I've been debating for a while about this post. Whether I really had the guts to begin to talk about it, even to begin to think about it. Whether I really needed to work it out for myself or just I could let it keep sleeping, hidden under the surface. I think I need to... even though it's not the sort of thing I normally talk about. I mean, who really wants the darker parts of themselves on display? So, if you're looking for a cheerful, ain't life cute post, today ain't the day. (May I suggest LOLCats instead?) But if you don't mind digging in my psyche with me, come on along.
First and foremost, I'm an adrenaline junkie. Most pilots are. Even when I'm in total control of the aircraft, that adrenaline rush of landing, the kiss of tires on tarmac is beyond compare. I like speed - the faster the better. This is not to say I don't have common sense. I understand the need to control that demand for faster, higher, farther for the sake of others.
Living on that kind of edge is not a place for mothers. It's not fair to my children to put myself at risk like that. As long as there are lives that depend on me, it's my responsibility to put them first.
But I crave the danger. And it's not enough to speed or fly. There's a part of me that wants to be dangerous. That is dangerous. This is the part that lives deepest within. The part that screams with the need to express physical rage. The part that blinds that common sense. The calculating cruelty that I cannot seem to excise from my soul. Part demon, part merciless avenging angel.
I have no outlet for that part of me. Neither my vocations nor my avocations allow for violence. I am trapped: by my life, by my love, by myself. I'm fat, clumsy, and middle-aged; when I see my reflection as I exercise, I realize my only danger to others is if I sit on them. I'm hardly going to take up being an assassin or some such at this point in my life yet there is a deep part of me that needs to let that avenging angel soar.
In a few years, when all the kids are in school, I want to learn to sword fight. Yes, it's a useless skill (unless, of course, there's an apocalypse rendering ammunition impossible to come by - then it might be useful) but it calls to me. There are times I wonder whether another lifetime saw me metal-clad and armed. I don't know whether this "pretend" dangerousness will be enough to let the angel rest more quietly, keep the demon locked away.
It scares me, the need. Even as I physically crave the danger, the craving scares me.
Who am I to need that? Logically, it makes no kind of sense. Neither my place in life, nor my faith in God permits it. If I am to trust God, I am where I should be. And where I am distinctly precludes walking the edge.
On a wagon, bound for market
there's a calf that is born to die.
High above him, there's a swallow
winging swiftly through the sky.
How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.
"Stop complaining," said the farmer,
"Who told you a calf to be?
Why don't you have wings to fly with
like the swallow so proud and free."
How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.
Calves are easily bound and slaughtered,
never knowing the reasons why.
But whoever treasures freedom,
like the swallow, must learn to fly.
How the winds are laughing, they laugh with all their might,
laugh and laugh the whole day through and half the summer's night.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 1, 2010
Taking One For The Team
Ever have to force yourself to do something you really don't want to do but you know it's for the best? Sucks, doesn't it?
Remember that aria I posted last April? In case you don't, the women's choir I sing in (TCC) sang the Pergolesi Stabat Mater last year on Good Friday. We did it with string quartet and organ and it was gorgeous. We had 5 different soloists last year, I think, 3 of whom have moved on - including 2 of the strongest voices.
Our director is also a spectacular alto - just an absolutely stunning voice. As we lost our alto section leader, she's going to have the Music Director (for the church) conduct and she's going to sing with the choir and do the alto solos. I was a little disappointed as I'd hoped to sing another solo but compared to her, hell no. She asked my voice teacher to have me work up a couple of the soprano arias for audition. Now, the woman that sang these solos last year was Eastman undergrad and Julliard grad (2 of the 3 top music schools in the country). I have a decent voice but there is NO way I can compare with people's memory of this woman singing those solos. There's another problem too: one of the volunteer sopranos who, unfortunately, isn't really suited to it wants a solo.
So, I sent an email to our director tonight with the solution that said, essentially,
I'm just feeling a bit grumpy about it. But there is no "I" in team, they say, and this is truer even in church singing than in sports. It's about the congregation and helping them worship. Secondarily, it's about what's best for the choir. What it's not about is me.
Remember that aria I posted last April? In case you don't, the women's choir I sing in (TCC) sang the Pergolesi Stabat Mater last year on Good Friday. We did it with string quartet and organ and it was gorgeous. We had 5 different soloists last year, I think, 3 of whom have moved on - including 2 of the strongest voices.
Our director is also a spectacular alto - just an absolutely stunning voice. As we lost our alto section leader, she's going to have the Music Director (for the church) conduct and she's going to sing with the choir and do the alto solos. I was a little disappointed as I'd hoped to sing another solo but compared to her, hell no. She asked my voice teacher to have me work up a couple of the soprano arias for audition. Now, the woman that sang these solos last year was Eastman undergrad and Julliard grad (2 of the 3 top music schools in the country). I have a decent voice but there is NO way I can compare with people's memory of this woman singing those solos. There's another problem too: one of the volunteer sopranos who, unfortunately, isn't really suited to it wants a solo.
So, I sent an email to our director tonight with the solution that said, essentially,
- "There is no way I can compete with people's memories of last year's soprano arias anyway; I don't want people to think TCC is going downhill; nor do I want to be a distracting note (heh, pun intended) for the congregants in a performance that should be seamless. So I'm going to take one for the team here and sit my ass on the sidelines of whatever running there might be."
I'm just feeling a bit grumpy about it. But there is no "I" in team, they say, and this is truer even in church singing than in sports. It's about the congregation and helping them worship. Secondarily, it's about what's best for the choir. What it's not about is me.
Jan 29, 2010
If you touch me, You'll understand what happiness is
We did backrubs in choir Wednesday. I love when we do backrubs in choir for all the obvious reasons we do them but it always surprises me how much I like them. And I think I've finally figured out why. It's the touch. I don't get touched really.
I'm not a terribly touchy-feely person. I like my personal space a fair piece larger than most. But I realized that I don't often get touched except by the little ones who are more than happy to hang on me as much as I'll let them. I think it's a hazard of being home with them and working from home, maybe; there just aren't those small encounters where someone might pat your arm briefly or put their hand on your shoulder, those little inter-personal interactions that show someone recognizes you're there and cares about you.
I remember (and, yes, I'm dating myself a bit here) a Scarecrow & Mrs. King episode where Amanda is explaining to Lee how she knows that a particular pair who are pretending to be a couple don't love each other. They don't touch each other, she says. People who love each other do. (Of course, she says this with her hand on Lee's arm...)
The isolation of working from home, of taking care of small children, of always being busier than one has any right to be... the things we sacrifice for 'having it all'... as the song puts it, "something's got to give."
I realized, after I thought about this, that a goodly reason of why my kids hang on me is that I'm always busy trying to Get Stuff Done. So I am resolving to touch them more. To try to show them through my actions that I love them. Whether it's just a pat on the head as I pass them, an extra kiss at bedtime, a hug during the day, I will try to make sure they don't come to the same realization that I did - because, when it comes down to it, we all need that little reassurance that someone realizes that we're there and is glad of it.
~~~
Memory, Cats.
I'm not a terribly touchy-feely person. I like my personal space a fair piece larger than most. But I realized that I don't often get touched except by the little ones who are more than happy to hang on me as much as I'll let them. I think it's a hazard of being home with them and working from home, maybe; there just aren't those small encounters where someone might pat your arm briefly or put their hand on your shoulder, those little inter-personal interactions that show someone recognizes you're there and cares about you.
I remember (and, yes, I'm dating myself a bit here) a Scarecrow & Mrs. King episode where Amanda is explaining to Lee how she knows that a particular pair who are pretending to be a couple don't love each other. They don't touch each other, she says. People who love each other do. (Of course, she says this with her hand on Lee's arm...)
The isolation of working from home, of taking care of small children, of always being busier than one has any right to be... the things we sacrifice for 'having it all'... as the song puts it, "something's got to give."
I realized, after I thought about this, that a goodly reason of why my kids hang on me is that I'm always busy trying to Get Stuff Done. So I am resolving to touch them more. To try to show them through my actions that I love them. Whether it's just a pat on the head as I pass them, an extra kiss at bedtime, a hug during the day, I will try to make sure they don't come to the same realization that I did - because, when it comes down to it, we all need that little reassurance that someone realizes that we're there and is glad of it.
~~~
Memory, Cats.
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