Piece of Metal

From time to time I find myself flipping back and forth between the front-page headlines of the New York Times to the Arts section, struck by the fact that these two categories can even be in the same paper.  I am prone to feel a pang of guilt. “Shouldn’t I be doing something?  I mean REALLY doing something?” I’m not a diplomat, I’m not an ambassador, I cannot look for cures for diseases.  It is easy to feel helpless and useless when big-world things are happening.  And what am I doing?  I’m going to a rehearsal, or I have a concert.  All I do is play the horn!

Sometime during the first year of my master’s degree at Juilliard (and my first year in New York), for whatever reason, I was feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.  At some point in one of my lessons with Jerome Ashby (former Associate Principal of the New York Philharmonic who has sadly departed this world all too soon), I reached a point of frustration and said something to the effect of “I don’t know why I’m blowing into this piece of metal!”  He leaned back and paused for a while, and then in his laid-back, gentle way said something to the effect of “I think you know it’s more than that.”  I don’t remember how the conversation proceeded, but I do know that pretty soon, we went back to working on Till Eulenspiegel or Ein Heldenleben or Tchaik 5 or whatever I had on my plate for that lesson.

More recently, living in Philadelphia, where the orchestra is in contract negotiations and the mood is a bit dark regarding possible outcomes, there is a slightly different feeling of helplessness.  When our fellow musicians in Detroit are facing complete ruin, and it seems that classical music is losing its importance and relevance in society, and that no one would care if these wonderful organizations ceased to exist or became unrecognizable artistically, it is very easy to wonder “what’s the point?” if you are someone who has worked very hard your entire life offer the absolute best of yourself and your talent.  Does anyone care?

I expressed this feeling to a very wise woman recently and she paused, and then proceeded to share with me a saying of Julian of Norwich, and medieval woman mystic – “All will be well.”  – a response that is not so different from what Mr. Ashby said in the face of my frustration and sense of pointlessness.  About a week later, I ran across her again, along with a man who had recently heard a concert I had played (and was only a small part of).  We were all three standing together and the man proceeded to tell me how moved he was by the concert, and to please tell my husband too (who played in the same concert) how much he enjoyed it.  My wise friend just listened and smiled, and after the man left she said, “See?  You just have to do what you do!”

So, what I learn over and over again is that, actually, the Arts section is very appropriately placed in the New York Times.  In fact, the more violent the headlines, or the more dire the economic situation here at home, or the more uncertain the future, the more important the Arts section seems in a certain way.  It deals with the questions, “What is important to us?  How do we respond creatively to our world?  How do we tap into the wisdom of previous generations?  How do we go forward from here?”  Apart from the love and care we give to our families and friends and whoever else is given to us to love and care for, what more important thing can there be than to “do what we do”?  This means different things to different people, but for a musician it is simply picking up our instruments day after day and participating in life in our own way.  Whether you are performing on a big stage, or a smaller stage, or teaching children, or playing in a nursing home, or participating by being an audience member, it is relevant, and important, and beautiful.

This is not to say that changes won’t happen in our professional lives or that we may at some point decide to participate in life a different way.  It’s just that, for now, with various kinds of turmoil and uncertainty around us, (and at the risk of sounding like a Pollyanna) I believe we can find a sense of  “helpfulness” in the world instead of helplessness.  I can get out my horn this week, rehearse, play, teach, and not feel as if it isn’t enough or that it doesn’t matter.  It is enough.  It matters.

Now, let’s face it, we musicians are not dealing with life and death.  There is no one on the operating table.  We cannot take ourselves quite so seriously.  But we ARE dealing in life!  And we can be generous with that and take heart and be aware that the smallest of rituals can have unknown and unanticipated effects.  I was very surprised when a neighbor (a particularly nice one, it must be said) told me “you know, I think all of our neighbors open up their windows to hear your scales!”  I’m not sure I believe her, but anyway, she was very nice to say it, and for today I’m choosing to believe it – until someone knocks on my door and says, “will you please keep that racket down?”

In the words of the Brits:  Keep calm and carry on!