Today I am thankful that someone at church asked me if I was done with undergrad yet. I feel bad that I looked at her like she was crazy since I graduated 7 years ago. But at least I look good.
Seriously, I'm thankful for a warm house and warm meal. I'm thankful that my brother has a job at school that he loves, even if it means that he has to be away this weekend. I'm thankful I have 6 or 7 jobs I love up in Boston.
I leave you with one of my favorite poems. It's been described as trite and corny and I don't care:
Thank you for love, no matter what its outcome,
that leads us to the window in the dark,
that adds another otherness to others,
that holds out stars as if they were first diamonds
found in a mine that had been long closed down,
that hands out suns and makes us ask each morning:
What else do we need, picnickers in time?
Thank you for love that does not hang on answers,
that says, 'Enough's enough, to love is plenty...'
--- by such signs do we know the world exists,
amo ergo sum, thank you for that.
The miles, the years, the lives that lie between
--- they always lay there, and they always will,
but look, the loved one spans the dizzy distance
by the act of being, and we lovers turn
our faces steadily thou -wards as a field
of sunflowers like a tracking station turns,
charting its meaning by the westering sun.
- Bruce Dawe
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
you can't make this stuff up
Driving down the hill from my parents house, having forgotten a key and needing to drive up to the shop to get one, I saw that the neighbors' pigs had gotten out and were running around the driveway.
Frugalistas
A friend and I got joking the other night about the old Onion article about William Safire going to BK and ordering two "Whoppers Junior". In the course of the conversation he mentioned to me that Safire's word of the year this year is Frugalista. My guess is that the meaning is obvious, but it's someone who is a fashionista on a budget (which, I would imagine, is even more time consuming than just being a fashionista).
The whole concept bugged me, and it was all I could do not to go off on a total rant. Instead I just went off on a partial rant about lifestyles and money, with the thought in the back of my mind that I would end up writing about it here. These are dangerous topics because they are so personal, and I know that often my preaching can make it sound like I think my lifestyle is the best out there. That mindset sounds terrible, but think about this: If you don't think your lifestyle is the best, why are you living that way?
Having been ruined for life by the Jesuits, I have an odd relationship with money. Like I tell my students, we all know that Jesus said "give away all you have and follow me", and we can make whatever choices we want about money but we can't ever pretend that he didn't say it. Dance around it, interpret it, parse it within an inch of it's life, but it's there and if we take the Evangelists seriously we can't ignore it.
When I got back from Mexico after the first time I traveled on an international service trip, I couldn't bring myself to buy anything for month and a half. A cup of coffee filled me with guilt, and little luxuries felt superfluous. After a while I realized that I couldn't control the world I was born into any more than my friends on the outskirts of Tijuana, and decided that sometimes I had to buy a new pair of jeans. That said, to this day I don't think I've ever spent more than $35 on a pair.
I still spent the next 3 years doing "the voluntary poverty thing" as I called it, living in community for 4 years, sacrificing privacy and autonomy in an attempt not to consume more than my fair share. After a while it started to get to me, and I was lucky enough to be able to choose between two jobs: one at a wealthy school and one at a less affluent school. The decision was a struggle, but I was tired of not knowing how I was going to afford groceries, and I sold out. I don't regret it.
What does this have to do with being a Frugalista? Despite being able to afford my own place and new shoes, I am still annoyed by nation's emphasis on style and consumption. This will only become more apparent as we plow forward toward Christmas. Even as people are forced to consume less because of the economy, I still am perturbed that so much of what I hear about are the extraneous things people can't afford. Did it never occur to them when things were flush that maybe they didn't need that extra piece of technology, that fancy vacation, the second, or third, or fourth home? Did they really see no value in consuming less simply for the sake of consuming less? I own very little of significant monetary value and it makes me feel free. Have we become shackled to our own consumer aspirations? Has Madison Avenue made it impossible for America to know the joy and liberation of letting those consumerist dreams go?
The whole concept bugged me, and it was all I could do not to go off on a total rant. Instead I just went off on a partial rant about lifestyles and money, with the thought in the back of my mind that I would end up writing about it here. These are dangerous topics because they are so personal, and I know that often my preaching can make it sound like I think my lifestyle is the best out there. That mindset sounds terrible, but think about this: If you don't think your lifestyle is the best, why are you living that way?
Having been ruined for life by the Jesuits, I have an odd relationship with money. Like I tell my students, we all know that Jesus said "give away all you have and follow me", and we can make whatever choices we want about money but we can't ever pretend that he didn't say it. Dance around it, interpret it, parse it within an inch of it's life, but it's there and if we take the Evangelists seriously we can't ignore it.
When I got back from Mexico after the first time I traveled on an international service trip, I couldn't bring myself to buy anything for month and a half. A cup of coffee filled me with guilt, and little luxuries felt superfluous. After a while I realized that I couldn't control the world I was born into any more than my friends on the outskirts of Tijuana, and decided that sometimes I had to buy a new pair of jeans. That said, to this day I don't think I've ever spent more than $35 on a pair.
I still spent the next 3 years doing "the voluntary poverty thing" as I called it, living in community for 4 years, sacrificing privacy and autonomy in an attempt not to consume more than my fair share. After a while it started to get to me, and I was lucky enough to be able to choose between two jobs: one at a wealthy school and one at a less affluent school. The decision was a struggle, but I was tired of not knowing how I was going to afford groceries, and I sold out. I don't regret it.
What does this have to do with being a Frugalista? Despite being able to afford my own place and new shoes, I am still annoyed by nation's emphasis on style and consumption. This will only become more apparent as we plow forward toward Christmas. Even as people are forced to consume less because of the economy, I still am perturbed that so much of what I hear about are the extraneous things people can't afford. Did it never occur to them when things were flush that maybe they didn't need that extra piece of technology, that fancy vacation, the second, or third, or fourth home? Did they really see no value in consuming less simply for the sake of consuming less? I own very little of significant monetary value and it makes me feel free. Have we become shackled to our own consumer aspirations? Has Madison Avenue made it impossible for America to know the joy and liberation of letting those consumerist dreams go?
Monday, November 24, 2008
Tempo markings
Yesterday I sang Westendorf's O Blessed Savior at three morning masses, which is a song that I have always really liked even though it constantly changes meter. Needless to say I got all emotional, but since this blog is running the risk of turning into Felice Mi Fa's Emotional Jamboree, I'll leave that to your imagination.
This is what intrigued me: in place of a tempo marking, the score read "With Great Reverence". Has there ever been a church piece that was not intended that way? That has had the marking "With Blazing Disrespect?" It irks me when composers give marks like that: "somewhat funky, not too fast", "peppy!".
I am teetering on the edge of a liturgical music rant, but I think I will restrain myself.
This is what intrigued me: in place of a tempo marking, the score read "With Great Reverence". Has there ever been a church piece that was not intended that way? That has had the marking "With Blazing Disrespect?" It irks me when composers give marks like that: "somewhat funky, not too fast", "peppy!".
I am teetering on the edge of a liturgical music rant, but I think I will restrain myself.
Friday, November 21, 2008
on a lighter note...
after two weepily emo posts in a row, let's switch gears a bit.
I am trying to decide when to leave town for CT. When do you think traffic will be least bad getting out of the city?
a. Tuesday evening at 7pm
b. Wednesday morning at 8am
c. Wednesday morning at 10am
In other news, BOC is planning another event with the Italian Consulate, and the Consul and I have been corresponding about the details. I try to do most of our correspondence in Italian (because I think he gets tired of English all the time, and for my own benefit) only switching into English when I am concerned I won't be clear or won't understand something.
Writing in Italian is something I become less neurotic about with time (and with frequency - sometimes I'm too rushed to check my conjugations 8 times). I just hastily hit send on an email that probably contained a dozen mistakes.
I am trying to decide when to leave town for CT. When do you think traffic will be least bad getting out of the city?
a. Tuesday evening at 7pm
b. Wednesday morning at 8am
c. Wednesday morning at 10am
In other news, BOC is planning another event with the Italian Consulate, and the Consul and I have been corresponding about the details. I try to do most of our correspondence in Italian (because I think he gets tired of English all the time, and for my own benefit) only switching into English when I am concerned I won't be clear or won't understand something.
Writing in Italian is something I become less neurotic about with time (and with frequency - sometimes I'm too rushed to check my conjugations 8 times). I just hastily hit send on an email that probably contained a dozen mistakes.
Wir wandelten, wir zwei zusammen
The first major chill of the season has settled on Boston. Ever since high school I have struggled with neck tension and back pain at this time of year as my shoulders creep up against the cold. The weather and a long week had me tense and tired by Thursday afternoon, the day of my voice lesson. I wasn’t at the top of my game when I walked into my teacher’s studio. My larynx was creeping up, I couldn’t get on top of the pitch, and I was making the same mistakes I always make, becoming more and more annoyed with myself. I finally got warmed up enough to make music, and we began to work on repertoire.
Brahms was the order of the day, and we began Wir Wandelten, a stunning Romantic art song with a piano part that is just as beautiful as the melody (click to listen here). At one point my teacher offered the image of a pine forest as interpretive advice, suggesting the image and experience of walking over soft pine needles in green stillness.
You know what I mean? She asked me. I did. I grew up spending afternoons wandering our big backyard, through aisles of trees that define the perimeter of the lawn. I know what pine needles are like, how they feel, how they smell, what they mean.
With my brain back at my parents’ house we sang on. All Brahms is beautiful, Wir Wandelten is more so, and once again I was overwhelmed with the wonder of being part of something transcendently gorgeous. My emotional eyes teared up all the way home: I wasn’t sure if I was crying out of sadness or of happiness. Being moved is like that sometimes, inhabiting some space above happy and sad.
Occasionally in the studio or the practice room, something so magical happens that I think “this is it. This is the whole point.” But then I remember pine needles and wandering the woods and pulling my baby brother in the wagon with the tractor, and then I think that all of this is ‘it’ – every memory and imagining, every stressed out voice lesson, freezing afternoon, hectic class. On my very best days, straining to read someone else’s words and music over my pianist’s shoulder, I catch sight of the wonder of God for a second and am convinced that really none of this is ‘it’. There’s so much more waiting for us, but on this side of eternity, in every practice room, classroom, studio apartment, dusty old farmhouse – there’s more than enough shadows and reflections of ‘it’ to make the whole trip worthwhile.
Wir wandelten, wir zwei zusammen,
ich war so still und du so stille,
ich gäbe viel, um zu erfahren,
was du gedacht in jenem Fall.
Was ich gedacht, unausgesprochen verbleibe das!
Nur Eines sag' ich:
So schön war alles, was ich dachte,
so himmlisch heiter war es all'.
In meinem Haupte die Gedanken,
sie läuteten wie gold'ne Glöckchen:
so wundersüß, so wunderlieblich
ist in der Welt kein and'rer Hall.
We wandered together, the two of us,
I was so quiet and you so still,
I would give much to know
What you were thinking at that moment.
What I was thinking, let it remain unuttered!
Only one thing will I say:
So lovely was all that I thought -
So heavenly and fine was it all.
The thoughts in my head
Rang like little golden bells:
So marvellously sweet and lovely
That in the world there is no other echo.
Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust
Brahms was the order of the day, and we began Wir Wandelten, a stunning Romantic art song with a piano part that is just as beautiful as the melody (click to listen here). At one point my teacher offered the image of a pine forest as interpretive advice, suggesting the image and experience of walking over soft pine needles in green stillness.
You know what I mean? She asked me. I did. I grew up spending afternoons wandering our big backyard, through aisles of trees that define the perimeter of the lawn. I know what pine needles are like, how they feel, how they smell, what they mean.
With my brain back at my parents’ house we sang on. All Brahms is beautiful, Wir Wandelten is more so, and once again I was overwhelmed with the wonder of being part of something transcendently gorgeous. My emotional eyes teared up all the way home: I wasn’t sure if I was crying out of sadness or of happiness. Being moved is like that sometimes, inhabiting some space above happy and sad.
Occasionally in the studio or the practice room, something so magical happens that I think “this is it. This is the whole point.” But then I remember pine needles and wandering the woods and pulling my baby brother in the wagon with the tractor, and then I think that all of this is ‘it’ – every memory and imagining, every stressed out voice lesson, freezing afternoon, hectic class. On my very best days, straining to read someone else’s words and music over my pianist’s shoulder, I catch sight of the wonder of God for a second and am convinced that really none of this is ‘it’. There’s so much more waiting for us, but on this side of eternity, in every practice room, classroom, studio apartment, dusty old farmhouse – there’s more than enough shadows and reflections of ‘it’ to make the whole trip worthwhile.
Wir wandelten, wir zwei zusammen,
ich war so still und du so stille,
ich gäbe viel, um zu erfahren,
was du gedacht in jenem Fall.
Was ich gedacht, unausgesprochen verbleibe das!
Nur Eines sag' ich:
So schön war alles, was ich dachte,
so himmlisch heiter war es all'.
In meinem Haupte die Gedanken,
sie läuteten wie gold'ne Glöckchen:
so wundersüß, so wunderlieblich
ist in der Welt kein and'rer Hall.
We wandered together, the two of us,
I was so quiet and you so still,
I would give much to know
What you were thinking at that moment.
What I was thinking, let it remain unuttered!
Only one thing will I say:
So lovely was all that I thought -
So heavenly and fine was it all.
The thoughts in my head
Rang like little golden bells:
So marvellously sweet and lovely
That in the world there is no other echo.
Translation from German to English copyright © by Emily Ezust
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Gifts
In case any of you worry that I don't have anyone looking out for me in Boston, you should know that last night my landlady knocked on my door around 6pm holding two boxes. She told me she had gone through her jewelry and found a few things she never wore and wanted to give them to me because she felt bad about the burglary and wanted to help me start refilling my jewelry box. A coworker of mine had also gotten me a few bracelets when she heard that mine had been taken.
I envy those people who can just accept gifts without a second thought. I think for most of us (and especially for the particularly neurotic, like myself) there's always that tiny feeling of unworthiness, even guilt, that someone should think of you and offer you something you haven't earned.
Her visit last night reminded me of a gift she gave me when I first moved in. I had made the mistake of moving while I was in the middle of a two-week intensive summer course on The Church of the Poor with none other than Gustavo Gutierrez (SQUEE!). When she came down with a gift for me while I was writing my final paper in my haphazardly decorated new kitchen, it made such an impact on me that I included the incident in my paper. This is what I wrote at the time:
Related to our need to be open to receiving God’s assistance is our need to accept God’s gratuitous gift. Discussing the preferential option for the poor and spiritual poverty, Gutiérrez states “God first loved us. Our lives should respond to this gratuitous initiative of God” (EW 146). God loves us – and all humans – because God is good, not because we are good.
To accept gifts freely can be a challenge. As I was writing this, my landlady unexpectedly knocked on my door. I opened the door to find her bearing two sets of curtains. She told me her daughter had left them with her, they matched my kitchen, I had two kitchen windows, and I didn’t have curtains yet, so she was giving them to me. Her action was so unexpected that my thank-yous felt inadequate, and I shut the door unsettled. If it is difficult to accept free curtains, no wonder it is a challenge to accept divine love and the gift of eternal life.
But I don’t physically need curtains any more than poor Andean girls need dolls, or an adolescent Gustavo needed ice cream, or Jesus needed three hundred denarii of oil poured on his head. Yet in the Markan account of Jesus anointing by an anonymous woman (Mk 14: 3-9) Jesus chastises those who would criticize her gratuitous act. In fact, he links the proclamation of the gospel with her act.
To receive God’s love gratuitously and to know that love is not conditional upon our striving, is an act of submission, of giving up control. We find validation of this acceptance in the pericope of Jesus’ anointing, and also in the story of Creation. According to Gutiérrez, we were made in gratuity, and “to be loved gratuitously is the greatest human aspiration”.
Forgive this soprano's detour into her other life of preaching and pontificating. Can't hurt to be reminded of the free gift of love once in a while, though.
I envy those people who can just accept gifts without a second thought. I think for most of us (and especially for the particularly neurotic, like myself) there's always that tiny feeling of unworthiness, even guilt, that someone should think of you and offer you something you haven't earned.
Her visit last night reminded me of a gift she gave me when I first moved in. I had made the mistake of moving while I was in the middle of a two-week intensive summer course on The Church of the Poor with none other than Gustavo Gutierrez (SQUEE!). When she came down with a gift for me while I was writing my final paper in my haphazardly decorated new kitchen, it made such an impact on me that I included the incident in my paper. This is what I wrote at the time:
Related to our need to be open to receiving God’s assistance is our need to accept God’s gratuitous gift. Discussing the preferential option for the poor and spiritual poverty, Gutiérrez states “God first loved us. Our lives should respond to this gratuitous initiative of God” (EW 146). God loves us – and all humans – because God is good, not because we are good.
To accept gifts freely can be a challenge. As I was writing this, my landlady unexpectedly knocked on my door. I opened the door to find her bearing two sets of curtains. She told me her daughter had left them with her, they matched my kitchen, I had two kitchen windows, and I didn’t have curtains yet, so she was giving them to me. Her action was so unexpected that my thank-yous felt inadequate, and I shut the door unsettled. If it is difficult to accept free curtains, no wonder it is a challenge to accept divine love and the gift of eternal life.
But I don’t physically need curtains any more than poor Andean girls need dolls, or an adolescent Gustavo needed ice cream, or Jesus needed three hundred denarii of oil poured on his head. Yet in the Markan account of Jesus anointing by an anonymous woman (Mk 14: 3-9) Jesus chastises those who would criticize her gratuitous act. In fact, he links the proclamation of the gospel with her act.
To receive God’s love gratuitously and to know that love is not conditional upon our striving, is an act of submission, of giving up control. We find validation of this acceptance in the pericope of Jesus’ anointing, and also in the story of Creation. According to Gutiérrez, we were made in gratuity, and “to be loved gratuitously is the greatest human aspiration”.
Forgive this soprano's detour into her other life of preaching and pontificating. Can't hurt to be reminded of the free gift of love once in a while, though.
Monday, November 17, 2008
A weekend away, with thoughts on singing for people you love.
In case any of you were considering teaching the first five periods on a Friday and then getting on an airplane, I don't recommend it.
This weekend was the long awaited wedding of the brother of a dear friend, whose family I have known since childhood. I took a cab from work to the airport and arrived about an hour before my flight. The flight was delayed, so I wasn't heartbroken by the long lines at security. As soon as I sat down at the gate they announced that my flight was cancelled, and I sprinted to the agent counter to try to get on another flight. Lucky for me a different airline had a flight heading out and I got a ticket on that one. All I had to do was go through security again...
When the agent at security checked my boarding pass and license, she looked up at me with a pleasant smile and said "I'm randomly selecting you to get an extra security check after you go through the metal detectors". Here tone of voice made it sound like I was getting some sort of prize, and my first inclination was to reply with such deep sarcasm that I could have gotten in a bit of trouble.
The security agents were polite and almost apologetic about having to pat me down out in front of everyone and go through all of my stuff. No matter how kind they are, that doesn't change the fact that my underwear is being rifled through in the middle of the airport.
I made it to Philly just in time for rehearsal dinner (although not in time for the actual rehearsal, which was fine because I was singing rather than being a part of the wedding party, but I still felt a little guilty just eating, not churching). The families of both the bride and the groom are of that fabulously warm variety, the kind that almost make you feel guilty for not being more like them.
The details of the weekend are pretty standard stuff that could send this post down the road of "today I got up. then I looked out the window. then I ate a sandwich.", so I'll spare you that. I will say that it was an honor, as usual to sing at the wedding of people I care about.
Most of the music was your usual Catholic stuff - midrange, needing amplification, etc. I did sing Ave Maria, which is always a treat because it is actually in my tessitura.
We train for years to get everything just right: open your throat in the passagio, raise the soft palate on that F#, maintain a consistent voice throughout the registers, make each note expressive, keep the breath spinning. There are times when that work seems horribly selfish, all done just so that we can win a few competitions, or depict on stage some selfish woman who you won't feel terribly bad for when she dies in the end. Once in a while I have the opportunity to use those skills for the right reasons and to really give a gift to people I care about. This weekend was one of those times. As much as I love adulation and applause and being approached by strangers after shows seeking to laud me, if the people I loved were my only fans, that would be enough for me.
This weekend was the long awaited wedding of the brother of a dear friend, whose family I have known since childhood. I took a cab from work to the airport and arrived about an hour before my flight. The flight was delayed, so I wasn't heartbroken by the long lines at security. As soon as I sat down at the gate they announced that my flight was cancelled, and I sprinted to the agent counter to try to get on another flight. Lucky for me a different airline had a flight heading out and I got a ticket on that one. All I had to do was go through security again...
When the agent at security checked my boarding pass and license, she looked up at me with a pleasant smile and said "I'm randomly selecting you to get an extra security check after you go through the metal detectors". Here tone of voice made it sound like I was getting some sort of prize, and my first inclination was to reply with such deep sarcasm that I could have gotten in a bit of trouble.
The security agents were polite and almost apologetic about having to pat me down out in front of everyone and go through all of my stuff. No matter how kind they are, that doesn't change the fact that my underwear is being rifled through in the middle of the airport.
I made it to Philly just in time for rehearsal dinner (although not in time for the actual rehearsal, which was fine because I was singing rather than being a part of the wedding party, but I still felt a little guilty just eating, not churching). The families of both the bride and the groom are of that fabulously warm variety, the kind that almost make you feel guilty for not being more like them.
The details of the weekend are pretty standard stuff that could send this post down the road of "today I got up. then I looked out the window. then I ate a sandwich.", so I'll spare you that. I will say that it was an honor, as usual to sing at the wedding of people I care about.
Most of the music was your usual Catholic stuff - midrange, needing amplification, etc. I did sing Ave Maria, which is always a treat because it is actually in my tessitura.
We train for years to get everything just right: open your throat in the passagio, raise the soft palate on that F#, maintain a consistent voice throughout the registers, make each note expressive, keep the breath spinning. There are times when that work seems horribly selfish, all done just so that we can win a few competitions, or depict on stage some selfish woman who you won't feel terribly bad for when she dies in the end. Once in a while I have the opportunity to use those skills for the right reasons and to really give a gift to people I care about. This weekend was one of those times. As much as I love adulation and applause and being approached by strangers after shows seeking to laud me, if the people I loved were my only fans, that would be enough for me.
For the Anniversary of the Jesuit Martyrs of El Salvador
Yesterday was actually the anniversary, but I was away from my computer. Someone sent these out and I thought they hit the nail on the head:
A gospel that doesn't unsettle,
a Word of God that doesn't get under anyone's skin,
a Word of God that doesn't touch the real sin of the
society in which it is being proclaimed,
what Gospel is that?
~ Oscar Romero
We need to work for peace from the perspective
of the suffering of orphans and widows and the
tragedy of the assassinated and the disappeared.
We must keep our eyes on the God of life, the
God of the poor, and not the idols, or the gods
of death that devour everything.
~ Ignacio Ellacuria, SJ
Martyred 11/16/89
A gospel that doesn't unsettle,
a Word of God that doesn't get under anyone's skin,
a Word of God that doesn't touch the real sin of the
society in which it is being proclaimed,
what Gospel is that?
~ Oscar Romero
We need to work for peace from the perspective
of the suffering of orphans and widows and the
tragedy of the assassinated and the disappeared.
We must keep our eyes on the God of life, the
God of the poor, and not the idols, or the gods
of death that devour everything.
~ Ignacio Ellacuria, SJ
Martyred 11/16/89
Friday, November 14, 2008
Happy Birthday, Pedro!
Nothing is more practical than finding God,
that is, than falling in love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination,
will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you
out of bed in the morning,
what you will do with your evenings,
how you will spend your weekends
what you read, who you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you
with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
~ attributed to Pedro Arrupe, SJ
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Goal setting and listening to the promptings of the Spirit
Now that this has been 'published' in the BOC newsletter I feel like I can share it here too. This is my way of letting you in on some of the recent musings that I don't anticipate having time to type out this week. Sorry if I am selling my cabbage twice.
Where do you see yourself in 5 years? The gravity of that question can be terrifying, and it's a question that has always baffled me and to which I rarely have a good answer. At the risk of sounding aimless, I will admit that I am not much of a goal setter. I have never attached myself to a particular vision of what my future would look like, instead trying to live with integrity every day and be guided by my principles as I navigate my path.
Of course my life plan always included a few major goals ("I would like to go to college", "I would like to not be homeless", "I would like to stay in close contact with my family"), but like many people I find that the best things in my life are the results of incidents I could never have planned. Response to the world around me, rather than driving initiative, is what led me to Americorps, to BOC, to the Board of Directors, to most of this life which in retrospect seems inevitable. It can be difficult, though, not to feel shiftless for not having a plan in place for the rest of my life.
Planning – or not – for the future can be a tough balancing act, and its one that BOC is going to struggle with as we continue to grow and move into our post-fledgling stage. How do we maintain direction while also being open to serendipity? How do we keep from being so locked into goals (which doubtless need to be set) that we can't respond to our environment and to each other? I have great trust in the membership of BOC that we will move forward guided by a mission of lifting up our colleagues and by the values which brought us all together. If any group can meet this challenge, it's us.
Where do you see yourself in 5 years? The gravity of that question can be terrifying, and it's a question that has always baffled me and to which I rarely have a good answer. At the risk of sounding aimless, I will admit that I am not much of a goal setter. I have never attached myself to a particular vision of what my future would look like, instead trying to live with integrity every day and be guided by my principles as I navigate my path.
Of course my life plan always included a few major goals ("I would like to go to college", "I would like to not be homeless", "I would like to stay in close contact with my family"), but like many people I find that the best things in my life are the results of incidents I could never have planned. Response to the world around me, rather than driving initiative, is what led me to Americorps, to BOC, to the Board of Directors, to most of this life which in retrospect seems inevitable. It can be difficult, though, not to feel shiftless for not having a plan in place for the rest of my life.
Planning – or not – for the future can be a tough balancing act, and its one that BOC is going to struggle with as we continue to grow and move into our post-fledgling stage. How do we maintain direction while also being open to serendipity? How do we keep from being so locked into goals (which doubtless need to be set) that we can't respond to our environment and to each other? I have great trust in the membership of BOC that we will move forward guided by a mission of lifting up our colleagues and by the values which brought us all together. If any group can meet this challenge, it's us.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Rejection
Well, I just got what will surely be the first of many PFOs for this season. For those of you not in the business, a PFO stands for Please Eff Off and is opera lingo for a rejection letter. This was for a summer apprenticeship that I knew was a real stretch, but at least I didn't have to travel or pay exorbitant fees for it. Even though I never really believed I would be accepted, it still hurts, like it hurts every time.
Rejections come a lot in this business, and we all know that fact going in to it. In what other profession are being constantly evaluated, fighting for jobs once a week or so, and being rejected at least 75% of the time? Imagine if every Wednesday you had to do your work in front of your boss, and he or she decided every week who got to come back on Thursday and Friday (and no, you wouldn't get paid to stay home). Then next week you would go back and do it again.
And every time you got sent home, even if it was only because there wasn't enough work that week or they were looking for a blonde rather than a brunette, it would feel like a sweeping indictment on your existence and vocation, and you would convince yourself that you had backed the wrong horse and that you were ruining your life, and at some point you'd end up in tears about the whole thing. Doesn't that sound like fun?
We singers are crazy. Part of it is that we are crazy to go into this line of work in the first place, and then we live it for a while and we get crazier. I repeat my suggestion from previous posts: Be patient with us. We're nuts.
Rejections come a lot in this business, and we all know that fact going in to it. In what other profession are being constantly evaluated, fighting for jobs once a week or so, and being rejected at least 75% of the time? Imagine if every Wednesday you had to do your work in front of your boss, and he or she decided every week who got to come back on Thursday and Friday (and no, you wouldn't get paid to stay home). Then next week you would go back and do it again.
And every time you got sent home, even if it was only because there wasn't enough work that week or they were looking for a blonde rather than a brunette, it would feel like a sweeping indictment on your existence and vocation, and you would convince yourself that you had backed the wrong horse and that you were ruining your life, and at some point you'd end up in tears about the whole thing. Doesn't that sound like fun?
We singers are crazy. Part of it is that we are crazy to go into this line of work in the first place, and then we live it for a while and we get crazier. I repeat my suggestion from previous posts: Be patient with us. We're nuts.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
From USCCB.org
Bishops Congratulate Barack Obama on Historic Election;Urge Him to Defend the Weak, Heal Divisions
WASHINGTON—The U.S. bishops congratulated President-elect Barack Obama, the first African-American elected President of the United States, and called the event "historic" and coming at a difficult time.
"Our country is confronting many uncertainties," the bishops said. "We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person."
They bishops offered their remarks in a November 4 letter to President-elect Obama from Cardinal Francis George of Chicago, president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.The letter follows.
Dear President-elect Obama,
I write to you, in my capacity as President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, to express our congratulations on your historic election as President of the United States. The people of our country have entrusted you with a great responsibility. As Catholic Bishops, we offer our prayers that God give you strength and wisdom to meet the coming challenges.
Our country is confronting many uncertainties. We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person.
May God bless you and Vice President-elect Biden as you prepare to assume your duties in service to our country and its citizens.
Sincerely yours,
Francis Cardinal George,
OMI
Archbishop of Chicago
President
WASHINGTON—The U.S. bishops congratulated President-elect Barack Obama, the first African-American elected President of the United States, and called the event "historic" and coming at a difficult time.
"Our country is confronting many uncertainties," the bishops said. "We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person."
They bishops offered their remarks in a November 4 letter to President-elect Obama from Cardinal Francis George of Chicago, president of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops.The letter follows.
Dear President-elect Obama,
I write to you, in my capacity as President of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, to express our congratulations on your historic election as President of the United States. The people of our country have entrusted you with a great responsibility. As Catholic Bishops, we offer our prayers that God give you strength and wisdom to meet the coming challenges.
Our country is confronting many uncertainties. We pray that you will use the powers of your office to meet them with a special concern to defend the most vulnerable among us and heal the divisions in our country and our world. We stand ready to work with you in defense and support of the life and dignity of every human person.
May God bless you and Vice President-elect Biden as you prepare to assume your duties in service to our country and its citizens.
Sincerely yours,
Francis Cardinal George,
OMI
Archbishop of Chicago
President
I'm happy
This is rambly, and on a topic I have deliberately tried to avoid all fall.
This is the first time in a long time that everything I voted for ended up going with the majority (including the ballot questions). I know there are a lot of folks out there looking to rain on our parade by criticizing the system, the candidates, the electoral college, etc. Yes, the system is broken, and no, I don’t think Barack Obama is somehow going to magically fix it, but I am choosing to deal with the brokenness and simply be happy with the results.
Dear friends had a party last night to watch the polls come in, but a combination of fatigue, avoidance of loud crowds, and desire to scream at the television kept me from staying very long up in Somerville. I went home and watched the rest of the polls come in on the futon, by myself, in the quiet. What can I say? It was nice.
I have wanted to see a female president for a long time, and supported Hillary Clinton in the primaries for that reason and because I simply thought she had more experience. I can say that it is thrilling to see an African-American President, the child of an immigrant, someone of humble beginnings. It’s easy to forgot that most of the country looks at our long list of white male presidents (like the one that is on my “Presidents of the United States” coffee mug) and sees people who they can’t relate to. There are people who poo-poo that sentiment, implying that it shouldn’t matter to people whether there leaders are white or black, male or female. Still, who we look at, who we look up to – those things matter.
And it matters that people of competence are allowed to shine. Yes, when I see Sarah Palin I see someone who looks like me (a hotter, older version of me), but I don’t get the sense that her values, or her idea of competence, is the same as mine. It’s not simply enough to have leaders who are of women, or who are different races. Speaking of my own experience, in my life I have wanted to be excellent in thinking, speaking, reading and writing. I have wanted to have knowledge. I have wanted to have morals that I could articulate and have wanted to be a leader who would encourage other people to live lives that are good. And who were the leaders I could look up to who had done that? George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr, Pope John XXIII. Good men, all, but men. With each election I see more women who I can look at and think “Wow, maybe I can do that. Maybe I can be the type of leader I want to be,” which is not to say I necessarily seek elected office. But every year, despite the setbacks, it becomes more and more OK for women to be strong, to be fighters, to be opinionated. That is hopeful for me.
Barack Obama’s election gives that same hope to other people. Here is a good man, who seems to want to do the right thing, who ‘works hard and plays by the rules’ as they say. And he looks like a large group of people who have never been represented in that way before. Like I said, it’s not perfect, but at least it’s above average.
This is the first time in a long time that everything I voted for ended up going with the majority (including the ballot questions). I know there are a lot of folks out there looking to rain on our parade by criticizing the system, the candidates, the electoral college, etc. Yes, the system is broken, and no, I don’t think Barack Obama is somehow going to magically fix it, but I am choosing to deal with the brokenness and simply be happy with the results.
Dear friends had a party last night to watch the polls come in, but a combination of fatigue, avoidance of loud crowds, and desire to scream at the television kept me from staying very long up in Somerville. I went home and watched the rest of the polls come in on the futon, by myself, in the quiet. What can I say? It was nice.
I have wanted to see a female president for a long time, and supported Hillary Clinton in the primaries for that reason and because I simply thought she had more experience. I can say that it is thrilling to see an African-American President, the child of an immigrant, someone of humble beginnings. It’s easy to forgot that most of the country looks at our long list of white male presidents (like the one that is on my “Presidents of the United States” coffee mug) and sees people who they can’t relate to. There are people who poo-poo that sentiment, implying that it shouldn’t matter to people whether there leaders are white or black, male or female. Still, who we look at, who we look up to – those things matter.
And it matters that people of competence are allowed to shine. Yes, when I see Sarah Palin I see someone who looks like me (a hotter, older version of me), but I don’t get the sense that her values, or her idea of competence, is the same as mine. It’s not simply enough to have leaders who are of women, or who are different races. Speaking of my own experience, in my life I have wanted to be excellent in thinking, speaking, reading and writing. I have wanted to have knowledge. I have wanted to have morals that I could articulate and have wanted to be a leader who would encourage other people to live lives that are good. And who were the leaders I could look up to who had done that? George Washington, Martin Luther King Jr, Pope John XXIII. Good men, all, but men. With each election I see more women who I can look at and think “Wow, maybe I can do that. Maybe I can be the type of leader I want to be,” which is not to say I necessarily seek elected office. But every year, despite the setbacks, it becomes more and more OK for women to be strong, to be fighters, to be opinionated. That is hopeful for me.
Barack Obama’s election gives that same hope to other people. Here is a good man, who seems to want to do the right thing, who ‘works hard and plays by the rules’ as they say. And he looks like a large group of people who have never been represented in that way before. Like I said, it’s not perfect, but at least it’s above average.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
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