Wellness

It’s been almost a year that I have been blogging from the perspective of wellness, inspirational writings, and yoga practice and principles, connecting to our lives as conductors and humans living in a wider world.  As I prepare to take a bit of a break this summer for recalibration and to focus on some other writing, I am thinking about three things that have emerged from this CAY journey thus far.

It’s Buffer Time.  Central to most of my posts was the importance of taking time away—and that does not mean desert-island away (though that sounds nice).  Taking time away can be anywhere, anytime—at your desk, sitting in your car, walking around the block—and involves turning off devices, softening the eyes, and breathing fully and slowly.  Stopping the world for just a few minutes.  Clearing your mind of the chatter, the lists, the fears, the intensity of it all.  

The simple practice of inserting buffer time into our day takes so little effort but reaps big benefits.  Like any habit, buffer time can become stronger the more we do it; it becomes a non-negotiable for us, as natural a practice as—well, breathing.  And we will find a sense of groundedness in knowing we have this tool with us wherever we go, to use for ourselves and to share with everyone in our sphere of influence.

For the Future.  Planning now for good things in the future is not a new concept but during this past year, the idea took on a different meaning for me.  Inspired by Wendell Berry’s poem and Andrew Maxfield’s beautiful piece and attempting every day to create an imaginative choral experience and community through Zoom, I realized how important it was to think of our work not as a placeholder for the real thing or as seeds for a time in the distant future, but rather, to see its immediate impact on the singers in front of us.

The singers whose eyes we look into every day, the teaching we do through our words and actions and character, and the music that is always out there, beckoning, are our triad of influence.  Can we embrace a more immediate concept of the future as now?  Can we be fulfilled knowing singers are leaving today’s rehearsal with a renewed sense of personal significance, and a better grasp of musical skill and the impact that one’s artistic voice can have on the world?  Might this perspective on “the future” be richer and more holistic, and perhaps allow for more creativity in envisioning how our “birds” will sing?

Living our Namaste.  Most profound is the pressing call to awareness that all humans must be valued.  

I wrote this last summer and encourage you to read it for its full context but here, will return to my central plea—that in all we do, including our work as conductor/teacher/leaders, we remember the power of Namaste—“the light in me salutes and celebrates the light that lives in you.”  

If we lived our Namaste, we could diffuse hate, including self-hate, and release the fear that has a devastating effect on our world.  I know, we are “just” choral directors . . . do we have that impact or that role?  I think the question is, don’t we have that impact and that role?  Every human interaction, including those in choirs, can be a magnet for good.  Think of the brief few seconds it takes to look directly into a singer’s eyes and encourage them through the context of our work together.  This is the connection of light Amanda Gorman wrote about in “The Hill We Climb”—ineffable but so real.  

“For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.”

This summer, I will be writing more on mental wellness in the choral rehearsal and will be returning to my ongoing work on the role of the conductor as leader.  I welcome your input and encouragement and who knows, I may post occasionally if something emerges for me to share!  In the meantime, I send to you these wishes:

May you be healthy

May you breathe deeply

May you embrace peace

May you live joy

May you know your light

Namaste

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. Reach her at:  

Check out my ChoralNet posts by searching The Conductor as Yogi.  Here are those referenced above:

The Conductor as Yogi:  It’s Buffer Time

The Conductor as Yogi:  For the Future

The Conductor as Yogi:  Living our Namaste 

Even in a “normal year” (have we ever actually had one of those?), it’s natural to take time as the season ends to think about how the year has gone—what we did and didn’t do, what we might have done “if we had only known,” what worked and maybe didn’t, and though it usually falls at the bottom of our list, what we did really well.

OK, let’s get the critique out of the way first.  Sure, if we had only attended that day in choral methods class when we covered “how to teach choir during a global pandemic,” then we might have changed some strategies, chosen different music, planned our time differently, and paid more attention when our tech-savvy colleague was trying to get us on board with all the cool opportunities out there.  

This is where the wisdom of one of my yoga mentors comes back to me.  During the many times we struggled with some aspect of our teacher training intensives and began to doubt ourselves, Linda, in her very practical way, would say:

“How human of you.”

The impact of that phrase still resonates with me.  Wait, you mean this is just normal to struggle, to have not yet mastered the skill or figured out a solution or the “right answer” to the challenge at hand?  

Linda taught several course modules, most notably, the one on adaptations — how to adapt a yoga posture or movement to suit the individual’s unique needs, whether those were influenced by injury or medical conditions or age or trauma background.  Central to adaptation is the recognition of constant change, a principle known as parinamavada.  

“The teachings of yoga include a view called parinamavada, the idea that constant change is an inherent part of life. Therefore, to proceed skillfully with any action, we must first assess where we are starting from today; we cannot assume we are quite the same person we were yesterday…. We are all prone to ignoring the changing conditions of our body-mind; we often distort the reality of who we are based on who we think that we should be.”

Shiva Rea

Adapting means assessing what is, “today, at this time,” and letting go of yesterday’s reality.  As teachers, whatever our plans or past practices or successes, we had to adapt this year in a way like no other; to “pivot,” in pandemic jargon, literally every day.  We had to recognize the reality of constant change, both in our larger world and in our personal universe, and we had to adapt with every ounce of grit and grace we could muster.  It was tough and not always an obvious success.

“How human of you.”  

We are feeling heavy after a year plus of pandemic life, and so are our singers.  Adding a double dose of woulda-coulda-shoulda self-criticism is not going to help us, or them, and it’s not even realistic.  Being human is not a liability.  It is only because we are human that we can discern the need to adapt and then find a way to do it.  And when we stay true to the music and the musicians and the overall welfare of our choral community, we are doing what is most needed at this moment in the constant flux that is our life.

“There is nothing permanent except change.”

Heraclitus, c. 535 BC- c. 475 BC

This year was a different kind of training module on adaptations.  On accepting our humanness and vulnerability while also discovering and utilizing our strength, courage, resilience, creativity, and compassion for the betterment of our singers and every sphere of influence we have.  So, what did we do really well?

We showed up (even when the schedule changed week to week, day to day . . .)

We got way out of our comfort zone learning new ideas, methods, and technologies.

We released perfection while finding new versions of excellence.

We recognized our opportunity to build mental wellness in our singers (and ourselves).

We continued to be a “dispeller of darkness” (the definition of a guru) in any way we could.

Only when we recognize the full spectrum of our humanness can we celebrate our ability to adapt and therefore, discover what we might not have otherwise envisioned.

By being aware, we are constantly adapting and transforming, and that means we are never done.  Which brings me to another wisdom of Linda’s:

“I see more in your future.”

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. Reach her at:  

References:

Shiva Rea, “Consciousness in Motion:  Vinyasa”

Consciousness in Motion: Vinyasa

Special thanks to Linda Troutman, BS, 500 E-RYT, C-IAYT

https://www.mindbodyonline.com/explore/fitness/instructors/linda-troutman-2

Sthira Sukham Asanam

“Postures should be stable and comfortable”

Yoga Sutra 2.46, Sage Patanjali

One of the great things about a yoga practice is bringing what we learn on the mat to the rest of our life.  But even if you don’t practice (physical) yoga, you can still benefit from its wisdom.

From Patanjali’s ancient collection of 196 “threads” or aphorisms, comes this oft-cited sutra 2.46, which we can take literally—referring to the body—or can experience in its many applications to our busy lives, which can get off track more easily than we would like to admit.

On the mat, we apply Sthira Sukham Asanam by creating a grounded posture—steady, firm and engaged (sthira).  But to experience the posture (asana) without constriction or anxiety, we must also find comfort in the pose, the ability to “abide in that space” (sukham).  We practice a balance between effort and ease.

How important this idea is for our lives . . . and how challenging to live out.

We know all about effort.  It is a core part of our conductor DNA.  Musical study and programming, creative teaching, people skills, technical savvy, and management expertise demand a level of effort that, if unchecked, can cause us to go into overdrive.  We find ourselves grasping, fearful of pausing for just one minute in case we forgot an email or think we should find a better piece, or because our ego saw something that got our competitive juices going.  The steady, firm, engaged conductor can quickly become the hyperaware, judgmental, and stressed conductor.

In the yoga practice, when effort turns into gripping, the balancing agent is first, the breath.  Tuning in to the breath teaches us to let go . . . not enough to fall, just enough to flow.  When the body releases with the breath, the mind begins to focus more on the felt experience of the pose and less on the idealized product.  The pose is still challenging and while you may not make the cover of your favorite yoga magazine (yet), finding the ease as you stay in the “now” makes a powerful impact on your feeling state, awareness, insight, and your long term growth.

In our conductor lives, it is much the same.  Ease begins with a pause in the action, a real or metaphorical deep exhale, allowing a shift in focus.  Moving from clenched-fist effort towards ease requires us to let go of ownership (while accepting responsibility), judgement (while retaining discernment), ego (while embracing passion), and the illusion of scarcity of time or resources (while recognizing limits).  Like that yoga pose, our musical work is still challenging and our vision of what our choir can accomplish may not yet be a reality, but grasping too tightly to our goals or practices will only prevent growth and diminish the experience we want for ourselves and our ensemble.  Our teaching, conducting, and leading need room to release and “breathe.” 

Ease should not be confused with “easy” or with neglect, lethargy, or apathy.  Shopping for only comfortable  experiences in every rehearsal can mean singers are not challenged or that there is little structure to ground the learning.  Ease requires its own kind of engagement, and balances effort to help the pieces of our experience fit together.  

“Sukha does not mean ‘easy’ or even ‘comfortable,’ as we normally understand the terms—it means that everything is working together harmoniously.”

Chris Livanos

How can we harmoniously blend steady, firm, engaged and joyful, easeful, comfortable? 

Know where you are on the effort/ease continuum and make adjustments regularly, before you burn out.  Learn what pushes your buttons and avoid or reframe these experiences so you don’t find yourself seriously off balance, making it that much harder to recalibrate.  Notice if you tackle every task as though it were an emergency.  Practice an easeful approach to one thing you normally rush through or fret over.  And if you find yourself lacking where you need to be steady or resolute, see what happens when you commit to stay with the challenge.

Teach your singers to apply effort and ease.  Show them how to stand firm, grounding their feet as though rooted into the earth.  Balance this with the spaciousness and ease that comes from breathing well, allowing the weight to shift naturally, freeing the knees from a locked position, and releasing tension in the upper body and face/jaw.  Apply effort and ease to the vocal mechanism, to practice habits, and to interpretive choices you collectively make about the music.  Substitute “engagement” for “effort” and “release” for “ease” if those create better mental images.

Lead from a viewpoint of mission and purpose rather than technique-driven effort.  Mission and purpose allow us to work for excellence under a goal larger than technique, the next concert, or personal accolades.  When we teach within a broader context of meaning, personal wellness, and relationships, we can more joyfully push our artistic edge, the place where we “shake but don’t break.”  

In so many ways, it’s a both/and world.  Effort and ease are at their best in balance and we are at our best when we embrace and blend both in our life and our work.  

“The key image to hold in mind is one of “positive inertia,” where sthira and sukha work together to engender an enduring state of equipoise in all levels of being.”

Robert Svoboda and Scott Blossom

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. Reach her at:  

Check out:

Chris Livanos, “ ‘How Come I’m Not Comfortable?’ The Meaning of Sukha” https://yogainternational.com/article/view/how-come-im-not-comfortable-the-meaning-of-sukha

Robert Svoboda and Scott Blossom, “Sthira and Sukha:  Steadiness and Ease” https://yogainternational.com/article/view/sthira-and-sukha-steadiness-and-ease

The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Translation and Commentary by Sri Swami Satchidananda.

I am writing this post one year to the day since my last in-person, (unmasked) full choir rehearsal.  

I am not quite sure how I feel.  Sort of unsettled and wondering why, I guess.  We are receiving vaccines, seeing more re-openings, and taking steps toward the resumption of “normal” life.  I so look forward to seeing my (also vaccinated) family members when that is possible, to getting out of town for the first time in nearly two years, and just breathing a little easier, while staying mindful and vigilant with wise mitigations in public settings.

Yet, in a similar way as last spring, I feel like there is so much we don’t know about our choir lives ahead, for next fall or next season . . . though I do believe we won’t be jumping back in with the exact same expectations and ways of operating that existed before March of 2020.  Just as many, though different, questions linger now as we contemplate the next several months and how we will emerge from this era.

“Emergence” has been a recurring theme for me this past year, coming sharply into consciousness on a walk one day last March, shortly after quarantine began.  And as we went through all the shifts this year in our professional and human lives, I continued to see this word in my mind’s eye.

What does this mean, to “emerge?”  

Among the synonyms I find most telling are arise, develop, begin, come into sight, come to light, and efflorescing (or flowering, though somehow, “efflorescing” sounds even more interesting).  Each of these words suggests powerful images, linked by the common notion that “to emerge” is an act of newness, of moving forward, of growth, and importantly, of realization.

Emerging is not “returning.”  “Returning to normal” assumes this is possible or even preferable.  If emerging is characterized by growth and insight, wouldn’t we want to be always emerging, even if the outer shell of our lives looks a lot like before?  

I know, we want the “normal” of singing together in large groups and performing for our various audiences.  But there is a distinction to be made between a return to a certain structure and a return to thinking and feeling like we did before the pandemic.  We are different now, in ways we may not yet understand, and our emergent awareness can guide us to a better way of living our lives, including how we teach, create, and lead.

Maybe this is the source of my restlessness, that the pressure to “return” rubs uncomfortably against my larger mission, to move (myself and others) forward.  To continually emerge means to develop in whatever circumstances we find ourselves, knowing that answers will come if we take the time to listen.  We did just that, this past year.  We did develop, begin (again and again), and arise. New ways of creating music came into sight.  Greater awareness about people, music, life, and purpose came to light.  We emerged—though not always gracefully—every. single. day.

Can we emerge next fall as a truer version of ourselves?  Can we come out from under our former trappings of routine, of busyness, of “this is what we always do?”  Having needed to simplify, reimagine, and let go of so much for more than a year, can we find ourselves not returning, but efflorescing in ways that lift our soul because we finally recognize our unique light within and realize we can help uncover that same light in those we lead?

On my walk this morning I noticed how our unusually warm weather has helped the perennials begin to emerge from the winter of their lives.  Though they are the same flower as last year, they will look and act differently—some will bloom early, some late; some are more robust, others, more colorful . . . . Same but always new, reborn each year to a welcoming world. 

Just like us.

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. Reach her at: