Abracadabra!… My Word for 2024!

Once in a while, I succumb to the zeitgeist, that is, the thing that is au courant, you know, IN FASHION! Which, in this case, has nothing to do with “fashion” and everything to do with… WORDS!

It’s the “thing” of choosing a Word-of-the-Year. I’m unabashedly all for it! I can tell you already—one day into the new year—that choosing yourself a WOTY is a lotta fun, very revealing (or perhaps self-revealing), uplifting, and so so SO much more useful than a…COLOR of the year.

(For 2024, Pantone has chosen a forlornly insipid orangey-pinky color [do you remember early-1990’s interiors? Oh, gosh, you do—I’m so sorry!!], as if we are already dead from climate change and existential angst, and our Aunt Agatha’s ghost chose this peachy-nightmare color for the velvet lining of our collective coffin…. What I’m trying to say is: I’m NOT HAVING a color of the year, sorry, Pantone. I want ALL the colors—except, as it happens, the one Pantone chose. Sheesh!).

And I’ll have ALL the words, too. Can’t live without ‘em. But one of them will be my special companion and provocateur for 2024.

Yet it’s not just choosing a word—nope, I’m not telling yet—it’s the PROCESS, as usual: contemplate what you need more of, what might inspire you, what might nudge you (shaming words need not apply!) into being happier, better, more interesting, more kind, less lazy (more lazy?)…or all of these together.

I spent a day or two with several contenders: “restore” - as in, restore energy, restore the apartment (or at least tidy up a bit, sheesh). “Desire” - as in, choose the things I truly desire—to do, to be; cut to the chase. “Tranquility” - as in, wow, I love the idea so much, so…why am I always crazy running around??

And then, like magic, it came to me: a word that—if you look at it the right way—embraces aspects of all the previous contenders. As in, brings about something special, has a special power, celebrates the invisible, intangible, and/or unpredictable effect. That implies small effort for a large return. Something that suggests the power of “doing nothing”, ease, or simplicity.

And just like that, there was…

Magic.

As a musician, what we do is already, effectively, magic: we touch keys, blow or bow, make sounds, and—BAM—something (possibly everything) shifts. Can you explain to me how that works? No? That’s because it is a form of magic.

All the arts are forms of magic. Literature: someone somewhere at some time writes a story or poem, which changes the life of someone else, unknown to them, somewhere else, possibly centuries later. How does THAT work? Dunno. It’s magic.

To compose, paint, sculpt, write a play or an opera…all involve bringing SOMETHING out of nothing, pulling something out of thin air. I call that magic!

But even in our day-to-day, if we choose to see it this way, is there not an incredible amount of magic going on?

I meet on Zoom with friends and strangers from all over the world, and we create a bond. My dog greets another dog-walker on the street, hoping for biscuits, and five minutes later, I have a new friend. I make up a song with my young students’ names, and they delight in trying to keep the cross-rhythms going, amazed to hear their names turn into music. I put my dirty dishes into a box and push a button, soon they are clean again.

My goal for 2024 is not only to make as much creative magic as I can but to see the magic that is all around us. There are days (I’m not a morning person! I’m not a winter person!) when I truly don’t want to get out of bed—but this year, while I’m lounging, I’ll take note of all the magic of the moment: my cup of tea, the New York Times (tho’ I live in Portugal), the soft sheets, the warm covers, a serendipitous idea materializing, unbidden…

No matter how much of a doozy 2024 turns out to be (NYT predicts…), I’ll lean on my Word-of-the-Year to keep my spirits up. To make 2024 Magical.

Off you go, now, to find your own WOTY. Whichever word you choose, may your 2024 be magical, too!

Certifiably Integrated!

A month ago, a project I’ve been deeply invested in for years came to fruition. Along with seven international colleagues in Paris, I became certified in Integrated Practice. We celebrated with a special workshop, a diploma ceremony, speeches, photos, and wrapped it all up with a três-chic…takeout pizza dinner (in Paris! un scandale!). It was all very low-key, but at the same time, meaningful and memorable: our little group of intrepid explorers of creativity, expression, health, and humanity—we have come a long way, baby! (Sorry—you just cannot get Madison Avenue outta my California-Girl head…). Over time, we gradually shifted from clumsy, black-and-white, fixed-thought habits toward processes of far greater flexibility, range, and imagination.

The 14-module curriculum confronted us with the widest possible array of challenges and provocations, as well as opportunities to… semi-publicly play the fool. Each person contributed their unique perspective, talents, obsessions, and clever ripostes. We have explored giving speeches in languages we don’t know, invented poems in iambic pentameter, and sung heretofore-unheard harmonies to delight in their resonance, harmonics, and vibrations. We designed quaternaries; we explored improvisation and repetition; we zoomed in and out, we sang and clapped and snapped our fingers. We explored gradations and latencies; we vocalised from “ah” through “ooh” to “ee”. We let our necks be free, our heads go forward and up.

We gave ourselves permission, again, as adults, to say “I don’t know”(check out this remarkably-aligned essay by Anne Lamott in the Washington Post), and became devotees of “do nothing”. We learned a bit of Italian hand gesturing and Indian Konakol chanting, and we watched an inordinate number of videos of cute (and beautifully-integrated) babies and children.

To the uninitiated, it might seem pointless; my reply would be: give it a try.

No really, I hear you ask, what IS Integrated Practice??

I shall tell you: it is a form of magic that allows anyone with the chutzpah to engage with it to shake off the mundane, the pat, the simplistic, the one-sided, the stiff, the “stuck”, the boring, the grind of modern living (l’ennui de la vie moderne…or, with both hands making a pistol-shape, point them at each other, palms facing in, and say emphatically: "la noia della vita moderna!”…). Capisci?? (You know the gesture for this from The Sopranos, ovviamente…)

But don’t take my word for it… Wait, do take my word, but also take the words offered by my esteemed colleagues—each will have a different explanation, because each of us is an entirely different person, with a different story, a different way of seeing absolutely everything. Now that I’m certifiably integrated, I know that. Or maybe I don’t…

You may think this weakens the case for Integrated Practice, but I think accepting differences is what the world needs a lot (A LOT) more of, right now. We are not all the same. Every person is a unique treasure, a one-off, the only one there will be, ever. How sad then that is seems easier to lump people into groups, push them down, shut them out… or WAGE WAR.

The world perhaps needs fewer knee-jerk reactions, and more “doing nothing” until a better “doing" can be discerned. More zooming in and out, more reaching across linguistic and cultural divisions, more examining of quaternities, for example, this one showing the intersection of love/hate and action/inaction:

I confess to being both delighted in my new certification (it’s been a while since I got a diploma!) and also alarmed and distraught, in the current historical moment, by how desperately Integrated Practice is needed in the world: seemingly for everything everywhere all at once…

In this season of holiday festivity, let’s remember ALL the beautiful babies and children—the one whose birth many celebrate, as well as the ones every single person once was, the ones yet to come, and the unlucky ones lost or left cowering in fear, for unspeakable reasons.

Masters and Apprentices: Beginners, Beginning, and Re-Beginning

In Paris two weeks ago, I made a beeline for an exhibit of Chagall drawings at the Pompidou Centre, and was promptly moved to tears. The colors, the line, the character, the soul, the colors, the colors, THE COLORS! Eyeing them up close and IRL from an inch away (behind glass) only increased my sense of awe at the fluidity of technique, the effortlessness, the perfection.

A young boy sat happily on the floor just below these masterworks, with paper and pens, responding in the most natural way: by making his own art.

This is the unabashed joy of the beginner: inspired by mastery but not intimidated or suffocated by it. This scene was a shorthand expression of an idea that has been lighting me up lately: the paradoxical importance—even for professionals—of being a beginner, helping a beginner, or starting over—“re-beginning”. Our society worships experts, but every last expert was once a beginner! And, having reached mastery, experts are not so different from the beginner as they might appear: they continue channeling the spirit of… the beginner. It’s not so much a contradiction as their secret!

I recently started teaching two young flutists, both age 11. They are beginning to play, I am re-beginning to teach beginners. What a delight! First one sound on the head joint alone, soon five! We play with our “spongey flutes”, 50-cent tubes that serve as flute stand-ins, twirling sticks, conductors batons, and fencing foils. We are composing a cool song based on our three names, and incidentally, learning a full octave’s worth of notes in no time, with hands in perfect position, no less. All three of us are laughing and having fun. At the end of the lesson, one runs off chirping “Bye, Miss Katharine” - my heart melts!

This is just the most obvious of beginnings I’m involved with at the moment. As a beginning-ish composer, I adapted a trio I wrote “on the fly” for a performance with a dozen players—some young experts on their instruments, others adult music lovers who played wooden bird-call whistles I brought along. The piece required following an unorthodox score, which was new to all. Willingness to give it a try, and to work “on the fly”, produced, in the end, a beautiful performance.

I am also re-beginning with the piano, courtesy of Pedro de Alcantara’s liberating new piano method (anti-method?) “Creative Health for Pianists” (Oxford University Press, 2023). I sit with a page open and experiment with his exercises; they are easy, beautiful, my fingers don’t trip, I love the sound. I begin to tweak the chords, to jigger the rhythm, I go off the deep end into the land of harmony—typically only implied when playing flute, but explicit when playing piano.

To tell you the truth, being a flutist, the notes of the piano seem rather direct or OBVIOUS to me, with their fixed pitches, unbendingly stuck on the black or white keys (in contrast to the colors and pitch-bending of the bansuri or shakuhachi flutes, among others)…so I entertain myself dirtying up the chords, piling on dissonances…I make friends with Schoenberg! When I happen upon an interesting chord, I hold my left fingers down on the keys, memorize where the right fingers are, then grab a pencil and scrawl the notes right onto Pedro’s book. It’s ok. He told me it’s ok. Soon I will do something with these chords and progressions; but for the moment, I’m delighting in being a re-beginning pianist, playing in the sandbox of harmony.

It is a challenge for the serious student or professional to retain the best parts of being a beginner, the excitement, while also honing our mastery. We easily end up mired in minutiae, pegging our success on perfectionism, a greedy demon that sucks the fun out of everything.

Settling in to the new season after a bumpy start, what’s really lighting me up is the sheer joy of beginning. On every stretch of the path to mastery, the hallmarks of the beginner can sustain us: open-mindedness, willingness to try and fail and try again, seeking fun and joy rather than tedium, and seeing what happens…on the fly!

Zen and the Roller Coaster

I had planned to write about transitions, specifically about transitioning from holiday mode to back-to-work mode, typically a fairly gentle passage from the yin of rest to the yang of getting back into work and projects. A shift that behaves like a pendulum: swinging off to one side, it naturally reaches a peak and then swings back, effortlessly, to the other side.

Or not.

This last September the shift was anything but gradual or effortless, and the bumps and drops and highs and lows — a veritable rollercoaster ride — took me by surprise. And have taken a full month to process.

There are times like, this, aren’t there? Where if it ain’t one thing, it’s another, and we hope we’re buckled in for the ride - even when things aren’t all “bad”.  Celebrating and important transition in  London was followed immediately by a total work “re-emersion”: an 18-hour marathon day of travel, rehearsal, and performance. So far, an invigorating, frying pan/fire kinda thing.

However, following that, roller coaster style, were more frying pans, more fires, then a health situation, dealing with doctors and such, further complications and worries, teaching year starting up, more concerts, more doctors, consultations, planning, un-planning the planning, und so weiter. A bit of a mess.

I would love to say that I handled all this with the Zen mastery shown in the photo above. Yes, that is a real photo! Yes, that is me, looking utterly calm free-falling down “Splash Mountain” at Disneyland, with the other occupants looking, from top to bottom: concerned, exultant (cuz I’m blocking his view…), terrified, and merely scared to death!

But, no, I have not been able to pull that off “IRL”… At best, I managed a tiny bit of that Zen (actually Alexander Technique “neck free, head forward and up”, if you must know), but even a tiny bit has been helpful. Without it, I may well have been completely freaking out, and unable to perform—literally and figuratively. What has also helped is support and precious advice of friends and family near and far, in-person and on-screen.

And also my training in Integrated Practice (see https://www.pedrodealcantara.com/)—an outgrowth of A. T.— where one motto is “expect nothing, anticipate anything”. That is, keep an open mind. What looks bad at first glance (health situation, chaos) can end up being a good thing…or something like that. Let’s call it an example of the “law of detachment” (wow, hello Deepak Chopra and the ’90’s…):  avoiding attachment to a certain outcome—among other reasons, because an outcome better than the one you were attached to may arise. Easy to say, hard to live!

So, I’m writing this in the midst of continued chaos, and trying to accept that the outcome is unknown.

And that is a metaphor for the 2023-24 season: the “outcome” is unknown. Instead of attaching myself to a set of desired outcomes (perform this or that, compose this or that…) I aim to stay open and see what happens. Last year, I made plans, but to tell you the truth, what transpired blew those plans right out of the water—in a good way! Right now, I feel on shaky ground, but I’m going to keep reminding myself that that does not guarantee a “bad” outcome. And even if this entire year is “bad”, that doesn’t mean that the outcome LATER ON will not be good, or better than good, and that a “bad patch” will not have been, in fact, a necessary passage forward.

Stay tuned. Neck free, head forward and up. Expect nothing, anticipate anything.

It's a Wrap! (…and I'm gonna TOOT MY HORN)

It may not be December 31st, but another season is wrapping up, and I’m in the mood to CELEBRATE!

In my Zoom group, we celebrate frequently, with the perfectly-named-for-musicians exercise called “Toot Your Horn”. Why “exercise”, you might ask?

Well, for many women, our socialisation has frowned upon anything self-congratulatory. Making noise, taking up space, showing some ego… these are unwritten no-no’s, a message received loud and clear in so many ways by the time one reaches about age 13. (Alas, the younger members of the group assure me that this remains true…)

So, as a feminist act, I’m gonna charge ahead here and shout out some great stuff that I pulled off this season—and I recommend everyone else does the same: put it on YOUR blog, write it down, tape the list to your bathroom mirror.

In Portuguese, Assumir — to own up to something, take responsibility, confirm — sums up this attitude of “owning” your power, and I think it is the perfect antidote to all this “gee-shucks” socialisation. Although it can take some getting used to!

So without further ado:

• I recorded a full album of music I love, including some music I love written by me.

• I overcame F.O.R. (Fear of Rejection) and asked several composers whose music I love for permission to record their pieces, and a musician I revere to record with me — and got positive responses! (Knock, and the door shall be opened).

• I performed a fantastic array of music in concerts, every last one of which with musicians I admire both professionally and personally.

• I “put my stuff out there” with a creative project on Instagram; got over my fear of … whatever I was afraid of… had a blast, and got wonderful feedback from both friends, musicians, and “normal people”.

• I overcame a serious hangup around “tech” issues (Finale software, I’m looking at YOU!)

• I thoroughly enjoyed teaching my fabulous students, both private and the flute class at ESART. They outdid themselves—what am I going to do next year??

• I managed to “have a life” — let my dog walk me in the park, threw some dinner parties, made fantastic new friends, kept up with many “old” friends, traveled a bit, read a book or two, and supported my fab fab fab daughter through the thicket that is the last year of college!

On the other side of the ledger, I also DROPPED SOME BALLS, and don’t hate myself for it.

Maybe some of those balls will get picked back up…but if not, IT’S OK. We all have too many things on our to-do lists. We can either freak out, or just accept that that is part of having a full and busy life.

If you’re like me, once you finish something, you pretty much go on to the next item, without celebrating or—sometimes—even remembering what you’ve done. It’s great to move forward (and I’ve got my next “ducks” in a row), but it’s also healthy to see and note down just how far you’ve come.

Whether you’re a musician or a student and this feels like “year end” or not, I suggest you put a timer on for 5 minutes, and list everything you’ve accomplished in the last year. You will likely amaze yourself!

Go ahead, you can do it, join me: toot your own horn!

Football is Life! …but so is Recording Music

View from the music “stadium”

Hey Dani Rojas! If you think football is life, wait ‘til you try recording an hour’s worth of music! Yes, football is life and death, blood and guts, glory and infamy…but so is making a recording!

With no game score to tell you if you’ve “won”, it’s just your imagination butting up against the reality of being human. An arena shorn of the trappings of the cheering or jeering crowd, it is down to you alone, your chops, your stamina, your desire, your…madness.

Awwww, no it’s not!

Because, if you play your cards well, you’ll never really be alone facing the microphones. The trick is—like Dani Rojas—to get yourself the best TEAMMATES (and coach).

Because I did just that, my experience recording was — dare I say it? — a BLAST! T’was a marathon, for sure: four flutes, 15 movements, 8 composers, but hey, I honestly had the time of my life.

So without further ado, it’s time for some TEAMMATE & COACH GRATITUDE!

Firstly, a million thanks to the “boys” of Neper Music, Tomás Quintais and Afonso Teles. Bringing their Type-B calm to the proceedings, along with proven tech skills — our (flut)uações CD — and laser-sharp hearing, I knew I was in the best of hands.

Next up, on the non-human side: the beautiful hall in Coimbra! Such a hall makes playing a joy, sending back love in sonic form. Many thanks to the (undiscoverable) architect; may you design many more halls like this.

Thanks to friends, colleagues, and family who supported yet another of my half-insane, “in bocca al lupo”-type endeavours. In bocca al lupo — literally “in the mouth of the wolf” (yikes!) — which Italians say meaning… “good luck”. HUH, WHAT? “Good luck, go climb into the mouth of a wolf?” Non caspisco… Y’all were so kind as to not mention the lupo at all…

Extra-special thanks to my daughter, Miriam, whose belief in me never flags!

Huge thanks to the amazing women of One Woman Band, and our fearless leader, Meg Kissack. Whoddathunk that you can find “your people” on Zoom? Solidarity, warmth, wisdom, kindness—powerful stuff.

Further thanks to my little pod of brilliant Integrated Practice folks in Paris, brought together by Pedro de Alcantara. Insight and encouragement in equal doses, willing listeners to Beta versions of all my music…Merci à tous!

Last and MOST, my heartfelt thanks to the indefatigable Pedro de Alcantara, the prodigious one MAN band who said yes to this project and kept saying yes even as I dreamt up more and more for him to do: play the piano! clap hands! play the claves! play cello! sing! drum! the last 3 simultaneously! ONLY Pedro could pull this off—and we’re still talking! In fact, we had a blast putting our 4 pieces together, bit by bit, phrase by phrase. A luxury.

Pedro has been my teacher/”coach” for over 25 years, through the thick and thin of my “stuff. You might say he’s indirectly led me out of several bad-luck bocche dei lupi, first as a teacher of the Alexander Technique, then of Integrated Practice, with its tendrils extending into art, writing, composition, and living life well. With such a teammate/coach, how could I go wrong?

(Can’t resist mentioning Pedro’s brand-new PIANO METHOD, with which I am spending time daily this summer. It is a delight! And his online DRAWING LABS and VOCAL SESSIONS in July. See you there?)

Recording, like football and life, requires knowing well your lupi; making the choices that keep the (big, bad) lupi at bay, and only let in the “good luck” bocca al lupo!

OK, OK; I finally capisco:…it’s like “Break a leg”! Here’s to wishing everyone a “wolves mouth” and a “broken leg” in all your endeavors!