practicenotes

"It is not as difficult as I thought it was, but is harder than it is."

2009-06-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

Said by the legendary conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, Eugene Ormandy. The members of the orchestra would routinely scribble down his more interesting verbal faux pas. I've enjoyed reading them over the years and this is a particular fav of mine. The interesting thing is - how true!

Don'tcha just love it?

2009-04-10T15:19:00.000-07:00

Anyone remember those old Chick-fil-A commercials with the song, "Chick-fil-A, don'tcha just love it? Taste it, you'll love it for good?"

Honestly, I've never seen a Chick-fil-A that wasn't packed. And yes, I do love it and when I needed a place to grab lunch today on the way to the dietician it was what I was craving. So, at noon I arrived and yes, it was teaming with men, women, children, chickens, cows (ok, so there were only humans there - but it was CROWDED!). I actually had to walk a good distance and dodge cars to get into the restaurant! They still managed to be fast and friendly and not too many minutes after walking in the door I had my lunch. Then I looked around, bewildered: not a table in sight. And suddenly, like a beam of light from heaven, my eyes fell on a booth that was in the final stages of being wiped clean. It was meant to be and I had a seat. A few moments later amidst the hustle and bustle the little man who had cleaned the table reappeared with pepper grinder in hand. "How you doin' today ma'am? Care for some pepper?" I was caught off guard having applied the tiny packets of salt and pepper I had retrieved from the condiment station only moments before. "Oh, no thank you" I said. "I already got some." Then I hear him working the room. "How you doin' today...?" I almost called him back over after the third or fourth person dismissed him. By that point, however, I was noticing that there were many, MANY people wandering in search of non-existent tables. And here I was occupying a booth by my lonesome.

When I saw the kids make a second sweep through the dining area I caught the older girl's eye and offered her the extra space at my table. "Really?" she smiled. She gathered her younger brother and grandmother and voila! Instant entertainment. The girl was in her teens and very respectfully offered her grandmother food in her native language (Chinese, maybe?) The grandmother proceeded to eat her sandwich with a knife and fork and beam about her grandkids. I nodded and smiled.

At the same time, Cameron decided what he would eat by virtue of the fact that it was what his big sister wouldn't want. This is very important. Lettuce and tomato do not belong on your sandwich. And did you know that if you empty an entire packet of hot sauce on your chicken it is HOT? But everything will be okay when sister crawls out to retrieve napkins and sops it all up. Oh no! But the bread has sauce! Get rid of it! Maybe you should try fries instead. Yes. Honey mustard is good. Big sis is crawling out again on the search for Polynesian sauce - she thinks grandmother would enjoy it. It is good, after all. Unless you are Cameron, who apparently can't taste it. Try it again (and this time you might try actually getting some on the fry!). Nope. Still can't taste it. Back to the honey mustard. You really can't go wrong with honey mustard.

By this time I had finished my salad. Immediately a helpful Chick-fil-A employee appeared for my trash, but it was actually so soon I was still chewing and politely declined his helpful offer to clear my tray. A few moments of letting my lunch settle and I decided it was time to make my move and get to my appointment. I smiled as I said goodbye to my Chick-fil-A friends. Grandmother practically dragged me from my seat with her attempt to help me to my feet. They chorused "Thank you for sharing your table with us!" I said "you're welcome" and smiled but inside I was thinking "Thank you for sharing the table with me!"

Chick-fil-A! I just love it!

The REAL Story Behind the Music

2009-02-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

When I was at North Texas I would jot little stories, poems and the like just because it was fun. This is something that I just came up with and ran back across. At some point there were actually illustrations! It's so interesting to re-read something you wrote years ago. It's like simultaneously impressive and embarrassing! Enjoy...

The REAL Story Behind the Music

The beauty of music of ages before
baffles the mind,
and causes one to wonder –
Is there something more?

Here’s the story behind the notes on the page
through which composers live on from age to age…

In the Middle Ages, church music was called chant
the purpose of which was to grant
embellishment to the service of praise,
so monks in this chant their voices did raise.

Into the Renaissance did history then pass
with a five section form built ‘round the mass.
Imitative polyphony began to take shape
and a capella performance was thought really great.

The Baroque period saw the arrival of great
Johann Sebastian Bach whose fate
was to write great music, and of that he did plenty –
he passed his craft on to his children twenty.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was merely a child
when the nobles of Europe simply went wild!
They were astonished by the talent which so naturally came
to Mozart whose music has gained great fame.

Beethoven took music to still new heights.
He must have stayed up many moonlit nights
writing symphonies, sonatas, concerti and such.
His contribution to music is undoubtedly much.

Then came the Romantics – some names to list:
Schubert, Schumann, Chopin and Liszt.
And, of course, some other composers of note:
Saint-Saens, Mendelssohn and Berlioz.

The operas of Wagner are complete works of art.
To understand their plots, one must be quite smart.
High adventure makes their great length easier to take,
like when Siegfried’s horn the dragon awakes.

The late romantics Tchaikovsky and Brahms
produced works which are anything but calm.
Lengths of compositions were not getting smaller –
take for example a symphony of Mahler.

Debussy’s sound is different from any other.
He impressively painted with musical colors.
Stravinsky accomplished still another feat –
he was innovative with rhythm and beat.

Richard Strauss was a composer both traditional and modern.
His music has helped him much fame to earn.
The list of his compositions goes on and on…
Elektra, Der Rosenkavalier, Till Eulenspiegel, Don Juan.

The story behind the greatest music the world has known
is by these great composers shown.
That the making of music is not merely art
but beyond that…

it’s a work of heart.

Linear Structure in the Middle School Setting

2009-01-31T17:08:00.000-08:00

Webster's Dictionary defines a line as: 1) a long, narrow line or band

Typical formation for adolescent youth while engaged in transitory educational activities, the line is a hallmark of disciplined structure. This structure is crucial to the successful achievement of meaningful learning. By cultivating beautiful, straight lines in the hallowed hallways of educational institutions, students bring order to the waves of the brain. When these waves are in line, harmonious co-existence takes place. When this alignment is absent, all hell breaks loose.

Deconstructing the Breakdown of the Line

When linear structure breaks down, there are both obvious and subtle repercussions. Tracing the disintegration to its roots leads to the directive given to students to walk on the "third square". Studies show that for reasons yet to be discovered by researchers adolescent brains have not fully developed the ability to grasp the number "3" when in linear context. Surprisingly, field research shows that when auditory cues are given to student subjects, the tertiary verbal reference translates roughly into "please feel free to walk in clumps at least three wide down the hall."

Yet another challenge facing the linear form in middle school settings is the most confusing directive, "go to the end of the line". When interpreting this seemingly simple command, the brain of the 10-13 year old human registers a myriad of options.

1. Do nothing.

2. Begin with whine tactic: "but miss, I didn't do nothing!" (yes, I believe we just established that fact)

3. If #2 fails, begin to roll eyes, flail limbs with varying degrees of agitation (the display must be appropriate for the dramatic nature of the confrontation and the number of witnesses present). Only if absolutely necessary begin to make way toward the posterior of the linear form.

Actually, this is where the real options start to kick in. If new students are continually joining the line, does the line in fact possess an end? Is the end of the line a static and absolute reality or is it ever in flux? Or, is it simply the place where there's a gap to slip in next to your new best friend?

Fascinating as the research may prove to be, the point is well made by this small representative sample that a solution must be swift and strong. Fortunately, Webster's again provides guidance. By looking at the definition in context of the sport of football, a bigger, more complete picture of "line" begins to come into view. It is not the innate challenges of the linear form that is the problem. As football players know so well, both the offensive and defensive lines must be managed to perfection by stunning specimens of athletic prowess known simply as: linebackers.

And now the solution comes clear. Imagine if you will in a school setting what has proven to work with great success in corporate America...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzToNo7A-94

School will never be the same.

The Hammock

2009-01-30T19:33:00.000-08:00

summer afternoon

steal outside

mystery

in branches, shadows - hide!

children play

imaginations wild

Dark & Complex

2008-12-30T12:49:00.001-08:00

I have to admit something. Though I see myself as a "good girl" and have never been a fan of the horror genre per-se, for some reason I found myself wishing for the recent film version of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. And, when for Christmas my darling husband presented it to me, I was faced with yet another dilemma: do I actually open it? Should I really, watch it? Gasp! I had heard it was violent. Bloody and full of gore.

I was familiar with the story and music thanks to my sister's love of musical theater. It doesn't get much more way out than Sweeney's quest for vengeance carried out by his army of razors. At his side, the ever resourceful Mrs. Lovett. What a pair! Yes, I knew the story. But something inside me said, "If you open that and watch it, you're creepy. I mean, he kills people and she bakes them into pies and serves them up! Don't do it! Get rid of it now!"

And still, I was intrigued.

What was it that had always drawn me toward dark music? As a pianist, what do I love to play? Beethoven, Rachmaninov, Brahms. I was obsessed with the Phantom of the Opera and you couldn't pry my Mahler CDs out of my hands when I was in college. The more dramatic and romantic, the better. But Sweeney seemed different somehow. More threatening. Where as my other favorites leaned toward the dark side, Sweeney makes no attempt to hide it. It's over the top.

And I loved it. Yes, it was a good film. I enjoyed watching the actors, loved the music and was pleasantly horrified by the story line. The real victory for me came for me, though, in embracing my own inner dark side. When we're caught up in seeing ourselves only as the "good girl" or "nice guy" we deny the complex reality of who we really are. People think that by pushing the darker things in life away, that they will actually get rid of them. Instead, like trying to hold a beach ball submerged, eventually and when you least expect it here it comes to smack you in the face. Only when we embrace all of who we are - good and bad, light and dark - can we be free to choose how to be in the world.

Wonder Woman

2008-12-30T12:48:00.001-08:00

Back in mid-December, I had a break from the holiday crazies and took time for myself in the quiet of the country. I spent two and a half days with strong, awesome, beautiful women from the Yoga Rasa tribe in Chappel Hill - and met Wonder Woman! Literally. We had the most beautiful time rediscovering our power as women - and on the last night of the retreat we had a visit from Wonder Woman. I'm talking knee high red boots, the mini skirt and the hair. Wrist bands of power! And all of the sudden we were no different than kids looking at a hero - stop and put yourself in that state of mind for a moment. Think about your favorite hero - there's a part of you that knows that's you too. You can't see their strength unless it is also your own. And I just love how all the super heros have this nerdy "secret" identity.

So, what does Wonder Woman do in her everyday life? She goes to work. She cooks lasagna with her husband. She spills Dr. Pepper on her ivory turtleneck sweater. In her everyday life, Wonder Woman does everyday things. It's how she's being as she's doing these tasks that makes her Wonder Woman.

She's present. At least her intention is to be present with everyone and everything.

"What do you mean, 'She's present'?" you ask? Well, whatever is her task at the moment, that's where her mind is. That's her power. The power of presence. She's not off thinking about what so-and-so said last week that was so out of line. Or worried about how she's going to lift the car that might possibly fall on Little Timmy and his dog Fuzzball three days from now. She knows that whatever she needs will be provided in the moment if she just shows up fully to receive it. She creates space for wonders to occur in her life. And she accepts what is. If things aren't looking exactly wonderful at the moment, she knows there's more going on that she can't see.

So, she trusts life. Like a child trusts - and like a child looks at the world through the eyes of wonder - that's Wonder Woman's vision.

To close this post, a quote from Queen Hippolyte (played by Cloris Leachman in the TV series! ):

"Go in peace my daughter. And remember that, in a world of ordinary mortals, you are a Wonder Woman."

Games

2008-12-04T20:04:00.000-08:00

Do you ever really stop to think about how dumb the rules are to most games? Let's take football (I swear, totally random choice!). So, as far as I can see at the simplest level, the rules of football are:

Run while holding an inflated piece of leather across a white line. If you do this, you will score points. Yay points! Good stuff. If running doesn't seem like a good idea, you can throw the piece of inflated leather from one person to another to try to score the points. Or try to kick the piece of leather through two metal posts to score points. But beware, big tough guys will try to stop you and your crew from scoring points.

"Okay", you say. "That seems pretty good. Good game."

Consider baseball, then:

Try to hit a round piece of rubber and leather that's coming at your at high velocity with a wooden stick. Then, if you hit it and no other player catches it with a big piece of leather wrapped around his hand, you run around trying to touch three square pieces of cloth placed on the ground before touching a final piece of cloth to earn "runs".

Staring to sound a little random?

And then, there's golf:

Try to hit small white balls with L-shaped pieces of metal, trying to get the round pieces into tiny shallow holes hundreds of yards away with the fewest possible hits or "strokes".

Who came up with this stuff?!? When you really stop to think about it, the rules and regulations that make up our games and sports on the surface level appear quite arbitrary and random. However, these games work. We love them, don't we? We know the rules, everyone agrees upon them and gosh darn it, they are fun. Fun to play, and fun to watch others play.

I wonder, what's behind those crazy sounding rules? How did they come up with them anyway - it really actually took some planning and intelligence and intention. Here's something else I know: games are not fun when you a) don't know the rules or b) the rules keep changing.

The events of my day caused me to ponder why I react to perceived stress in predicable ways. We all do it. It's like things around us are constantly changing and we don't know the rules...that makes us really uncomfortable. But then, what if we had it all kind of turned around. What if we were focused on the wrong stuff and missing out on the fun of the game?What would happen if I lightened up and saw life more like a game? Not in the sense that it's all a game so nothing matters, but more in the sense that it's all good. In the sense that joy is the juicy good stuff. Don't you want the good stuff? I do. So why be content with mediocrity and only feeling joy some of the time? Why not question your limits and bust loose from the games we play with ourselves into the freedom to play the game of life without limits?

What's stopping you?

Wanna know what's stopping me? Stay tuned.

Football Season

2008-12-03T18:46:00.000-08:00

Football. The word conjures up so much in my mind. Fall nights spent in those oh so attractive Dobie Longhorn band uniforms watching our team either experience the thrill of victory (we had a few good years sandwiched in there!) or the dark depths of defeat. You'd think spending years in a marching band, having a mother who can cheer for her team with the best of them, or being married into a family that bleeds green and gold - well, you'd think I'd have picked up an understanding of the game somewhere along the way. Sadly, no.

I've come to the conclusion that I was born without the football gene. When I look at a football play, I see the initial set up. I know some random guy usually decides to run behind some of the other guys before everything gets going - maybe he forgot where he was supposed to be, you never know - then the ball is snapped and oshg arnd ti, heyt ookl ikel heyt rea oingd omethings mportanti. Eckh fi I nowk hatw ti si, hought.

And they stop. This process is repeated many times, eliciting colorful responses from my dear husband. Who, by the way, just found a game on. I thought I was safe on a Wednesday evening. Then came NFL network.

I find the entire football 'thing' amusing to no end. Because as much as much as it's not my thing, the spark in David's eye and the energy in his voice when sharing about so-and-so's chance at being selected for the Pro-Bowl, who is tough in our division or how the Texans look like lobsters in all red - well, that's just incredibly endearing. (I agree about the lobsters. The rest...no comment).

So, football seems to be inextricably woven into the fabric of my life. Because I love my husband, and he loves football - so I love football? More like I love seeing him thriving and vital. Football brings that out in him. And that's a good thing. Beautiful in fact.

Haiku

2008-12-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

I remember composing Haiku in elementary school. Man, I loved those poems. So simple, yet so...profound.

This evening, I found a most inspiring Haiku unexpectedly. I share, with the knowledge that you too will be enlightened by its profundity.

Delicious

2008-12-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

It never fails. When an ice cream craving hits, it's forty-five degrees outside. Yes, I can see my breath and all I can think is "frozen novelty". Does anyone else experience this phenomenon? And another interesting observation - this fact does not in any way negate warm weather ice cream cravings. This proves what I have long known to be the case - ice cream is just good. Period. The end. Any time of day or night. Hungry or not. I will eat it (and likely feel guilty later, but that's a whole other post).

But the focus tonight is on "delicious". Not the nutritional specs of ice cream, not what emotional wounds I am avoiding or causing by indulging - what if none of that really even mattered? If each day we took time to slow down and enjoy just one deeply delicious moment - how might things change? And how often do I eat ice cream and not even taste it?

So, back to my original problem. I am now not only cold on the outside, but have compounded the situation by putting frozen dairy on the inside. If only it worked like a double negative - but no, I didn't do nothing to help my chilly predicament. It was delicious. Can't resist referencing the Latin root of the word 'delicious' - from the Latin deliciae - 'delight' or 'pleasure'. Challenge yourself - just one delicious moment each day. Fully appreciate it. And see what happens.

We all scream for ice cream.