opera camp

Last night I was driving back from Sharon's when I remembered the second night we both knew for sure that Pip was with us (the evening of the day we picked the nickname "Pip" in fact). We walked out into the cold Scottish night on Iona. The bell was tolling at the abbey, and we were heading for evensong. Miraculously the sky was clear. We picked our way across the dark island road by starlight.

That was All Souls' Day in 2007. Pip is almost a year old now, and all these little moments of his life with us keep popping up. I think my living soul is trying to convince the old cynical part of mind that all this joy is real.

These memories and a childhood spent partly in the dense countryside are part of the reason I've fallen in love with this song:



Opera camp was awesome, but now I have loads of work to do to prepare for the autumn/winter round of auditions. I'm going to learn "Ain't it a Pretty Night" for my American song. I'm really looking forward to getting my DVD in the mail sometime in the next couple of weeks so I can steal part of it to show you guys a bit of the performance. I don't know if my perceptions of what I was communicating match what I conveyed to the audience. It will be good to know.

I went to the Johanna Meier Opera Theatre Institute for the last half of June. Pip stayed home with Andrew, who took off work those weeks. Our friends helped loads (THANK YOU!!!!). I'm going to post a museum post soon, hopefully later tonight, which includes several of the people who helped. While I was there, I really connected with the fun kid part of me. We had movement classes twice a week wherein I felt really grounded for the first time since I don't know when. During one of the early classes, I was able to connect with the feeling of strength and centeredness that I experienced in child birth. Then, in the last class, we did this relaxation meditation, and I felt really free. The feeling stayed with me and grew, so that by the last night (when we performed), I found myself repeating, "Fully present, fully alive." You've heard me say before that one of my favorite sayings from church history is "The glory of God is man fully alive." Well, I felt fully alive those days. I know I still have loads of work to do to increase my skills in the field, but I really think performing is a sacred calling for me. Too bad stages are so few and far between. Hopefully it will not always be so for me.

[Aside -One other cool thing I learned in movement class, about how your weight is centered on your feet: if you are putting more weight on your heels, it indicates a sense of reluctance (due to thinking of the past), whereas weight forward toward your toes indicates anxiety about the future. So your sense of really being in the present time and your connection with the ground through your feet is highly integrated. I found this tidbit helpful in checking in with myself.]

While I was away, I found that I flirted a lot, in a lighthearted way. At home I only flirt with a few friends or back with my aunts and old friends in Texas. I think I feel a lot of pressure to behave myself around here, in this world so saturated with academics and people who take everything seriously. I got to be my real self more while among artists. Even writing the word "flirt" feels a little dangerous to me, owing to the judgmental attitudes I know lots of my acquaintance harbor. I think, wow, now someone is going to read my blog and think I am sex-crazed or disloyal. But that's not at all what flirting is about. It's an overall attitude of playfulness, that, yes, may involve a slightly naughty comment if it makes the baritone blush. Some fellow nuns who shall not be named and I silently laughed ourselves silly during the dress rehearsal and performance at opera camp, owing to some of the habits didn't close well. And maybe some sisters showed some legs or bras or grabbed other's bums to demonstrate the point. See? It's commaraderie, not perverseness, flirting.

I'm sure I learned a lot about singing and stage presence and acting, too, but I most value the sense of freedom to be myself and be present.

***Jr. High-ish Section:There was only one incident where I didn't know one of my colleagues well, and she didn't know my dry sense of humor yet, and we had a miscommunication, but everything sorted out in the end. It wasn't anything catty, though, but an affair of the heart that I didn't know was afoot when I made a flippant comment. I learned a big lesson then about how vulnerable young artists are. In future I will make sure to listen closer to my colleagues' stories before I venture to jest. I didn't hurt her feelings, but she took a joke to heart and because of her personality and feelings, did something embarrassing that I would never have encouraged had I known. I think that back home, I'm always feeling too responsible for everything. For a good reason, to an extent, because people tend to trust what I say. Well, the one mistake I think I made at opera camp was forgetting that the sense of authority that I convey when I'm serious can also carry over when I'm joking, which can confuse people who aren't used to my way of joking. So, freedom to be myself, but also to check my sense of humor a bit around the vulnerable. End of Jr. High***

I had culture shock when I got home. Suddenly I have this set of experiences that noone around me understands. I talked way too much at my voice lesson on Saturday just because I knew that my teacher got it. It's also been really hard because the baby's heart was a little bit broken by me being gone, and he needs me to be with him almost around the clock. Of course I love being with him! The lack of breaks has been wearying. I look forward to him sleeping for at least a few hours without being held, just so I can have some personal time like to take a bath or just hang out with Andrew or whatever. Andrew and I seem to understand one another better after the experience of being apart (for the longest time ever for us) and him being the sole caregiver for Pip. I totally understand his need to talk shop with his programming-literate friends, and he understands my need to have a few minutes to string a few thoughts together and complete a task.

The baby is healing from the trauma of me being away. It's hard for him especially at sleep times. If Andrew and I are both in the room and I turn away for some reason, the baby will cling to me in a panic. I want him to feel safe again and know that I'm not trying to leave him. It's kind of hard. I super-duper love our little son, and I don't like to see him scared. Also, I know that even though it was very good and important that I went to opera camp, he does not understand, and I have to love him in a very humble way while he heals. Like a penitent, going through all the motions with quiet humility even though my heart never left and I am already restored. Penitents wait to be restored to someone's heart or other. The religious are restored to their own hearts until they find their own selves a safe place to be. Parents are restored to their children's hearts until once again the child feels secure. Or maybe I am off on this a little. At any rate, I am humbled by this dear little boy's need for reassurance. Loving him right now means being with him.

Speaking of whom, I need to wrap this up so that I can go up and let him sleep next to me tonight. Andrew is holding him right now so I can type. Not blogging for a month has made me cranky, and it was best for us all that I clear my head a bit by means of the keyboard.


I'll talk more about opera camp from time to time. I keep dreaming about it. Once my recordings come in, I'll post again with opera-y stuff.