All Things Considered

In the intervening time between my initial arrival here in Lubbock there have been many changes, some positive and some negative. Coming here has not been a mistake, but there were regrettable circumstances, particularly where my personal relationships with others are concerned, and I am now having to repay an endless number of karmic debts which have arisen as of late.

When I last wrote, it was mid-February and I had come off of an emotional high from my first real concert in some years, singing with the Texas Tech Collegium Musicum, a small vocal/instrumental ensemble headed by the marvelous Angela Mariani-Smith. This woman I had heard since middle-school, where the first sparks of knowledge of the music of distant past began to flit around in my imagination. I learned to love the 10th century abbess St. Hildegarde of Bingen (not knowing of course of her predecessor, the beautiful Byzantine abbess Kassia) from her, eventually taking her as patron saint along with Sts. Cecilia, Catherine and Viviana. To this woman Friday evenings after high school were spent listening attentively to country dances and songs in foreign tongues, to the development of the Western musical tradition, and largely, of popular musical traditions as well. And here she was, sitting right in front of me, smiling, her melliflous and wise voice advising me. Her office contains a beautiful old harpsichord made in Pennsylvania many years ago; its sound, brittle and vibrant, echoes with the kind of resonance modern pianos rarely come about to. Dr. Mariani refers to it in the feminine sense, as if it were some grand revered matron of music. Beneath the academic exterior, however, is a woman who has played in a rock band, who is married to an eminent expert in the rise of American music. She glows when I mention John Cage and my love of the 44 Harmonies. She smiles beatifically when I speak of bodybuilding on one hand and Morton Feldman on the other; other times it is the flamboyantly intellectual Elisabeth Jacquet de la Guerre contrasted with the meek and saintly humility of Sophonisba Allegri. Her influence, I realize, has practically been for a decade and has made significant and lasting marks in my own formalized musical and artistic development.

And to that, there is Dann Coakwell. At 31 he is the most adept and amiable tenor I know. After a day spent frantically looking for a voice teacher within appropriate academic limits, I had agreed to pay him 60 dollars to help me refine my voice, originally starting out with singing Jobim and Takemitsu. This man, of course, has little time to be wrapped up in the trivialities of who’s-better-at-what; his world is simultaenously grand, obscure and tangible, he sings for the Austin-based group Conspirare, headed by his former voice teacher when he was UT-Austin, and when I was still in high school. We became fast friends, and very quickly I emptied out my conscience to him in that embarassing way I usually do – and he was more than understanding. At my age, he said, it was perfectly normal to not know what one wished to do with his life; it is true, I don’t know what to do with myself. He analyzed my voice and said, ‘there is something hidden beyond your upper voice, something rich and bel canto‘. It was true. Somewhere, deep down in my throat, was a voice I had suppressed and abused for years. My own self-deprecation and negative self-opinion had prevented me from developing it into something more realizable. I was depressed for a week after that, and did not take any physical activity or recreation, nor food, nor any sort of nourishment. I cried for hours wondering why I had done such a thing to myself – why, after all this time and all this trouble, I had not found the contentedness within my own physical appointments to harbor success. And then Dann said, ‘Do not worry. This takes time to develop and you are still in a developmental, unrealized, and very early phase. You have a beautiful voice with definite possibilities, and all you have to do is give yourself a chance.’After this I felt much better. I was concerned my own circumstantial affairs were interfering with my musical development. Dann said, ‘Get it taken care of.’ And that was all I needed, off I went.

Spring was reluctant to come. At the beginning, the first peeks of intermediate warmth and sunshine were met later with fierce remonstrances of cold and ice. There were days in which the sun did not shine until its sinking disk appeared behind a practically Catholic veil of clouds and the sunlight came streaming in brilliantly one last time. Long nights of cold and desolation took over. Jacob sitting at his desk, playing his music, was company enough. No visitors. Phone calls and every now and then a gift in the mail from Scott. This was enough to keep my chin up, and my spirits burning bright. For St. Valentine’s Day, he sent me a beautiful tower of sweets and fruit from Harry and David, which I consumed heartily in four days. It was one of the sweetest things (literally) anyone had given me.

And then, for the first couple of weeks of March, there was a transformation. The days became warm and temperate, and soon enough the fish-smelling dogwoods and Bradford pear trees blossomed into allergic bliss. The walkways were covered with white petals that looked like snow drifting in the wind. A shipment of Threadless t-shirts and some new shorts and shoes made the commute to classes and work much more agreeable. For a while, it seemed, things were alright with the world. Even Ryan, off in his own world of affairs, had no complaints, and every time I talked to him he was tired, but always glad to see me. Just the other day he told me that the State Education Board cleared him of all charges of unethical behavior, and his license is functional again. I am grateful and thankful to Almighty God for His Providence shown to Ryan. For, inasmuch as we have had our own disagreements, I love him, and he loves me, and he is so proud of what I have accomplished.

There is still so much to do. I have run out of food money and am on my last forty dollars (I had to buy supplies for my Service Learning Project with Dr. Lambert), I still have not found suitable employment or living arrangements after the spring semester is done, and I am concerned about my mental and emotional health lately (all of this is interpersonally related). I am so frightened, but it keeps me going on to progress. I know I can accomplish what is necessary. I must gird myself, and press forward. I am required to fulfill the Great Work allotted for me.