thoughts

Be strong and courageous, and do the work. Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord God, my God, is with you. He will not fail you or forsake you until all the work for the service of the temple of the Lord is finished.

(1 Chronicles 28:20)

Before I started playing in my piano jury, I prayed that everything that I do or play would be for Him and for Him alone. I almost forgot that as I played (my nerves got to me by the end of the jury).

But last night, as I was worshiping God with every cell of my body, and while I was just resting in this happiness and joy He has placed in my heart, I think God brought me back to my piano jury and reminded me how amazing it felt to play in Distler, and something clicked. I thought, “Hey, wouldn’t it be amazing to praise God while playing piano in Distler?? I want to play piano in Distler again!”

A dream that I have. I have been so afraid of playing piano in front of people, especially those who were incredible, gifted musicians. But why am I afraid, and who am I afraid of? Worshiping God freely. Everywhere, everyday, and with everything that I have been given. Music is a part of who I am, and a way for me to experience God’s goodness and beauty. The verse in 1 Chronicles (above) was given to me by my piano teacher before my senior recital, and continues to remind me that I have no one, nothing to fear, now that Christ lives in me and leads me to love and do His good work, and to glorify Him forevah and evah and evah and evah!!!! Music is beautiful, but God is the One who gives music its beauty, and even that beauty is nothing compared to Him. 

Phew. I’m barely at the tip of the iceberg, in terms of musical abilities and my walk with Jesus, too, but dreams are not dreams unless they’re big! and God is bigger than even the biggest dreams that I could ever imagine having (and even those that I cannot imagine having). A long way to go, but hey, YOLO! (but then again, with Jesus, who knows?) :)

Waiting for my piano jury, all of a sudden, I started getting butterflies in my stomach and felt the slightest shivers creeping through my body, from my fingertips to my knees; a sip of water from the bubbler didn’t help much, and my grip on my pencil as I was filling out the evaluation form seemed more tense than usual-Or maybe I was exaggerating. My fingers felt slightly worn, from practicing all of last week. Maybe my fingers were a little more tired than I would have liked them to be. Patience. Practice. Perseverance. Building up strength gradually. But my fingers were itching to play that piano in Distler. And I was itching to get up and play. This excitement was for not only what was to come, but for all the growth I’ve seen in myself this past semester, taking lessons and having a constant, honest motivation to practice for the first time in a while. Being able to see change is so encouraging, and never fails to put a spring in my step and be a tailwind for our efforts, affirming where we’re at and where we’ve been, while encouraging us to continue taking baby steps and leaps throughout this journey of continual self-realization and seasons of change and growth. 

Walking into Distler, I first saw my piano teacher-I didn’t realize before that she would be one of the three faculty members judging me. A smile flashed across my face, and I became slightly giddy (I may have skipped a bit before regaining my composure and walking across the stage to the piano. Side note: I realized that I cannot hold in my emotions for the life of me now. My emotions don’t just read across my face, but in every little gesture or action that I do. Poker faces are impossible for me. There goes any chances of surviving in Mafia. Oh well.) 

Tangents, tangents, and more tangents:

I am so grateful for my piano teacher. Every lesson, she guided me in the process of going deeper into the music, to connect notes together and see the bigger picture of lines and melodies, harmonies and chords, hidden within the continual motion of the music. More. More. More. More. More. ‘Tis only the beginning, and, thanks to my piano teacher, I’ve come to realize that through practice, taking myself and my music seriously, and earnestly and honestly reflecting on this music, beautiful music can flow through my fingers, too, and resound, release it from the depth of my chest and let each note sing. 

I have a long way to go, but thank God that I’m just beginning!

Back to the jury.

Anyways. Sitting down on the piano, I take a deep breath and absorb the silence, pregnant with anticipation and readiness to be filled with sound. Once I start playing, all I could think about was, ” omg. THE REVERB. omg. WHOA. OMG. SO BEAUTIFUL. OMG. i’m going to cry. omg. yesssss. whoa. whoa.” 

Maybe I should have calmed down, and put my thoughts in order before plunging into the music. In the end, I did rush and make mistakes and probably didn’t play to the best of my abilities, or maybe I even reverted back to my old worn-in habits. I probably did, but that’s not the point!!!! This is another step in my journey, which does not end. 

Walking out of the auditorium, I didn’t feel overtly joyful or happy, nor was I depressed or disappointed in myself. I was neutral, and that was ok. This semester has been one heck of a ride, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and the musical aspect of this ride seems to capture the essence of everything I’ve been experiencing thus far:

~

Being intimidated and scared at my first lesson, dreading the changes that were to come. I knew these changes I would have to make would not be fixed overnight. What I was fearing was the moment when I would realize that despite practicing to the best of my abilities, my teacher would still hear something “just not right,” that I would never be able to break through this imaginary barrier I put around myself and those who I considered to be accomplished musicians who just seemed to “get it” when i could not, or did not understand how or why or what or anything. 

The first lesson was hard. I spent 40 minutes playing three notes with my left hand over and over and over again. I could feel the tears of frustration and embarrassment fill the reservoirs in my eyes, ready to overflow. The next lesson, and the lesson after that were always challenging. Was I getting it? Was I understanding and able to execute what my teacher was telling me and showing me and guiding me to feel and grasp?

After a while, I would grasp certain bits and pieces, and being able to hear, for the first time, when things connected was so satisfying. But I came to a point where I struggled to get through a single measure without stopping myself, feeling displeased with what I was playing, or waiting for what my teacher had to say. And she definitely had things to say. I would rely on my teacher to fix my playing for me, for I did not trust myself nor my fingers.  

But this isn’t everything, I had to remind myself. My teacher once said that though she was teaching me and guiding me, I need not cling to every tiny thing she shows me. I must not depend solely on her and completely ignore my own understanding and abilities as a musician. I must not continue to throw myself into the dirt, while desperately grasping for what she was showing me. If this isn’t idolization, I don’t know what is. I’m not in any way saying that my piano teacher isn’t great (she is), but she herself is an ever-growing musician, a person, and what she has learned through experience, she is teaching me, so that I may take these pieces of guidance in stride as I grow deeper and higher in my own music. I am a person, a musician, too. 

Proceeding with renewed self-esteem, as well as humility, I continue to practice, rejoicing in the small, but great successes, and chugging along as I gain fluency and familiarity with the pieces I’m playing. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming. What do we do? We swim. 

We practice. 

On that stage, I was joyful, yet I could see where I was still struggling to let go of control and just let my fingers sing. There were times when I could see myself and hear my music close off, and remain inside the piano, rather than courageously travelling through the hall. It takes guts to sing our heart out. Even when we yearn to do so, the sheer act of pouring our heart out in front of others (not alone in a practice room) leaves us feeling vulnerable and exposed, while the audience drinks in what you gave them and process your efforts and emotions in their own minds. Who knows how they received the music we released. We have no control over their ears, but only on our heart and what we release from it. Or what we hold in, rather. 

1 Chronicles 28:20.

Spotify + my own space in the campus center + music theory = relaxing afternoon. mm. 

mylifeonacoffeesleeve:

my friend and I are like: 

jam out. all day, errday.

(via tuftsjumbo5)

Maybe it’s a good thing that I haven’t watched that many films this semester, compared to last semester, where I had movie marathon after marathon for my English class (Films about Love, Sex, and Society), Intro to Islam class, and Film Noir class, especially during finals. Miyazaki, Umm Kulthum, and Orson Welles-three names that, hopefully, are engraved into my mind and my eyes for years and years to come. 

Looking back, I guess I didn’t realize just to what extent I become immersed into a film-its plot, its composition, its coloring, its words. Of course, I do not claim to be an expert, or even the least bit knowledgable in the art of filmmaking, or in anything related to film or art in general. I’m a complete noob who loves stories and loves color, imagination, and stepping into a new world, created by these brilliant directors and artists. I have no idea how mind-blowing each film or work of art must be for those of whom this sensitivity runs through their veins and piques every sense to the extreme…or maybe we all aren’t giving up the control to experience this. hm. 

I didn’t realize back then how I literally lose all sense of time or location when I watch a film. Maybe it was just this recent film that I watched (Como agua para chocolate) for my Spanish class. But it felt so weird; I lost sense of reality and dove right into the film, and had my mind twisted and wrought in ways that made me cringe and shiver, even. I was scared, confused, angry, yet unmistakably allured into the stunning visuals and overtly sensual drama and set. Everything, even the mere stirring of sauce, oozed with erotic aroma. Putting the crazy, melodrama-like drama and plot aside, the raw emotion really got to me, and, to be quite honest, I haven’t had my imagination worked that intentionally in a while. I had no control over what my eyes were seeing, but isn’t that the beauty of it all? That we don’t have control and let someone lead us to a new place, a new perspective, a new story? No judgment, but just honest openness. Trust that in the end, you will know who you are and where and on what you stand on, maybe even more clearly than before. 

Last Tuesday, our Uganda mini-team (consisting of students from MIT, BU, and Intervarsity staff) met up in Kendall and spent some time catching each other up on our preparation process for Uganda, as well as go through another two chapters in this workbook we are using, entitled, “Short-term Missions Workbook: From Mission Tourists to Global Citizens.” 

Even though we had a significant amount of material/sections in the workbook to cover, we spent a lot of time talking about our motives in going to Uganda.

We must be clear about why we are going. Our motives are like rudders that steer our emotional ship. They control our attitude, influence our behavior and determine the tone of our experience. It’s essential that we know which direction our rudder is pointing if we are to go in the direction we desire. Our motives are always mixed. However, when faced rather than suppressed, motives can be empowering and, when necessary, transformed. -Dearborn (the author of the workbook we’re using)

After this section, the book continued to list several motives people may have in participating in cross-cultural short missions trips: Adventure, professional development, a new challenge and a greater sense of fruitfulness, the desire to help others and experience something new, a commitment to evangelism and social justice, the need for a change, the desire to gain new insight into world need and how others live, the hope that a new setting will resolve a pressing personal problem, to explore the possibility of long-term mission service, and so on. 

At first, seeing these motives listed as they were threw me off. Honestly, I did not want to think about what my “other” motives in going to Uganda may be, and if these motives were self-serving in nature. 

Later on, the chapter addresses other types of expectations, such as fears, that we may have coming into this experience. This section of “expectation” ends with us writing a personal mission statement-why I think God wants me to go to Uganda.

These expectations-motives and fears-are all legitimate and should be addressed. Through this meeting and sharing with my team members about my expectations, I am embracing more of who I am, especially with things that I will struggle with, such as my fear of loneliness and lack of familiar comfort, while in Uganda. For so long, I’ve been deeming these expectations of mine as insignificant, a product of my pride, and an unnecessary product of excessive worrying and control over my own life. However, these motives and fears stem from something deep inside of me, and I need to address that. Having motives, such as adventure and desire to experience something new, can be great and can be used to my advantage in maximizing my experience in a new environment. However, these motives must not be the primary reason of why I am doing the things that I do, and they must not be the source of my strength, security, or means of fulfillment.

Writing my personal mission statement (more like a draft, but anyways) really helped me to focus on why God wants me to go to Uganda, and how my motives can be molded and transformed to maximize that. Through this entire preparation process, and day-to-day life, I wrote a little blurb as to why I think God is calling me to go to Uganda:

God is calling me to Uganda to show me what trust means and what it looks like in my life and in others’ lives, and to show me His plan for now and in the future, before, during, and after Uganda. 

As the days pass and the more I learn about this experience, I am beginning to see why God is sending me to Uganda, and at the same time, I am realizing more and more that I really do not know what I am getting myself into, in a completely good and exciting way. Yeah Buddy! I’m so excited, and please keep praying for me in this process, that whatever happens, that we would rejoice in the Lord always:

 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! (Philippians 4:4)

If you guys have any prayer requests, or want to talk about anything, hear more about what’s been going on in my life and how God’s been crazy like He is, then hit me up! I’d love to talk with you and pray with you :). Peace!

westernrealities:

i look at it like:

BANANAAAAA.

POTATO-TAAAA.

(via tuftsjumbo5)