"At the end of the day, people won't remember what you said or did;
they will remember how you made them feel."
- Maya Angelou
I love the rhythm of the seasons. I love to watch the transformation of the world around me, as the long days become long nights, and the bare branches sprout blossoms once more. I love that when everything is still and cold and frozen - this is the time we choose to call the "new year." Of course, in other parts of the world, the new year is ushered in by sunlight and warmth. But, no matter. I love that here, in the dead of winter, when all around us is snowy darkness, we turn our face into the icy wind and look forward with expectation into what is to come.
Sometimes I think about how overwhelming life would be if we didn't keep time - if we didn't count the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades. I can hardly fathom what it would mean to have the moments stretch on and on, without any sort of definition.
No, we are created for rhythm. Of this I am sure. We need structure - we need definition. We need to be able to categorize and compartmentalize things. We need to be able to leave things behind: "2013 was a hard one - I'm glad it's done." We need to be able to look ahead: "2014 will be better, I can already tell."
In the last few years, it has become my New Year's tradition to pause for a few hours and reflect on the year. Sometimes I read through my journal (provided it was a good year for journaling). Sometimes I re-trace the journey month-by-month. Sometimes, I just sit, mesmerized by the tree lights or the flickering candles, savoring the sweet stillness. And I am always surprised at how powerful it can be to take the time and space to actively remember.
Sometimes I think about how overwhelming life would be if we didn't keep time - if we didn't count the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decades. I can hardly fathom what it would mean to have the moments stretch on and on, without any sort of definition.
No, we are created for rhythm. Of this I am sure. We need structure - we need definition. We need to be able to categorize and compartmentalize things. We need to be able to leave things behind: "2013 was a hard one - I'm glad it's done." We need to be able to look ahead: "2014 will be better, I can already tell."
In the last few years, it has become my New Year's tradition to pause for a few hours and reflect on the year. Sometimes I read through my journal (provided it was a good year for journaling). Sometimes I re-trace the journey month-by-month. Sometimes, I just sit, mesmerized by the tree lights or the flickering candles, savoring the sweet stillness. And I am always surprised at how powerful it can be to take the time and space to actively remember.
365 days ago, I was preparing to tackle my final semester at Peabody, having no idea that 12-mos. later, I would have completed my first semester as a music theory professor.
I am amazed at how much can be crammed into a single year....at how much has changed...and at how much is exactly the same. I think back on what has transpired - the milestone events - large and small - the ones that happened on a stage, the ones that happened in a practice room, and the ones that happened in my living room.
I am amazed at how much can be crammed into a single year....at how much has changed...and at how much is exactly the same. I think back on what has transpired - the milestone events - large and small - the ones that happened on a stage, the ones that happened in a practice room, and the ones that happened in my living room.
I stumbled upon this Maya Angelou quote, as I was flipping through my journal this evening. From what I can gather (I am not always the most detailed in my journaling), it was Denyce Graves who quoted it, when I was playing for one of her students' lessons one afternoon. She framed it within the context of singing - within the world of theater....which makes total sense. We don't necessarily remember how an actor moved his hands or even with what inflection he delivered the line - but we will remember being moved. We will remember a line or a phrase cutting straight to the heart.
Yes, there are specific moments I remember from the last year. There are words, phrases that people have spoken to me in the last 12 months - and I will continue to replay them for years to come. There are things people have done for me - small things, and ginormous things - that will remained ingrained in my memory.
Yes, there are specific moments I remember from the last year. There are words, phrases that people have spoken to me in the last 12 months - and I will continue to replay them for years to come. There are things people have done for me - small things, and ginormous things - that will remained ingrained in my memory.
But Maya's right. I remember them because of how they made me feel.
So then I got to thinking...as is prone to happen when wine and chocolate and candlelit lanterns are involved: How do people make us feel?
Uneasy.
Awkward.
Small.
Fearful.
Weak.
Weak.
Stupid.
Alone.
Worthless.
Safe.
Loved.
Heard.
Understood.
Seen.
Important.
Peaceful.
Forgiven.
Empowered.
Thankful..
Free.
Needed.
Alive.
We are not responsible for the feelings of others. We feel what we feel - and we really have no control over that, at least to an extent. But at the same time, we must also never forget that our words and our actions carry great weight and power. The people we brush shoulders with every day are precious, extraordinary, fragile.
I always find it fascinating to read the list of "most influential people of the year" (by somebody's standards) and peruse the catalog of people who have passed on in the last year. Many of them, I've never heard of. Most of them have had little or no direct impact on my life.
Because the people that matter most to me are the people whose faces now find themselves plastered to my frig. And as I allow my eyes to drift over those precious faces, the feelings come surging back. I see the eyes of one who sees me. I see the smile and, in my head, hear the laugh of one who makes me come alive.
For the most part, I cannot tell you what it is exactly that they did or said. But the feelings run deep. And the feelings remain.
And so, as I close the book on yet another year, I do so with gratitude. I marvel at the mystery of human interaction. I am awed by the glimpses of the divine that I see all around me. I give thanks for the fingerprints - so divinely human - that have left their mark on my heart.
Photo Credit: Chinwe Edeani - www.photosbychinwe.tumblr.com
