Midlife Meditation

A week ago today, it got personal. Three years ago, I traveled to Ghana to learn about the West African roots of Orff Schulwerk, the philosophy that guides my practice as a music educator. The trip was a mind-expander: every day was filled with rich experiences that were new to me. Sights, sounds, smells, flavors, and most of all, people. Everywhere I went there were people speaking languages I did not know, or speaking my own language in accents I had rarely, if ever, heard. And music, so much music, permeating every aspect of this culture that was simultaneously more ancient than anything white American culture has to offer, was the beating heart of all the music I have ever lived, and has organically gone its own way for so long since it influenced American music that it is a whole other world unto itself. Guiding me, and forty other educators, through this experience--organizing every aspect of the trip, curating nightly performances, taking us on day trips to local festivals ...

If you lived in Portland in the early 2000s, you may have seen a bumper sticker with the legend "Bring Major League Baseball to Portland," and this logo: The umbrella plays off Portland's reputation for rainfall, but does it in a distinctly un-Portland way. While our city does have plenty of rainy days, the precipitation is rarely of the drenching variety, and realizing that, Portlanders tend not to carry umbrellas. Yes, we'll wear water-resistant jackets (we also eschew true raincoats), but no bumbershoots for us, thank you very much. Carrying an umbrella on a typically misty Portland day almost guarantees  one to be an out-of-towner, in fact. We're so inured to rain that it comes as a surprise how unprepared we are to drive in it. The first rainy day after a dry spell sees far more accidents on the highway than rainfolk should be having. Add a cold snap, and things become nightmarish; which is why freezing rain shuts this city down. I was supposed...