Winds of Change
So, after many months, false starts and hopeful developments, forward movement is imminent! We’re making a move – Vancouver will be our home, at least for the foreseeable future. This is the direction in which we’ve been moving, the opportunity for which I’ve been searching; so why am I feeling apprehensive?
Brass tacks
Springboard Consulting is going strong. And I love the work. However, it’s not solely enough to keep us afloat (at the moment, anyway). A cessation of stress is what’s called for – now, at least after we make it through the next couple of transitional weeks, we will finally have ‘arrived’. And yet, I don’t feel as ecstatic as I thought I would…
It’s not the position – ironically, my search has come full circle, and the first organization I interviewed with (three previous interviews, a great cause, good feelings all round, only to lose the position to another, more experienced, candidate) is the one who called me up out of the blue on December 24th to offer me a job. Merry Christmas! A worthwhile cause, an opportunity that speaks to my skill-set and the creative freedom to make the role my own – what more could I want? I’m excited about the job – that’s not the problem…
Vancouver? Over the last few months I’ve really come to appreciate the city. Vancouver will always evoke heady feelings of freedom and possibility – it (along with the University of British Columbia) was my first destination as a freshly-liberated small-town girl and for me, will always symbolize emancipation. After more than a dozen years I am so excited to become reacquainted with the realities of the city. And yet…
Risky business
I have always taken chances – some large (for example: moving to Toronto armed with nothing but a borrowed $500 and a passion for opera; suggesting to Ivan that we get married – after a scant 2 weeks; moving to Spain, a country I’d never seen and a language I didn’t speak, assuming that I’d love it), and some small (like photographing my ‘art’ and answering a local call for submissions). I relish challenge; I love change; I have never been afraid to give new opportunities a chance. And, to be honest, I’ve always believed that things would inevitably ‘work out’. And, to be honest, they usually have…
I’ve finally put my finger on the nature of these feelings, and I’m ready to name it: fear. But why this fear now? And, more importantly, what to do about it?
A great friend helped explain it, “You’ve been badly burned”; and I think that sums up most of 2009. True to form, we took some risks. Unexpectedly, they didn’t work out. But! This is not a reason to stop taking risks; it just helps explain the fear.
Now, what do I do about it?
Breathe. It was at opera school that I first learned how to breathe (of course, as a child I’d mastered the art, but like all other adults, as I grew older, I promptly forgot). I discovered that breath was essential to good singing, and (ironically) the first thing to go when faced with anxiety, tension or fear.
And conscious breathing is not limited to singing – all musicians breathe. In fact, phrases in Western music - regardless of the instrument being played - usually correspond to the length of a human breath. This is the rhythm that is ingrained in all of us; while listening, we invariably ‘breathe in time’. And speaking of singing, what instrument better captures the timbre and warmth of the human voice than the cello? And what better example of this measured, sonorous beauty, are the cello sonatas by J.S. Bach?
There are more modern, cleaner recordings in existence (although as a child of the seventies I actually like the hiss and crackle of vinyl), and great players like Yo Yo Ma and Jacqueline Du Pré have contributed brilliant renditions to the repertoire; regardless, I prefer the first version I ever bought: Bach’s exquisite sonatas played by the inestimable Catalan cellist, Pablo Casals. Also a consummate pianist, conductor and dedicated humanitarian, Casals remains one of the most gifted and accomplished cellists of all time. Performing into his nineties, he redefined the repertoire with his virtuosic technique and exceptional emotional playing, saying that ‘The most important thing in music is what is not in the notes’.
Amazing how the single voice of a solo instrument can sound lush and variegated. The soaring arc of a solo line can send thoughts in one direction, while inspiring a simultaneous yet divergent emotional reaction. Individual phrases are seamlessly interwoven and sound much fuller than generally attributed to a single voice. And the cello itself: has any other instrument been more capable of such romantic, sensuous sonorities? As a listener, close your eyes and try to make out the words inherent in these, the most human of sounds. And, inevitably, you will start to breathe in time to the music, taking into yourself Bach’s sense of calm and serenity. Time will slow down, your mind and the myriad rushing thoughts of day-to-day life will still. You’ll remember how to breathe.
An act of faith
So, for me Bach’s cello sonatas have a centering effect. But regardless of the medium, my message is this: when faced with the challenges of fundamental change why not respond with openness? With calm, serenity and faith? None of us can know what the future will bring. Why not assume the best?
As for moving forward, I will respect my fear. And do it anyway.
