Winter Deep

When you’re young, you feel invisible.


I wonder how many people have written or said that same sentence - word for word.


How do we function as adults when we know we’ve felt happier and purer, kinder and bolder when we were new to the world?


And when winter comes, the cold brings in the sharp thoughts that tear us apart,

So we sleep when we can, but no one can rest for too long,


And people are always knocking.

The Brook

there used to be so much vibrancy - vibrance in the colors that surrounded my every being

The glass glistened for me: my hope, my bright joy. 

There was warmth and youth. 

Then I was crouched in the middle of a darkened room. Kneeling before a glimmering pile. 

Alone

Someone had shattered my glass, and the colors all of a sudden, vanished. 

Alone. 

Crouched in this darkened room and shivering. 

And the broken glass?

The jagged edges could only cut my hands over and over again as I tried to glue the pieces together

But to no avail!!

They crumbled endlessly at my attempts. 

And then, a voice and a presence of one -Someone who loved me endlessly,

Come, let us stand together. Let me help you stand

And we slowly stand, hand in hand

Fumbling to find a light switch in the dark, not frantically, just hopefully

Light fills the room - The WHITE room with no furniture, no tables, just a plain white room with shattered glass

Then, a broom. 

To sweep up the broken glass, and the one holds the dustpan while I sweep. 

What else do you see? He asks

I see a door. 

What’s behind the door? He asks. 

I don’t know. I’m scared. 

Why are you scared?

Because every door that’s opened in my life just slams right in front of me. 

How do you know it’s not something good?

Ok. I’ll open the door. 

But it’s not just any door. Not with a knob. 

It’s just a plain old white door, and it’s one you push. 

The kind you gently push and it swings right open. 

What do you See? 

I hear birds. They’re chirping. 

So you’re outside?

Yes.  And there are blossoming trees and a brook. 

A brook?

Yes. A brook. 

What should we do with the glass?

I hate the glass. 

I don’t think you hate the glass. 

You’re right. I love the glass. 

Ok. So there must be a place to put it. What do you see?

I see a woman. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen sitting near the brook. And she beckons me to come to her. 

She takes the broken glass, pours it in a little pouch, and hangs it on her robes. 

Then the wArmest embrace as she calms my inner storm, and I freely cry and weep and wail. 

And she sheds just a tear, but a happy knowing tear and tells me to rest for a while. 

She loves me. 

She loves me. 

And so I sleep in the long grass with the most heavenly scent and peace

And before I go, she gives me the glass, now mended by her hands and says, “this glass is not for you to bear. I will keep it til I find someone who is worthy.”

So I sleep, and when I wake, I’m back. 

I’m back here. 

Beethoven Sonatas

As many of you know, I am preparing to take my oral exams on May 31st this month.

Part of the process includes memorizing themes and knowing works of all major composers throughout piano literature.

Today, I will be outlining Ludwig Van Beethoven's piano sonatas written in three main periods:

Period I
Op. 2
- No. 1, f minor
- No. 2, A Major
- No. 3, C MAjor

Op. 7 in Eb Major

Op. 10
- No. 1, c minor "Little Pathetique"
- No. 2, D Major
- No. 3, F Major

Op. 13 in c minor "Pathetique"

Op. 14
- No. 1, E Major
- No. 2, G Major

Op. 22 in Bb Major

Op. 26, Ab Major Variations

Op. 27
- No. 1, Eb Major
- No. 2, c# minor "Moonlight Sonata"

Op. 28 D Major Pastorale

Period II
Op. 31
- No. 1, G Major
- No. 2, d minor "Tempest
- No. 3, Ab Major

Op. 53, C Major "Waldstein"

Op. 54, F Major

Op. 57, f minor "Appassionata"

Op. 78

Op. 79

Op. 80a, Eb Major "Les Adieux"

Op. 90

Period III
Op. 101, A Major
Op. 106, Bb Major"Hammerklavier"
Op. 109, E Major - Theme and Variations
Op. 110, Ab Major
Op. 111, c minor

Process

I read an article the other day.

It talked about how people who are tardy are more innovative and optimistic about life.


I thought:

I'm tardy.

I'm always tardy.

         Even as a teacher I'm tardy.

                                                        Does that mean I'm brilliant? Or somehow smarter than others?

Probably.  Yeah.  That's probably what it means.

Then, I think:

Wow.   I'm conceited.

I know I'm conceited.

Should I do something about it?!

Probably.  Yeah.  I probably should do something about it.

I can't write with you looking over my shoulder.  

But here's the thing:

I do want to write with you looking over my shoulder.  

I wish I wasn't so shy about it.