Chant. Enchant. Enchanting.

 If I ever get a tattoo, it will be "Music heals" in ultra-fine script. Sounds of chant. Buddhist, Catholic, Muslim, most all the sacred music in the world is based in the human voice repeating sounds. Impressing. Learning. Healing. Enchanting.

Vibrant is another word that comes to mind. As in lovely vibrations. Tuning the body, the earth, the universe. Alive.

This newly bipedal enchantress took her first steps this weekend. It's a whole new ballgame.

Life just gets more awesome every day.

Motoring in Texas

Mi Tierra, San Antonio, TX
 
Appears that a goodly portion of Austin truck owners are trading them in for Green cars. The gas price hit gas-guzzlers big. My Kia took $52 to fill. Seriously thinking alternative transportation. It's a huge honking shame that Austin doesn't have a better public trans environment. Too little thinking ahead back in the 60's and 70's, and a little too freaking late in 2011 to be snatching back our rights. Which have slowly been eaten away.

Well, we said it would happen, and it still is.

Speaking of education, or the lack thereof, what immediately spooks me is that on a perfectly good Friday afternoon, the Austin Public Libraries in my immediate vicinity were closed. CLOSED!

That's alarming for so many reasons on so many levels:

• Writers are particularly voracious readers, usually poor.
• Libraries are particularly fabulous family activities, especially on weekends and early evening.
• School library resources are dwindling.
• We HAVE to keep reading and writing, we're already beginning to lose our language.

Scary.

And a shout-out to all my pals at SXSW interactive *waving*!

Retirement: Month Six, or Spring in February

The Divine Miss M. Soaking up the sun in @80 degree, clear weather. Cedar has all popped, elm and ash are releasing pollens.

Airedale terriers are all nose, hard head, and lanky bodies. Very intelligent, affectionate, perpetually cheerful. At least Mahalia is. Her brother is a little more somber. They have fenced-in space to roam, and chat frequently with the local coyotes, dogs, and other critters.

Airedales have only the one wiry coat, no fluffy undercoat like other breeds. Thus less strain on allergic individuals.

Not one, but TWO lovable noodniks.

This is Mr. T, which stands for Truro. As in Truro Lighthouse on Nantucket, where my b.i.l. proposed to my sister. He's a sweetheart. Noble dog. A most emphatic alarm clock. There is no sleeping when he wants out in the morning. LOUD bark.

Seclusion is extra nice with these two for company. Good to have a break from town noise, as well. No cars, planes, gizmos, whatevers. None. Nothing but warbling, trilling birds, snuffling armadillos, clattery raccoons, whuffling deer, the wind in the trees. The odd chickadee banging his little skull against a windowpane until I closed the blinds.

Good time to get my head back in gear. Come home to a clean house, thanks to thoughtful daughter, and make some solid organizational decisions. Stay ahead of the clutter and identify priorities to get projects going. Most of it still in my head, but closure on what the next step will be.

A plan is emerging, helped along by the healing passage of time. And space for a little serendipity to slide through the static. That's what I've been waiting for. Sloughing off enough stress to open a few windows in my head. Reaching out to my super-intelligent, helpful friends and associates for ideas and the latest info.

Things I've learned:

1. It takes much longer to adjust than I expected. I was literally shell-shocked for the first three months at least. Plowing through the various bureaucracies takes information I didn't have, or even know I had to have, before finding myself drowning in it.
2. Years of simple living were worth it. I don't spend any more money than I have to. My only luxuries are Netflix and the occasional meal out. My five-year-old car has less than 22,500 miles--two more payments and it's MINE! That means one less area to deal with.
3. Debt management won't hurt you, and really pays off. Probably the smartest thing I ever did. Even though I originally planned to have it all paid off by the time I retired, one year of debt at a reduced income is better than the fiasco it could have become.
4. Forgiveness is easier the more you practice it. I am sure that reduced stress levels have much to do with any progress in this area. 
5. The first person you need to forgive is yourself. Everything flows from this. Crazy amounts of reprogramming self perception.

Baby steps. One day at a time. Do at least one nice thing for myself every day. Builds into a body of work, a healthier habit, a more relaxed, more forgiving perspective. Smells a little like freedom.

Influenza Blues

So. It seems there is a rogue flu virus going around that wasn't included in the vaccine released for this season. You either get over it in 5-7 days or you develop a nasty secondary respiratory infection which, in my case, required 10 days of antibiotics and heavy-duty cough syrup. Bummer. Going on week 3 to recover. Produced more mucus in that time than in the rest of my life put together. Friends popping up all over Texas, at least, who also are having problems.

No energy, so have not been keeping up with my 52 Weeks. Or rehearsals. Totally lost my voice for four days, still hoarse.

In the Hill Country dog sitting and recuperating. Caught a sweet, modest sunset. And the dogs don't care that I sleep most of the time. Nor that I only half-heartedly throw sticks for them. Nor that I can't squeak out much more than an occasional "good doggie."

Tried to produce a musical sound and nothing came out. My vocal chords are non-functional. Was cautioned by a fellow singer to not even try to whisper, which actually puts more strain on them than singing. Rest is best, and mega-hydration.

My sis left healthy food and lots of fruit and veggie juices, so no problem there. And the view is still spectacular--nothing wrong with my eyes. Well, since the oozing stopped after day 3 of antibiotics. That's actually what sent me to the dr., along with the fact that I couldn't breathe, sleep, taste, eat, or otherwise exist.

So be aware! If you happen to get this flu, do not hesitate to go to your doctor if you aren't better within 5-7 days. It can really knock you down and put you out of commission for what seems like an overly long time.

And you may not be lucky enough to have a Hill Country retreat stocked with healthy food, satellite TV, wireless, hundreds of birds, coyotes, loads of other wild critters, and two trusty Airedales.

Retirement: Month Five

Yes, Virginia, it DOES snow in Austin...on occasion. Of course it doesn't last very long. We more frequently get sleet and ice, because it DOES get very cold--those Blue Northers are for real. 80 degrees during the day, down to 15-25 that night. Linus was not impressed with the snow--sat on a flattened cardboard box rather than in the cold wet and wanted back in the house after only a few minutes.

More importantly, January was a fun month! Got all my W-2s and 1099s, so I can do my taxes, and should get a return, even. Always a good thing!

And lots of time with grand-niece. It's such a joy watching her grow and gaining her trust.

Birthday celebrations abounded, always exciting. And my first visit from the cleaning service, which went a loooong way towards de-cluttering. Not as successful in converting our mom's interview tapes to CD--not all tech works the way it should. Looking for a more effective way to preserve all those great authors' responses to her incisive interview questions.

Down with a big, bad chest/head cold--shouldn't be flu, cause I got my flu shot.

Some tech worked: transferring all my writing from PC to Mac so I can work on stuff when away. Progress on creating an editing/writing/proofing Web site landing page as part of freelancing business. Meeting fascinating people and making contacts to move this project along. Changing auto insurance carriers and saving $900/yr. was a biggie. Even came with better coverage and more features.

Doing what I can to help colleagues out who got let go from UT. I'm happy to write recommendations, review cover letters, etc. for what it's worth. Celebrating when friends find new employment, commiserating when friends run into obstacles. Creative problem-solving.

Learning more about how to leverage social media, reaching more people. Still deciding what I really want to do when I grow up. My problem is that there is SO much I want to do, it's difficult to focus on only one or two options. Sometimes having lots of choices is more intimidating that having only a few.

Watching the CNN coverage of the Egyptian revolution. Wondering why more people aren't involved.

Next project--updating blog roll with all the new groovy people I'm meeting. If the weather lets up, am considering a trip to Port Aransas to see the whooping cranes--I've wanted to do that for decades! Now on to Awesomeness--self-introspection--some might say that I have an overabundance of that...

52 Weeks: #2

This week's mission was deceptively simple: accept yourself just the way you are. But oh, the unexpected knee-jerk resistance!

When I was younger, this was fairly easy--my mom was an articulate, well-educated, liberal freak, and always, always made sure to support me, bolster my confidence, nurture my creativity, and tell me how awesome I was. Even though I didn't accept it 100% all of the time, at least I knew someone smart thought I was groovy.

Half-way through my 20's, I allowed myself to get entrenched in an unhealthy relationship in which my partner thought it was his duty to tear me down and dump on everything I held dear about myself. Now, this person is currently doing his best to make amends, and I wish him well, but in fact, he destroyed my self-confidence. It's been a long, long road to regain some of that, and I'm determined to get that back.

This mission is addressing that particular topic head on. There's no "getting it back," in fact, because it never left. I'm still the same person I was, with even more experience and creative accomplishments under my belt. Pace and Kyeli tell me I'm perfect just the way I am. The trick is to realio, trulio believe it in my heart.

I learned something this week about my heart, and believing in myself. Before the "Bad Ex," there was a "Good Ex." This person was (and is) a true soul mate. I made a mistake in shedding that relationship, which I don't dwell on, simply acknowledge. The Good Ex not only accepted me the way I was, he adored me. I got an email out of the blue just before the new year in which he expressed that he still thinks of me as an awesome person. I was so stunned I couldn't reply for a whole week. It's extremely rare that I'm rendered speechless, and this email was so full of lovely things that I'm still walking around in a daze.

Which brings me to how I plan to take this mission to heart: the key is REASSURANCE, at least for me. I live alone, and sometimes that's hard to come by, especially when one is a rabid individualist. We all need reassurance from time to time. I will practice finding ways to reassure myself, or learn how to ask a few trusted friends and relatives for reassurance when I find it hard to believe in myself. More proof this is good for me--I only just now read what P & K have to say about reassurance, and they say it's OK to express our need for reassurance--we're so smart! It was very reassuring!

This is especially important as the body ages and becomes less physically attractive (maybe I'll get over that one, too), and since I'm no longer defined by or associated with a "straight" job. It may take a while to really soak in--after all, we're only meat! (Which according to Pace and Kyeli means that our emotional, non-rational self is awesome, too--see their incredible, free e-book, The Usual Error.)

I've been mulling over the Tucson shooting, and among other thoughts, was very reassured by our President's words. So this reassurance thing has universal as well as personal implications.

Tomorrow is the big Sixty Five! Lunch at Mandelo's with family, maybe shop for some good walking shoes, maybe a night at the Alamo Drafthouse South, catch up on a first-run movie. I plan to celebrate all week, if not longer.

What I Did Today: the good, the could be better, and the lovely

We're looking for someone who can appraise Wedgewood. Know anyone?

Mom (or should it be mum?) picked up pieces on several trips to London in the '60's and '70's.

The good: feeling in my bones that de-cluttering does not have to mean the total annihilation of physical "things" that bring me joy and happiness. It simply means getting stuff organized so that I have the right tools for the right job in one place. Easier said than done, so enlisting the help of professional organizers means that two of my friends will be available to help haul.

The bad was not really "bad," and I'm going to not call it that again. It was the "what action can I improve?" part of the day's mission. Which was easy: take better care of my body--hit the glucosamine early in the morning, wear my ankle brace when it's really cold and wet--like now--in the 20's tonight, rained enough to get some mud. So I look forward to working on that tomorrow. Put some flax and sunflower seeds in my oatmeal in the morning.

The lovely: following daughter's suggestion to photograph those thingies I love and put them all in an album, along with a little story or poem about that item--where it came from, how old I was, ancestors. Ya know, typical Capricorn stuff.

These are a jumble, awaiting said friends to transform my house into a museum/music parlor/workshop/mini-garden.

 

 The bronze elephant was a white elephant gift. Go figure. I have much more cinnabar.

My grandmother's teapot. My first celadon love. She probably got it as a wedding present.















My grandfather made this clock. I have the pendulum and key. Should take it to a clock shop and get it working again. Would love to see it on the wall. He would wind it once a week, and it made a nice alto tick tock.

52 Weeks: #1

Creating a tasteful environment. Pretty tall order for someone who's still in boxes. One thing stood out--no lovely things to look at and be inspired by in my office/workshop.

Introducing Brenda Bromeliad. She is disguising the fact that my cheapo pressboard computer desk is sagging in the middle.

The welcome splash of color and life already makes me feel better and more comfortable about this new journey.

Pace and Kyeli are smart cookies--they understand that success is best achieved by mastering baby steps in an organic manner, rather than leaping off a tall building just to quit smoking. Muddled metaphor, but it works for me.

Ties in with decades of working cognitive behavior therapy, AlAnon programs, and any other process that systematically addresses positive change. And the missions (as opposed to assignments or exercises) in the 52 Weeks to Awesome program uses those techniques in technicolor. With no pressure, no "shoulds" or dogma attached.

As a mutual friend exclaimed, "you'll have such a lot of fun." And that's what retirement should be. The I Ching says it furthers one to find a great teacher and also the right helpers. Jackpot--looks like I found not one, but two--in the right place at the right time. We are encouraged to share our journey (respecting copyright, attribution where appropriate, of course). I feel my heart opening up, my shoulders relaxing, my brain bubbling with yeasty ideas, and laughter squirting out in unexpected places. It's also a new vein of content for FOP. Bright, shiny epiphanies whizzing by at an accelerated rate.

And it's only the beginning!

Retirement: Month Four

Last sunset of 2010, Texas Hill Country.

December--four months, one-third of a year into retirement and I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up. Beginning to wonder if I'll ever grow up.

Slow but steady progress towards making sense of things. And the Best. Christmas. Present. Ever. My daughter surprised me with a visit and the news that she will relocate in Austin within the next year.

That's huge. For the last fifteen years we have been separated by so many miles and so little money to visit I despaired we'd ever see each other again. To keep hope alive, I'd look forward to the next time we could be together. I've never insisted on adhering to traditional holidays, especially since she felt the need (and I concurred) that those special times were more important for her to be with her dad and his new family than with me. I can make a holiday out of any day of the year. Her presence is what makes it special for me.

To be sure, I have my own family to celebrate those occasions with, and that's been wonderful. It's just more wonderfuller now.

Reconnection: 2010 was full of surprise calls and e-mails from old friends who found me via Facebook, Twitter, the Showco listserv, and plain old Google. One friend UPS'ed me an antique Blue Willow mug that she had been carrying around for 35 years to return to me. Green (the band) reunions at James Neel House of Music were great fun, interesting to see where dynamics have changed, where they haven't.

Trying to reconnect with myself. Dealing with depression in a new way (shit happens--you won't be stuck forever) and peeling back resistance to commitment. Learning how to care for an aging body. Accepting good things as well as bad.

New Year's Investigations (as opposed to New Year's Resolutions): The word "resolutions" has several connotations. I associate NYRs with grim determination, mindless exercises in habituation, failure, and general dissatisfaction. For 2011 I am looking deeper. Redefining "resolution" to mean "problem solving," "arrival," "completion." Bringing curiosity into the mix. Jumping off cliffs. Cracking facades. Opening doors.


1. Music: spring concert season begins soon! AVAE is doing a piece (Poulenc Figure Humaine 1943) that I've wanted to perform for a very long time with a group that has the talent to execute. Thanks, Ryan!

Knocking the rust off the old flute chops. Wonder of wonders, one of the few things that was pre-organized before the move. All my flute music is safely stored in a clear bin, so was easily retrieved from the unlabelled boxes. There are a few items I keep close: my flute, passport, and a palm-sized turquoise bear fetish. Piano as well, all in a bin.

2. De-clutter: The unprepared move knocked me for a loop. I miss my old tree house, but my new place is definitely more conducive to fashioning a physical environment that is safe, healthy, and wildly creative. Several sub-categories: prioritizing what needs to go, what can stay; acquiring items that will enhance the above (computer chair, clothes dryer, slide/neg converter). Photographing items that I might sell on Ebay or Etsy. Accepting that I will probably NEVER mend clothing, replace buttons, etc. Aggressively dealing the unaccustomed onslaught of paper mail triggered by retirement (enough, already!)


3. 52 Weeks to Awesome: This is one of those serendipity things that showed up at the right place, time, and price. Already reaping the benefits from the bonus goodies alone--a lovely, hand-drawn watercolor Goddess calendar to brighten up the workshop wall as well as keeping me on track. Homies Pace and Kyeli from the Connection Revolution don't know me yet, but I'm looking to blow their collective minds and find myself in the process. Or vice versa. Scrumptious, either way. Evolution.


4. Rehab: Next purchase? A pair of supportive walking shoes. Austin has two awesome feet stores--Caravel and Run-Tex. I'll be searching for the ones that make walking more enjoyable. Especially now that it's as cold as it's going to get for the year--can't walk outside in hot weather, too many unhealthy heat/UV reactions. Psyche--look for ways to share PTSD recovery with those still inside the horror.

5. Simplify, simplify, simplify: Simply, make room for wonderments, good deeds, insane creativity.

6. Milestone birthday: The ol' Six-Five. Or as I like to say, "eighteen with forty-seven years of experience." Because that's what it feels like. Really.

Winter Solstice 2010

This one is a doozy. Present tense. Felt it coming on for a long time this year. Some pretty rocky weather for a while, with moments of pure bliss along the way. Singing = good. Baby = good. Recovery time = good. The rest of it is shaking down.

Lunar eclipse. Heavy duty one. On top of a full moon. The rarity equivalent to the diamonds and rubies that poured from Princess Saralinda’s eyes as she cried for the suitors who were eaten by the Todal (James Thurber, I adore you for blowing a six-year old’s mind with The Thirteen Clocks). Oh, yes, felt that moon a whole gazillion. My body knew that was coming all year long. Craters on the moon. Approaching hagdom.

And it keeps going. O Fortuna really cranks me up this time of year, and lasts way into the new year.

On December 22, 1986, my dad, a minister and educator, took his life. We buried him on Christmas Eve. I’ve spent nearly a quarter of a century with that, and it’s OK now. Remembering daddy = good. He would appreciate that we have kids to celebrate with this season.

This year, an old friend came to visit. Coincidentally, or so it seemed, this is the friend in whose company I was the day my dad died. We will see this friend again, soon, in celebration, which is the = good = cheery side of the season. Nice circle.

For several decades, I’ve celebrated my birthday (Capricorn = right next door to solstice) as a movable feast. Birthday goodness is already simmering on a galactic stove somewhere on the edge of the universe. Somehow I seem to know loads of Capricorns, and although we’re not especially known as gregarious party peeps, I can do group festive. Winter? Stone? Saturn? INFP? Fun? Well, yeah!

Retirement celebration. The tree topper this year is surviving the retirement process. Body slamming the bureaucracy/paper-cyberwork retirement beast was the most intense thing I’ve done in such a short period of time since the forty-eight hour home labor and delivery of my darling daughter. The phenomenal gift of a child from that effort = the rising phoenix of the newer, annealed edition of Me having delivered myself of a straight day gig. Big thanks to Ronni Bennett for urging me to acknowledge this huge milestone. I'm glad I listened...

Stepping aside

When the best-laid plans gang astray, sometimes it makes more sense to come at a major change in a different way, rather than repeatedly and futilely bashing your head into the wall. That wall just might be impervious, no matter what you do. No sense in all that bloodshed.

Sometimes you need to just step aside. Not ignore the problem, not run away, simply allow the obstacle (and your concussed head) space to change on a different time table. We are conditioned to believe that we have only a few specific choices: keep on plugging ("never give up"), hammer on another side ("think outside the box"), get wacky ("creative problem-solving"), or (insert your choice of redefining the wall here).

Strange and wonderful things can happen when you just step aside. Sometimes you discover a new plane of existence in which new paths open up. Or the wall loses relevance. Or a bigger, badder wall blows it out of the universe. Or you allow space for another being to enter the equation (nothing like a baby to blow some clarity into your thinking).

Then there's my all-time favorite: paradigm-shift. "Perception" is the first step, then self-scanning for any cognitive dissonance. Questioning deeply-held beliefs helps verify those that are sensible, or the need to rework those that are no longer true or useful. Fold in a little self-compassion, attention to health, and acceptance, and if the problem is not completely resolved, at least you tapped into alternative resources.

Some paradigm shifts are cataclysmic, some are like rain wearing away stone. Change is inevitable. No sense buying into outmoded cliches or modes of behavior. Slip sideways every once in a while. Rest your brain. Or put it to work on something that nourishes and satisfies. Have faith. Lose faith. Find reason. Lose reason. Practice mindfulness. Lose your mind. If all else fails, at least life isn't boring.

Retirement: Month Three

Financial challenges continue to abound. Evidently, the US does not value its older and poorer citizens, judging from the efforts of Congress to ignore the economic imbalance and quash any reasonable effort to provide for anyone making less than $1 million/year. Bernie Sanders says it best:




You'd think that the folks with the big money are trying to kill off a significant portion of the population. Is this truly all that capitalism is about? Greediness with murderous impunity? Do these people truly believe they are performing Christian acts? If the Bible is to be taken literally, did not Christ ALWAYS reach out a helping hand to less fortunate folks? I am blown away by the attitudes and actions of people who lack compassion for humanity while steadfastly maintaining that they are the embodiment of Christianity.

And don't get me started on how a simple phrase--Happy Holidays--is taking Christ out of Christmas. Rampant support of buying tons of "stuff" mostly made in China, fer crissakes (literally) belies that knee-jerk gem of hypocrisy. Be honest--do you decry outsourcing (by those very same obscenely rich US companies) on the one hand while gobbling up thousands of tons of plastic crap that does nothing to enrich the true Christmas spirit on the other?

The same thing is at work here. We seem to be denying our collective responsibility to individuals who have worked long and hard AND PAID INTO SOCIAL SECURITY and our insistence that $$ = right = the One True American Way.

Folks, you can't have it both ways. Either you follow Christ's principles, or you cede power to filthy lucre. Either you practice what you preach, or you doom yourself to whatever hell you subscribe to. Good luck with that!

Back to retirement. November saw some health scares (clean lab results, thank goodness!), lots of research on internet business, learning new networking tricks, meeting new friends and reconnecting with old, singing a fabulous concert (go AVAE). Baby face time, gratitude for what I do have, despair over back pain limiting physical activity, resulting in jillions of boxes left to unpack and resistance to any chores whatsoever, raccoons ripping off siding, life is NEVER dull.

So December will find me still trying to make sense of a wildly disruptive employment situation and readjusting plans and goals to stay afloat. According to Linus Pawling, retirement is Paradise: he gets all the benefits and none of the angst.

(Note the very full belly)

All clean and fluffy, ready for the next nap.

WTC photos

Observation level, World Trade Center. Don't remember which one, although I am pointing SSW toward Princeton. Came across these unpacking. The plaza photo is of my late step-dad. This must have been late 80's, early 90's. We were involved with the earlier parking garage bomb there, which makes these photos doubly eerie for me.

We've always had tons of exchange students and international visitors over the years, and a busload of H.S. exchange kiddos from France had just pulled away from that garage heading uptown when it went off. Many concerned long distance phone calls between U.S. parents/school admins. and French parents. Thank goodness, they were safe, but I remember thinking then that compared to security in other countries, we didn't have much. I watched the TV coverage of 9-11 in the 22nd floor of the UT Tower and flashed back to the earlier bombing.

I've struggled with claustrophobia all my life, until fairly recently. When I took the job in the tower, it took several days of living in my terror and panic to the point that I felt I could tolerate the tiny elevator ride at least twice a day every work day. It holds 6 people. Period. Not counting backpacks, rolly carts, bicycles, or mail. At one point, one floor let all its folks out at exactly the same time and they all tried to pile into the elevator at once. I've counted up to 13 people in that same, small space on several occasions. Yes, I finally did talk to the floor manager, who was a colleague in a different division, and he was very helpful.

The WTC observation area was even more terrifying. Huge ceiling to floor windows, and there were insanely steep arena seats that dropped down to that critical juncture of floor and the sensation of nothing...space. From way up high. I get dizzy thinking about it even now.

The flashback I had on 9-11 to the WTC observation deck was visceral. I am still lost in the immensity. It helped to sing a memorial service with David Stevens and the St. David's folks. We each took a name from a basket of one of the people lost. I've sung my way through a lot of grief over the years. For me, music is the best therapy, and this holiday season I'm grateful that I've found it in so many places and to such depth.

AVAE concerts!

Austin Vocal Arts Ensemble (Chorus Austin), Music Director Ryan (we never get to see you from the back!) Heller, and accompanist and Southwestern University faculty member David Utterback. Photo by Fran Rush.

East Meets West concert season accomplished! Quite a satisfying process, this program. OMG the Russian! I've done my share of Russian--Tchaikovsky Mazeppa,* with Opera Orchestra of New York (Maestra Queler appears to be grooming a successor) and Kirov Opera principals, the Scheherazade concert with the Austin Symphony a few years back, portions of Rachmaninoff Vespers+ and various assorted pieces everywhere. The first half of the program, primarily the Sviridov, was as much Russian as all those put together. No kidding. Sviridov was a demon composer. And so very, very charming.

*a "cosmic fire!" (Kyr's dynamic marking for the final chord of Let There Be Music) occurence, Mazeppa was remarkable because 1) my daughter was a member of Princeton Pro Musica that year, and it thrilled me no end to sing in Carnegie Hall with her grandmother in attendance; and 2) it was the last concert my mom attended. She died three weeks later. Yeah, heavy duty.

+After singing the entire piece (in English) with the wonderful Frances Slade and Princeton Pro Musica on several occasions, including in a verrrrry old, ornate Greek Orthodox church in Jersey City, AND hearing the St. Petersburg Academy Choir sing it in Russian, I instructed my daughter that I would like to have it sung at any memorial of which I might be the central figure.

As ecstatic as the music was, my life between those intense rounds of singing this week was just as exciting. Baby face time is most amazing and nourishing, and being with a friend who knew and admired my mom was just as fulfilling. He shared stories of my mom interviewing Molly Ivins, and stepping in for him to interview Emeril Lagasse on CRIS radio in Chicago and his kind regrets about mother's death.

Precious music, precious beings, precious stories.

Rehearsal notes 11/8 and 11/9--Robert Kyr/Ryan Heller

Composer Robert Kyr, Musical Director Ryan Heller

11/8/10--Last night's rehearsal was at the Oak Hill United Methodist Church in the sanctuary where we will perform. It went well, the group really pulling together. Very comforting to get a feel for the acoustics--how to listen and how to produce sound for that space. The Very Big Deal, however, was Tuesday night's rehearsal.

11/9/10--Composer Robert Kyr, whose "Let There Be Music" is featured on the program, worked with the ensemble this evening, and will be in attendance both performances. He was most enthusiastic about the preparation we'd done under the direction of Ryan Heller, AVAE's musical director.

We had an exhaustive, exhausting, fabulous time regrouping to the physical architecture of the piece. He gave us valuable insight into the piece on common ground and supercharged the response of the chorus. Kyr, professor of composition and theory at the University of Oregon, morphed rehearsal into a master class.

Firstly, we did a few minutes of yoga, although he didn't call it that. Progressive upward stretches to release the tension in the vocal mechanism to produce our best sound. And that it did. I think we all listened "with bigger ears," as Ryan said, and certainly put that piece (mostly--a few things to work out Thursday) where it needs to go. I love working with composers--and they love hearing their work done the way they want it done. And done, in Watermelon Sugar.

From Kyr: "overtones are the DNA of music..." "think of a double helix when you sing these interweaving lines..." let there be music--let there be light--let there be breath." The piece is quite sonorous. It is also quite visual. It will be a great treat for everyone, audience and performers alike.

Regrouping the architecture: Yes, we physically did this--moved the ensemble right out front in 2 lines, with the various voice sections re-positioned. Kyr explained the specific structures to the group, and placed sections that interweave closer together. It makes sense in this piece. We learned what to listen for, and we listened better. And the closer we are to the audience, the more involved they will be.

That's what music is, after all. Equal parts listening and singing/performing. It's the magic of chamber ensembles. The most interesting (to me) choral music and certainly the biggest challenge. I'd like to see all my friends and relatives there, and lots of new folks who love music and are interested to hear a fabulous ensemble perform wicked-good stuff.

Visit Chorus Austin for concert details and tickets.

10 things I didn't expect re: retirement

1.  So much snail mail. I hadn't bought stamps in a year and a half. Pay 99% bills online. It's like waking up in another country one morning--lots and lots of business for "retirees" in the real mailbox outside.
2. So much paperwork in general. Some as a result of moving house, some retirement, some Medicare, some Social Security. As far as the USPO is concerned, I've slipped into the never-neverland of "older American," and ads and offers and schemes are threatening to overflow my recycle bin. Get a clue. I'm not going to buy anything from any of you, so quit wasting trees, folks.
3. Time to sweep and do dishes. Or at least I don't have the excuse of going off to work any more. Time to read. Just finished Neal Stephenson's Baroque Trilogy: Quicksilver, The Chaos, and The System of the World. Dynamite historical novels about England and beyond in the late 1600's, early 1700's.
4. How awesome it feels to be out from under a crazy-making system at work. Still decompressing. 
5. The hindsight to find out more about retirement sooner. There's too much information to absorb it all and take care of the necessary paperwork in only two months. I'd say start 5-10 years before you expect to retire. 
6. Needing a lot more sleep than I ever got while working. It's much healthier for my body to wake up when it wants to, rather than when someone or something else wants it to. Disclaimer: of course this does not apply to Linus, who will get me up if he really wants something.
7. And that's OK, cause NAPS! It is so much easier to control your blood pressure when you can just doze off whenever you need to. See #6. 
8. As much as I love teaching, learning, and promoting higher education, I do not miss negotiating campus--the parking, hordes of students, traffic, nasty politics. My friends are still my friends, and we have a better time off campus than on, anyway.
9. Simplify, simplify, simplify. Shed non-essentials. But don't trash things that bring you pleasure, no matter what they are. Now I have time to do those projects I've always thought I'd do: slide/neg digitizing, organizing into databases, making jewelry again, other artwork I've been collecting materials to put together, more photos, much more of the fun stuff.
10. Nice things do happen. Saw the Blue Lapis Light group dance on the side of the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum last night. Perfect evening: dinner chez niece/friend, driving back streets to BBHTM, sitting outside, chilly enough for a jacket, amazing aerial dance/light show. 

All in all, even Linus likes retirement.

Retirement: Month Two

We're not in Kansas anymore, Linus. Platitudes build up like vascular plaque, to be scraped into two columns: 1) so very true, and 2) you gotta be kidding!

Best laid plans--(1) This was a crying shame. After having drifted through life as a preacher's kid, vagabond, following wife, and PTSD-zonked recovering co-dependent, I bit the bullet and put together a plan for getting out from huge debt from alcoholic relationship and settling down in one place long enough to scrape up a pension, I was stoked. Out from crushing financial burdens (and I count zero as a blessing), car paid off, and non-penalized, maximized retirement and social security. I had a viable, kick-ass goal. The State of Texas went "Aha! Let's yank that right out from under her." Massive sabot tossed into the clockworks.

Adversity makes you stronger--(2) No it doesn't. Solving problems makes you stronger, and sometimes adversity stacks up so deep you're drowning in alligators. You gain strength from learning HOW to solve problems, not get beat-up.

My friend and fellow elderblogger Ronni Bennett send a congratulatory note when she learned that I'd retired and signed up for Social Security. She wrote of the day she decided to march down to Social Security and officially begin this new phase in life. Ronni stressed the importance of celebration, which I must admit was way down the list of what I mostly felt during that time: stark terror.

She reminded me that all of life's great passages are to be celebrated and enjoyed. And so I promised her I would begin to envision how I shall celebrate this step along my path. I'm beginning to see Winter Solstice as a fortuitous date. Remembrances of Paul Winter Consort concerts in the Cathedral in NYC, Howleluja Choruses, the urge to push, to grow out of the caves, the earth, the crypts.

This is the first Halloween I've identified with in a long time. Not as trick or treat, no little kids will be coming to my house on Oct. 31. More the feeling that the ground is being prepared for the winter, and readied for spring and growing.

The first 2 months of my retirement have been in turns hectic, despondent, excited, hermitizing, singing, way too introspective, seasoned with books and film. Realizing that other friends were correct in warning me of the physical crash. Your body telling you that you were unbelievably stressed out, and now you have to take care of it.

Like being underground. Cracking open a geode to find something unexpected. Dancing to new rhythms. Anticipating the light.

Austin Civic Chorus concert and AVAE rehearsal notes: 10.17.10

Austin Civic Chorus tore it up with the Mozart Mass in c-minor Sunday afternoon at St. Matthew's Episcopal. Good job, gang. You sounded confident, well-balanced, sure of your entrances, and thoughtful with the delivery. It was a pleasure to get to hear the group after so many years of not being able to make concerts. Ryan Heller is just right for the group. Commuting from Portland, OR to Austin sounds wacky, but perfect for a young conductor. Two of the most interesting cities in the country.

I also took advantage of sitting in the lobby to nail down the Sviridov, which is the biggest Russian challenge. The music is tricky but predictable, so it's a matter of learning cascades of Russian by transliteration, as there's no way I could learn enough Cyrillic to read it straight.

Good thing I did, because that's exactly what we worked on about 3 hours later. The rest of the program is a breeze, so it was good to have several hours to devote to Svirodov. Yeah, the concert will kick a**.

Nice to have a smaller group again to woodshed. Accomplished so much more, as we could move on quickly and cover more music. We have a bye this Tuesday, with 3 rehearsals left to polish to concert gleam. It'll be great. Everyone loves the music, loves Ryan, loves the group--good attitude + good musicians = crash hot performances.

Today was a red letter day in the retirement saga. I signed up for Medicare Part A and Part B, and Social Security. When the difference between signing up now and waiting til my 65th birthday in less than 3 months is only $22, then it was a no-brainer. Yes, I will be 18 with 47 years experience. Better than the alternative...

Austin Vocal Arts Ensemble presents "East Meets West" on Friday, November 12, 8:00 p.m. at Hope Presbyterian Church, 11512 Olson Drive; and Sunday, November 13, 3:00 p.m. at Oak Hill United Methodist Church, 7815 Hwy. 290 W.

Rehearsal notes 10.12.10--R.I.P. Joan Sutherland

I have this thing about tuning. I've related elsewhere that I get physically ill when pitches are not in tune. Tonight at rehearsal I had a mini-epiphany (is that even possible?): I am addicted to A440. 

I was brainwashed. My mom was an accomplished musician, and so I was exposed in utero to a decently tuned piano and voice. We all played and sang from day one. I began formal piano lessons at age 5 and flute lessons at age 7. Records, concerts, recitals, church choir, school, Back in the day, we were expected to line up at the strobotuner and tune ourselves individually before each band or orchestra class. I figured out the trick of scoring two miniscule right-angle lines on the headjoint of my flute so that at least the instrument was aligned to play A440. Then I could concentrate on embouchure, fingering, and angle.

Each type of instrument tends to have one or two problematic notes related to the physics of that particular instrument. In the case of wind instruments, or aerophones (flute, oboe, bassoon, sax; as opposed to soprano recorders, shakuhachi, and other indigenous woodwinds), some fingerings or registers just can't be machined that precisely. In others, it's how the human body interfaces with the instrument. The flute fingering for C in the staff uses no fingers at all--the instrument simply rests on the left forefinger at the join of the hand, and the right thumb, where there are no keys. The slightly graduated bore of the head joint and the diameter of the key holes have to be precisely bored to produce that pitch, and that's pretty darn tough to do. Hand-made flutes that get this right bring are more expensive than most folks expect, especially if they are made with exotic metals and/or woods, and are made with jewel-precision.

I digress into Musicologyland. Point being that the voice is an even more precious human instrument and our brains can be tuned. So this particular mini-piphany is about realizing that I automatically assume that every singer thinks and perceives sound the same way that I do, and that I ought not do that.

This all about producing music and so NOT about negatively judging singers. It isn't the PERSON who is not in tune, it is the TONE that is vibrating at a different cycle per second. And that's all it is.

Apropos of not much...

Pianos are tuned differently, because the physics involved are those of a percussion (rather than stringed) instrument, because the sound is produced by felt hammers which just happen to be tapping strings clustered together in threes. As far as our ears care, it's the tuning of the strings that determines the pleasing (or not) sound of the instrument. 


Next class: the related topic of overtones and the overtone series...

Tonight's rehearsal was a called rehearsal, which just means that it was outside the normal schedule. As a result, not everyone could attend, so it was at about half-strength, and began and ended earlier. This is a good thing in the rehearsal process. It requires more acute listening, reveals insecure language spots (torrents of Russian rushing at you at terrifying speed), and it helps nail entrances, breath marks, page-turns, and other assorted rehearsal best practices.

And for what it was, it was a very productive and satisfying rehearsal. A perfect ending to a fabulous long weekend in Dallas with fine friends, music, food, wine, and talking to 3 a.m.

This Saturday night and Sunday afternoon: Austin Civic Chorus performing Mozart Mass in C. Check it out on Facebook.

Layoffs continue

The university just laid off another 15 folks from our division. Lots of unhappy people, a few happy ones who were eligible for retirement and got their act together. No separation remuneration, nothing but a FAQ session with human resources and a tiny tag on your file that says any university hiring org has to consider you IF you meet the job requirements--no job guaranteed. Higher ed pretty much sucks in Texas right now. It will be even worse if our incumbent guv gets re-elected.

I had no idea how much stress I was under until 3-4 weeks out from retirement. All of a sudden I'm overwhelmingly fatigued, sleep a lot. That seems to be pretty much the normal reaction, say my friends who have already retired. No one realizes the toll until you let go of the daily grind. Similar to the phenomenon of busting butt at the end of a semester and coming down with a cold or flu as soon as vacation begins.

We're still ahead on precipitation for the year. Seeing green vegetation was uncanny through the summer, it just doesn't seem natural, somehow. Not that I'm complaining...at the moment. It's unsettled enough that it's nearly impossible to forecast how any given season will play out. We stand to break a record low tonight. There will likely be more records falling in the next year.

I still measure the year from September to August--school time. Probably for the rest of my life, since I'm tied to the university through retirement. Makes it a little awkward when January and tax time rolls around.

Next up: applying for Medicaid (mandatory) and Social Security (trying to hold out til January). Still looking for more freelance editing/writing work, if anyone has any leads.  Just a half time job will do--may even look into seasonal IRS work, however mind-numbing that will likely be. Better than living in a tent.

Do check out the UNICEF clean water banner atop the right nav bar. The world is running out of potable water, especially in drought-stricken countries, and especially children. Consider buying UNICEF holiday cards--they're always beautiful, and the $$ goes toward saving children of the world. I still have some cards my parents obtained from the '60s. They help remind me of my parents' commitment to humanitarianism. We are the lucky ones. It furthers one to lend a hand. It's also good for your personal health. Really.