My Life in Music

Horses were always in my heart and my imagination but they were not always in my life. Before horses, there were sports and music. Sports went by the wayside but music remained.

Music was a mainstay in my childhood home. My dad always had music playing in his clock shop; usually classical or jazz. I couldn’t help but be drawn to music as a centerpiece in my education. Mozart, Vivaldi, Bach, Beethoven were everyday names along with the likes of Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Jelly Roll Morton, and Mel Torme.

Starting in junior high my life began to be filled with choirs, piano lessons, bass lessons, guitar lessons, voice lessons, music theory, form and analysis, counterpoint, and music history…all very familiar to any classical musician. Oh, and we can’t forget practice rooms! So very much time is spent in practice rooms finishing theory homework or learning or refining solo or ensemble music.

I found a deep sense of peace immersed in music (unless I was about to walk into a voice jury and wasn’t sure I had the German memorized in one of the pieces. Mainly because my voice instructor spoke fluent German so if I made it up, he would know!) Of course, there were stressful times; trying to get your theory done, your musical pieces learned or memorized, and making sure you’re prepared for ensemble rehearsal. It was stressful but it was wondrously ethereal.

I remember running into a trumpet player at Biola who was practicing in the main hall at 2am. I asked him about the late hour. He said, “This is the only time when it’s quiet enough for me to practice.” His dedication was noticed by the director of the music department who gave him a key to the hall for these middle-of-the-night practice sessions. We sat for some time on the stage in the empty hall. I was thinking about all the unforgettable moments I had experienced from that very stage. Not sure what he was thinking. His lip was split from all the practice he was doing for his upcoming recital but he was at peace. Even joyful. He was a superlative trumpet player and a lovely human. He put every ounce of what he had learned into creating music. What a gift.

I came to realize and appreciate the leveling field of music. Weight, height, race, income, social status, nationality…none of it made a bit of difference. All that mattered was if you were prepared. If you learned and applied what your professors taught. If you were present. If you were willing to give to the audience when you performed. You give them your heart, not just a piece of music. If you were willing to commit to those in your ensemble; being on time, knowing your music, working out your own technical challenges, and coming ready to offer all you had. There is nothing like the lingering ringing in the air of a final chord delightfully in tune followed by the silence of the audience before breaking into applause. Or fighting back tears during a performance because you’re overwhelmed by the power of a moment that will never come again.

As musicians, that’s what we did. Created moments that could be remembered but never duplicated. It’s strange when you think about it. All that work and study for something that you can’t repeat. You can’t even hold it in your hand. You have to let it go. That’s kind of the definition of music.

Now my life centers around horses and I can’t help but return to my old music school habits: Studying the composers, their history, and the culture they lived in. Studying music theory to know how it is constructed. Studying and practicing my own instrument (usually voice) so I’m ready to perform. But now composers are replaced by ancient horsemen, each with their own culture and history. Studying the horse and how his body and mind function. Studying and preparing myself to be ready for the interactions of each day. All that work and study for something I can’t even hold in my hand. I have to relish it while I let it go.

It’s the nature of music.

It’s the nature of horses.

Perhaps it’s simply the nature of life.