When Macy Robison and I walked on stage in Long Beach last month, I didn't want to admit that this was probably the last time we would be performing together at
On a sunny and warm September morning, I walked into a recording studio for the first time. The building exterior was non-descript, but inside there was shelf upon shelf of
I've practiced the piano about 30 hours over the past three months. Doesn't sound like much, except that over the past two decades, I've practiced a total of 100 hours, if I'm being generous, compared with the 5,000+ hours I'd logged by my mid-20s. When I was 8 years-old I practiced an hour a day; I even got up at 6am to do it. I was going to be a concert pianist when I grew up.
Macy Robison is a teacher, performer, and photographer from Shrewsbury, MA. She was in the Music Dance Theater program at Brigham Young University and performed with the Young Ambassadors. She also holds a masters degree in music education from The Ohio State University. She writes: Sometimes I feel like a priest. I'm actually a music teacher. For the past ten years, I have taught general music, been a choir director and taught private voice lessons. When people discover this, they immediately start confessing their musical sins.
It is sounds so easy. When we suffer loss, if we'll talk of our loss with others, we'll more quickly work through, and learn lessons, from the loss. That's what psychologists who study trauma say. A different set of psychologists -- those who study women in our society -- say that talking of our sadness, mourning out loud, if you will, requires us to appear vulnerable, needy even. Which we are loathe to do. So, we need to talk, but we don't. Which is why two blogs I read this week were so moving.