Things fall apart: 14 articles on making music in dark times
How do we make music in the face of fear? How can we be expressive when we’re helpless, or are in pain? How do we continue to put beauty and compassion into the world when we’re trapped in a fire of circumstances from which we have no escape? How do we work with the darkness outside and within ourselves without losing our precious spark of light?
Whether on a global or personal level, each one of us faces things we can’t change or escape and it’s humbling to see just how little control we have over any of it. In the darkest moments, when we feel most helpless, that’s when we have to ask ourselves, “what can I realistically influence here?” In most instances, the answers lie in managing ourselves and doing everything within our power to bring light and hope to our loved ones and our greater communities.
I struggle with this, and everyone I know is struggling with this as well. That’s why one of the threads that runs through No Dead Guys posts is how to play the piano when things fall apart. These 14 posts reflect aspects of my own attempt to work with myself and my community; I offer them to you today in the hope that one or more of them may bring brightness to you if you’re struggling with your own darkness.
On working with ourselves
“In every situation where we feel we’re “damned if we do and damned if we don’t,” freedom lies in be willing to either make that change or find a way to live peacefully with current circumstances.”
Playing from the miracle of everyday life
“I’m learning that without self-consciousness I’m free to embrace my own personal quirkiness and without cynicism I can consciously embrace hope and the possibility of redemption. And through hope, I can choose to believe that human beings are much more than angry animated pieces of meat, but are capable of acts of beauty, transcendence and mercy beyond comprehension.”
Speaking the truth in a world of lies
“When encountered in a piece of music, a word, a work of art, or the icon of the face of one who embodies integrity, it changes the world. And here’s the crucial bit: we don’t need to understand it to be transformed by it.”
12 ways musicians can refill their creative wells
“We all get fed up. We get tired. We feel drained and dead. The music that once sparked passion in us feels lifeless and pointless. Many times this creates doubt and fear, and soon we’re asking ourselves if we really want to make music at all. These moments, when the creative well has been drained dry, are when we owe it to ourselves and our music to walk away, go dig in the garden, or do anything else that allows us to want to make music again.”
On working with our community
Music, community, and resistance
“How can a musician be an agent for change? Through working on ourselves until we see all others as Us. Through resisting the lure of hateful, divisive rhetoric. Through allowing the common language we’ve been given—music—to invite others to stop seeing us as Them, and to find common ground in notes both grand and humble.”
People deciding to be people: music and civil discourse
“Music won’t fix political rifts. It won’t solve the very real problems that afflict our communities. But music gives us a two much-needed things: a release from the prison of our own thoughts, and a common wordless language.”
Music and the circle of belonging
“Here’s what I know: through notes that lie deeper than language, we find connection, healing, and hope. Through our music-making, we offer these things to others. Through teaching, mentoring, and arts advocacy, we train others in this sacred, healing art. Through millions of little moments of beauty, we contribute to all that is good and sacred in life. This healing beauty dares to stare down hurricanes of rage and pain because somewhere, someone else may hear the simple notes we create and choose hope over despair.”
On illness, death, and dying
Beyond burnout: recovery tips for the classical pianist
“Ultimately, moving beyond burnout means falling in love with music all over again. My own return to the piano happened slowly and was accompanied by a bone-deep conviction that music is more about fertile earth, heart-to-heart talks with friends, and cooking spaghetti than marble halls and the monolith of perfection.”
The body holds the memories: pianists and trauma
“The body holds the memories, but it also holds the ability to heal. With time and self-compassion we can find the path to freedom.”
In the worst of times: playing the piano when your life falls apart
“There are times when the sun is shining, the house is empty, the piano beckons, and music pours out of the fingers like breathing. This article isn’t about those times. This is about practicing through days when the diagnosis just got worse, when the divorce papers arrived, when a loved one slides further and further into illness—physical or mental. In other words, this is about practicing the piano when life is falling apart.”
“We’re all in it together and we are all “lost causes.” All hell breaks loose around us and we let go of everything we’ve clutched so tightly but hang on to the love and truth we know. And we look for the flickers of beauty and hope, in the hug of a dying woman, in the generosity of autumn colors, in the crisp bite of a cold night, and in the ephemeral, transitory, yet heart-grabbing beauty of piano music, in a sunny studio, on a day devoted to lost causes.”
How music and beauty heal in dark times
“In every time of grief or stress, beauty waits for me to remember to look, listen, and open up. Beauty is everywhere—we’re swimming in it every second of our lives. Beauty reminds us what’s eternal and noble. And while some dismiss a quest for beauty as escapism, I see it as an essential search for truth and sanity. Beauty gives, it doesn’t take. Wildflowers bloom for the sheer exuberance of it, not for any gain. Sunlight warms a windowsill even if we don’t notice it. All we’re required to do is pay attention.”
In his own words: educator and pianist Forrest Kinney on living, dying, and accepting
“I wanted to assure you that this final act has been a time of comfort and joy. I also wanted to share what I have learned: when we accept “what is” and act accordingly, when we quit trying to force our lives to be what they are not, life can unfold in a shockingly beautiful way.”
Nature and the soundtrack of real life
“No matter how frozen or blocked we feel, life will trickle in, if we let it. It comes in through the sparkle of sun on water, the scent of freshly mown grass, the caress of a late afternoon breeze, the taste of creamy chocolate ice cream on a hot day, and the sound of church bells, bird songs, and a cordial greeting from a stranger. Eventually, through these rivulets, the Plexiglass dam opens, and music, words, connection, and meaning flood back into our lives.”
Photo by Matthew Henry, courtesy of UpSplash