A cave to hibernate in

Here we are, five weeks in. It’s almost starting to become routine. Wake up, listen to the mostly bad news, drink coffee, read the paper, eat, sit at the computer, have an online meeting, eat, listen to more news, have another meeting, go for a walk, do more email, eat, ring my bell in support of health care workers, watch Netflix, sleep. I’ve found it surprising how much I don’t mind the solitude. At least mostly.

I feel like I am in vocal hibernation. But perhaps it’s only hibernation from the sort of “diligent practice” that I try to model for my students, the kind of practice that is set on some sort of performance goal. I’m still using my voice for teaching, and I’m using it to connect with others, to express deeper feelings with people who mean something to me (interesting how that has become a more consistent thing).

I don’t feel much like singing right now. I can feel I need a rest from it. I want to focus on other things. I feel a more interior-looking practice. More reflection. More deep breaths (and boy, aren’t we grateful for just the ability to do that!). More thinking about the meaning of music and art in times like these where we have to be distant from one another. Hibernation. Hermitage. Quiet. Shhh.