The Conductor as Yogi: For the Future

By Ramona M. Wis

Planting trees early in spring, 

we make a place for birds to sing

in time to come.  How do we know?

They are singing here now.

There is no other guarantee

that singing will ever be.

~ Wendell Berry

I recently came upon these words of Wendell Berry’s poem, “For the Future,” set in a lovely piece of the same name by Andrew Maxfield.  Like all of my favorite poems, this one is simple, yet profound—and timely. 

As I write this, we are beginning our sixth week of the semester, enough time to have gotten into a kind of routine in our virtual modality.  I have been observing what is working, while continuing to reframe the experience of “choir” as singers go through an interesting cycle of adapt, engage, and grow; of being “excited for rehearsal today” . . .  and of periodically pulling away (emotionally or literally) from over-exposure to Zoom and the fatigue and disappointment from this whole new way of life.  

My own experience is not too different.  I have my routine of preparing my rehearsal plan (as always, on my trusty yellow legal pad), setting up my space (easier now without a choir room of chairs to haul around), readying my technology (with new surprises every day), and choosing, studying, and preparing repertoire (uniquely challenging right now).  I fight and usually win the battle of my own fatigue from the many collaborative Zooms and emails involved in preparing performance tracks, designing virtual performances, setting deadlines, and generating paperwork, and from listening to countless audio and video submissions, all towards ensuring a quality virtual concert that can give us a sense of musical community and artistic fulfillment.  

In the midst of all this, it occurs to me—this is planting.  This is important work.  This is building new skills even when singers are not sure they need them.  This is developing relationships at an earlier and more individual level:  encouraging singers, individually coaching them, and being a resource for them in their doubt and rekindled grief over a way of life not possible now.  This is meeting and connecting with colleagues in more regular ways and being grateful for their willingness to share resources and time.  This is reaching into my creative well to discover what needs to stay, what needs to be released, and what must be discovered or developed.

We are planting now.  For the short term, to sustain our community and create new kinds of performances and for the long term, to ensure that the singing, our art form, our humanity can have an even stronger foundation, a “tree” that anchors and houses us so we can unleash that which we were designed to do.  

By planting, “we make a place for birds to sing.”  I have been writing a book exploring the intersection of making a place and making art.  These themes resonate with me in new ways now.  Berry’s words remind me that our work is always about creating a context, imbued with possibilities for our singers to be the best version of themselves.  This is no less important and I would say, no less achievable now, when we consider the essence of this idea.  While our strategies and goals have been reimagined, the context we provide every rehearsal is still the place for singing to happen.

“ . . . [I]n time to come . . . .”  Here is our biggest challenge.  If we think of the “time to come” as a future two years from now, we miss the opportunity to grow the singers we work with right now.  We are not in a “holding pattern,” but rather a planting season which leads to growth, even of the smallest kind, well before the mighty oak is at full maturity.  Whatever our teaching and conducting life is like now, can we craft our daily work to reap benefits in a nearer future—next week and the week after, rather than “when normal returns?”

“How do we know? They are singing here now . . . .”   Whatever it looks like, however we have adapted, it is leading to singing here now.  Even in their own personal choir rooms, singers are singing. In their video or audio submissions, they are singing.  In our virtual performances, they are singing.  

There is no other guarantee

that singing will ever be.

Guarantees are hard to come by, but the poet’s message is clear—plant the foundation and create the place, and our “birds” will sing.  And when we hear their voices and see their faces blending in that virtual performance, we will know that what we are doing with and for our singers, remains important work.  

Maybe the words of this poem are not timely, but rather, timeless . . . plant now.  For tomorrow, for the future, for always.  

Dr. Ramona Wis is the Mimi Rolland Endowed Professor in the Fine Arts, Professor of Music, and Director of Choral Activities at North Central College in Naperville, Illinois and the author of The Conductor as Leader:  Principles of Leadership Applied to Life on the Podium.  Dr. Wis is a 500-hour CYT (Certified Yoga Teacher) with training in yoga history, philosophy, meditation, energetics, pranayama (breath work), anatomy, Sanskrit, and the teaching, sequencing, and adaptations of asana (posture-based) practice.

Check out the USC Chamber Choir’s performance of Andrew Maxfield’s “For the Future:”