This afternoon was the last day of the Christmas holidays, unexpectedly sunny, crisp and breezy. After the departure of some visitors, Robert and I were about to go out for a walk and some tea and cake, when he suddenly pointed to a patch of light on the wall behind me. The reflections from the garden of waving branches and the wrought iron of a clothes post were casting flickering shadows onto the wall in an astonishing fashion, almost like a silent movie. Robert grabbed his iPhone and captured some video. “You could use that for a poem-film, “ I remarked, thinking about the beautiful short videos some friends had made recently.

When we got home from our walk, I began improvising to the footage on the piano, while Robert listened and wrote.  Within twenty minutes we both had something. Remarkably, when Robert read his poem aloud, it was exactly the right length. He recorded it, synchronized it with the video, and then I recorded my part on top onto a different track so that we could experiment with individual volume and colour.

I’m not a recording engineer, but I know what works when I hear it. In this case, I knew we needed to take the ‘edge’ off the sound on both tracks. It took a little whole to find the right effect for the piano part. It wasn’t until Robert added a little reverb that it harmonized with the imagery. It sounded as if it had been recorded many years ago in a dusty, cavernous ballet studio on a slightly tinny upright. Perfect.

We both could hear that Robert’s voice was also cutting through the texture in a way that sounded too immediate, modern and dynamic. When he equalized it, using an effect called RCA Victor 1947, it all came together.

Result: a film-poem in one evening. If only making art could be this easy and graceful every time.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=LpROaNue9GM

Here are some of my questions: How did Hembrey give himself the permission to do something so audacious? How did he come up with so much high-quality work in different media and styles? Are the two related? How many voices are inside us waiting to speak, if we would only give them permission? How much have I unintentionally restricted myself in searching for my own “voice”? What would happen if I let myself expression 100 different ways? Would it be exhausting? Would I explode with energy? Would I even recognize myself by the end of the process?

And  you?

I just blogged about one of my passions– traditional Christmas carols–over at Music Teachers’ Helper , complete with audio excerpts of the best recordings. Enjoy!

Photo: Jeremy Burger

“Humans are the only animals that will follow an unstable pack leader.”

-       Cesar Millan, ‘The Dog Whisperer’

How many times have I followed an ‘unstable pack leader’? Try: My whole life! I bet I’m not alone either. Ever since I heard that quote a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been pondering what it means, and whether it matches my own experience.

Cesar defines a stable pack leader as someone who is what he calls ‘calm-assertive’, present in the moment, balanced, and consistently providing clear rules and boundaries. For dogs these are “exercise, discipline and affection… in that order!” He asserts that dogs immediately know whether someone is in that state by their energy, and can’t be fooled by words or the outer symbols of power that persuade us mere humans. I’ve recently become a fan of his show for that reason— to see him modeling that energy, and to learn how to manifest it more in my own life.

Looking back to my teenage years at a selective girls’ school, I remember teachers who commanded my respect. Although they seemed a little strict initially, they often also turned out to be great fun. In my mind, they were much taller than me, although I was a gangly teenager and must have been 5’10”. No one risked being cheeky to them. I knew that they were in charge. I felt safe: to learn, to have fun and to be protected from bullies— the kind who went for me, or the kind who went after them.

Not all teachers were as effective. When I heard that 4B had locked Miss Dunstan in the stationery cupboard one day, I was horrified and enthralled. I was so sorry for her, so appalled at their daring, so uncomfortable with the reversal of the status quo. With “Lord of the Flies”–type instinct and cunning, they had sensed her weakness, and gone after her en masse. She didn’t last much longer at the school after that.

Why do we follow an unstable pack leader, if it is against our animal nature? When I worked for Maria (not her real name), a singing teacher on a summer course in Germany many years ago, it was clear to me by the second day that she was crazy and a vicious bully. What kept me there, despite levels of stress that made me physically sick within the first week? The unwillingness to speak up for fear of bringing her ire down on myself? My discomfort with breaking my agreement with her and seeming unprofessional? The difficulty and expense of finding my own way home? Yes, all of the above… along with a conditioned belief that if someone else is upset, it must be my fault, and that I need to placate them at any cost.  I went out of my way to be pleasant to Maria…. yet Cesar doesn’t recommend showing affection when a dog (or in this case, a human) is unstable, as it only nurtures that state of mind.

Rationalization is another obstacle to observing clearly. For example, we may have a bad experience with someone, but decide that it is just a temporary aberration. When I was a child, my mother instilled the habit of looking for the good in others. Wonderful. What she didn’t know how to teach me was that some people are not well-intentioned at times, and how to deal with them when they are not. So, I was constantly trusting other kids, only to be disappointed by some of them time and again. On the other hand, men were not to be trusted… unless they were doctors. So I was too nervous to date, but unsuspecting when my osteopath made an unwelcome move on me in the middle of a session.

What if we could open our minds and just observe what is, without trying to categorize it neatly? For example, Rachel is kind and has a bad temper at times, or Mark is loving and has a tendency to be unfaithful. Not one or the other. Both. When we move out of a child-like desire to separate everything into good or bad, black or white, we can begin to open up to being present and learning to trust our instincts.

I’ve experienced several types of unstable pack leaders. There’s the neurotic or borderline leader, who is all saccharine sweetness one moment and a howling banshee the next. There’s the conflict-averse pack leader, who is unwilling to deal with issues amongst the pack. There’s the weak leader who wants everyone to like them, and will do anything to achieve that.  There’s the impulsive leader, always changing their mind. There’s the passive-aggressive leader who won’t tell you what to do, only point out what they don’t like once you’ve done it. And there’s the icy cold leader who is impersonal and punitive.

Luckily, I’ve also been fortunate enough to work with and for stable pack leaders- those who are willing to be calm-assertive, present, balanced, with clear boundaries. Mrs. McGarrigle, my second-grade teacher always kept control of our class, but also organized games and fun activities, and gave out treats at the end of the week to the class team with the best track record (exercise, discipline and affection work on little kids too!) Tom, my Alexander Technique teacher, peaceful, compassionate without ever being sentimental, clear about his role, available in the moment for whatever was needed. Mrs. Martin, our English teacher in high school, who despite being an eccentric individual who would never say “Good morning, Miss Ashton” when we all greeted the principal in unison at Assembly each day, and who told us all to read Mao’s “Little Red Book”, was a rock of stability in the midst of a sea of hormones. And my spiritual teacher, constant, strong, motivated by love, willing to be present with whatever shows up.

And so I find myself beginning to form an idea of what is needed to evaluate a stable pack leader, both from the challenging experiences I have had, and the splendid examples I have found. Here are my principles so far:

-       Tune in to your intuition.

-       Be open to seeing what is.

-       Be cautious about packs and their rules.

-       Be willing to walk away rather than staying involved with something detrimental.

-       Be honest about what is true for you, even if it is uncomfortable.

-       Don’t give over your authority to others. Be willing to take direction, but always check inside whether it lines up.

-       Don’t placate bullies- it only reinforces their behavior.

-       Be centered, calm-assertive, balanced, consistent.

-       Maintain clear boundaries (for example, business versus personal)

I realize that I’ve set high standards for myself here, and it may take a long time to learn to abide by these principles, but, honestly, I can’t wait to start!

However, I’d love to point you to a couple of posts I wrote for the Music Teachers blog: one on how to develop effective communication with your students, and one on how to manage your energy in relation to your students. I’m enjoying focusing on the psychological side of teaching and communicating in posts for this particular blog, as I feel it’s a way to contribute what I know, both from study and from experience.

My new blog post over at Music Teachers Blog is about boosting your creative energy. It’s primarily aimed at musicians, but there are some ideas anyone with a creative bent can enjoy too. I’d love to hear your ideas…

Sounds fun, huh? The plot is the usual: boy meets girl, boy and girl go through many trials and tribulations, boy and girl end up getting married. With one major difference. When Deb and Chris walk down the aisle at the end of the musical, they will in fact be legally married. That beautiful singer who played the minister? She’s the real deal.

Deb and Chris are hosting a blog on their journey towards marriage in the run-up to this wild extravaganza, and this week, on the sixth anniversary of our marriage, they asked me to write a guest entry about what marriage means to me.

I’ve been enjoying this blog for nearly a year already, as I find great value in being able to exchange ideas with other independent music teachers. It’s very easy to feel isolated, and it’s been interesting finding out how many of us have the same challenges and pleasures, as well as having the opportunity to benefit from new ideas and resources.

I’m going to be contributing ideas from the point of view of a life coach who is also a longtime performer and teacher, and I’m excited to have the opportunity to try out my ideas. Here’s a link to my first post.

Vaslav Nijinsky

Last week, I saw an amazing article in the New York Times, describing the creative relationship between an experienced and adventurous choreographer and a young and talented actor with cerebral palsy. Tamar Rogoff, the choreographer, saw the actor, Gregg Mozgala, in a Shakespeare play and immediately knew that she wanted to work with him to create a dance piece. He, understandably, with muscular and neurological challenges, particularly in his legs, had not considered himself a dancer until this point, but was intrigued by her offer and agreed to the challenge.

The miraculous part of this experiment has been the changes they have wrought together in Gregg’s body- more dramatic changes in eight months than he had achieved in twelve years of physical therapy. For example, after walking on his toes his entire life, his heels now touch the ground, allowing him to walk normally. He is now aware of, and using, parts of his body that he had no relationship with before. And, most wonderfully, he is becoming a dancer, creating a piece called “Diagnosis of a Faun”. The first performance takes place on Dec. 3 at La MaMa Annex in the East Village, New York City.

I wrote to Gregg to congratulate him on this incredible achievement, and to ask whether he considered the creation of art to be part of the healing process, to which he replied emphatically, “Yes.” And this “yes” makes me curious about my own healing process. What if I could heal some of the old patterns of tension, contraction and pain, which prevent me from leading an active life and playing my beloved piano? What if I could do this through movement, through a creative process, so that rather than just repeating a series of mindless physical exercises, each movement had a purpose I believed in? It’s an intoxicating idea, one that speaks to me on a deep level. My next step is to contact the choreographer. Wish me luck!