Since I last wrote and edited my site, I moved four times and got married. A lot has happened in the past two years, so much so that I wondered if I had outgrown my site and the need to put myself out there this way. I decided to keep it as a way to advertise concerts, for me to catalog my concerts, and to share useful and/or entertaining tidbits of my life.
I wish I knew what was of general interest to you all, so feel free to comment and let me know. Some topics I’d like to share about include: taking auditions, being married, my mini-soap-opera-drama of the last two years, gardening, etc.
For now, I’ll write about what is going on now. After what I can only describe as an apocalyptic turn of events in my life, I felt the need to retreat from the world. Brent and I ended up in Franklin, MA in a quiet neighborhood with many gardens, lots of retired people, very few people my age, and even fewer musicians. It is a huge change from what has almost been a decade living mostly in cities: I can see the stars clearly at night but can’t see my feet, the birds wake me up in the morning, and I mostly feel invisible. There is a Roman Catholic Jesus shrine in our yard covered with shrubbery, Guru Ram Das Ashram a short drive away, and so many Roman Catholic churches nearby that I am slowly learning the names of the saints. Considering how many Italians live in this area, I’d expect better pizza, but I’ll settle for the local winery a minute walk away.
While I was at Kripalu doing yoga teacher training, I learned that I had a need to be in nature, and made a mental note of it since I knew I’d be moving to New York City right after the program. When we decided to move last summer, it was time to find a place to live that would allow me to be closer to the woods, lakes, and enough land to garden. Now that we are somewhat settled in and I have established a little backyard garden plot, I feel a sense of accomplishment because something other than music managed to make itself a priority and come to fruition.
My little garden is my hobby, my therapy, my meditation, my inspiration, and a microcosm of life. I knew I had to have one before we moved here, but I didn’t know then how much it would enrich my life. At that time, my sciatica wasn’t so bad, or so I thought, and I didn’t yet know what to expect from this neighborhood. As the year went on, my sciatic “episodes” that left me on my back for weeks at a time gradually forced me to cut out aerial silks, running, then teaching my regular yoga classes, and then, finally, and most sadly, dancing in ballet classes. For those of you who don’t know me, I love to bop around and need to move as much as possible because I have a lot of energy! It has been difficult to allow my body’s limitations to decide what is acceptable and what is not these days. I have never had a chronic injury before, and while it is teaching me how to be in the here and now in a way I never would have learned otherwise, sometimes I feel completely trapped and suffocated.
Sometimes it feels like life takes more than it gives, but that is all an illusion. I was sad when I realized I was finally close to nature but in no position to go outside and enjoy it, but I feel at peace now because perhaps if I was completely healthy I’d be so busy running to ballet and being active that I’d not have the patience, time, and energy to have started my garden. I grew seedlings for a month and a half inside, watered them every day, and rotated them so that they would grow straight. Brent and I dug out the plot in what took four days, planting took a week, and fertilizing and weeding the garden is now my part-time job.
There was a period of time when I had just planted my garden and I went out every day and noticed only very small changes- maybe a new leaf here and there, or that plant had just turned a different shade of green. This was a long period of time, so long, that I thought nothing was going to do well. And then suddenly, it is as if everything exploded overnight. When I walk in my garden, I always notice some plant I hadn’t noticed before, some new bloom, some new little fruit, and am amazed how quickly the seedlings turned into real, living plant-beings. I have a pumpkin plant, Mr. Pumpkin, who has invaded the corn beings and sneakily coiled up around the tomatoes and the zinnias when I wasn’t looking. When I am spying on Mr. Pumpkin, I am equal parts annoyed and admiring of him. Annoyed because there is a real possibility he will take over my garden when I am not looking and admiring because the vines are so sturdy and prickly and the leaves so big and so green and so alive. I am also jealous of how healthy and overconfident he is; when I look at the vines, I think of my not so vital and inflamed nerves that remind me each day to take it easy.
Anyways, the quiet period of time when the plants were small and not growing quickly, Brent says, is when the roots are growing in the soil. This is why it is so important to water every day during this time- it helps keep the soil soft so that the roots can more easily burrow into the deeper and more dense soil. I was lucky because I started my garden in the exact spot a previous gardener had worked and amended the soil. It is a sunny spot, flat, and ideal for plants to grow. When I think back to that period of time when it seemed like nothing was happening, I realize that it is a lot like when I feel like I am not doing much in my life. Those quiet days when I am writing emails, day dreaming, staring at my fingernails- those are actually the most important and the most vital days. What I do on my quiet days determines the outcome of my not so quiet days. I then think about sciatica and where the heck did it come from I realize that I probably didn’t give my nerves the space they have needed over too long a period of time. Humans and gardens both need regular tending.
I chose to put a fence up to protect the vulnerable seedlings from bunnies, little humans, and pets. I look at my garden now and see the vines climbing up and over to freedom and see clearly that the plants don’t see a fence; the plants are focused on survival, soaking up water, soaking in nutrients, and seeking sunlight. They didn’t get to choose where they were planted, they are just living and adjusting to each little moment. I then ask myself to try to be like my brave, adventurous plants- adjust to my new circumstances, find my light, be around those who nourish me, and soak up the sorrows of those around me.
Did you know that when people learn to play instruments, they create new neural pathways? Because playing an instrument is a complex task that requires a great deal of coordination and use of the senses, musician brains try to configure new routes to expedite communication from musician brains to musician body parts. When at Kripalu, I got to see a model of the human head only showing the nervous system. It looked a lot like what I imagine what the roots of my garden looks like at this point. While I know that my nervous system isn’t so happy with me right now, I get a little excited to think that maybe I was creating new pathways and after I take care of myself better that I will feel different and better.
Someone on my facebook feed posted this quotation: “When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.” (This might not be the exact quotation.) I think most other women I know would agree that we feel a lot of societal pressures to be, look, and act a certain way, so this quotation made me see myself in a whole new light. I have been a potted plant moving from one place to the next, and I feel a little less crazy acknowledging that I was just having a hard time finding the right soil. It is no wonder that my roots, my nerves, are inflamed; they need some time to rest. I am not trapped and I am not suffocating; I am finally putting roots down and settling in the soil. It took gardening for me to feel and see the light.
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