Straddling

There is a place in you that is not touched by coming and going, by up or down, by for or against, by totally right or totally wrong.

These words of Richard Rohr were a balm to my soul earlier this week.  After returning from our annual August visit to Maine I was out-of-sorts.  Happy to be back home in Maryland, yes, but also bereft at leaving a place I love very much. Instead of fighting it and telling myself to just move on, or succumbing to sadness, I decided to try holding both sets of feelings.

For that is really the way of life, right?  We see both sides, we're nice to our neighbor who supports Trump, we walk a pathway between trust and fear.  It has taken me a long time to realize that our world is not either/or, right/wrong, yes/no.

Simply put, I can still love Maine...the feel of the air, the late summer shadows foretelling fall, the deep concern for earth's health, the sense of being a step closer to heaven.  I can miss my dear friends and, still, the presence of Spirit as I walk into St. Saviour's Church and place my fingers on the organ keys.

All of this is possible while making our new life in Maryland.  It's a very good one, with meaningful work, new friends, a house that feels like home, and our dear family.  The ability to hold both of these deep emotions is a sort of freedom, a straddling if you like, keeping each foot on a separate side.  It's like saying Yes, I can have it both ways.

Threshold

On June 1 I retired from teaching piano.  That word retire is not easy for me to say, but I am making myself use it as a way to honestly acknowledge a big decision.

(And just for the record, the house above with a wall of windows looking out on the water is not ours!)

For more than 35 years my workday afternoons have been filled with all sorts of fingers playing the piano, from very little ones to those savaged by arthritis, and all ages in between.  Although it was often a frustrating job it was always rewarding and I had many students whom I came to love deeply.  It was a gift to watch a young child tentatively place their hands on the keys and years later see them playing a Beethoven Sonata.

Teaching piano was not just about notes and rhythm-it was about helping someone reach into their soul and express what they found thru music.  That was the most difficult part of teaching as well as the aspect I enjoyed most.

When we moved to Maryland almost 4 years ago I mistakenly assumed I would have all the students I wanted.  And I was counting on that financially, too.  I compared everything to my studio in Ellsworth/Bar Harbor, where I had a group of exceptional young pianists with supportive parents.  Well, let's just say the past few years have taught me a lot about the folly of expectations.  I struggled mightily to start a studio and even to convince my young students' families that piano was worth taking seriously.

At the same time that I was spinning my heels a growing call to something else started to emerge in my heart and I began to discern whether or not I should let the piano studio go.  Contrary to my teaching, I was having much interest in my Quiet Day retreats both at church and a nearby retreat center.  I felt energized and excited by this new work and knew that the Spirit was speaking.  Last year I also received a certificate in Spiritual Direction and began offering this guidance to individuals.

It's so clear when I look back....but all the same giving up teaching was a hard decision.  It has been a huge part of my adult identity and I've always felt privileged to do that work.  I suppose it's good practice when even bigger retirements inevitably come along, such as church work and accompanying.

At the last recital on June 1 I felt like an observer, an outsider looking in.  My head had said goodbye and I think my heart, too.  It feels good, right.

Poem for Good Friday

It was in the Spring
The Passover had come.
There was feasting in the streets and joy.

But an awful thing
Happened in the Spring-
Men who knew not what they did
Killed Mary's Boy.
He was Mary's Son,
And the Son of God was He-
Sent to bring the whole world joy.
There were some who could not hear,
And some were filled with fear-
So they built a cross
For Mary's Boy.
                                       Langston Hughes

Vienna Pilgrimage

One may not think of Vienna and pilgrimage together-the city is grand and rich, while a pilgrimage brings to mind silence, simplicity and searching one's soul.  But a pilgrimage to Vienna is exactly what I undertook last November with a small group from Abbey of the Arts and my dear friend Pamela. 

The trip was centered around the Rule of St. Benedict and each morning we spent time in both meditation and conversation around a particular aspect of the rule and then went out into the city to put that rule into play.  For example, one of the rules speaks of seeing the sacred in every person. This big city gave one ample opportunities to do that, from the wealthy, beautifully dressed retiree to a beggar dressed in rags sitting by the sidewalk.

Vienna is very Catholic, with a Baroque church on just about every corner.  As awe-inspiring as the ornate interiors covered in gold leaf seemed at first, I did grow tired of it.  But those churches were a haven for heavenly music, from organ concerts to a mass which featured an orchestra and choir in a Missa Brevis by Mozart.

About three days into the trip we went by bus to Heiligenkreuz Abbey in the countryside. This abbey is Cistercian and in a much more simple style than the gilded Baroque churches.  Walking into this space reminded me of the palate-cleansing course during a fancy dinner!  I immediately felt calm and centered and in the presence of the divine.  We were able to hear the monks chant a noon service and I still wonder about the effect that would have on a person over the long term.  Chanting the psalms in unison, over and over, for days, weeks, years...a lifetime.

Of course one thinks of a certain kind of Viennese food, too, and like the excesses of the Baroque style, I found that a little sausage, sauerkraut and potato salad goes a long way...at least I earned this plate of calories by walking 2 hours though the beautiful Vienna Woods to the restaurant.

Brahms and Beethoven were both known to have spent many hours walking these woods in search of inspiration.

I love having a coffee in Europe (surely this afternoon pause is in St. Benedict's rule?), where there's nary a drive-up or paper cup in site.  Hear my friend and traveling companion Pamela is just getting started on her exquisite cup of coffee, served on a silver tray with a small chocolate and a glass of water.

Well...one does not just have coffee for the pausa...I think we would have been run out of the cafe if we'd passed on the pastry.  And this is not just for tourists...the lean and fit Viennese were also enjoying a pastry with their coffee.

I'm not much for "bucket-lists," but for years I've wanted to pay homage to the great composers and give thanks for how they have enriched my life.  Among others, the Vienna Central Cemetery contains the graves of Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms and I put a rose on each of their stones, spending a little extra time with Brahms, my favorite of all.

Often I feel out-of-step with the world, in part because of my love of classical music and art, and because of my desire for silence and contemplation. Vienna allowed me to feed my soul and spirit, through the arts and through the sacred.  The capstone of the week was seeing Dvorak's Rusalka, a fairy-tale opera for a fairy-tale week.