It’s the end of winter in the Twin Cities, which means the snow is gray. Dark gray. It’s a full moon. We are entering tech week for “La Boheme” at the Minnesota Opera, and since we have a double-cast we have additional rehearsals. I’m concurrently practicing with another ensemble for a performance of Pergolesi’s “Stabat Mater,” working on developing new pieces & interviews for Notes on the Road, looking for other gigs, working on (a) day job(s), and making plans for my future singing—everything from short-term to long-term. Then there are all the parts of life and work that I don’t write about on the internet, and, well, there’s a lot of that, too. I was in the car all day and took no time to be outside other than rushing from car to appointment and from building to building.


Sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed.

 

Ironically, I keep looking for things to do to calm me down and help me focus. I write lists, I tackle my checkbook, I surf for something I’ve wanted to know about for a while, I go for a long walk. I knit. I organize. I wash dishes. I return emails. I call people.

Last night I sat down to meditate. I held a stone in my hand and felt its weight. There were three candles lit and Pandora was softly playing on my computer: soft, new-age, ambient music.

It was too bright, so I turned off one light.

I turned the volume down.

It was still too loud, so I paused Pandora.

It got quiet.

Then I was quiet. There was no noise but the furnace clicking on and off.

Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in deeper…breathe out more slowly…and there it was. It was louder than everything had been all day, yet it was quiet: the knowledge that everything is going to work out for the best.

It’s all right now.