I'm in the middle of a quandary (not quarry).
About 85% of the time I am wildly excited about pursuing my degree in music education and affecting the world by
1. Educating children about and through beautiful music. Doing weekly observation at a local middle school choir has fueled this fire greatly and helped to reguarly renew my vision.
2. Creating music that is full of Christian themes but marketed to non-Christians. My secret dream is to make it on the radio (not KXOJ).
3. Helping and comforting hurting people by using music to heal their souls.
The only time this vision changes is on Tuesdays from 2:30 to 3:30 pm. It is during this time that I have my voice lesson. My teacher, bless her dear heart, has spent a lifetime performing and traveling and cannot understand why all of her students would not choose the same lifestyle. That is, all of us except those who aren't 'good enough'... those poor, unfortunate souls might as well 'just do music education.'
I always walk into the lesson prepared for the fire. At least once she makes a subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) comment about how I need to change my major to music performance. It's actually very hard for me to explain the intensity of her desire to control my life. First of all, she is a very passionate, expressive person, so anything she says seems like it must be taken incredibly seriously and applied immediately. Having been a student of her's for over a year, I am beginning to understand when to apply suggestions and when to simply smile and nod. What is harder to deal with is the fact that her credentials are pristine; therefore the suggestions she makes should be taken fairly seriously. This woman is a legendary performer who has an incredible track record at many major opera houses. She attended Julliard at a fairly young age and studied with prestigious instructors in Greece. She knows her stuff. That's why, when I weekly hear pleas like, "If only you were taking these courses... you could be this and this and this," or "You are wasting your potential by pursuing this degree. Your superb talent is should be applied and shared. If only you would delve deeper into this art form..." it's hard to knock the stars out of my eyes and keep a grasp on reality.
I've been struggling with this ever since I came to college last August '08. I had no idea coming into the year that there would be a battle for my voice between the School of Music and the School of Music Education... but apparently it started before the semester did! One of my music ed professors who sat in on my college audition recently shared with me that during my song, he wrote on my critique sheet "Voice faculty will fight over her." Ha. Little did I know.
My voice teacher claims that she has come to terms with my degree choice (lies!), but has now taken a different tactic. She is pushing (no... shoving) me to get vocal coaching from a specialized voice professor who only teaches performance majors (she claims if I work hard enough and impress him he will be delighted to teach me), wants me to prepare to give two recitals (music ed majors are only required to do one), and work my tail off so that I can earn a lesson with the great Marilyn Horne- a visiting guest artist who gives master classes and lessons to the elite singers.
So, you see? It is not only hard because of her prodding and nagging, but because when I sing, I feel intense pleasure. I can feel the music flowing through my body as it takes me up and down and throughout the pages of history. Singing for me is like painting a picture, dancing a waltz, diving into clear water, drinking the perfect cup of coffee... anything and everything that is sensually rich and delightful. Hearing from a once-famous soprano that I could be great! is tempting and soothing for my ego. I know without a doubt that if I sold my soul to music and pursued a performance career with all of my energy, I could probably be pretty good.
I don't say this to strut my vanity or seem prideful. I think that God has gifted me as a talented musician. The question is, what do I do with it?
--
My mother gave me a biography on an artist named Lilias Trotter. This woman was faced an identical struggle as I. Her teacher and mentor, John Ruskin, had noticed her talent while she was in her early twenties, and immediately began pouring wisdom and skill into her drawing. Under his influence she became increasingly better at a fast rate. Ruskin cared for her deeply, and promised her a life of artistic fame if she would allow him to take her under his wing and make her dreams come true. He promised that if "she would devote her life to art she would be the greatest living painter and do things that would be immortal" (Rockness 83). Lily loved drawing and could see a very plausible, socially-acceptable life of popularity as an artist, yet something kept her from accepting his invitation. Lily had a passion for ministering to low-class women and providing a cheap, safe place for them to live, and could not see the two passions meshing together.
How hard the decision was for her! She wrote in her autobiography, Parables of the Cross
Does all this seem hard? Does any soul, young in physical or in spiritual life, shrink back and
say, "I would rather keep in the springtime. I do not want to reach unto the things that are
before if it means all this pain." To such comes the Master's vocie. "Fear none of these things
which thou shalt suffer."...It may be that no such path of loss lies before you; there are
people like the lands where spring and summer weave the year between them and
the autumn processes all, hardly noticed as they come and go.
Eventually she concluded that she must be totally abandoned to God's purposes. She writes
Are our hands off the very blossom of life? Are all things--even the treasures He has
sanctified--held loosely, ready to be parted with without a struggle when He asks for
them?
And so she did it. She gave up a lifetime of fame and renown to devote her life to ministry.
Can I abandon my all for the sake of His purposes?
About 85% of the time I am wildly excited about pursuing my degree in music education and affecting the world by
1. Educating children about and through beautiful music. Doing weekly observation at a local middle school choir has fueled this fire greatly and helped to reguarly renew my vision.
2. Creating music that is full of Christian themes but marketed to non-Christians. My secret dream is to make it on the radio (not KXOJ).
3. Helping and comforting hurting people by using music to heal their souls.
The only time this vision changes is on Tuesdays from 2:30 to 3:30 pm. It is during this time that I have my voice lesson. My teacher, bless her dear heart, has spent a lifetime performing and traveling and cannot understand why all of her students would not choose the same lifestyle. That is, all of us except those who aren't 'good enough'... those poor, unfortunate souls might as well 'just do music education.'
I always walk into the lesson prepared for the fire. At least once she makes a subtle (or sometimes not so subtle) comment about how I need to change my major to music performance. It's actually very hard for me to explain the intensity of her desire to control my life. First of all, she is a very passionate, expressive person, so anything she says seems like it must be taken incredibly seriously and applied immediately. Having been a student of her's for over a year, I am beginning to understand when to apply suggestions and when to simply smile and nod. What is harder to deal with is the fact that her credentials are pristine; therefore the suggestions she makes should be taken fairly seriously. This woman is a legendary performer who has an incredible track record at many major opera houses. She attended Julliard at a fairly young age and studied with prestigious instructors in Greece. She knows her stuff. That's why, when I weekly hear pleas like, "If only you were taking these courses... you could be this and this and this," or "You are wasting your potential by pursuing this degree. Your superb talent is should be applied and shared. If only you would delve deeper into this art form..." it's hard to knock the stars out of my eyes and keep a grasp on reality.
I've been struggling with this ever since I came to college last August '08. I had no idea coming into the year that there would be a battle for my voice between the School of Music and the School of Music Education... but apparently it started before the semester did! One of my music ed professors who sat in on my college audition recently shared with me that during my song, he wrote on my critique sheet "Voice faculty will fight over her." Ha. Little did I know.
My voice teacher claims that she has come to terms with my degree choice (lies!), but has now taken a different tactic. She is pushing (no... shoving) me to get vocal coaching from a specialized voice professor who only teaches performance majors (she claims if I work hard enough and impress him he will be delighted to teach me), wants me to prepare to give two recitals (music ed majors are only required to do one), and work my tail off so that I can earn a lesson with the great Marilyn Horne- a visiting guest artist who gives master classes and lessons to the elite singers.
So, you see? It is not only hard because of her prodding and nagging, but because when I sing, I feel intense pleasure. I can feel the music flowing through my body as it takes me up and down and throughout the pages of history. Singing for me is like painting a picture, dancing a waltz, diving into clear water, drinking the perfect cup of coffee... anything and everything that is sensually rich and delightful. Hearing from a once-famous soprano that I could be great! is tempting and soothing for my ego. I know without a doubt that if I sold my soul to music and pursued a performance career with all of my energy, I could probably be pretty good.
I don't say this to strut my vanity or seem prideful. I think that God has gifted me as a talented musician. The question is, what do I do with it?
--
My mother gave me a biography on an artist named Lilias Trotter. This woman was faced an identical struggle as I. Her teacher and mentor, John Ruskin, had noticed her talent while she was in her early twenties, and immediately began pouring wisdom and skill into her drawing. Under his influence she became increasingly better at a fast rate. Ruskin cared for her deeply, and promised her a life of artistic fame if she would allow him to take her under his wing and make her dreams come true. He promised that if "she would devote her life to art she would be the greatest living painter and do things that would be immortal" (Rockness 83). Lily loved drawing and could see a very plausible, socially-acceptable life of popularity as an artist, yet something kept her from accepting his invitation. Lily had a passion for ministering to low-class women and providing a cheap, safe place for them to live, and could not see the two passions meshing together.
How hard the decision was for her! She wrote in her autobiography, Parables of the Cross
Does all this seem hard? Does any soul, young in physical or in spiritual life, shrink back and
say, "I would rather keep in the springtime. I do not want to reach unto the things that are
before if it means all this pain." To such comes the Master's vocie. "Fear none of these things
which thou shalt suffer."...It may be that no such path of loss lies before you; there are
people like the lands where spring and summer weave the year between them and
the autumn processes all, hardly noticed as they come and go.
Eventually she concluded that she must be totally abandoned to God's purposes. She writes
Are our hands off the very blossom of life? Are all things--even the treasures He has
sanctified--held loosely, ready to be parted with without a struggle when He asks for
them?
And so she did it. She gave up a lifetime of fame and renown to devote her life to ministry.
Can I abandon my all for the sake of His purposes?
