You are the entertainment

I don’t usually read too much into my dreams. But this one seemed rather apropos of….life in general?

In my dream I was organizing an elaborate house party. I don’t recall what the occasion was, but whatever it was, I was all in! I had hired a bunch of artists to transform the house into a theatre. There were people building a stage, setting up lights and sound, and planning make up. They were a wild and creative bunch, and I was excited by the unconventional energy.

 I had also invited a lot of people who had agreed to come, but what didn’t seem to be clear to them (despite repeated explanations) was the role they were to play in this production. It wasn’t so much a sit down event: everybody had a part to play. I was excited, but as the preparations went ahead, the excitement in general seemed to be lacking and tension was growing.

At one point I was trying again to explain things to my brother. (Poor guy, it’s not his fault he was featured in my crazy dream!) All he would say to me was: “I like to sit in the front, on the left hand side.” He even showed me a diagram showing his preferred seat.

“No!” I exclaimed, exasperated. “Did nobody tell you?  You are the entertainment!!”

That landed like a lead balloon.

The next thing I knew, the stage crew was taking down the stage, the costume and make up people were leaving….someone had called everything off. “But….couldn’t we do something small….an open mic event?!” No….no takers. The artists, I was told, had figured out that no one really wanted to be there, and decided to cut their losses and leave. “But of course I would have paid you, no matter what happened!” I said to them, crushed. It made no difference.

I then woke up, relived that my disappointing dream hadn’t happened, but also vaguely uneasy. It’s true, after all, or I believe it is: we are the entertainment. It feels like, with Covid etc., that there is supposed to be an possibility to…..opt out of life? But there really isn’t, ever. There is no substitute for showing up,  acting out a story with other people.

Anyway. I am lucky, I suppose, that my life doesn’t actually lack drama, the good kind I mean. I don’t care for artificial drama. But there’s always a challenge, something to match my wits against, a mix of personalities to deal with, and yes…..costumes (no boring or ugly clothes for me!)

Dang it though, it could have been a very good dream party….

A childhood memory of music

I was driving home from my stepdance class today, and CKUA, our local radio station was playing classical music as they usually do weekday evenings. As a piece of music wrapped up they said it was Mario Bernardi conducting.

This immediately recalled my childhood when we would go to the orchestra frequently and Mario Bernardi was the conductor. I spent quite a few hours looking at the back of his head, if I wasn’t looking up at the ceiling or at the organ. Back then classical concerts were more formal and I do not recall ever hearing Bernardi speak. Nowadays the conductor is also a sort of PR representative for the orchestra and will turn around between pieces and talk to the audience about the music. But as a child I was left entirely to my own imagination, which was quite up to the task of keeping me entertained with my own interpretations of what I heard.

I hadn’t thought about Bernardi in years however, and my first thought was that he must be dead, and to feel a sense of belated loss at the thought. He did in fact pass away in 2013, after a lifetime of musical achievement and honours. He was born in 1930, eight years before my dad, and would have been in his 50s when I saw him on stage.  He was married, had one daughter born in 1969, and two grandsons.

There is a kind of existential terror in the realization that I’m slowly outliving the icons of my childhood. One, it’s a reminder of my mortality. But even more poignantly, it’s the realization that whatever they were going to pass on to me, they now have, and their role has ended, and I’m left with whatever I can remember, interpret, pass on. This is really very humbling, especially as I can still quite clearly recall being the daydreaming child in the concert hall, and most days, I don’t feel a great deal cleverer either. I’m mostly just the same person, getting lost in the music.

I suppose, if I want to quantify all the ways music has affected me, the list would look something like this:

—I have danced all my life, and consider it a key part of my identity;

—I did join an amateur concert band as an adult, and those experiences were key to me becoming, shall we say, a reasonably functional adult (I put most of my angst aside; I learned to be happy and belong) I haven’t kept up my music since having kids, but I still benefit in the big picture from the experience.

—Until recently I attended live music regularly, including classical

—I encourage my children to dance and play music 

I guess that is pretty decent. A life that is worthwhile , and not dull (at least to me!), and touched by beauty and meaningful patterns is an appropriate appreciation of this man who shared his art with me, a child way up in the second balcony.

I liked this interview: a bit of his personality comes through. 

An interview with Mario Bernardi

Saturdays

Technically it takes three to make a pattern, but two times is noticeable enough for me on this case, so I’m paying attention anyway.

I noticed the past couple of weeks that I was very sensitive emotionally on Saturday nights. In both cases we’d done something enjoyable that should have put me in a good mood: a date night, an evening out to dinner with our  extended family celebrating my oldest daughter’s birthday. Nothing upsetting happened.  However, as soon as I went to bed I found myself plagued with sudden anxious thoughts. The first time the thing my mind fixed upon was something my husband said about a (mostly benign) heart condition that runs in his family. The second time it was an article by Paul Kingsworth, a writer new to me, that took a rather bleak view of the world.

Both times I needed to make a concerted effort to calm myself and I spent part of the next day feeling discombobulated.

I just find it interesting that I seem to be most likely to be affected this way on Saturdays. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I’ve become more mindful the past few months of where I am putting my attention. As my focus shifts, I can feel the change in my mind and body. I guess I just have to be extra aware on Saturdays. I will perhaps look for a mindful reading or practice particularly for Saturday evening.