Sunday, July 14, 2019
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Wide open
A rare occurrence last evening: our neighbors, Russ and Angie, were over with their 5 year old son, Matty. It's been 25 years or so since we had that kind of spirit in our house, and it is always overwhelming: the energy, the enthusiasm, the inquisitiveness!
A person of that age is a "sponge", so they say, but the word is inadequate. The curiousity, the dynamism of wanting to try everything, touch everything, see everything. So inspiring and exhausting, for not only are you their guide and mentor in the excursion into the objects and experiences contained in your house, which are all new to them, you also need to set limits on what can be allowed in their explorations. Fortunately we lived through Hurricane Travis (our son and second-born), and have a lot of experience with enthusiastic, fearless young people.
It was a joy to show Matty the piano: how the pedals work, what the hammers do, how to play "twinkle twinkle", how to guide a pick along the strings for a special sound.
Kids that age are wide open, and what happens to them between that age and their late teens and adulthood is a sad, sad, mystery. We all know, or have heard of those who, even in their adult years, have kept this sense of wonder. I can still access it at times in a limited way, when I am able look at something with an unjaundiced eye, and taste of the wonder of it. But for most of us, the adherence to rules, and the million compromises we make in order to become "productive members of society" and "grown-ups" stop up that font of joy that we had free access to in our youth.
Herman Hesse (I think it was) proposed that we spend part of every day in quiet contemplation of a tree, or some such object in nature. Having done this a few times I can testify to its healing properties. It's a way to re-frame our experience, to step outside the adult who says: "I see a tree", barely acknowledging it as real; reducing it to a statistic, and not the wondrous miracle that is any tree, large or small.
In what other ways might we re-connect to the capacity for wonder, for joy in our adult lives?
A person of that age is a "sponge", so they say, but the word is inadequate. The curiousity, the dynamism of wanting to try everything, touch everything, see everything. So inspiring and exhausting, for not only are you their guide and mentor in the excursion into the objects and experiences contained in your house, which are all new to them, you also need to set limits on what can be allowed in their explorations. Fortunately we lived through Hurricane Travis (our son and second-born), and have a lot of experience with enthusiastic, fearless young people.
It was a joy to show Matty the piano: how the pedals work, what the hammers do, how to play "twinkle twinkle", how to guide a pick along the strings for a special sound.
Kids that age are wide open, and what happens to them between that age and their late teens and adulthood is a sad, sad, mystery. We all know, or have heard of those who, even in their adult years, have kept this sense of wonder. I can still access it at times in a limited way, when I am able look at something with an unjaundiced eye, and taste of the wonder of it. But for most of us, the adherence to rules, and the million compromises we make in order to become "productive members of society" and "grown-ups" stop up that font of joy that we had free access to in our youth.
Herman Hesse (I think it was) proposed that we spend part of every day in quiet contemplation of a tree, or some such object in nature. Having done this a few times I can testify to its healing properties. It's a way to re-frame our experience, to step outside the adult who says: "I see a tree", barely acknowledging it as real; reducing it to a statistic, and not the wondrous miracle that is any tree, large or small.
In what other ways might we re-connect to the capacity for wonder, for joy in our adult lives?
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Fallow time
Many years have passed since my last post, and so much life lived. Since then, I became a full-time professor at Université de Montréal, then a tenured one, and now am in my first ever Sabbatical year. That I ever would find myself part of the academic bourgeoisie was, at the start of my career, inconceivable, since even back in the 80s, "common knowledge" was that they were no longer giving out these posts.
But here we are, and I am enjoying the "fat of the land", as it were, and will continue to do so for another year or two at least. This year of research and relaxation has already brought much time for reflection on where I am headed in my few remaining years.
The "year off" began with a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, from Porto, by the interior route. I love the time on the trail, where the activities are listening, observing, using all the senses really, and thinking your own thoughts. I get a lot out of solitary reflection while walking. I read somewhere that your thinking is of a higher quality when you are walking, and I think this must be true. In a age of distraction, we need time to reflect and just "think our own thoughts"
This week is a week off after a busy four days of concerts and rehearsals. I continue to play, conduct, arrange and sing etc. during my sabbatical, which is a joy; I may retire from teaching at a school, but I doubt I will voluntarily retire from making music in some form. I count myself lucky to be able to do a job I love.
But here we are, and I am enjoying the "fat of the land", as it were, and will continue to do so for another year or two at least. This year of research and relaxation has already brought much time for reflection on where I am headed in my few remaining years.
The "year off" began with a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, from Porto, by the interior route. I love the time on the trail, where the activities are listening, observing, using all the senses really, and thinking your own thoughts. I get a lot out of solitary reflection while walking. I read somewhere that your thinking is of a higher quality when you are walking, and I think this must be true. In a age of distraction, we need time to reflect and just "think our own thoughts"
This week is a week off after a busy four days of concerts and rehearsals. I continue to play, conduct, arrange and sing etc. during my sabbatical, which is a joy; I may retire from teaching at a school, but I doubt I will voluntarily retire from making music in some form. I count myself lucky to be able to do a job I love.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuba stress
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Well it's been a while. You may wonder why?
The answer is, a professional gig has intruded on the peace of Tuba playing, and as usual has brought mixed blessings... Tons of cash and lots of stress!
If anyone has ever played the Bass trombone/Tuba book for the Lion King they know what I am talking about. The show itself I have not seen, having been deep in the pit, but the music, especially the choral music was heavenly. It was just a few things: the many sforzandi, and the one important pedal C on tuba at the close of act one which cause one's brow to become furrowed...
That wonderful experience is over, and now I am free to enjoy my hobby, away from the constraints of performance pressure. The PT-3 is more fun than ever!
posted by Party Bear @ 8:06 PM 
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Bohemian beauty
Just got back from our tour of Prague. With my son Travis as my travelling companion, I spent a week in the land that brought us Plzensky Prazdroj (you might know it better as Pilsener Urquell), and the rotary valve tuba in it's present form!
On the beer side, all went swimmingly (you know what I mean), but the tuba side was a disappointment. Even though one of the purposes of this blog is to be positive, Prague in late July falls short of the mark if you are looking to try tubas, or maybe get a foot in the factory door to look at the beauties...
I did get to visit the kind folks at Kliment musical instruments, who were sweet and let me try the one tuba in the whole town that was available to try! It was a monster- a Kaiser Tuba (verry large) BBb rotary valve instrument. What a gorgeous sound this horn makes! (see above for a picture of the machine in question).
Prague itself is a heavenly city, heartily recommended it to those to appreciate culture, cuisine, beer, fantastic architecture, and friendly people.
On the beer side, all went swimmingly (you know what I mean), but the tuba side was a disappointment. Even though one of the purposes of this blog is to be positive, Prague in late July falls short of the mark if you are looking to try tubas, or maybe get a foot in the factory door to look at the beauties...
I did get to visit the kind folks at Kliment musical instruments, who were sweet and let me try the one tuba in the whole town that was available to try! It was a monster- a Kaiser Tuba (verry large) BBb rotary valve instrument. What a gorgeous sound this horn makes! (see above for a picture of the machine in question).
Prague itself is a heavenly city, heartily recommended it to those to appreciate culture, cuisine, beer, fantastic architecture, and friendly people.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Peace Through Tubaism
Hello friends (and enemies)!
This blog will be about the peace you can achieve (inner and outer) through the playing that most wonderful musical instrument, the Tuba. Playing tuba makes you feel good.
The above instrument is the handmade Yamaha CC orchestral tuba, going for about $45,000. You don't need a tuba this expensive to enjoy yourself though. A simple three valve BBb tuba will make anyone happy!
I am off to play my B&S PT-3 tuba!
Peace and Love,
Party Bear
The above instrument is the handmade Yamaha CC orchestral tuba, going for about $45,000. You don't need a tuba this expensive to enjoy yourself though. A simple three valve BBb tuba will make anyone happy!
I am off to play my B&S PT-3 tuba!
Peace and Love,
Party Bear
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