Waltzing While Fluting Update

Lately several friends have been commenting that I have lost weight. While the scale shows a minimal shedding of pounds, my clothes are looser, and I recently bought slacks that are a waist size smaller. What have I been doing? Nothing special, and nothing too difficult. I've been eating smaller portions, and I've cut back on starchy carbs. In addition I've been walking almost every day. Sometimes it's only for 20 minutes, but it is almost every day.

Just like practicing flute almost every day, walking is becoming a habit, and it helps with my flute playing. It is increasing my breath capacity and my stamina. However, I'm also getting some aerobic exercise during most of my practice sessions. I've been working waltzing while playing the Margravine's Waltz for longer periods of time. At first I was winded after waltzing and playing the tune three times through. How on earth did I manage to march and play for an entire halftime show, let alone a whole Memorial Day parade?

Well, for starters, I bicycled practically everyplace I went. And we practiced playing and marching on a regular basis. So I practice waltzing and playing most days, and I walk most days. Now I'm up to a little over seven minutes before I stop. That's long enough for the idea I'm noodling around. And that's about as much aerobics as I need to be doing in the middle of practicing.

Advent I - Perparation

This morning Iglesia Betania and Grace Episcopal Church held our second (or was it our third? I've been traveling too much) joint bilingual service. Padre Jose Diaz preached, moving effortlessly back and forth between English and Spanish. It was about preparation, which, after all, is what Advent is all about. One of the things he noted is that once we are born, we are preparing to die.

Preparing to die, however, is not something we do well in this society. Diana Butler Bass writes in A People's History of Christianity:

[The Rev. Will Willimon, dean of Duke Chapel when she was a graduate student] addressed our fear of death--how we relegate the sick and dying to institutions where we cannot see them. "We beg God for a quick death," he said. "At night. In bed. Unexpected." He drew a contrast. "Not at all like our medieval forebears," he stated. "they prayed for long deaths, to die from cancer or other lengthy diseases. They wanted a protracted death so they might prepare for the end." (p. 117)

It is true that we as a society do not handle death and dying very well. But if, as Padre Juan says, we are preparing to die from the time we are born, what does that mean for us in how we live our lives?

At this afternoon's Open Air Worship, Lois led a discussion on the same readings. We talked about Jesus coming again and how some people believe he is always coming again, that he is in everyone we meet. That would also mean that he is in each of us. If Jesus is in me, what does mean for how I live my life?

Peace,
Jeff

Why The Building?

The ongoing conversation with Iglesia Betania is just one of several alternatives our parish is contemplating as we look toward the future. Discussions often become heated and emotional, especially when broaching the subject of closing down Grace Episcopal Church. Or even thinking about selling the property and moving to more affordable space.

One of our members has been quite clear that if we leave the building, for him, Grace Episcopal Church ceases to exist. I had a hard time understanding why he feels that way. At first I thought perhaps it stems from his childhood in a country where the closest church was the one you attended--the old parish system as it still tries to operate in England. As conversations continued, that didn't seem to be the case. It wasn't until I came across this passage in Diana Butler Bass' A People's History of Christianity that understanding began:

To medieval people, church building expressed their spirituality--their visions, virtues, and dreams of God. Church buildings were the geography of paradise, the actual location where Gods' reign of beauty and justice could be experienced here on earth. Buildings, and the arts and liturgies therein, demonstrated the mysterious interweaving of the worlds, the playful combination of this world and the one beyond. Holiness was translated into visible structures where people might see, touch, and feel the beauty of God. (p. 91)

He may not think of it in precisely the way Bass describes, but it is clear to me that the building that houses our congregation is where this man comes to find God. His spiritual home is as much the building as the community that gathers there. Perhaps even more so. If the parish were to move to a different building, we would, in essence, be sending this man into exile.

How do we care for our brother?

Peace,
Jeff

The Mirror Of History

Elite Christians, whose piety was based on words and the Roman love of rhetoric, wanted to eliminate icons for fear that illiterate masses might take over the church. Complicating the class issue was the emergence of Islam in the East, with its strict prohibition against images of every sort. Leaders hoped to mute Islam's challenge to the faith by curbing the abuse of icons among lower classes. (A People's History of Christianity, by Diana Butler Bass, p. 103)

This short passage from Bass's book brings to mind two things going on in the Anglican Communion and also in our own parish.

The first has to do with the presence of Islam in Africa, which is one of the reasons many of the African provinces of the Communion give when they cannot accept gays and lesbians as members of the church, let alone of society. Because Islam forbids homosexual activity, the argument goes, Christianity cannot be seen to be "less strict" than Islam.

The second has to do with my own parish. As we continue our discussions with the people of Iglesia Betania, it is becoming increasingly clear that we are dealing not only with issues of culture, but also of class. And it isn't just a matter of a bunch of upper middle class white folks not able to cope with all the differences between themselves and "others." Unfortunately, it works both ways. If we want to become one community in this corner of God's creation, then we are going to have to learn to see God in each other--in each and every one of us.

Peace,
Jeff

Step Away from The Music Stand

Or at least a particular piece of music.

I've been working my way through Frederick the Great's 100 Daily Exercises one exercise per week. Last week's was #11. For some reason I just could not get through it without making mistakes. I'd work on a trouble spot and then bobble another place where I had no previous trouble. Never the same mistake in the same place two times running. No matter what I did, I'd fumble something in the two line exercise. Yet I kept working on it, trying to get through whatever it was that kept tripping me up.

I told Jonathan about the irksome exercise during one of our conversations about playing and practicing, and he said, "Maybe it's time to leave Frederick alone for a while." At first I thought, no, I just need to move on to the next exercise come Monday. But after pondering his comment, I figured maybe he had a point, so today I pulled out the Berbiguier Etudes that Lise assigned to our class when I was in college and began working on #1.

Sometimes you need to step away from something, to take a break. It allows you to approach it later with a new perspective and a new energy. It's why we take vacations--or ought to.

Of course, that means contemplating change, and that's something many of us have trouble with. Even a minor change in a routine can throw you off your pace. But without change there is no learning. Without learning we stagnate. That isn't good for us as musicians. It isn't good for us as human beings.

A Fluting Memory

Reconnecting with high school friends refreshes memories--some good, some bad, and some neutral. This evening as I prepared to practice I thought about something that took place during my senior year.

That year our band participated in an exchange with one of the high schools in Springfield, MA. The exchange consisted of visiting each other's hometowns, spending the weekend together, and performing a three part concert--them solo, us solo, and all of us together. We went to Springfield first.

The weekend they came to Darien we held a rehearsal after school on Friday. While they rehearsed, we sat in the auditorium to listen. Behind me sat two of the sophomore percussion players. Frank and John were among those who harassed me verbally during my high school years. As we watched, Frank turned to John and said in a voice that he clearly meant for me to overhear, "Should we tell Jeff what we heard about him."

I figured I'd take the bait and turned around. "Go ahead. I've probably heard it before."

"One of the girls in their band," Frank smirked, "said that the boy flutist in our band is gay."

Of course, there was only one boy flutist in our band, me. "So?"

"Is that because you already heard it, or because you are?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out." I got up to move elsewhere.

At which point Frank said something rude and sexual in nature. John giggled.

I turned to them and leaned over toward Frank and said, "Any time you want, Frank. Just let me know." And walked away.

Understand I had not even begun to think about Coming Out at that point. But as a senior graduating in a couple of months, I figured I had nothing to lose in standing up to these two. Neither percussionist bothered me again.

Looking back, that was my first baby step toward Coming Out of the Closet. I probably can't attribute it directly to playing the flute, but it is connected to being a flutist.

Balancing Act

This evening I picked up my flute for the first time in a week. I didn't play last Tuesday, Wednesday through Friday afternoon I attended the National Association for Episcopal Education Directors board meeting, and Friday evening I went dancing. Saturday I got so involved in miscellaneous stuff that I not only didn't pick up the flute, I missed my friend's fundraising event. Sunday I managed to oversleep and miss church and then spent the afternoon and evening with friends.

Hey! You're supposed to be practicing your flute every day!

Pay no attention to the perfectionist behind the curtain! Playing the flute is supposed to be something I enjoy, not something I use to make myself crazy. I have my job and my parish that are more than capable of doing that, if I let them.

I've written about balance before. Balance takes practice. Practice leaving my job at the office door at the end of the day. Practice taking time for prayer. Practice exercising regularly. Practice making time to see friends. Practice not overscheduling. Practice saying no.

Life is a balancing act, and practice makes... not perfect, but healthy.

Time Away

Yesterday evening I returned from a four day, three city trip that began at 4:00 a.m. Thursday with a van shuttle to LaGuardia Airport. I flew to Washington, DC for an all day meeting of the National Council of Churches Committee on Public Education and Literacy in Arlington, VA. I spent Friday traveling from Arlington, VA to Williamsport, PA via Metro, Amtrak, and car. Saturday, along with my colleagues, I led a Safeguarding God's Children training session and then drove to Harrisburg. Sunday I took Amtrak to New York City and then Metro North home.

And I was supposed to practice when? And where?

I have learned that it just isn't worth the space and weight to take my flute along on a business trip. Even if I do mange to find the time to practice, there really isn't any place to practice, either. Hotels don't offer practice rooms as part of their amenities. On the other hand, I have also learned that I can practice without my flute while traveling.

One of the folders in my bag for this trip contained my working copy (the photocopy I've scribbled all over as I work through it) of the Bach Partita in a minor. Every day at lunch or dinner I snagged a new drinking straw and used it practice breathing and articulation with the Partita in the evenings, even if it was only for five minutes. When I practiced the piece on my flute this evening I noticed a distinct improvement. And not just in my articulation. My intonation was a bit better as well.

I do miss holding the flute in my hands, putting it up to my lips, and making music. However, as I've noted before, working on the "icky technical stuff" improves my ability to make music. Articulation and breathing are technical parts of playing the flute. Practicing with a straw helps me develop those areas of technique, not to mention my embouchure.

So time away from the instrument does not also mean time away from practice.