Trunk Day
I’m writing this from Kansas City, Missouri, where The Show is halfway through its two-week sit-down at Music Hall.
I’ve just come from my trunk, which holds, among other things, my music scores, tennis racket, archery equipment, and books.
It’s the last of these I’d like to write about today — my little traveling library.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve seen how easy it is for a person’s spark to be nurtured into a flame — and how much more easily that same spark can be blown into smoke and ashes without careful nurturing.
In the past few years, I think I have been teetering closer to ashes. The fire and drive that helped me find my way out of my hometown and onto the touring Broadway circuit have been content to stay nestled in the comfort of a familiar gig, with friendly faces and a steady paycheck.
But, as Gottfried Keller warns us, “we do not remain good if we don’t always strive to become better.”
With The Show preparing to pack up and move on at the end of the weekend, I took some time today to clear out my trunk of things that I no longer need. To my surprise, the only thing I decided to discard was the electric coffee grinder. (I’ve reacquainted myself with the wonders of instant coffee.)
But while I was sorting through my belongings, I was surprised to find some of the books I’ve been carrying for over a year and still have not read. They include:
6 books on Score Reading (orchestral transpositions, instrumentation, etc)
3 books on Orchestral Conducting
2 books on speed-reading
Maxims and Reflections, Goethe
The Sun Also Rises, Hemingway
The Only Skill That Matters, Levi
Scoring to Picture in Logic Pro, Piorkowski
The Aenid, Virgil
These books, along with perhaps a score of others, were slightly shocking to me. I felt a pang, poring over the unread titles in my collection — here were all these tomes, ready to impart knowledge, skill, even wisdom, and I had not in over a year made the time to absorb their teachings.
And yet, what struck me more was how aspirational this collection is. The version of me that sought out and purchased these books had dreams of being more than smoke and ashes — and the greater part of me still feels very much the same.
So I’ve resolved to dispense with the berating of the self that might follow such a concrete example of my lassitude. Instead, I decided to pick myself up, dust myself off, and do the things I’ve been meaning to do.
Recently, I’ve taken to calling this making small, beautiful choices.
Such choices include the fact that I’m writing this blog post. Then I’ll read some of the wisdom in my collection. And I’ll spend some time score-reading.
And then I’ll do it again, and again, and again. And, somehow, that will change my life.
Perhaps I won’t ever be good, but you can be damn sure I’m striving to get better.