Faith and Works

Don't worry, I do not intend to write a deep theological post on the long-standing tension between faith and works. (I'll let the smart people do that.) But I do want to share what is becoming a recurring theme in my own life.


"Dear friends, do you think you'll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it?" James 2:14 (MSG)

How many of us have "all the right words but never do anything"? I'm raising my hand right now. Anyone else in that group? Heck, I feel like I started the group. You could just about name it after me. 


You see, I'm a calculated person. Calculated and safe. I like to know exactly what I'm getting into before I dive in. I need to know how much it will cost, how much I get in return, how long it will take. Is it the best option? The absolute best option? Or is there a better one? I better keep looking for a better way.


It goes on and on, and you know what I end up doing?


Nothing.


There comes a time to act. To make a move even if it feels scary. To take a risk. To have faith. 


Maybe it's time to raise funds to record that album. Maybe it's time to set a date for that performance. To send in the resume for that audition. Maybe it's time to reach out to that person who hurt you. To say yes to that gig you don't want to do but you know you should.


I am struggling to really learn what this means. And why is it a struggle? Because in order to understand faith, I have to HAVE faith. I have to experience what it means to have faith.


"Do I hear you professing to believe in the one and only God, but then observe you complacently sitting back as if you had done something wonderful? That's just great. Demons do that, but what good does it do them? Use your heads! Do you suppose for a minute that you can cut faith and works in two and not end up with a corpse on your hands?" James 2:19-20 (MSG)


I haven't spent much time around dead bodies, but I'm not real interested in having a corpse on my hands.


What faith step will you take today?

Some frustrations

It happens nearly every summer.

Someone comes out with an update or upgrade, and I decide I need it. They take turns. Sibelius, Apple (OS X), Virtual Drumline, Kontakt, others.

And every summer, during marching band writing season, I spend a day or two scouring forums and FAQs looking for answers. And rarely find them. Sometimes it's an easy fix for a problem that is quite common among other folks, but too often, it seems like I'm the only one with the problem I'm having.

You might think I'm talking about Apple's new operating system "Lion", but I've learned not to jump into a brand new operating system until the kinks have been worked out. My most recent issue stems from a Kontakt Player update, which I mostly use within Sibelius. It will work out soon, I suppose, but never soon enough. I'm not a big fan of reading forums all day.

Advice: make sure you know what you're doing when it's time to make an upgrade. Be sure your programs will all be compatible with the updates, and if you can wait and not miss anything, it might be a good bet to just wait. 


Sweetwater has this helpful post regarding Lion and its compatibility with several music-related programs.

Greg Patillo

Apparently I am intrigued and impressed by beatboxing. It is pretty darn cool when done well. I hope you'll check out the subject of today's post --- beatboxing flutist Greg Pattillo.

Classically trained at the Cleveland Institute of Music, this creative flutist discovered a new way to make music on his instrument. And it has launched him into a career probably far different than the one he envisioned when he stepped onto the campus of CIM. See for yourself what this guy can do. And maybe it just might inspire you to think outside the box.

Check out Greg with his trio, PROJECT. (And of course, you'll be able find many more videos on YouTube.) Enjoy!

How teaching can make you a better player

I have had the privilege of teaching music/percussion for 8 years in a variety of settings. And I can tell you with great certainty that my teaching experiences have absolutely helped me to become a better player and performer. I will share just a couple of examples of how this has happened.

I taught the snareline at the Blue Stars Drum and Bugle Corps in the summer of 2007. And when I say summer, I mean all summer, every minute of every day. I lived and breathed snare drumming. Now, I had played the snare drum all summer for the previous 4 years, but teaching was very different. Daily, I would be presented with challenges of how to fix someone's hands, or how to create a better or different sound, or how to control the rebound better on certain types of strokes. And until I was on the teacher side of the equation, I had never given so much thought to the details of what my own hands were doing. As I evaluated my own technique in order to help students understand the technique, I became much more aware of how to make changes to improve certain aspects of snare drumming that I could even apply to myself. I learned not just how to teach better that summer, but I learned how to play the snare drum better that summer. And, of course, techniques from snare drumming can cover a wide range of percussion, so I ultimately became a better percussionist from teaching that summer.

A second, and more recent, example is my experience teaching the front ensemble at Center Grove High School this school year. Similar to the above example, I have dug deep into the technique of marimba and vibraphone playing, and improved my own playing as a result. But beyond the technical realm, I have enjoyed growing in another area of percussion, and that is musical communication and performance. (Wait, I thought they were just drummers....) When I watch a pit perform, whether indoor or outdoor, I don't want to see robots, or choreographed foot shifts, or manufactured cheesy smiles. I want to see (and hear) honest, genuine musical communication. So this is something I have tried to instill and foster in my group.

When you're discussing such abstract and vague concepts as performance and musical communication with high school students, you get a lot of questions!

How do I do that? 
What does that even mean?
What am I supposed to do with my body?
Should I make a sad face? Happy face?
What if people laugh at me?
What if it feels fake?


So we had to discuss these things (and more), and some beautifully insightful conversations ensued. Just in encouraging students to think about these things, and talking about them often, I have given more thought to the subject than I probably ever had before this year. And when I step up to an instrument to play, I am armed with a deeper understanding of how I can communicate effectively through music. As I spend so much time trying to get emotions out of students, I find more emotion flowing out of me.

These are just two of several examples that could be shared. Do you have examples to share? Have you experienced improvement in your performance as a result of teaching music?

What Makes a Piece of Music Great? (Part 3)

The final one on this topic, this post probably involves more of my opinions than the first two. Just a warning.

We have looked at how the composer of a piece can affect its reception and fame, as well as how innovation in a piece can give it value and prominence in the world's eyes. I would like to argue a third point in what makes a piece of music great, and that is whether it communicates something and moves a listener in some way. Yes, I realize this is a broad issue, but hang with me here. Think about it for a minute.

What pieces of music do you qualify as being great? Why are they great? I will bet that there is something about each of the works you're thinking of that moves you, that draws you in, keeps your interest. In my opinion a great piece of music communicates a thought or idea in such a way that the listener must respond. A response might be one of nostalgia, sadness, or excitement. Maybe the music moves a listener to deep reflection and thought. Maybe a piece moves someone simply by its virtuosity (of course the performer(s) plays a large role in this). Something about a piece, possibly including the subject or inspiration of a piece, must connect with an audience, or least one listener, for that piece to really be considered great.

If I write a piece that is intended to depict images from my trip to East Asia, and upon listening, you think I took a trip to West Africa, then I would have a hard time calling the piece great. Or if, upon listening, you immediately lose focus and want to take a nap, I would again hesitate to consider this a great piece of music.

I must note that this can not be a sole qualifier in determining whether a piece is great, because it puts so much stock in the listener's ability to understand what is being communicated in the music. A great piece of music might communicate something clearly to a learned listener, moving him in a deep way, while the same piece of music does nothing for another listener.

Also, a piece may take several listenings/viewings before it communicates in such a way as to move a listener. Take for example, the music from the Rite of Spring (Stravinsky), which caused a riot at its premiere in 1913, and is now received as absolutely one of the greatest works in the repertoire. This ballet and its music took some time before they were understood and enjoyed by the public. Now, one could argue that the music of the Rite of Spring did move people, even if to a negative response. True. And this begs the question, could a piece be considered great if it garners widespread negative attention, moving audiences to respond with disdain? It's moving the audience, isn't it? Hmmm.... Well, I'll leave the answer to you.

What do you think? What makes a piece of music great in your opinion?

What makes a piece of music great? (Part 2)

A few weeks back I had the privilege of sharing some great conversation with percussionist Colin Currie, his violinist friend, and my wife. Among the many topics of discussion was the topic of what percussionists value in a piece of music (they must have known I was blogging about this!).

Colin commissions and premieres new percussion works like it's his job. In fact...it IS his job. That's nearly all he does. So one can imagine how much new music he encounters, while also occasionally playing works that have had a few birthdays. As Colin described to me the concerto he was playing that weekend with the Indianapolis Symphony (Rautavaara's Incantations), the violinist friend sensed an implication that percussionists often seemed to value the new in a work. The innovation. The "never been done before".

He asked Colin and me if this was the case, if percussionists value or devalue a work based on whether it pushes beyond the boundaries or not. Of course, two of us cannot answer for the entire world of percussionists, but in my experience, the answer is mostly yes. And Colin, who has literally been around the world many times over, agreed.

As I scan a list of titles in my mind, virtually all pieces that have had a real impact in the percussion repertoire are pieces that have a good deal of new. Rhythmic Caprice (Stevens), for example, was innovative in its use of the shaft of the mallets on the marimba. Many of the sounds of Tan Dun's Water Concerto had never been written into a percussion work, and its newness gave it value (at least in my opinion). I recently saw a premiere of Kevin Bobo's percussion ensemble work, Migraine Sketches, and my opinion of the piece was positively affected by the array of new sounds coming from the ensemble. Percussion works with electronic accompaniment (by Bruce Hamilton, for example) or live electronics are often valued simply because of their innovative ideas.

However, many will agree that novelty and innovation alone do not make a piece great. So in my next post I will attempt to go beyond who composed the piece and whether or not it has been done before to look at what else make a piece of music great.


(Note: I apologize for the 5-week hiatus from updating the blog. WGI and other commitments have moved blogging to the back burner for a time, but I'm back at it -- at least for now!)

What makes a piece of music great? (Part 1)

There are some pieces out there that are simply accepted as being great compositions, masterpieces, or the staples of the western art music tradition. And if you're like me, at some point you have had to ask, "Why?"  Notice I'm not asking just what makes a piece great, but what leads it to be accepted as great, what makes it famous, for lack of a better term.

I will be doing a multi-part post of my thoughts on this subject. Not so much as an academic, research type of post, but more of a philosophical, opinion-based one.

As an aspiring composer, as opposed to an established one, I have often questioned how the fame of a composer alone affects the acceptance of a new piece. Take, for example, Iannis Xenakis's multi-percussion solo, Rebonds. Arguably one of the top three most well-known and frequently played multi-percussion piece in the world today. And why? Well, there are several great reasons, but I might propose that the composer's name at the top of the piece has a large part in that. What if I wrote the exact piece (instead of Xenakis, that is), note for note, and shared it with percussionists and other musicians around the globe tomorrow? How many people would accept it with such enthusiasm as the piece is actually accepted today? I'm guessing it would be significantly fewer than have accepted and praised Xenakis's work (though I realize it can take time for people to accept a new work).

No doubt Xenakis was a fine composer, and his impact on modern music composition is undeniably substantial. But how is it that he (a non-percussionist) can get away with writing a piece which is physically impossible for one percussionist with two hands to play (as written, without 'interpreting' the ink), while a student studying composition at a university would be counseled never to write such impossible combinations of notes? I worked on a cello piece with my composition teacher in school, and I was never allowed to write anything that was absolutely impossible for a cellist to play. Why would I want to? (Though, I suppose that could be a unique type of composition––knowingly write something impossible and see what performers do with it.) Do you see what I am getting at, here?

Along the same avenue of thought, how much is a piece's fame affected simply by the opinions of the folks around you? Rather than by the merit of the actual composition itself? If I share a new marimba solo with you, tell you that it's all the rage because Famous Composer Guy wrote it, that everyone's playing this awesome piece, and you believe me (work with me here), you might accept it as such and start learning this piece. As you're learning the new solo, you think, "Gosh, compositionally, this piece is rubbish. But oh well, everyone else thinks it's cool. And Famous Composer Guy wrote it, so it must be great!" Then I tell you that it was my 9th grade student's first composition ever. How does that change your view of the piece?

I do want to point out that I am not saying a piece becomes famous ONLY because of the composer's fame, just that it likely has something to do with it. Many well-known pieces become that way for reasons far beyond the names of their composers.

So in summary, I recommend a few things:
1) Don't just accept a new piece because everyone else does or because it's written by someone famous. Decide for yourself if you like it, if you think it's a good piece of music.
2) On the other hand, don't immediately dismiss a piece of music because you don't like it at first or you're not sure about it. If it's well-known, there's probably a good reason beyond the composer's name.
3) Take a minute to answer the question, What do you think makes a composition famous? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Progress

I have recently come to a new realization about myself. And across the board of my life. The issue isn't new, but the realization of it is.

I like to chart progress. I like to know where I am on the spectrum of moving forward (or backwards?). I want to know how far I've come and how far I have to go until I get "there," wherever that is. In many cases, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but when I dig a little deeper, I find the ugly root of this desire. And yes, this root issue is a bad thing.

An example: I am working up a new percussion solo that is quite difficult and takes a lot of time and practice to learn. As I work through the piece, note by note, measure by measure, I keep looking down to the bottom of the page to see how far I have till the end of the page, then I flip through the next couple pages to see what they are like.


How far until the end of the piece? Let's see...I am almost to letter B...okay, I am exactly 3 17ths through the piece. Sweet.

But I can get so caught up in charting how far I am and how much I have done that I lose track of what I am supposed to be focusing on––learning the piece!

And as I mentioned, when I really think about what drives this behavior, I see a problem. The problem is that I want that feeling of accomplishment before it's really time. I want the result without the work. I want the trophy before I have earned it.

But the neat thing I'm learning is that when you simply focus on exactly what you're supposed to focus on, and not worry so much about how awesome you are or aren't, and keep plugging away at the right things, a time will come, not manufactured, but as a natural result of your commitment, when you can begin to see real progress. It might be several weeks or months. It might be a year or more. But the reward of seeing genuine progress is rich. It certainly beats the fabricated feeling of success for completing a measure of music.

The use of technology in practice

Many readers may already make use of some or all of the ideas mentioned below, but I thought I would share a few uses of technology that have aided me in practice and preparation for performance.

Audio recording - DUH. This is an obvious one. But surprisingly underused (admittedly by myself, too!). The feedback provided by the objective, unbiased recording device can be very humbling. As one of my teachers put it, "If you think you're having a good day in the practice room [and your head is getting big], record yourself playing." Audio recording is useful in improvisation; it can help you remember the bits and pieces that you liked best so you can use them in the future. Recording also provides a means for tracking progress and archiving past performances.

Good recording devices (all available at Sweetwater):
   - Zoom H4n (~$300)
   - Zoom H1 (~$100)
   - Zoom Q3 (audio + video, ~$200)
   - TASCAM DR-3 (~$80)

Video recording - Similar benefits to audio recording. Also offers a view of what the audience will see. You can use video to focus in on technical skills (How do my hands look? How about the motion of my arms? Do I look relaxed?). Another benefit of both video and audio recording is the added sense of performance. It's like someone else is listening once you hit RECORD. I have found this to be quite valuable in the long run. Even if you never watch the video you took (you should watch it!), there is still the benefit of an added sense of pressure during practice.

Audio software - Software that can speed up or slow down music. Software that can loop segments, combine independent chunks of music, or add a metronome to a recording to aid in practicing. With my drum corps background, and continued teaching experience in the marching activity, I recognize the importance of many many reps. Loop it. Over and over again. So I occasionally make use of audio software to slow down a segment and loop it. The computer plays the recording again and again while I run 20 or 30 reps of that chunk until I get it. (Or until my neighbors starting banging on the walls. Just kidding. That hasn't happened. Yet.) Making use of such software is especially helpful in preparation of concerti (if you have a recording), rep with electronic accompaniment, and orchestral excerpts, though I'm sure there are other great uses.

Good software to use for this type of work:
   - Audacity (free)
   - Amazing Slow Downer (This is great for slowing down AND setting up loops, ~$30)
   - Garage Band (comes with all Mac computers)

Notation software/playback - An example of this is a project I'm working on right now. I'm preparing a duet concert with a friend who lives in a different state, so one way we can practice is to input both parts into a notation program (in my case, Sibelius) and create audio files of each part from the MIDI playback. I send him my part to practice with, and I listen to his part when I practice. It's like a virtual duet partner. Now, there are some limitations here, but with the quality sample libraries available, one can create a pretty good quality recording that is still quite helpful. Another use of notation software is simply to create some sort of recording of a piece of which you can't find a recording (or one doesn't exist, as in the case of a new work). Though it can be time consuming to input an entire piece, it might be worth it. Or maybe only a segment of a work needs to be inputted for playback.

Video sharing websites - Such as YouTube and Vimeo. These are good for checking out what other folks are doing as well as sharing video of yourself, if you so desire. (Word of caution: I do not recommend posting video of a "work in progress" or work that is not your best. No one really wants to watch a video and read all the excuses of how you're still working on it, and your dog ate the 3rd page of music so that's why you missed all the notes on that page, etc..) These can be valuable tools if used well.

While I am sure there are other ways to use technology to aid in practicing, these are a great start. Please send me thoughts if you have other creative ways to use technology and I'll post them!

Beyond Basic Percussion

Have you ever been teaching a percussion ensemble or working with a student and one of these happens?

• The kid playing the chimes is facing the back of the room because he didn't know where to put the music stand.
• A student with a multiple-drum setup is doing a crossover concerto because he didn't understand the best way to set up the drums in a way that allows for the easiest sticking and drum-to-drum motion.
• In order to switch from drumsticks to yarn mallets in a short amount of time, your student drops the sticks on the drum in front of her (making unwanted noise) and bends over to pick up her mallets off the floor. Then, of course, she missed her entrance.
• You notice that the guy on the bass drum part has no idea how and when to muffle the instrument properly, even though the music indicates muffling.

In fact, you may easily recall a time when you yourself might have been in such a situation as a student. For several (understandable) reasons, I believe that many young percussionists are not taught some of the most basic principles in playing percussion, especially those that go beyond just playing the right note at the right time. And quality instruction on instruments other than snare drum and mallets is easily overlooked or completely absent.

Think about what instruments are called for so much of the time in band, orchestra, and percussion ensemble literature – accessory instruments! And think about how often students are asked to play 2 or 3 (or more) instruments in a piece. Think about how often percussionists ("drummers") are looked at as unmusical. Just the kids in the back that bang on things.

Well, fortunately percussionists/band directors Eric Rath and Ralph Hicks have thought about these things. And they have also come up with some helpful solutions in their new book Beyond Basic Percussion (Tapspace Publications). They composed several pieces that address so many of the neglected issues facing developing percussionists (and their band directors). It's useful for non-percussionist teachers as well as those who are percussionists. Here's an intro video by the authors, and you can click the link above to read more about it. 

(Note: I have no personal interest vested in this project, just think it's a great idea!)

Iced In

If you're like me and you're stuck at home today (and probably tomorrow) because of snow and/or ice, then why not find some ways to make good use of the time?

• Read a book about entrepreneurship, music business, marketing, or personal finance. (Click here for suggestions.)
• Catch up on some good blogs 
• Seth Godin
• The Savvy Musician
• Artists House Music
• Sequenza21
• Practice whatever you can practice at home.
• Write out a 1-year plan for your career.
• If you are not a composer, try writing some music, maybe for the first time! Or if you're not a musician, attempt some sort of creative output – poetry, drawing, painting, blog, letter to a friend.
• Create a budget. (Click here for help getting started.)
• Start your taxes.
• Go over that budget you just created and try to work in a vacation to a WARM LOCATION!

(Okay, just kidding on the last one. Sort of.)

Milton Babbitt, 1916-2011

American composer Milton Babbitt died yesterday at the age of 94.
I admit I don't know a ton about him, and I don't listen to a lot of his music, but I do know that his influence on contemporary "art music" has been great. (And we share the same birthday -- May 10.) So I thought today would be a good day to learn some more about Babbitt and why he was known as such a pioneer in several aspects of music. Below is a short article with a nice summary of Babbitt's life and career, followed by a link to an extensive interview of Babbitt that really gives the reader a good sense of what this man was all about.

Avant-Garde Composer, Teacher Milton Babbitt Dies at Age 94: NPR

Milton Babbitt: A Discussion in 12 Parts (Note the index of parts on the right if you want to skip around.)

Make a plan, and stick to it

This may not be an earth-shattering idea, but actually doing it might be something new.

I'm talking about developing a plan and holding to it. Not changing paths on a whim or when things get a little tough. I am talking about sticking to your guns.

I have always been one to give up early. Since I was little and playing with Legos with my older brother Matt. I would come up with some lame concoction that kept me entertained for about 10 minutes, give up and head down to the kitchen for a Swiss Roll, all while Matthew would forego food and restroom breaks for 10 hours, only to emerge from the sea of Legos strewn about the bedroom floor with an incredible piece of art (and a full bladder).

In some ways, I haven't changed much. "That's probably good enough for now," I often think. "I'll do more tomorrow." Or, "I don't want to overdo it. I need to make sure I have time to rest and recover."

When I'm practicing, writing music, or even working out or running, thoughts similar to these bounce around my mind more often than Rex Ryan makes a bold statement.

But I've found a way to turn these thoughts away when they come knocking. First, make a plan. A specific plan, with start and end times and measure numbers and tempos. Details are a must or you won't stick to it. And a mental plan is nice, but a written plan is REAL. Write it down.

Second, stick to the plan! If I said I would practice measures 14-20 from 11:25-noon, then that's what I'm going to do. Even if it's hard. Or even if it seems like I've got it down, and I want to move on. No, I'm going to keep practicing that part until noon. "But it's pretty close. I should probably take a break to check email. Plus I have time tomorrow to solidify it." Sure, but I have time RIGHT NOW to solidify it, too! I will stay on it until noon.

I have found this idea to be incredibly effective and rewarding. In my preparation for the TROMP Percussion Competition in November, I accomplished far more than I ever thought I could in a short time, and it's mostly due to this exact process. And most recently, I finished writing an indoor percussion show in record time, again largely due to sticking to the plan when I didn't really feel like it. And I am pleased with the result, too. (Take a listen to a sample of it here.)

So give it a shot. Write the plan down, and don't let the flaming arrows of those lies shoot you down. Stick to the plan and eventually, you will enjoy the results.

It's okay NOT to be someone else.

How often do we see our friend or colleague pursuing or possessing something and think, "I should be doing that"?

I bet you can think of a time when you felt like you weren't doing enough in your career (or marriage or family or spiritual life) because you saw your buddy succeeding in an area that's not your strong point.

I am here to say, it's okay. You don't have to be just like the guy next door (or in your percussion studio, which is the route I'm taking in this entry). It's okay to be YOU, and to pursue what you believe is right. Don't get me wrong, in percussion, it is highly valuable to be skilled and knowledgeable in many areas of the craft, and I don't mean to make an excuse for working hard to fill empty voids in your or my skillset. I simply mean to say that each person is unique and has a specific purpose or path that is highly individual, and to compare every facet of professional skills and accomplishments can eat away at you.

Maybe it's absolutely best for Colin to pursue a doctorate in music, but that doesn't mean it's best for me to pursue the same. Maybe Mike is a fantastic Latin percussionist, but that doesn't mean I'm a failure as a percussionist because I only know some basics. Maybe while Kyle is tearing up the orchestral scene, I am following a calling to compose music (instead of practicing xylophone excerpts). Kyle is Kyle. I'm not.

Consider the skills you do have. You have a certain set of abilities that makes you YOU, professionally. (Probably some that your colleague doesn't have, too.) So you take what you have, build on it, and fill in weak areas as you go. Don't try to be someone you're not. Again that doesn't mean to quit learning, growing, trying new things, etc.. But walk the path that allows you to best be who you are. Hopefully you'll find that success comes a little more naturally when you're not trying to be someone else.

My dad always said...

My dad always said/says, "You could have played the flute."

This, of course, is his response to seeing or hearing about me moving percussion equipment 3 or 4 or 20 times the amount of time I actually spend playing said equipment. And he's right. I could have played the flute, but then I would have to play the flute! Just kidding, just kidding. It's a joke.

In all seriousness, a huge part of being a percussionist is the responsibility of moving, setting up, tearing down, and maintaining our gear. And today was another wonderful reminder of that fact.

Click here to see the full-size panoramic photo!

I had the opportunity to do a brief interview and partial performance for one of Indy's local TV news stations at the Palladium in Carmel. Along with about 35 other acts, I will be performing in the brand new Palladium concert hall as part of its Take Center Stage event on Saturday, January 22. The Palladium, a $150 million venue, opens to the public on the 22nd, and is stirring up a buzz through many local and regional news outlets.

I got to be a small part of one of those stirrings this morning. As did my 225-pound marimba, which had to be moved and assembled by myself. A total of about 1hr 20min was spent packing and moving the instrument throughout the day (excluding driving) all for about 2-3 minutes of playing. (The man who coordinated this interview saw me tearing down and said, "Gosh, maybe you could have played the flute." True story.) I almost backed out of the interview simply because I didn't want to lug the marimba up there for such a short time. I know it probably seems crazy that I went for it anyway, but I do think it's worth it. Otherwise I wouldn't do it, would I? I may have the opportunity to show people a marimba that have never seen or heard one before. I may encourage someone to come to the event at the Palladium next week who might not have otherwise come. Who knows what may come of it? Maybe nothing much. If nothing else, I got a good workout in!

Please understand, I don't share this to complain or to gain your sympathy. Rather, I hope you might consider some of the decisions you face and what might be holding you back from taking a step forward. I too easily and too often allow inconveniences to stop me from doing what I know ought to be done. In fact, I can be pretty darn lazy and spoiled at times. But when I get up off my butt, and do what needs to be done, I never seem to regret that. I might be exhausted, and maybe the outcome isn't the greatest thing ever, but I did what I knew I should do. I hope you'll do the same: exactly what you know you should do.


(By the way, the piece on the news will air Sunday morning around 7:15AM on WISH-TV.)

I'm a talker.

There have been a lot of little things over the past several weeks and months that have made it abundantly clear:

I'm a talker FAR MORE than I'm a doer.

In every area of my life. I love to hatch a plan, create a scheme, pitch an idea. But the work to make those things reality sucks. And you and I both know talking won't get the job done.

Are you a talker or a doer?

I'm off to work now.

If I could just get that one big break...

Think with me and see if you know anyone like this...

Someone who works hard, maybe trying to make a career in the corporate world, or as a teacher, or in a free-lance profession (art, photography, music). Someone who "pays his/her dues," so to speak, grinding out each day in a job that's not exactly ideal for the long-term. This person tries to do all the right things that people in that career field do to land a good job but is still waiting for that big break.

Then it happens.

You might say it was luck. You might say it was an alignment of the stars. Maybe it was just that person's turn for one reason or another. Whatever your explanation, this person got his/her one big break. The breakthough performance that shot an artist into international fame. The job offer from the best company in their field that is almost too good to be true. The teaching position offer at a great school that's just down the street. "Wow, she is so lucky! Of course it would happen to her. When am I going to get my big break?!"

From an uniformed perspective, sometimes seeing this happen in someone else's life can be disgusting. You think they simply got lucky. "It's not fair," you say to yourself (or out loud).

But take a closer look. While there's no doubt people sometimes get "lucky" in life, a whole bunch of those "big breaks" that people catch in a career path aren't so much one big break, but the culmination of many smaller breaks along the way. And most of the time, it's not luck, but hard work and preparation that led to career success. There is something to be said about being in the right place at the right time, but what good does it do if you're not prepared?

One of my teachers shares a story of how he used to play marimba at a tiny bar in rural Kansas (I know, pretty weird, huh?) one night a week or so. He didn't get paid other than tips and free beverages. He did this for awhile, and one night he was playing a piece by J.S. Bach (again, kind of a funny picture for a bar in my opinion!). A patron enjoyed the piece and asked for another Bach piece. My teacher obliged. Again, the patron with the cowboy hat was pleased. More Bach, please. My teacher wound up playing all the Bach he knew twice through for this local man who couldn't seem to get enough of it.

The man approached the marimbist and said something to the effect of, "I own a recording studio and would like to make a CD of you playing marimba, and we'll split the profits."

What!?!?

So of course he said yes and recorded his first solo album which had a big impact in his career. The first time I heard this story, I thought exactly the thoughts mentioned above. "He's so lucky!"

But then I thought more about this peculiar story. First of all, he was lugging that giant instrument to a tiny bar once a week to play for no pay. And once he got there, he had to play something, so that means he had to know or be able to read a huge amount of music. And he likely wouldn't have impressed this man who approached him unless he played at a high level.

There are several things to learn from this. One, clearly the marimbist had put hours and hours of hard work in to be able to perform each week at a high level. He was prepared. Two, though I don't know the details, I bet you could trace back before this night and see a few small opportunities (or "breaks") that led to that point. Three, while the CD recording was successful and helped propel his career forward, it, too, was another break along the way.

So for those of us waiting for our big break, maybe we ought to just focus on the small opportunities we have, put all the effort we can into each one, and one day we'll look back and see how all the small breaks added up to the success we hoped for in the one big break.

Happy New Year!

I know many of us say something like this every year, but I'll say it again.

Wow, it's 2011 already!? That sounds so futuristic! Two thousand eleven. Weird. No more 2010. Good-bye twenty-ten!

We know that a new year will bring changes of all sorts. We don't know exactly what, but we know that changes will come in our lives.

I must say I am definitely a fan of change in many ways. I used to rearrange my room in high school and college at least once a year (always at the new year), sometimes more. It would create the sense of being in a new place, and I love the feeling of being in new places. It brings a freshness to my life that helps invigorate me. Rearranging my bedroom would give me something else to think about when I'd come home from a boring or mind-numbing class to a recently altered setup. "Oh yeah, I changed my setup! How fun!" A nice feeling.

But do you wanna know something about that feeling? It never lasted long. A week or two would go by and the change was nearly forgotten already. It wouldn't take long before I felt like I might want to change something again. It wasn't sustainable.

So what's really the root issue here? The search for a feeling. Even the search for an escape. I want to feel excited about the new year. I want to feel like everything is going to be different this year. I often love change because it brings a sense of hope, of newness, but more often than not, those feelings are grounded on nothing more than rearranged furniture.


Not exactly where I want my foundation of hope to be.

I want something sustainable. I want to walk on solid ground and know that even though life will bring me all sorts of challenges, trials, ups and downs, I can be joyful and confident in my future. I want to be sure of something. I don't want to have to rearrange my living room to feel a sense of newness and hope. (By the way, there is nothing wrong with rearranging your living room!)

And "rearranging your living room" could take whatever form in your life. Finding a new girlfriend/boyfriend. Getting rid of my perfectly good car for a nicer, new one. Buying those stylish new clothes that my roommate wears that I can't really afford or don't need. Getting my hands on the newest gadget that will surely make my life simpler (pardon the sarcasm). Trying to be someone I'm not so others will look at me with approval.

So as we dive into this new year, I hope you consider where your hope is found. As for me, I will place my trust and my hope and my future of this year and all that follow in the person and the work of Jesus Christ, my savior. Because he took my place and died for my sins so I don't have to, he showers me with his approval. I don't need the approval of others, because my Creator calls me his beloved child! He is the Rock and the solid ground I desire and need. He offers me life, peace, and joy. He gives me all the hope I need. And it's sustainable hope. And as for newness and change? As I seek to know Him more, I discover something new all the time. He is endless, and a humble seeker never gets tired of walking with God. Following Christ is anything but boring!

Wishing you a new year filled with true hope and joy that last an eternity!