I first heard this quotation last summer during my first exposure to the Shinnyo-en Foundation as a Shinnyo-en Summer Fellow at SU. I think it’s only fitting that this quote has become even more apparent this summer as thoughts of vocation and future are even more glaring. I am constantly thinking about what makes me deeply happy and how these happy things and talents can be used so serve in my post-graduate years. It doesn’t help that I am constantly surrounded by competent and amazing people at SEF who seem to embody understanding of Frederick Beuchner’s words and are putting their talents into action. Thoughts of understanding my strengths and what makes me “me” have been continually revealing themselves to me this summer…things like music (playing and appreciating), working with kids, writing, learning from other writers, publishing, enjoying the outdoors, simple living, and promoting peace and harmony. Even though they are becoming more concrete and real now, I have come to realize that these things have been with me for my whole life, things that have always defined me as long as I can remember.
The music piece became especially apparent today as I ventured up to the Marin Headlands to do a reflection activity on behalf of Shinnyo-en with my coworker Maura. We were invited by an organization called “Music National Service,” which is kind of like the Peace Corps for musicians, to come do an introductory reflection about service and our “roots” for about 20 “fellows.” These fellows are either trained musicians, music teachers, and/or music therapists, who are being funded by our government to bring music into schools or hospitals or nursing homes. These are mostly underserved areas that do not have music education or any musical presence…somehow these fellows are expected to use their musical talents to create community and to bring people together. The concept is incredible. (http://www.musicnationalservice.org/)
When Maura and I walked up to the building where the group was meeting, a great sense of peace washed over me. We were surrounded by trees, a soft breeze, and the scent of pine. When we reached the top of the stairs, I heard the sound of “Blackbird” being picked on a guitar accompanied by soft singing overlaid by intricate piano playing further interspersed with various drum beats. We were completely enveloped by the music. After about fifteen minutes of set-up and introductions, I felt completely at home. I could relate to these people right away in a way that I cannot completely explain. It wasn’t that I was on the same page with them musically (in fact, I felt somewhat intimidated by them), but after leading the reflection activity, I felt as though I wanted to know every person in that room in a very deep way. I wanted to hear each person’s story. This doesn’t happen too often and I just went along with the warmth I was feeling in my heart.
There is something about music that touches and moves people in a way that nothing else can. I can think of nothing more real, authentic, and creative than music. It is universal, it can define a person or a culture, and when a person shares music with you, I feel as though they are sharing a very intimate part of their soul. Music makes us want to connect—to our humanity, to who we are individually, and to each other. It is the earthly and sensory representation of something beyond what we can create. We can surely be creative with music, but the creation itself is something that I will never understand. To hear tight harmony is something magical.
The universe has strange ways of telling you things…things that seem normal. It seems as though these moments of intervention by the universe should be introduced with a warning like a bright light, a halo, or the stoppage of time. But of course it doesn’t happen like that. I’ve had weird and coincidental things happen in my life, things that have made me question the “randomness” of our lives, but have never labeled them as monumental or “telling” until today. First of all, I met a woman at the event at the Marin Headlands who was on staff at Music National Service. Turns out that her previous job was working in the environmental education field. What a small world! I asked her how she got into the job with MNS, and she said that her heart is with working in nature but that her passion in life is just to promote “education that works” regardless of the subject matter taught. What a fantastic way to think about the educational field! She has worked towards creating meaningful opportunities for kids with music and in nature, two things that are so universal to humanity and something that I could look forward to in my life in the future.
The other moment happened much later in the day, when I was walking down Chestnut Street to meet a longtime family friend for wine and appetizers at a wine bar. I had just had a stressful previous half hour, almost leaving my debit card in an ATM, trying to maneuver MUNI across town, and talking to mom and dad on the phone about my overstimulating day. I looked up to see a woman waving at me from a couple feet away. It was a woman who had been at the presentation I had done earlier with Music National Service! She recognized me by my Six Billion Paths to Peace tshirt and of course I recognized her. I couldn’t believe it. Turns out that she is also a site leader for the MNS folks serving in Seattle, one of their sites being Baily Gatzert Elementary right down the street from my house. Bizarre and telling. When she handed me her card, I couldn’t help but shake my head. If that wasn’t the universe giving me an invitation I don’t know what could be.
This is an aerial shot of the Marin Headlands, just to give a little visual taste about where I was today
The Marin Headlands Youth Hostel
No comments:
Post a Comment