Tuesday Tuneup 40

Q. Where would you like to be?

A. In a place that’s not so foggy.

Q. But isn’t the sun shining brightly outside?

A. That’s outside.  I’m foggy on the inside.

Q. What can you do to lift the fog?

A. Probably focus on first things first.

Q. And what comes first?

A. Coffee.   Slurping up the third cup, as we speak.

Q.Image result for foggy clipart Three cups?  And still in a fog?

A. Yes.

Q. Then if coffee is of no avail, what comes next?

A. Exercise.  Brisk walking, or jogging, through the brisk, bright morning.

Q. Will exercise lift the fog?

A. Probably not.  It’ll probably just put me back to sleep.

Q. Then what else can you do?

A. I don’t know.  I thought playing the piano would work.  But I just played for a half an hour, and the whole time, I was in a fog.  

Q. Why is everything leaving you in a fog?

A. Because none of these things are progressive.  They’re all stagnant.  They’re all things that I can do every day if I want to.  They never lead anywhere.  

Q. So they never lead you out of the morning fog?

A. No, they don’t.

Q. Then whatever does?  Or can?

Related imageA. Well, recently, it was the Vocal Score that I just completed — the vocal score to Act One of Eden in Babylon, my new musical about homelessness.   Whenever I was working on it, I felt I was progressing.  I felt the fog lifting.  It even seemed to lift for some of the people around me.  Everybody perked up.  There were smiles of approval everywhere I went, mirroring my own smile of self-satisfaction.  Towards the end, I was anything but foggy.  In fact, I was jazzed — filled to the brim with sunshine.   People were astonished at the rate at which I was proceeding, and yet, to me, it seemed nothing at all.

Q. So the completion of the score left you in a fog?

A. Exactly.  Today is the fourth day since its completion.  And all of life has been a blur.

Q. Don’t you still have Act Two to score?

A. I do.

Q. And won’t that lift the fog?

A. Eventually.

Q. Then what’s keeping you?

A. That’s a good question.  

The Questioner is silent.  

Please donate to Eden in Babylon.
A little bit goes a long, long way.

 

Tuesday Tuneup 39

Q. Where would you like to be?

A. In a place that’s slightly better than where I am now.

Q. Only slightly better?  Why not hugely better?  

A. Because I’m basically very happy where I am already.

Q. But if you got to a place that was hugely better, would you object?

A. Not at all.

Q. Then why not just shoot for the huge?   Why settle for the slight?

A. Because if I said I wanted to be in a place that was hugely better, it would sound as though I were dissatisfied with the place where I am right now.  And that’s not true.  I’m actually very grateful for where I am right now.

Q. But if you’re satisfied with where you are right now, then why do you need for it to even be slightly better?   

A. Hm . . . that’s a good question.   

Q. Come on — out with it!   Are you satisfied, or are you not??

A. Well . . . maybe it’s a matter of degrees.  I’m grateful that things aren’t nearly as bad as they used to be.  But I can’t pretend that they couldn’t still be better.

Q. So you’re saying you could be more grateful than you are right now?

A. Yes.  I would like to be slightly more grateful than I am now.

Q. In what way could this come about?

A. If my place were not so — stagnant.  If there were more of a sense of — forward motion.

Q. What do you mean?

A. Everything seems to be the same — day after day, month after month.

Q. But how can you say that?  Isn’t this one of the most productive periods of your life?

A. Productive, yes.  But there’s about the same level of productivity day after day, month after month.  And the stuff I produce — it all seems the same.  Nothing ever changes.  I only produce more of the same.

Q. So you need a shake-up?

A. Hopefully not.   A shake-up would probably do the trick, but it’s never very pretty in the process.

Q. What about a wake-up?

A. That would go easier on me.

Image: Come to our Bible Study Image | Bible Clip Art | Christart.comQ. Do you want me to wake you up?

A. No.

Q. Why not?

A. Because it’s not your job.

Q. Whose job is it, then?

A. I would say, it’s God’s job.

Q. Are you praying for a wake-up?

A. Every morning I pray for a wake-up.  It doesn’t have to be a huge one.  It just has to make me slightly more awake than I’ve been.

Q. What happens when you’re slightly more awake?

A. I’m slightly more effective.

Q. And what happens then?

A. I’m slightly more grateful.  I have slightly more faith.  I’m more in touch with hope, and a sense of purpose.   And I begin to believe again.  I begin to believe in God, and in myself.  I believe that there’s a direction.  I may not see it, but I still believe.  And then my gratitude has meaning.  It has basis, purpose, and form.

Q. And then you are satisfied?

A. I am.  Any further questions?  

The Questioner is silent.  

Forward Motion

Things have actually progressed remarkably smoothly since my last update.  There has not been a moment throughout the past week when I have felt that “life” was getting in the way of my artistic progress.   To the contrary, I finished scoring all the parts for the other players tonight, and we’ve arranged a time and place to practice this Sunday for the upcoming show the following Saturday.   One more practice after that, and I think we’ll be in pretty good shape.

As I might have mentioned, I agreed to continue to accompany the Wednesday evening Taize services on a volunteer basis, while no longer being on salary at my church.  I understand that the woman who is replacing me for the next two months is very capable, and I’m looking forward to sitting in the pews on Sunday, soaking in the sermon and all aspects of the service, and no longer having to concern myself with the strange conflicts that would rear their heads whenever I tried to play piano or organ properly for the occasion.

It would seem that my background in Musical Theatre somehow interfered with my ability to grasp the worshipful context.  Although I identify as a Christian, it was unusually difficult for me to shake the idea that my playing was a “performance” rather than an “offering” or a “presentation” before God.  I would constantly refer to the chancel as the “stage,” to the prelude as an “overture,” and to the postlude as “exit music.”  I am certain that a period of observation, without mandatory participation, will help me to shed these conflicts.   It’s entirely possible that when the four months are over, and both of my replacements have served their terms, I might regain some kind of paid position with the music ministry.  But I’m neither banking on it, nor shunning the prospect.   To paraphrase John the Baptist: “God must increase, and I must decrease.”

Along with this transformation, my zeal for the production possibilities of my own musical has skyrocketed.  Of the five originals that we will be performing on Saturday the 6th, three of them will be from Eden in Babylon.   If you want to look at the lyrics I will be singing, here are the links thereof:

Heart Song

Ode to the Universe

The Very Same World

I’ve decided on four theatre companies where I have worked in the past, or where I know people with whom I’ve worked, where I will submit the musical immediately upon completing my demo.  Then I think I’ll relax and see what we can do about producing the show on a regional level here in the Palouse Empire, where I have chanced upon a community of like-minded Artists who believe in me.   I’ve been here only nine months as of yesterday, and I never cease to marvel at the miracle of it all.

I didn’t have to let an entire lifetime go by without seeing the city where I was born — where I had only lived for the first year of my life.   When I first saw this city, I saw that it seemed custom-designed for me — right to the point of their being a running shoe store conveniently placed on the lower floor of the very apartment building in which I live:

friendship square

There also turned out to be a Conservatory of Music that I didn’t even know about in this town, sponsoring an annual jazz festival.  Moreover, Idaho Repertory Theatre was founded in this city in the year I was born.  And when I went to see the house where I was born, the cross street as I approached said: “Home Street.”

Sure beats being hit on the head with guns by gangbangers and having four laptops full of costly music production software stolen in a three-year period of time! I still have the same laptop I had when I moved here — in fact, I even have a back-up, in case this one should fail me.  Once again — there is a God.