Tempered Intensity

A lazy Sunday, and a much needed one. Though I am not participating in the July 4th BBQ's and parades, I am happy. I have been enjoying some leisurely reading, which I have not experienced all semester, being swamped with the reading of my studies. I slept in today. Robert set our alarm clock to gently wake us up this weekend with the classical music station. I love music in the morning. I can easily drift in that space between sleep and wakefulness in a reverie of beautiful sound. Warm pianos, breathy flutes, and vibrational tones from many violins. A soft hiss from the radio station. My mind is easy, and I have no idea how long I have been listening. When we finally decide to turn off the alarm clock, it is near 9am.

Fruit power in the morning: Juicy peaches and sweet strawberries. A little melted chocolate doesn't hurt, either! A long walk in the cool of mid morning. This day gets me thinking. This restfulness, which has eluded me all year, seems necessary. Necessary even, for me to keep working in my art. As my mind clears, I feel room opening for fresh ideas and new patterns of thinking. What if I took the coming year to focus on tempering my generally intense, over-scheduled art practice with peace and space? Why does every endeavor I embark on have to yield a product, worthy of performance? Why does every piece of work have to prove something? Is it OK to just be engaged in a process? I know I have addressed this topic before on this blog. But I have been thinking about it a lot lately. Especially after five years of extremely intense work, especially the last two years. When I look at the artists that most inspire me, I notice that they temper their practices. Deborah Hay talks about rest in her writings, taking her time and returning to work. I realize that it is almost inhuman to be producing all the time. To expect the mind to be able to put out one new idea after another with no time for reflection. I'm gonna work on that this year.

Yesterday, I had a most wonderful, much-needed vocal lesson with Barbara. I realized some things yesterday. I finally, after six months of study, am beginning to understand how to keep my low notes from dropping. Barbara made a gesture with her hand, that I immediately dubbed "Jellyfish Hand," which she made to mimic what my soft palate should be doing during those low notes. As I sang, I repeated her gesture, imagining my throat inside, and it worked! I found the place in my voice, where I'm singing, but I feel like I'm just talking. It "sounds like me," too. Before, I was singing not in my own voice, but in this contrived place, that I thought was singing. Now my challenge will be to continue to cultivate these feelings consistently. Oh, the work, the process. It is ever changing, ever engaging and I'm blessed.

The wedding is officially a week away. Robert and I have been making many last-minute preparations, and I am finally feeling relaxed. I think we're gonna have a great time. I told Robert this wedding is just a celebration of what we already know, and what we have already been living. Nothing will change, our taxes will just be different. : )

Until next time,

~Cara