Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees, takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I recently came across this quote and had an immediate, visceral response. Brilliant! So insightful. Leave it to Elizabeth to knock it out of the park. Framed within the Biblical reference of Moses encountering the voice of God in the burning bush, she reminds us to see the bigger picture, the universal richness and opportunity that lie behind the obvious. As I sat with these words, so much came to my mind and heart, leaving me with three questions.
When we look, do we see? It is so easy to think small, to see the obvious, practical, and immediate without ever zooming out to see the bigger picture. We can miss the most important parts of our lives. Think of those times you made the familiar drive to work and don’t recall a thing you’ve seen. You were looking or you never would have made it to your destination safely. But did you see? The trees, the sky, the snow hills the kids just made, or the changes in the skyline or architecture?
When we look at our ensembles, what do we see? Singers who are “less than,” because they come with a gap in training and experience due to these challenging last couple of years? Are we “sitting round plucking blackberries” with our note-pounding or are we looking for the heaven that lies within these humans and their potential?
When we move, do we feel? Like that drive to work, our movement patterns—walking the dog, stretching in rehearsal, lifting up the kiddos, or doing an intense workout—can be done on auto-pilot or with awareness. The big-picture context matters, or we are likely to miss much of the experience and the physical benefits, or even risk injury because we are not fully “in our bodies” to notice what we feel and what it means.
In rehearsals, are we aware of the vibrations throughout our body as we hum that opening pitch, the physical momentum in the sweep of a phrase that goes from piano to fortissimo, the “space in our face” when we shape that tall, open ah, or the air-pressured power of that final consonant cutoff?
When we hear, do we know? When we hear the words of others, whether in writings that inspire us or in the conversations we have (or had, in the past), do we “listen large?” Without dramatizing every interaction (“you’re a good cook” does not necessarily mean “quit your job”), are we open to wisdom or direction in the words we hear that might have a broader message for us?
As conductors, do we challenge singers to really hear, not just for technical correctness, but to know their voice as unified with others; do we teach in context, helping singers understand the relationship between one note and the next, one part and another; do we show them how modifying their individual sound catalyzes a whole chain of glorious musical changes? Do we allow singers the freedom to hear from the text whatever might be speaking to them, encouraging, convicting, or enlivening their souls?
Browning was deeply spiritual (read religious) in nature and this quote reflects that perspective. But I think we can see her words in a larger way, understanding “spiritual” as “of the spirit” – the wisdom and energy of the universe and the power of the unseen that is always stronger than the seen. We are art-makers, sense-makers, but only if we open ourselves to the largeness of heaven, whatever that means to you, living in that space of awareness and sharing it with our world.
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) and a certified Brain Longevity® Specialist, a research-based certification on yoga and integrative medicine for brain health and healthy aging. Reach her at: or ramonawis.com.
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