At the end of the movie "Eat, Pray, Love", Julia Roberts narrates the point of her journey. (If you haven't seen the movie, it's okay. The "eat" part is a wonderful journey through Rome that will make you crave pasta, the "pray" part is okay but has problems because of a whole crap load of fat-shaming references aimed at Julia (really?!), and the "love" part is my wife's favourite part - mostly because of Julia's love interest embodied by a man who cries, calls his children 'darling' as well as kissing them on the mouth. She sees me in Javier Bardem's character, who I'm nothing like on the outside, but quite the same on the inside.
Anyway -- the point of the journey gets narrated over a lovely musical theme and a montage of her biking to reach her love. This is what is said --
"The rule of Quest Physics goes something like this: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting - which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments - and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally); and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue; and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher; and if you are prepared most of all to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you. [pause] I can't help but believe it, given my experience."
It's a good quote. And an interesting one when looked at through the operatic lens.
To perform an opera, one needs to rehearse it. During rehearsals - if they are rehearsals with good intentions and solid collaborations - the singers, director, and conductor often search to find the truth of the story, or a phrase, or a moment, or a vocal choice. To find that truth often takes a combination of a few things: 1) Vulnerability, 2) the Courage to Fail, 3) the Courage to Stand by One's Ideas, and 4) Acceptance that one doesn't have all the answers. It's a quest of sorts.
Vulnerability is not weakness. It is the opposite. Those of use who have consistently tried to be honest, open, and vulnerable in our collaborations often face exposing ourselves to criticism. People nowadays seem to want answers, not questions. The vulnerable ones have to ask questions in order to seek answers. And - newsflash - asking questions does not guarantee answers!
As Hemingway once said, "The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed." I've certainly been feeling quite vulnerable trying to create opera during this pandemic. A few have been quick to point out that I'm not doing everything as easily as I used to pre-pandemic. It's easy to cast critiques my way because I've forgotten to do this, to proof that, to administrate contracts, to return email, to get others onboard, to get decisions made, etc. It's been an impossible job to do, yet I set out on a very specific quest this year -- to produce an unprecedented amount of opera for my students at McGill. This quest has left me feeling exceptionally fragile while at the same time feeling unbelievably proud.
The Courage to Fail is just that. Allowing yourself to see failure as a good thing, a teacher, a learning experience. When one fails - in small ways or in big ones - one can move forward a little bit easier knowing that you know things now, many valuable things, that you've never known before... To put it mildly, I've learned a shitload of new things this year that I never knew I'd ever need to know, want to know, or be able to teach to others who also needed to know,
The Courage to Stand by One's Ideas is a vital part of any quest. How does one question anything or anybody unless you've got a starting place, a home, somewhere that feels familiar and comfortable? Because to stand by your ideas means you're going to have to enter through unfamiliar doors and get into uncomfortable spaces to test yourself, your ideas, your mettle, your resilience. It's been my resilience that's gotten me through these long months. I've discovered an inner strength that was always there externally. My work ethic was always a mix of some strange ability to get up at 6am everyday and push through till midnight day after day after day, juggling multiple projects, without getting fatigued physically. However this year has been about a mental fatigue all of us recognized soon enough: zoom fatigue, the eye fatigue of screen time, email fatigue, and the psychological fatigue of being disconnected from other humans. I've had to discard quite an awful lot of my ideals, which have left a small amount of extremely strong ideals that have become pillars supporting me through this past year.
Acceptance is hardly talked about anymore. "God grant me the strength to accept what I can not change." is a mantra for millions. For many years, my mantra was "Patrick grant me the strength to change what I can not accept." Through sheer force of will, I've managed to change quite a lot in my years on this planet. But this year has made me question the sanity of trying to make changes - in people, in programs, in places - that aren't mine to push onto others. I've accepted that perhaps my next move forward is to stop pushing for change in others and to start pushing for change in my self, but especially my life.
For you see, I've been on an Opera Quest and not known it! I know I'm brave enough to leave behind the familiar and comforting because all of us in opera do this every time we open a new score to learn it, or open up an old score to re-think it. This is how we can re-discover "La Travaita" year after year -- by leaving behind our comfortable, familiar ideas of this masterpiece and diving back into it as a newbie would. I go on truth-seeking journeys every time I coach a singer, or imagine stagings, or raise my hands to conduct a downbeat. That's what all who live in opera days are filled with - lucky us!
There is no truer statement than everyone we meet on our life's journey is a teacher. And what teachers I have had! I've blogged about a few - my first piano teacher Berneil Hanson, my humanities HS teacher RH Fanders, my master's piano teacher Joanne Baker, and my dear mentor of all things opera: Robert L. Larsen. And because my identity is very tied up into being a teacher, I see them in all of my bits and pieces and in all of my interactions with students. Teaching is also a journey, and the best evolve along that journey. I certainly have.
So the question arises, to follow the EPL quote from above -- have I been willing to face and forgive some difficult realities about myself? Yes - and my next pivot as a person will be in response to those realizations. My ego got some good bruisings this year. I've had to quite humbly admit I'm human and haven't been taking care of myself, my relationships. If I was a garden, I'd be a really cool and fabulous garden with tons of weeds growing and large sections looking quite neglected. Time to dig in, to dig up, to weed out, to replant, and to prune.
The truth has not withheld itself, it's just taken a year of a pandemic to make itself known to me.
And that's ultimately how truth in music happens. After hours and hours of practice, after endless discussions and coachings, after thousands of opinions tossed about - truth appears almost magically. But you need to be open, be honest, and be vulnerable to let truth show itself. And then, the hard part, face the truth, forgive yourself any failings, so that you can celebrate that truth as best you can.
What's the future hold for me? I think perhaps the same thing it did for Julia and Javier -- some private time on a boat far away from others holding the only truth I know: love and family.
