Requiem For A Wandering Soul

I have been writing in journals for as long as I have been listening to classical music.  I blogged last May about my first discoveries in classical music, a discovery that would change the course of my life.  What I didn’t discuss was the driving force that made me begin the quest in the first place, the events that drove me towards my inward journey to eventually make me who I am today. 

When I was in the 8^th grade, my parents decided to end their near 30 year marriage and it seemed as if my world fell apart.  There was talk of us moving to Fargo and I remembered being afraid to lose (what I thought was a lot) everything I had in Williston.  The following summer, I began to journal and listen to Mozart Symphony 40 (story about has long since been told so if you’re curious and not familiar with it, read back to some of my May or June 2007 blogs)

That year marked the end of the dreamer in me and ushered in a new era of optimism.  You see, I look back and when I was a little kid, I used to take a pencil or chopstick and stand in front of the TV and conduct along with Leonard Bernstein or Aaron Copland on PBS while I watched their concerts from Lincoln Center.  I was a dreamer.  I had goals and dreams without a single thought as to how I’d accomplish them.  To me, everything was possible.  When my parents divorced, there was a sudden realization that everything bad is possible, too, and it swept my consciousness.  It didn’t destroy my spirit, though.  I just began being hopeful for everything.

Even when my mother died when I was 19, I didn’t lose hope.  Perhaps it was because I was experiencing a life where all kinds of possibilities were still available to me.  I was still discovering new music and never grew tired of the hours I’d spend listening to the far horizon.  In the five or so years since I had discovered classical music, I had amassed some 100+ CD’s.    My collection is a reflection of music history as I was discovering it; not just a collection of a bunch of one or two composers supplemented with an eclectic mix of pop music. That said, I wonder if it wasn’t always the want, some day, to perform these pieces that fed my optimism.  I found new music all the time that I wanted to listen to and put into my collection as a reference for my endeavors.

What I (at the time) believed to be a failure at teaching truly broke my spirit.  I had worked so hard in college to find myself, two years later, back in Minot defeated and unsure if I had made the right choice in the first place.  My life was racing at the speed of a train and it crashed to a sudden halt.  As by suspended animation, my dreams and hopes gave way to complacency.  There were, decidedly, reasons I stayed in Minot.  I thought I was happy, and I was accomplishing things.  I was still growing as a musician while I was in the college choir, though the lessons were not from the musician’s side, but from how to conduct.  I found myself after rehearsals asking Dr. Bowles why he chose to do certain things, why he chose the pieces he did, and how to solve certain vocal difficulties I had.  They were the kinds of questions that college students don’t think to ask.  In 2003, I took the director’s position at a very musically inclined church and fumbled through my first year but truly found my stride within the last 3 or so years.

I began, in Minot, what I would consider my “realist” phase.  I was no longer the eternal optimist, and was far removed from the dreamer that I was when I was so young.  I stopped going out with friends, partly because all of my friends had moved by then, but I didn’t accept new ones into my life either. I accepted that what I had might be all I could get.  I lost myself, I freely admit, for at least 7 years.

I blogged once about the impending Metamorphosis that I was about to encounter and how ugly it was going to be.  It was only ugly to me….not to anyone else.  I’ve struggled this last year.  I was unemployed and I don’t even want to think about my credit rating.I was alone, away from those I care about, and a virtual island to myself.  I honestly thought I was going to be kicked out of Chorus Austin in December when I missed the first orchestral rehearsal for Messiah.  I received a pleading email from the conductor asking if I was still a part of the choir.   I thought about that incident and realized how much I contribute to my section.  Apparently, the section was lost on a couple of occasions and the rehearsal actually had to stop to fix some tenor entrances.  I’ve always been the “steady” guy.  When something goes wrong in the section, I focus in and bring everyone else around me to rally to success.  When I wasn’t there that night, those that stood around me had nobody to rely on and they became unsure of themselves and fell apart.  Choristers know this feeling…suddenly our crutch is gone even though we can figure it out ourselves, we’re so unsure and feel so exposed that we’d rather stop singing than make a mistake.   This is the first I’ve even acknowledged the incident.  I’ve since redeemed myself with my work on St. Paul.  I was a very unknown entity when they made me their section leader, and now, nobody questions whether or not I should.

 

My friend Sara and I had a conversation maybe a week or two ago.  Sara was my best friend for a number of years (though the last 7 years I have had sparse contact with her).  She commented that I sounded like the Joe she used to know…the one from High School and College.  She told me that I sounded excited and happy and I was funny again.  I didn’t think I wasn’t when I was in Minot, but now that I look back, she’s right.  I remember sending an email out (when the internet was NEW) to all my friends entitled Margarrrrrrita magic.  I sent it out under a series of emails entitled “A Chat with Joe…reporting live from New York CITy” based on a character we created in High School (when I was known as Jeaux)  Margarrrrrrita magic was funny and I wish I had that email so that I could share it, but there was a part in which I explained how to pronounce Margarrrita….you say Margarrrrrr (quadruple at least roll on the ‘r’) and when you get to the ‘I’ jump at least an octave and a half and back to ‘ta’ in your normal voice.  I heard back from at least 10 of my friends saying they tried it and everyone thought they were stupid because they were in a computer lab when they did it. (nobody owned computers back then) And I can’t forget the “yarrow bidarrow and the search for tomorrow” bit which I may or may not share…it depends on whether or not I can work it into a blog.

For a long time, I’ve believed that I didn’t have it in me to be the kind of conductor that I thought I needed to be to be effective.  All of my conductors have been so very inspirational.  It’s as if they never left the dreamer stage in life.

I’m writing this on Saturday but know I won’t post it until at least Monday.  I’m marking the 13^th year since my mother died.  (June 6^th 1995) To my mom:  I love you.  I miss you terribly, but I think I’m Okay, now.  I didn’t get depressed this year because I’m so very happy.  I’m me again.

I was inspired to write this blog by two songs, both written by American modern composer Eric Whitacre.  The first is entitled “Cloudburst” originally written in Spanish by Mexican poet Octavio Paz.

“We must sleep with open eyes,

We must dream with our hands,

We must dream the dream of a river seeking its course,

Of the sun dreaming its worlds,

We must dream aloud,

We must sing till the song puts forth roots,

Trunk, branches, birds, stars,

We must find the lost word,

And remember what the blood,

The tides, the earth, and the body say,

And return to the point of departure.”

Sara’s right.  I am the person I used to be. I’m excited about life, I have plans and goals that I can’t wait to achieve.  I’ve even made some real connections with friends from the past and am making new lifelong friends.  But she’s wrong about one thing.  I’m not the optimist she got to know and care about.  I’ve come full circle.   I’m the dreamer behind the optimist.  My train is speeding at the rate of color and God help it if light can catch up.

The other is merely symbolic of the life I came to know in the last 7 years which has come to an end.  I’m rounding out my first season with Chorus Austin with two appearances with the Austin Symphony, two on TV, one radio performance and a total of 13 concerts.  I’ve metamorphosed and am rarin to try out the new(old) me who is wiser, more experienced, and better than ever.  The title of the blog is to say goodbye to “Minot Joe” and say Welcome back to “Jeaux”

I’d like to dedicate your reading of this poem  (because it is really a serious poem) to the late Patrick Cybulski, who stood next to me in the MSU choir for at least a year maybe two.  I don’t remember.  He was a talented singer who was very much a wandering soul.  I could be wrong but I believe he was 24.  I’d also like to dedicate it to my mother and any of your family members who have passed.  They’ll always be remembered.

 

“I thank You God for most this amazing

Day:  for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

And a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(I who have died am alive again today,

And this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth

Day of life and of love and wings:  and of the gay

Great happening illimitably earth)

How should tasting touching hearing seeing

Breathing any-lifted from the no

Of all nothing- human merely being

Doubt unimaginable  You?

(now the ears of my ears awake [and]

Now the eyes of my eyes are opened)~  e.e. cummings

 

 

both poems  are  set to music by Eric Whitacre and both can be found on the album “Cloudburst  and other choral works” performed by Polyphony and conducted by Stephen Layton on the Hyperion label.

JEAUX

Watch the Iowa All State Choir perform it here: