Meanwhile

Interim: provisionaltemporary, pro tem, stopgap, short-term, fill-in, caretaker, acting, transitional, makeshift, improvised, impromptu

Origin: 16th century (denoting a temporary or provisional arrangement, originally for the adjustment of religious differences between the German Protestants and the Roman Catholic Church): from Latin, ‘meanwhile.’

Yo Yo Ma, the celebrated cellist and humanitarian, is blessed with much more than musical talent. He has gifts of curiosity and personal warmth that bring people together in all sorts of wonderful ways. “Music,” he said in a recent NPR interview, “actually was invented, as all of culture was invented — by us — to help all of us figure out who we are.”  He has recorded the six Bach cello suites for the third time in his long career, and asks himself what has changed in the music for him since he last recorded them nearly 20 years ago. I hope you will take a few minutes to hear this brief interview about his latest project.

The music of Bach might be 300 years old, but it doesn’t stay the same. The notes are a foundation of sorts, but the space between the notes is ever changing. For an artist like Yo Yo Ma it has provided a lifetime of both stability and variety. A foundation, after all, is as much an underpinning as it is a point of departure.

Getting back to where I started, it is so interesting that the word “interim,” was born of religious strife. Though used in lots of ways now, it still describes a particular kind of religious leadership, which is often enough necessitated by trouble in the institution. Interims are people in the church who might be described with any of those definitions at the top – temporary, fill-in, caretaker, transitional – but they should be much more. Shedders of light, sea captains through rocky waters, absorbers of anxiety.

A kind of limbo is implied for those places that need interim leadership. This is usually a chance to re-examine and re-order what was, attempt to give the accumulated dirty laundry a good airing, and get ready to move into the future. Ideally anyway.

I was deeply hurt a few years ago by many people in positions of leadership at a religious institution. “Stand in line,” you say? You too were betrayed by people you had thought cared about you? Who were supposed to value things like justice and truth and kindness? You’ve also had the rug pulled out by people and places that you trusted? Okay, I’ll go to the back of that very long line.

But as I deal with that hurt – and honor its pain as part of what makes me whole – I am reminded regularly that change is the only constant. Everything changes  – our relationships, our families, our bodies, our jobs, our homes. And those changes create in-between times. Is life just one big interim period then? Are we always in some kind of limbo? And if so few things stay as they are, well, then where in the shifting sands can we build a foundation to stand on?

In serving 6 different churches in musical interim capacities of one sort or another during the past two and half years, and amid all the challenges of jumping into new situations and dealing with so many new people and ways of doing things, I try to help people through those periods of shifting sands, broken relationships, and confusing changes, and I think sometimes that I have found a foundation for myself by being a foundation for others in these places.

So much of what’s wrong in the world is summed up by the inexplicable human need to feel superior. That drive is unmasked in different ways, all of them damaging to our souls  – like racism or classism or consumerism. For whole countries and cultures it’s too often expressed by insularity, rapaciousness, and violence.

We often do, in fact, have more resources than many people around us. For me, they are resources of family, friends, time, enough money, a capacity to care and to listen, a home, freedom. These aren’t things that make me superior to anyone, but they give me strength to be the foundation others might need to get through their in-between times of confusion or hurt or scarcity.

Like the space between musical notes, we have in-between times in our lives that are also important. Interim periods require us to negotiate the movements between sorrow and joy, strength and weakness, moderation and passion, constancy and change. That can be disorienting and disturbing, but ultimately being able to do so, I think, is what makes us strong. Meanwhile, for the times when we need some help getting through transitions…well, among our many resources, we always have Bach.   (Suite No. 5).  According to Yo Yo Ma, music will help us figure out who we are, and just maybe who we are supposed to be in this world.

Peace,
Sonya

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This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was, and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much for which we can be grateful.

 

 

Chaos

This is not a commentary on current times, political or personal, but rather an examination yet again of finding meaning in unusual places. Of finding beauty in chaos.

It began with”the fairest, goodliest, and most famous parish church in England,” as the church of St. Mary Redcliffe was described by Queen Elizabeth I.  It’s a Gothic masterpiece, found on a busy street in a gritty part of a city that is slowly finding its way out of a slave-trade inheritance to become a cultural incubator of the arts in the 21st century (including a very popular Wallace and Gromit tour). I was there for a few days last month and one of the very few photos that I took was of the accompanying sign to this water-powered pendulum found in St. Mary’s Redcliffe.  The sign reads:St_Mary_Redcliffe_Chaotic_Pendulum,_Bristol

Journey into Science: The St. Mary Redcliffe Chaotic Pendulum.  It goes on to describe the process of water moving through the cross beams, unpredictably tipping one way or another, and likening that unpredictability to the ways of the world.

In this simple machine you are looking at a new frontier in our understanding of the world.  Scientists call it chaos.  Some people look to science for certainties on which to base their lives.  Increasingly we realize our knowledge can never provide certainty, even for this simple machine.  The world is a more wonderful and a more surprising place than we could have imagined.

Chaos suggests a lack of rules and form, but maybe it’s really just describing an unseen structure or set of rules. Perhaps the water’s flow through the pendulum responds to rules that are beyond human imagination, or forms that haven’t been described yet. I have to think that much of our world, including our music, would seem incredibly chaotic to our ancestors, should they be able to visit us in 2018. Yet we are surrounded by patterns, and our music is based on recognizable progressions. Could it be that there is meaning in those things which we aren’t evolved enough yet to understand?

I’ve been spending some time with the piano music of Philip Glass this summer. To the resistant listener, it probably sounds random, with its repetitive patterns and unpredictable shifts. I am not an expert on his music, nor have I spent hours analyzing it, but I’ve found playing it to be a wonderful way to warm up my fingers and center my mind. The difficulties of his music are not the usual ones – playing the notes isn’t hard, but staying focused and negotiating the subtle moves in the music is.

Things which seem completely random and unrelated can still draw someone into an artistic experience. Perhaps because there are patterns that lie below the surface of seeing which speak to a hidden part of our brain. The works of artist Jackson Pollock, for example, have been analyzed using fractal analysis. Could this same process be applied to the music of Glass ? Does the human desire for patterns and repetition draw us even toward those things which might seem chaotic at first glance?

Image property of the Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, NY.

I begin working this week as the Interim Music Director at Church of the Epiphany in Washington D.C., and will be there for the next eight months. Church can, at its best, offer an antidote to life’s chaotic moments, don’t you think? I wonder if I’ll learn that the world is indeed a more wonderful and more surprising place than I could have imagined.

Peace,
Sonya

* * * * *

This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much for which we can be grateful.

 

 

The Arc of Common Sense is Long

but it bends towards prosperity.      (bet you didn’t see that coming!)

Threats of global devastation should have been enough, but the common sense of developing renewable energy sources didn’t appeal to a lot of people until the short-term economics did. With fossil fuels costing more to produce than wind or solar energy within the next couple of years, if not already, and given a fair chance by government regulators, common sense around energy use just might prevail.

But common sense thinking around the economic boost that the arts can provide to a local economy? Americans for the Arts, a nearly 60-year old non-profit organization has put business minds to work conducting studies that say yes. Creating jobs, generating commerce, driving tourism – really? I’ve never put common sense, job creation, and the arts into the same sentence before. We’re not talking about blockbuster Broadway productions or Van Gogh exhibits either.

I spent a few days this week in upstate New York, where I attended a concert in one old mill town which has re-created itself by repurposing a factory space into a sprawling modern art museum. I watched the sunset in another old mill town seated next to a stunning (more so than the sunset even) performing arts center that describes itself as a place where the arts, sciences, and technology meet under one roof and breathe the same air. That one is located on the campus of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, but it’s intended as a resource for the entire region, with a concert hall for the 21st century that looks like a floating wooden planet encased in glass.

Those are both relatively new investments in their respective communities. In contrast, there is a church nearby where old wealth had been invested over 100 years ago into building a glorious Tiffany-designed church. Today it stands as one of the best preserved examples of Tiffany’s artistry. The deep blues in the glass and graceful wooden carvings were built and conserved as a gift for future generations, as surely as these more recent arts centers have been. The arts are clearly a vital presence in these small towns that industry had once built and then jilted. Like cracks in the pavement where plants have pushed through, reminding us that nature always wins, this spirit of creativity seems to infuse the old and forgotten with tendrils of new energy.

Whether the conservation of the art in a once-flourishing church, or the emergence of creative communities in these previously forsaken mill towns, art and music feel like a life force that has broken through the cracks of abandonment. As any weekend gardener knows, vegetation coming up through cracks in your pavement is persistent. You can pour weed killer on those green shoots, but they’ll return somewhere else or in a stronger form that will resist your poison next time. Creativity can’t be ignored (though I’m not liking my weed analogy at this point!). More important to our bottom-line-loving world, the arts can apparently help drive an economic engine that brings new life to old places, even as they make hearts sing and bodies move and minds ponder.

For generations some people have put their wealth into art that would last far beyond them – as patrons of painters and musicians, and as builders of cathedrals and museums. How beautiful to see communities reawakening and reimagining art-filled futures in ways that just happen to make a lot of economic sense too.

Peace,
Sonya

PS   After posting this I saw an article about the impact that funding for the arts by the state of Minnesota has had on the quality of life – and the economy – of small towns there. Read it here.

PPS   The news keeps coming…an article about how the arts have helped Greece emerge from its financial disfunction:  Athens Rising-The New York Times.  One quote in particular spoke to me:  “I think everybody became more creative after the crisis, more cooperative,” he said.  Can our own country emerge from its own crisis of closed minds and cold hearts with more creativity and cooperation?  And here’s another: Measurable Benefits of the Arts

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This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much for which we can be grateful.

 

 

Redefinitions

How many of you have said with some certainty, when you’ve heard rap music, “that’s not music!”? The Pulitzer Prize committee recently thought otherwise when it awarded rapper Kendrick Lamar its award for music. Maybe you had the same thought when you first learned about John Cage’s 4’33. Or maybe you’ve been to an exhibit at, say, London’s Tate Modern, and wondered “how can that be art?”Tate Modern, rocks Who heard about Bob Dylan winning the Nobel Prize for Literature last year and said, “HUH?”?

We’re all entitled to our opinions, of course, but don’t these examples give you at least a moment’s pause in weighing the actual worth of your opinions? Doesn’t the idea that your mind might be just a few sizes too small ricochet around your brain when you see that something you don’t value has been honored or appreciated in ways you don’t understand? You don’t wonder if maybe you just might be wrong?  That maybe you need to stay open to new definitions of art and music?

I’ve been thinking a lot about what a new definition for church might be, and some of my ideas would cause a lot of you to say “HUH?” As I think about redefining church for myself, I’m really only clear so far about what it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be boring, nor a place where drama and intellectual curiosity are feared as too showy or esoteric. For me, it can’t be a place of complacency, where people lie about others or to themselves, or a place where good enough and lackluster are equivalent. There is more than enough mediocrity and hypocrisy in our lives already.  There are plenty of forms of entertainment in our lives too, without needing our spirituality to also be entertaining.

I’m starting to see some of the ways that we might redefine church, including those things that people have long described as their experiences of what is sacred outside of church – nature, service to those in need, neighborliness, artistic expression. I don’t think I’m saying anything revelatory when I suggest that traditional church often fails and needs to be reimagined, even as it attempts to honor the very human needs for community and ritual.

No answers, just questions right now. I recently experienced church in a way that colored outside the lines. It was a concert of music and spoken word that illuminated some of those who have, historically, been side-lined in the creation of art – women and African-Americans. I know people on that Friday night were hearing and thinking about things that they hadn’t before, and I suspect their hearts were opened to a more loving way of seeing the world. That feels like church to me.

Peace,
Sonya

* * * * *

This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much for which we can be grateful.

 

Undone by Donne

One of my favorite hymns to teach young choristers in years past has been Hymn 140 in The Hymnal 1982, and I urge you to take a few minutes to listen to this gorgeous recording. With its plaintive 17th century tune and text by John Donne it was seemingly far beyond their years, and yet somehow always seemed to reach them in that deeper place where children have vast stores of wisdom. It’s also fun to teach them about the play on words in the last line:

Wilt thou forgive that sin, where I begun,
Which is my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive those sins through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done, for I have more.

Donne (1573-1631) had secretly married Ann More against her family’s wishes, causing his dismissal and years of poverty until he became employable again as an Anglican priest in 1615.  “When thou hast Donne, thou hast not Donne, for I have More”. A Hymn to God the Father by John Donne

Ann had died some years before Donne wrote this text, but despite its apparent gloom the text actually conveys a sense of assurance, most clearly in verse 3, while playing on their names once again:

that at my death thy Son shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore.
And having done that, thou hast done, I fear no more.

Donne is quoted as saying: “And, O the power of church-music! that harmony added to this Hymn has raised the affections of my heart, and quickened my graces of zeal and gratitude.”

Might we all, including our children, be so moved by music in the church.

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I’m not sure if the sign is still there, but several years ago when I made a quick visit to Milwaukee I came through airport security to see this:

Recombobulation Area

I don’t know about you, but I’m discombobulated on a regular basis, and the opportunity to pull myself back together after shedding various parts of my attire for airport security was very welcome. In fact, I bet we might all welcome the chance to recombobulate ourselves now and then. Maybe you already have such a place. A yoga class,  hiking, a cup of tea and a book. Could church be one of those places to recombobulate? It’s a place, after all, that asks you to temporarily step away from your normal life, where discombobulation is perhaps not an unusual state of being.  Church, at its best, is a place to sing together, confront difficult issues from moral and theological perspectives, and experience the beauty of God through all five senses. It is a place, ideally, where you are accepted and loved as you are, and given some tools to help you become better than you are now.

I often imagine what someone, completely new to church, might experience during a service. While singing a hymn with an archaic text such as Donne’s for Hymn 140,  I wonder what my unchurched visitor is thinking. Does it seem stuffy and off-putting?  A conversation in my head goes something like this:

“Why do you say thee and thou in church still?” she might ask?

“Because there is a power in being connected by language and thought to past generations of Anglicans/Episcopalians, and because we aren’t afraid to create an experience which takes us away from day to day life and helps us glimpse a more orderly world where ideas and emotions are beautifully and carefully expressed,” I might answer.

Wilt thou forgive that sin?  “I’m not really comfortable talking about sin. It’s such a harsh word, and makes me feel judged.”

“I get that. Words have power, but one of the things I particularly enjoy is looking under the surface for deeper meanings. There’s no basis, as far as I know, for my idea that “sin” is related to the word sine, which is Latin for “without,” but being without a moral compass is my working definition of sin.”

“But where’s the joy and exuberance that unleashes the power of the Holy Spirit in us?” she would then wonder.

And I could reply, “Well, it is Lent, and expressions of joy and exuberance become muted, so that we can then feel their full effects on Easter.  For Episcopalians, it’s almost always about balance.”

Maybe church in general, and Lent in particular, can be times to recombobulate, places to step away from “normal” and reconnect with those deep currents of thought and emotion that keep us…combobulated. I wish that was a real word.

Peace,
Sonya

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This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of new connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much for which we can be grateful.

Unison

I began an adventure this past week, moving temporarily to a new city where I know almost no one, working in ways that require me to spend a lot of time alone. Like a lot of introverts, I don’t mind being alone, and I am blessed in never feeling lonely, but that isn’t to say I don’t enjoy all the daily interactions with others that I do have, in rehearsals and meetings and while exploring new places around me.

Author and social researcher Brene Brown has written and spoken, including most recently as the preacher at Washington National Cathedral, about loneliness as the greatest predictor of premature death – more than smoking or obesity.  She was quoting from a British study that’s making the rounds and which has caused the British government to take notice about the health care costs of loneliness.

Church as antidote to loneliness is not a new idea, but to my delight Brown mentioned that singing with people she doesn’t know is one of the best reasons to go to church. She then turned to the Cathedral’s superb choir seated behind the pulpit and, getting a good laugh from everyone, said something to the effect that those particular strangers would do!

YES! a well-trained choir is there to sing with a congregation. Occasionally, at Evensong for example, they are singing on behalf of a congregation, but never instead of, and certainly not despite.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who loved music so much, believed singing in unison was the best way for a community to pray together. The clarity and purity of unison singing – even when it’s somewhat out of tune croaking from the least musically-inclined –  for Bonhoeffer was the most joyful way to illuminate “the Word in its mystery.”

When voices come together in the words of a creed or in the tune and words of a hymn these are things which express the collective wisdom of many across time and place. Some can’t bring themselves to believe parts of the creeds we say, some cannot sing well…and yet these are still unison expressions of a community. Collectively we can believe the creeds, and collectively we can sing as one. Saying corporate prayers and singing in unison become the voice of the Church, not simply a collection of individual voices.

We need to know how to be alone as much as how to be in community, just as we need both self-sufficiency and human interactions in order to survive and to thrive. I believe that harmony and dissonance are as important to music as they are to social discourse, but as a musician I can say that it is training a choir to sing well in unison that is actually one of the hardest things there is to do. And I firmly believe that we are called on a regular basis to practice doing hard things.

Peace,
Sonya

* * * * *

This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of new connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much for which we can be grateful.

 

Celebration

During this week between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the Jewish High Holy Days, it seems appropriate to quote the Rabbi of “radical amazement,” Abraham Joshua Heschel, but the words that are ringing in my ears aren’t ones we necessarily want to hear. On the NPR program, On Being, this past Sunday a Heschel scholar addressed the concern expressed by so many who believe that religion does have something to say for our times, despite so much evidence to the contrary:

“It is customary to blame secular science and anti-religious philosophy for the eclipse of religion in modern society. It would be more honest to blame religion for its own defeats. Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid. 

Ouch. Yet, how many people would indeed describe church as irrelevant, dull, oppressive and insipid? Perhaps not the people who actually go to church (oh, I hope not), but all too often they are true words for those who don’t go to church, and aren’t those the very people the church wants to reach?

When I was asked by the Rector of St. John’s about my vision for the music, my response was “to never be boring.” I want music in the church to be the opposite of irrelevant, dull, oppressive, and insipid. I think a lot about how to make music a meaningful part of people’s worship. The combination of music, text, liturgy, and all the individual needs, gifts and hopes that people bring to the table is a powerful one. If I think about it, celebration is at the heart of all my musical endeavors. To celebrate this incredible gift of music from God and the musical gifts given to us by great composers and musical traditions of many cultures, to celebrate the talents and new-found skills of those who participate in choirs, as well as the wisdom found in the great poetry of the psalms and hymn texts. To celebrate the beauty of all those things expressed in the impressionistic hymn text Now:

Now the silence  Now the peace  Now the empty hands uplifted  Now the kneeling Now the plea  Now the Father’s arms in welcome  Now the hearing  Now the pow’r Now the vessel brimmed for pouring  Now the body  Now the blood  Now the joyful celebration   (The Hymnal 1982, #333)

Rabbi Heschel had something to say about celebration too:

People of our time are losing the power of celebration. Instead of celebrating we seek to be amused or entertained. Celebration is an active state, an act of expressing reverence or appreciation. To be entertained is a passive state–it is to receive pleasure afforded by an amusing act or a spectacle…. Celebration is a confrontation, giving attention to the transcendent meaning of one’s actions.

We can celebrate by simply paying attention. Now. How could a celebration like that be anything other than relevant, astonishing, compassionate, and exhilarating?

Peace,
Sonya

Notes for a New Day

Barbara Brown Taylor, in her 2006 book Leaving Church, wrote about her need to leave church in order to maintain a relationship with God, after a 20 year career of working in the Episcopal Church as a priest.

I recently stopped going to church as well, after a 20 year career as a church musician that never really seemed so much a career as a way of life.  I also can see the wisdom of leaving church in order to nurture a relationship with God, as awful as that initially sounds to someone who has grown up, raised a family, matured and planned to retire from a life in the church.

On my first Sunday after leaving church there was a snowstorm which happily made a decision about going to another church completely unnecessary.  Of course my husband and I wouldn’t be going anywhere that morning, but he gingerly asked, knowing my wounds were still raw, if we could have “home church.”  I painfully nodded yes, seeing that it was important to him that we do this, and he created a brief liturgy of words that began with the Collect for Purity.

I must have heard this prayer thousands of times over the course of my life, but he read the familiar words in a way that made them completely new to me.  I became aware of the words, which begin each celebration of the Eucharist, as something I was truly hearing for the first time.

Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hid

Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy holy Name;

through Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Each word of the Collect for Purity promises the comfort of an embracing love that at the same time understands and forgives and expects more of us. These are thoughts that feel like good companions during a time of leaving church, of healing, and of moving into new days that require new ways of thinking and being.

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This blog is a new venture for me, after 8 years of writing for another forum.  It’s an attempt to continue putting thoughts together on various things that seem to connect, at least in my mind.  I believe that more often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this posting inspires all kinds of connections between old and new.

Also new is what I’ll be doing this weekend, February 27 and 28 – playing Spanish music for keyboard and electric guitar with the Furia Flamenca Dance Company as part of the Intersections Festival at the Atlas Performing Arts Center. Several firsts for me right there in this melding of a dance tradition that has roots in the 18th century with instruments of this century. This Saturday at 8:00 pm and Sunday at 6:00 pm. (Atlas ArtsCenter)

Or join me at St. Columba Episcopal Church on Sunday, March 6 when French harpist Isabelle Frouvelle and I will be playing the prelude to their 11:15 service and playing again that same day as part of their 2:00 concert, Organ Plus for organ and various instruments. (St. Columba)

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested, and if a community conversation comes out of it, all the better. We have so much to share and so much to be grateful for.

Peace,
Sonya