The instrumental ensemble blended well as we rehearsed the prelude before morning service. Until I the flutist decided to add a couple beats to the first ending. Or maybe it was a full, four-beat measure of melody. Everyone rolled with it. But after the final cutoff, I said, “Well now, I guess I decided those extra beats belonged there, because that’s how I would have written the melody.” Everyone chuckled. We’ve all been there. Oh, how strong that I can be. As Franciscan Father Richard Rohr has noted, having a strong sense of identity and boundaries—a strong I ego—is important. And yet, though "the imperial I" might sound good, that I’s melody often hides the fact that it is phony and self-serving. So. When playing with others every Sunday morning, I try to humble my ego to the Creator’s melody and blend well with the ensemble. Good life practice, don’t you think?
A colleague sends a short, beautiful video she and her team produced in Brazil, in the state of Amazonas. It is of autistic children, families and staff at a summer camp rooted in the play therapy model, Floortime, that I also use. There are many scenes of parents and children playing in gorgeous rich landscape, swimming, climbing on colorful home made looking playground equipment. Much is in slow motion, set to music, highlighting the shared joy in the colorful rich location. It is about deeply valuing the joy of connection. I am giving a workshop in the Fall on the importance of enjoying, not only ‘treating’ autistic children, and the video is just the missing link I was needing. Not only is it inspiring and meaningful, but it also solves my own practical problem of how to bring my workshop to life. I get her permission to include this video. Now my workshop has the melody.
A best friend, my Quebecois hit man, can turn a song, any song, into a melodic, award-worthy earworm. All in a moment’s notice, he does this repeatedly. It’s his career, a devoted musician. Over the years, we’ve proven a solid creative duo: me, the hobbyist with simple, direct, songwriting, he, the professional, producer, audio wonder. We’ve recorded a lot of music together. Our process is easy, relaxed, effortless. The bare essence remains prominent, intact.
On Monday, I head north to visit after a 5-year gap. This time, I will arrive not to record music, but to start a different creative journey together. I ride into Montreal with excitement, ready to meet my goddaughter, all of one month old, for the first time. When my friend presented me the honor, I heartily accepted. A great big collaboration with the world. A new song to sing.
The instrumental ensemble blended well as we rehearsed the prelude before morning service. Until I the flutist decided to add a couple beats to the first ending. Or maybe it was a full, four-beat measure of melody. Everyone rolled with it. But after the final cutoff, I said, “Well now, I guess I decided those extra beats belonged there, because that’s how I would have written the melody.” Everyone chuckled. We’ve all been there. Oh, how strong that I can be. As Franciscan Father Richard Rohr has noted, having a strong sense of identity and boundaries—a strong I ego—is important. And yet, though "the imperial I" might sound good, that I’s melody often hides the fact that it is phony and self-serving. So. When playing with others every Sunday morning, I try to humble my ego to the Creator’s melody and blend well with the ensemble. Good life practice, don’t you think?
A colleague sends a short, beautiful video she and her team produced in Brazil, in the state of Amazonas. It is of autistic children, families and staff at a summer camp rooted in the play therapy model, Floortime, that I also use. There are many scenes of parents and children playing in gorgeous rich landscape, swimming, climbing on colorful home made looking playground equipment. Much is in slow motion, set to music, highlighting the shared joy in the colorful rich location. It is about deeply valuing the joy of connection. I am giving a workshop in the Fall on the importance of enjoying, not only ‘treating’ autistic children, and the video is just the missing link I was needing. Not only is it inspiring and meaningful, but it also solves my own practical problem of how to bring my workshop to life. I get her permission to include this video. Now my workshop has the melody.
A best friend, my Quebecois hit man, can turn a song, any song, into a melodic, award-worthy earworm. All in a moment’s notice, he does this repeatedly. It’s his career, a devoted musician. Over the years, we’ve proven a solid creative duo: me, the hobbyist with simple, direct, songwriting, he, the professional, producer, audio wonder. We’ve recorded a lot of music together. Our process is easy, relaxed, effortless. The bare essence remains prominent, intact.
On Monday, I head north to visit after a 5-year gap. This time, I will arrive not to record music, but to start a different creative journey together. I ride into Montreal with excitement, ready to meet my goddaughter, all of one month old, for the first time. When my friend presented me the honor, I heartily accepted. A great big collaboration with the world. A new song to sing.