TCATS #402 - 555 (Singing Again)

555 refers to the number of days that the Tabernacle Choir has been in "pause" mode. But that pause came to an end this past Thursday night (and this morning) as the Sunday Conference session group came together to make music once more (the Saturday session group met on Tuesday). 

I'm not exactly sure what to say about it all. And I've kind of been dreading this moment of trying to document my emotions and feelings. So I ask for your patience as I work through this post.

Perhaps it would be best to first focus on what I was grateful for within this "return" experience.

I was grateful to sing in a large ensemble again. Truly. There's nothing like it.

I was grateful to be directed by Mack and Ryan again. I've missed them. 

I was grateful, once seated in the choir seats with our masks off, to look around and see people's faces. It was almost like we had never had the pandemic pause at all. But looking more intently, it was evident that time really had passed and people had changed. Their eyes seemed to tell their story.

I was grateful for the music memorizing I've been working hard on. That preparation paid off during the rehearsal. 

And I was grateful to have walked into the Conference Center with my friend Ryan B. who will be retiring just as soon as the Choir leadership gets that scheduled. I'll miss him. Glad he gets one more Conference to sing at.

As I've tried to put my finger on exactly what was hard about going back, I don't feel like I've come to any conclusions that I can fully communicate with words. It's true I didn't like wearing a KN95 mask and I didn't like getting a covid test (or waiting in anticipation for the results) and I didn't like all of the distancing. But beyond that, I think the pandemic has encased my heart with layers of bitterness. Bitterness caused by shutdowns, life modifications, disappointments, inconveniences, and so many questions with no clear answers. So, with anything that has layers, my bitterness ones will take some time to unpeel. 

I noticed one more thing, too.

A sense that I didn't belong. That I wasn't worthy to be there. Which perhaps was rooted in the never-good comparison game that my mind tried hard not to play, but did anyway. There were choir members who were totally and enthusiastically thrilled to be back, with smiles beaming on their faces, who had prayed in earnest for the return-day to come, who had fully supported the covid protocols (whatever it takes!), who had been gracious and kind-hearted towards those making decisions, and who had personally prepared spiritually. 

And then there was me. Who belonged in some other struggling, broken camp.

I don't know. I'm all jumbled up. Maybe what my heart is saying right now is found in one of the pieces we're performing. And I'll just end with those lyrics.

"Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace? When other sources cease to make me whole? When with a wounded heart, anger or malice; I draw myself apart searching my soul."

Until next time, God be with you.

TCATS #401 - Winding the Clock

Wind-up clocks, just like wind-up music boxes or toys, have the potential to be wound too much. There's this sometimes hard to figure out "sweet spot" of winding just enough so that the device runs at peak efficiency, but not over-winding it--which can lead to device failure (and it needing repair). Most people who observe a wind-up clock might not even know it runs by someone needing to wind it. They just look at the clock and not only appreciate that it tells the time, but they expect it to tell the time and to tell it accurately.

I feel sort of like a wind-up clock. 

I feel like all of these covid protocols that I'll be complying with first-hand this coming Thursday night for my first rehearsal will either be just enough or they'll be too much. 

I think there comes a point when restrictions and protocols make things feel so "tight" that you can no longer enjoy what you hope to enjoy or feel what you hope to feel. And just like there are different winding mechanisms, each with different winding limitations, so each person has different levels of emotional capacities and limitations in a potentially over-wound environment. 

I don't know how Thursday night will go. I've envisioned how it will mechanically go, but I don't know how it will emotionally go. But, I've committed to singing in the upcoming General Conference (Sunday session) and will do my best to memorize the music, to pray for a good experience, and to follow the seven-layer covid protocol (which was actually officially released to the public to know about). If after doing that though, I've discovered that the Tabernacle Choir singing experience is not what I personally need it to be in my life right now, then I'll likely apply for an official excused leave until society has learned to live with Covid--just like it lives with other viruses, illnesses, and health-impacting risks. 

That all said, I will hope for the best and will go into this experience with an optimistic attitude. The part I need to play right now is to memorize. So just as I've been doing that this past week, I will continue to do it from now until October 3rd.  

After that?

I will analyze how it went, how I felt, and if I was able to effectively contribute legitimate and authentic hope and peace while I sang. 

If I wasn't able to do THAT, then I'll need to initiate a self-imposed pause until such time as I can contribute again in meaningful and expected ways.

Until next time, God be with you.

TCATS #400 - Processing the Protcols

I'm hesitant to write this post because of the internal conflict going on within me. 

I feel like I'm probably the only one in the Choir who feels the way I feel. If there are others, I don't know who they are. But I can understand why they wouldn't make themselves known.

We had a meeting on Thursday in which the Choir Presidency, along with health care professionals within the Choir organization, the Choir directors, and other staff members, laid out a plan. The plan included several procedures we'd all need to follow if we wanted to sing in the Choir again. 

The Plan included the following seven layers:

1. Vaccination - uploading a digital copy of our covid vaccination card to the Choir admin team to prove that we are vaccinated.

2. Screening - examining our personal health and if we or any of our family members are immunocompromised, refraining from participating in the choir at this time.

3. Testing - arriving at every rehearsal or performance an hour early to undergo a rapid covid test. If we pass the test, we can sing. If not, we'll be excused.

4. Social Distancing - sitting one seat apart each from each other when we sing and keeping our distance from other choir members at other appropriate times.

5. Face Coverings - when not actively singing, wearing a K95 mask at all times after entering the Conference Center/Tabernacle. 

6. Self-Reporting - staying home if we're not feeling well, or staying home if anyone else in our household isn't feeling well.

7. Ventilation - singing in the Conference Center instead of the Tabernacle since the former has the better air flow/circulation system.

Overall, we were asked to be patient, to go forward with faith, to follow this plan with exactness, and to be prepared for future "pauses" if this plan needs adjusting. 

There was also a Q&A session to answer the multiple questions coming through on the chat section of the Zoom meeting. Only about four questions were answered (out of maybe 20 or so?) but we'll be getting a Q&A document that will cover all the questions asked. Some questions included asking about T-Cell tests (to take the place of the vaccination requirement), details on how the testing would work, protocols for carpooling, what to do if arriving late, etc. 

After the meeting, as I sat there in sort of a numb daze, I yearned to be one of those people who seemed to be completely on-board with the plan and ready to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to get back to singing. But I just kept thinking "really? is this all really necessary?" 

I longed to have a warn fuzzy feeling inside testifying that it was all as it should be. 

But whether I get that feeling or not, the part of me that desires to sing again will have to be enough to propel me forward. I just hope that in time, instead of merely complying, I'll comply with faith. 

So here's to hoping.

Until next time, God be with you.

TCATS #399 - Together, Not Apart

I started watching a Hulu mini-series that came out recently titled "9/11: One Day in America". The official description of the series reads as follows: "One Day in America tells the in-depth story of September 11th through the eyes of the witnesses, heroes and survivors. Made in collaboration with the 9/11 Memorial & Museum to mark the 20th anniversary, this major new series charts the tragic day in unprecedented detail – from the first plane hitting the north tower to the last survivors being rescued from the rubble."

Even after I started watching it though, part of me didn't want to continue watching it. Several parts of even the first episode caused many emotions to well up within me and tears to spring to my eyes. While I didn't lose anyone I personally knew that day, I lost fellow American brothers and sisters whose lives had meaning. And it was terribly sad to re-live that reality all over again--now nearly 20 years later. 

Of course the good that came from that tragedy was a greater feeling of unity. It was as if the title of our country--the UNITED States of America--actually reflected how we as American felt towards one another. I remember distinctly feeling that way and hearing from family members and friends that they felt that way too. 

It was with some interest, then, that I read a USA Today article titled "9/11 brought a sense of national unity. Why has the pandemic been marred by division?" The article starts off by saying "Bad times bring out the best in people. It must be true. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a cliché.  On the other hand, maybe clichés, like doctors, should be re-certified every once in a while. Does flattery really get you nowhere? Have good things ever come to those who wait?  Do bad times really make us better people? The 20th anniversary of 9/11 – occurring in the 18th month of the COVID-19 pandemic – offers a reality check. Also, a sobering study in contrasts.  Because if 9/11 brought us together, COVID seems to be tearing us apart."

In response to that "tearing us apart" reality check, the Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra at Temple Square will be airing a special Music & the Spoken Word episode titled "9/11: Coming Together". I don't think the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who sponsors the Choir, is thinking that just by airing this special there will be some massive movement to abandon division and adopt unity. Rather, I think the title is inviting all of us to "celebrate compassion, caring, and unity" and to "remind us of the goodness that connects all of us and of what happens when we reach out to help each other." (See official program description, HERE and trailer HERE)

I invite you all to watch the special (which actually airs at 8:46AM on 9/11; and again on Sunday, 9/12 at 9:30AM) and to ask yourself "what more can I do to show love and promote unity?" Perhaps as you listen to the music and hear the words in this program, you might feel inspired as to how best to answer that question.

Until next time, God be with you.