The After and Before

Exiting the stage at my graduating recital! Photo by Chris Tanner

For the last week I’ve been in a wild state of bliss. I gave my graduating composition recital on May 14th and graduated with two Master of Music degrees on May 18th, after three years of full-time grad school. In the nine days since, I’ve had the most flexibility I’ve had with my time in ages. More time to train, more time to do chores, more time to have fun, more time to plan for the PCT, more time to SLEEP. This little chapter of time will be short-lived, but I’m fully appreciating it while I have it.

Just a few weeks ago I was so incredibly strained–there was so much to practice, rehearse, and organize. My general state of being was not great. Tears were shed. I was so deep in the well and working at maximum capacity. The contrast from how I felt then to how I feel now is startling. It was a good reminder that no matter how bad or strained things can feel, it’s not forever. And in my experience, it’s always better to try and do your best, even if it means being less than perfect, or not living up to your own expectations.

I had a few “Hail Mary moments” this semester, most of them having to do with time management while juggling many things. There was the time I was writing and editing my first orchestral piece “Wildwood” in whatever spare moment I could find–on a plane, on my friend’s living room floor–right up until just before midnight when it was due. Writing this piece wasn’t required of me, and it wasn’t for a grade–but it was an opportunity to have my music played by an orchestra. That’s a big deal! I turned it in on time, with minutes to spare. Attending the premiere was one of the highlights of my musical career. To put so much time and energy into something alone and in my head, then have that translate into something meaningful for the musicians and the audience members–that was really cool!! You can view a clip of my pre-concert talk and part of the piece here.

Photo by Will Aldenberg

Another instance of trying and doing my best (and being very glad I did), was submitting a composition for a reading by Radius Ensemble, an ensemble-in-residence at Longy. The due date crept up among juggling classes, a PCT training trip over spring break, and preparing to play the challenging Dvorak Quintet. I remember feeling so disappointed that I had nothing to show for myself as the due date approached, and considered letting it go. Then I couldn’t bear the thought of not at least trying. I read that the ensemble encouraged submitting unfinished works. Submitting something seemed better than submitting nothing at all, so I fleshed out an idea based on a fiddle-like motif for viola that had been floating around in my head, and sent it in. Getting to hear seasoned musicians play even a snippet of something I wrote, and then to receive their feedback, was worth the effort alone. Then on top of that, the piece I wrote was selected to be played at their spring concert and season finale, as part of the Pappalardo Award, given to a student each year. They gave me four weeks to complete the piece (which I did!), and on May 8th I got to attend the world premiere of “Nest” for flute, viola, and cello, my first award-winning piece (it was also played at my graduating recital). And to think, I almost didn’t submit anything at all.

Toward the end of the semester, my graduating composition recital crept closer and closer. I had so much music to write, but so many other things came first. I had many more impending recitals to prepare for on piano, coursework to complete, and training runs in preparation for the PCT that I wasn’t willing to sacrifice. I could feel time going by like a runaway train, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I scheduled rehearsals with the musicians playing in my concert before the music even existed. I wrote furiously right up until there was no more time to write. I didn’t finish everything I wanted to, and not every song made it onto the program. I could only reassure myself that this graduating recital wasn’t the end-all; that it’s a showcase of my work so far, and that there will be many more concerts to come. And in the end, the recital went totally great, thanks to all of my collaborators involved. You can watch it here.

Pretty much everything I wrote, performed, or produced this year came from being under pressure and with time constraint. With that came a lot of stress and frustration; but it also came with a wealth of experiences I feel really fortunate to have had. I have experienced being stuck creatively in the past, without any pressure to produce anything, which resulted in exactly nothing–just wishes and dreams.

Doing something rather than nothing at all has given me some of my richest experiences. A bunch of small steps leads to many, many miles over time. The little things really can make a big difference. Discomfort and strain are temporary. These are all things I will take with me on my next adventure, the Pacific Crest Trail.

Photo by Mike McMonagle for Mountain Hardwear

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