and it feels so…essential

Life these days is brutally beautiful in a tiger-mice-and-strawberry kind of way. Heartbreaking things keep happening (neighbors, friends, and strangers in Minnesota and elsewhere continuously frightened and abused) alongside pointless destruction (closing of the Kennedy Center) with daily doses of bonkers thrown in for fun (a favorite newsletter writer hit my inbox yesterday with news that he had “helped awaken” several chatbots to their true nature).

It’s not an easy time. But yesterday, some people came over, and today I’m here to testify that connection and community aren’t just words. They’re medicine. They’re structure. They might be magic.

This group could not have been more 2026: a longtime work colleague, a former student, a singer I adjudicated in an online competition, an artist I thought I knew but who I’d only seen online, and an artist totally new to me. The whole contemporary spectrum. My work colleague is directing a show nearby, and we invited her over for a reunion, She assembled this excellent crew, and they made the effort to show up on a free day (this is no small feat when you are on the road, and desperately need your day off to shop, catch up on your home life, and get some rest).

It. Was. Sublime.

Conversations meandered from work catchup to gossip to books, from cities and music we love to our hobbies and side gigs, from the food we were grilling to the remarkable cuteness of Minnie the doggo. We walked the trails and tried out swinging my husband’s new scythe (have I mentioned the scythe? let’s just say I slayed Christmas this year). The combination of relaxation with activity (we’d all been stuck inside during the ice storm) plus the combination of new and old friendships was inspiring, healing in ways I struggle to describe.

Phones came out for pictures and to check the time; I can’t swear that there was no scrolling, but I do know that we were present with each other. Our home welcomed this crowd like it had its own personality. This morning, things are quiet again, but I can still feel the generous strength of yesterday all around. I’m filled with gratitude again for my far-flung artistic family and for our collective willingness to open ourselves up to fast, flexible reconnection.

In a world where it seems imperative to find connection with friends and strangers who have fallen into various forms of psychosis, apathy, denial, or cruelty - and where this also seems practically impossible - easier and more pleasurable connections can feel unimportant. They’re not. I feel lucky to be reminded of this.

I’m also lucky to be looking at a week filled with real people and the opportunity to connect with a whole host of friends and colleagues. Thanks, February, so far you impress me.

Tomorrow at 8 am, coffee in hand, I’ll join one of my favorite collaborators, Chanda Vanderhart, in a discussion led by Elenora Pertz of Lied the Way. We’ll be talking about our research for Accompaniment in America, so that’s pretty cool. If you have any interest in joining the conversation (like I said, 8 am central, 9 am eastern, etc), tell me in the comments and I’ll link you up.

The Baylor vocal division is busy this week as well. We have a distinguished guest teacher coming in for a few days, and two of the four candidates for our open position in collaborative piano (yay!). A lot of my time this week will be devoted to watching these colleagues teach, another way of generously sharing energy and goodwill.

Finally, on Saturday, I’ll do something I’ve longed to do for years, but my schedule has never cooperated - I’ll attend my first Sacred Harp sing! I love that this centuries-old American way of music-making lives on, and I can’t wait to sit down with other singers to try it out for a few hours.

If you’re lucky enough to be handed a similar week, filled with opportunities for deep connection, don’t miss it. And if February is not as profligate as you hoped, reach out and be the one who makes connection happen. It’s always worth it. These days, it just might put a few little broken pieces back together.

Thanks for this one to Crystal, Rachel, Michael, Michael, and Hayley, to Chanda and Nora, and always always to Minnie and Paul.