in a while, a person comes along who sees the purpose and intention of an organization and believes in it strongly enough to desire improvement and growth. Both in self and in others. If that person is committed to finding tactful ways to teach others, then this visionary can serve an organization by guiding it toward deeper awareness of its purpose and away from the things that persist out of sheer inertia. Transformation can happen when we are reminded why we want to do something and given an opportunity to be invigorated by vision and purpose.

A lot of people believe they know the "right" way to do something. And many times, the "right" way is simply "the way it's always been done." So a visionary might have to be a bit persistent and patient. A teacher may need to learn how to tap into the personal benefits that will motivate people to change. That might be a frustrating enterprise, and it would certainly be easier to write people off and decide that things were never going to change. But wouldn't it be so worth it to be part of that transformation? To see something you really believe in blossom because you were willing to open your mouth . . . gracefully?

The real rewards happen when we find something we value enough to put ourselves on the line, and we actually do.