Currently watching Clueless in the middle of the day, and I don't want to hear a word about it!
So you know how I was all proud of myself for staying healthy even though I haven't had a true let-down time since June? Well, if you didn't, now you do. It was great. I was even to the point of feeling a bit invincable. But, of course, when you start getting cocky...
So I've got a ... something... probably sinus infection. It's the normal thing, anyway. So I sound like a sixty-year-old man, and I could probably sing his repertoire, too. Give me Dr. Bartolo's music, and I've got it.
But it's really weird. I'm totally chill about it, even though juries are in a week. Everyone's being so nice about it. I might have to reschedule my jury, I won't have my last lesson, and I'm missing all my last classes because they all consist of vocal majors I don't want to get sick. The 10-page ped paper is in, and I can keep myself in house arrest for the rest of the week studying for exams and writing the 8-10-page song lit paper.
It's a plan, anyway.
In other news, the past couple of weeks have been tough. I'm sure I've told most of you...perhaps this is just for myself to remember.
My friend, Nicole, whose mom has been dying of brain cancer since May calls me the day before Thanksgiving to tell me that "this is it." So I get directions and go to the hospice as fast as I can, spending the rest of the day there. It was the most raw, most human thing I had ever seen - a mother whose only communication was in the connection you could see in her eyes when her daughter was in front of her. I felt the love, the pain, the panic. It was all there. That day, for the first time in my life, I had to be there for a friend in a way I never had before, and, another first, I realized how to use my voice to heal. Sure, I've always got a little soundtrack in my head, playing to keep me warm. But for the first time, the only words which were the right ones to say came in song. See, when Anita's (Nicole's mom's) sister, Zora, came in, she sat beside Anita and began to talk soothingly to her. She said, "It's okay, Anita. We're all here for you. You're not going to be alone in this. And we're all so happy for you. You're going on this journey before all of us, and you won't have to feel any pain. Just let go. Just relax..." and so on. And Anita, who had been gasping like a person who had just run a marathon for upwards of six hours, slowed her breath for the first time. And that's what triggered it. I asked Nicole, who had grown up with me singing all the time, if she would mind me singing a few hymns, and she said she wouldn't.
So I sang the first two verses of "In the Garden": I go to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses. And the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the son of God discloses. And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there...none other has ever known. He speaks and the sound of his voice is so sweet, the birds hush their singing, and the melody that he gave to me, within my heart is ringing, and he walks with me..."
Then "It is well": "When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well with my soul...'"
And the chorus of "How Great Thou Art": "Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee, how great Thou art, how great Thou art. Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee. How great Thou art, how great Thou art."
And "Shall We Gather at the River": "Shall we gather at the river? Where bright angel feet have trod, with its crystal tide forever flowing by the thrown of God. Yes, we'll gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river. Gather with the saints at the river that flows by the throne of God."
The crazy thing is, I didn't even know I knew these songs by heart. It's like it just came out of the reservoir, and everything was honest and from deep within my soul. Probably the most profound experience I've ever had. The next day, my family and I made Thanksgiving plates for Nicole and Zora, brought it to them and stayed a while longer. They had me sing "Amazing Grace", and I somehow remembered all the words to the Quaker anthem "'Tis a Gift". I got the call Friday right before I was to have coffee with friends. I'll never forget the note in Nicole's voice when she told me, and I'll never forget how I just fell apart at the sight of Michael, Jane, and Lindsay. Right there in the middle of the coffee shop.
Last weekend, we had December first Saturday, and I drove directly up from there to the memorial service. I was only five minutes late. It was a true and poignant Quaker service, with us all sitting in silence, and people rising to share how Anita's life had made them better people. I was able to spend time with Nicole afterwards. We went to eat at the Decatur/Dekalb Farmer's Market. She's holding it together. For six months and one day, her life was taking care of her mother. Now she's Nicole again, but never the same. She may be going to England next year - same time (if all goes well) that I'll be in Germany. Pretty cool...
I remember, after I left her, just driving around downtown Atlanta in a daze. Looking at the lights. Discovering what it was like to drive there and not be pressed, hurried, or frustrated with the crazy driving surrounding me. Just taking it in.
So I've got a ... something... probably sinus infection. It's the normal thing, anyway. So I sound like a sixty-year-old man, and I could probably sing his repertoire, too. Give me Dr. Bartolo's music, and I've got it.
But it's really weird. I'm totally chill about it, even though juries are in a week. Everyone's being so nice about it. I might have to reschedule my jury, I won't have my last lesson, and I'm missing all my last classes because they all consist of vocal majors I don't want to get sick. The 10-page ped paper is in, and I can keep myself in house arrest for the rest of the week studying for exams and writing the 8-10-page song lit paper.
It's a plan, anyway.
In other news, the past couple of weeks have been tough. I'm sure I've told most of you...perhaps this is just for myself to remember.
My friend, Nicole, whose mom has been dying of brain cancer since May calls me the day before Thanksgiving to tell me that "this is it." So I get directions and go to the hospice as fast as I can, spending the rest of the day there. It was the most raw, most human thing I had ever seen - a mother whose only communication was in the connection you could see in her eyes when her daughter was in front of her. I felt the love, the pain, the panic. It was all there. That day, for the first time in my life, I had to be there for a friend in a way I never had before, and, another first, I realized how to use my voice to heal. Sure, I've always got a little soundtrack in my head, playing to keep me warm. But for the first time, the only words which were the right ones to say came in song. See, when Anita's (Nicole's mom's) sister, Zora, came in, she sat beside Anita and began to talk soothingly to her. She said, "It's okay, Anita. We're all here for you. You're not going to be alone in this. And we're all so happy for you. You're going on this journey before all of us, and you won't have to feel any pain. Just let go. Just relax..." and so on. And Anita, who had been gasping like a person who had just run a marathon for upwards of six hours, slowed her breath for the first time. And that's what triggered it. I asked Nicole, who had grown up with me singing all the time, if she would mind me singing a few hymns, and she said she wouldn't.
So I sang the first two verses of "In the Garden": I go to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses. And the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the son of God discloses. And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own. And the joy we share as we tarry there...none other has ever known. He speaks and the sound of his voice is so sweet, the birds hush their singing, and the melody that he gave to me, within my heart is ringing, and he walks with me..."
Then "It is well": "When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well with my soul...'"
And the chorus of "How Great Thou Art": "Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee, how great Thou art, how great Thou art. Then sings my soul, my savior God to thee. How great Thou art, how great Thou art."
And "Shall We Gather at the River": "Shall we gather at the river? Where bright angel feet have trod, with its crystal tide forever flowing by the thrown of God. Yes, we'll gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful river. Gather with the saints at the river that flows by the throne of God."
The crazy thing is, I didn't even know I knew these songs by heart. It's like it just came out of the reservoir, and everything was honest and from deep within my soul. Probably the most profound experience I've ever had. The next day, my family and I made Thanksgiving plates for Nicole and Zora, brought it to them and stayed a while longer. They had me sing "Amazing Grace", and I somehow remembered all the words to the Quaker anthem "'Tis a Gift". I got the call Friday right before I was to have coffee with friends. I'll never forget the note in Nicole's voice when she told me, and I'll never forget how I just fell apart at the sight of Michael, Jane, and Lindsay. Right there in the middle of the coffee shop.
Last weekend, we had December first Saturday, and I drove directly up from there to the memorial service. I was only five minutes late. It was a true and poignant Quaker service, with us all sitting in silence, and people rising to share how Anita's life had made them better people. I was able to spend time with Nicole afterwards. We went to eat at the Decatur/Dekalb Farmer's Market. She's holding it together. For six months and one day, her life was taking care of her mother. Now she's Nicole again, but never the same. She may be going to England next year - same time (if all goes well) that I'll be in Germany. Pretty cool...
I remember, after I left her, just driving around downtown Atlanta in a daze. Looking at the lights. Discovering what it was like to drive there and not be pressed, hurried, or frustrated with the crazy driving surrounding me. Just taking it in.