My Year of Hopefulness - Alfie

“You see, life is a very special kind of thing.” ~ John Denver

I remember the day John Denver died. I was a senior in college, working on a period theatre production as a costume designer. My assistant designer loved John Denver as much as I did and we spent the afternoon perusing thrift shops and commiserating over the loss of this beautiful, troubled man.

John Denver’s Christmas album with the Muppets remains one of my very favorites and I’ve been listening to it constantly this season. It’s like a warm, comfy hug for me. My sister, Weez, and I have been known to sing along with it at very high volumes. There’s one song on there, titled simply “Christmas”, which always makes me tear up a bit. It gets right to the heart of how I think about my days: life is a very special kind of thing…for each and every living breathing thing.” And if we could just tailor our every action, our every word to that sentiment, think what kind of world we could have. We could make a lot of our problems vanish over night if could consistently act according to this belief.

It sounds so simple, and it is, if we could just stay out of our own way. Think how all of our relationships would be transformed, how our environment, our government, our careers, and our communities would be if respect for the value of every life was always the priority. This Christmas, that’s my only wish: to recognize at every moment that life is a very special kind of thing for everyone.

For those who have never heard the song, “Christmas”, here is the poem that John Denver reads at the beginning of it. Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas.

“Did you ever hear the story of the Christmas tree who just didn’t want to change the show? He liked living in the woods and playing with squirrels. He liked icicles and snow. He liked wolves, and eagles, and grizzly bears, and critters, and creatures that crawled. Why bugs were some of his very best friends, spiders and ants and all.

“Now that’s not to say that he ever looked down on a vision of twinkling lights or on mirrored bubbles and peppermint canes and a thousand other delights. And he often had dreams of tiny reindeer and a jolly old man and a sleigh full of toys and presents and wonderful things. The story of Christmas Day.

“Oh Alfie believed in Christmas alright. He was full of Christmas cheer, all of each and day and all throughout the year. To him it was much more than a special time, much more than a special day. It was more than a beautiful story; it was a special kind of way.

“You see some folks have never heard a jingle bell ring and they’ve never heard of Santa Claus. They’ve never heard the story of the Son of God and that made Alfie pause. Did that mean that they’d never know of peace on Earth, or the brotherhood of man, or know how to love, or know how to give? If they can’t, no one can.

“You see life is a very special kind of thing, not just for a chosen, but for each and every living, breathing thing. Not just me and you. So in your Christmas prayers this year, Alfie asked me if I’d ask you [to] say a prayer for the wind, and the water, and the wood, and those who live there, too."

My Year of Hopefulness - New York as Neverland

If you're looking for a fountain of youth, consider living in New York City. If it's your fervent desire to grow up, be a realist, and take life very seriously then this might not be the place for you. This week in particular I've noticed the dreamy quality of New York. It's a place that cultivates and perpetuates dreams of all kinds. In New York, I always feel possibility just around the corner. You really can be anything here.

During the summer, the many outdoor events remind me of everything that New York has to offer and how many people there are to meet just outside the front door. This week, the New York Philharmonic performs their two annual free concerts in Central Park. In all the years I've lived in New York, I've never seen one of these concerts until this year. My friend, Brandi, left New York this week for greener pastures in DC and a group of us got together for the concert to bid her a fond farewell which none of us are happy about. Brandi goes to this concert every year, and wanted to make sure to catch this one, her last as a New York City resident.

Brandi arrived first, getting us an excellent space in the middle section. From that vantage point we were in the middle of a wonderfully positive energy. The Park was packed, and during the evening I grew more and more grateful for the great diversity housed in this tiny island. Even on our small blanket, different groups of friends joined together from different walks of life to enjoy the event.

In the middle of the Park, I was reminded just how many people live in New York, and how unique each of their stories are. I could hear the laughter from every corner mixing with the music. People were sharing the details of their days. Reminiscing. Talking about what they hoped for and dreamed of. Some people were celebrating and others explained their gratitude for the amazing weather and the opportunity to be together. Flashbulbs were going off all around us as people snapped photos to remember the occasion.

The New York Phil's concerts represent New York at its best. The many voices coming together, paths converging. Before we left the park, I took a look around, happy to live in a place that constantly changes and yet always feels like home, a place where anything and everything is possible. As the closing fireworks went off, for a moment I actually believed that I could reach out and touch them if I really wanted to. It's the happy side effect of being a city that makes you feel like you can fly.

NY Business Strategies Examiner: Interview with Mike Cannady of Scratch Music Group

About a year ago, I met Mike Cannady, Chief Strategy Officer and CFO of Scratch Music Group, at an alumni volunteer event. Scratch Music Group is a company based in NYC with the mission to train and promote both aspiring and name brand DJs. Since its inception, Scratch Music Group has developed DJ'ing academies in New York, Miami, LA, abroad three cruise ships, and in four Caribbean locations. The company has also developed a suite of products and services related to its core business, developing a full service music consulting group.

For the full interview, please click here.

Photo credit

My Year of Hopefulness - It's what's missing that counts

Today I started reading In Pursuit of Elegance by Matthew May. May's premise in the book is that what's not there - in a product, a service, a piece of art, a book - often trumps what is. 12 pages in and I am completely hooked. It's about what we choose not to do that shapes as our lives as much as what's on our to-do list. It's about editing, making decisions, and taking away the unnecessary so that the necessary can shine.

May quotes a lot of sources, referencing everything from ancient Chinese proverbs to pop culture. It never feels contrived, forced, or overly ambitious. He is making connections between seemingly disparate ideas, and teaching us how to live a more valuable, satisfying life in the process.

Early on, May quotes Jim Collins's now infamous essay that he wrote for USA Today on the subject of "stop-doing." Collins says, "A great piece of art is composed not just of what is in the final piece, but equally what is not. It is the discipline to discard what does not fit - to cut out what might have already cost days or even years of effort - that distinguishes the truly exceptional artist and marks the ideal piece of work, be it a symphony, a novel, a painting, a company, or most important of all, a life."

It's these last two words that got me. I understand editing a novel, a piece of music, a company. We spend a lot of time, maybe most of our time, stuffing our lives full of experience, people, places, and things. We do more and more and more to the point that we can't remember what we did 10 minutes ago. So what if we did and said less and less and less. What would our lives look like then? What if we only put the precious time we have with one another toward things that passionately, ardently interest us? How would we be different, and how would the world around us be different? Could we actually have a greater positive impact by focusing on the precious few things that really matter to us rather than the mediocre many?

Jazz great John McLaughlin said, "All the music that was ever heard came from the inner silence in every musician." I extend that quote to say that every human accomplishment has come to be because someone took something from their inner being, from their own personal silence, and gave it to the world. It's really the only work we ever have to do: strip away the fascades, the excess, what we can live without so that we can know and nurture the handful of things that really count.

NY Examiner.com: An interview with Steven Cox, CEO of TakeLessons.com

Inc. Magazine featured TakeLessons.com a few months ago. The company capitalizes on the growing trend of learning an instrument through the use of technology to match up music teachers with music students. From guitar to voice to trombone, in cities that stretch across the U.S., TakeLessons.com connects people with a mutual love for learning and music. It simplifies and enhances the quality of the experience of finding the right music teacher and ensuring that the student's needs are being met with 100% satisfaction.

To read my interview with Steven Cox, CEO of TakeLessons.com, please visit: http://www.examiner.com/x-2901-NY-Business-Strategies-Examiner~y2009m6d22-An-interview-with-Steven-Cox-CEO-of-TakeLessonscom

My Year of Hopefulness - The NY Philharmonic at Saint John the Divine

When I was at the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine on Saturday, I noticed that the NY Philharmonic was playing a free concert at the Cathedral on Memorial Day. On Memorial Day I ventured up there around 7pm and was shocked at the line that wound all the way down 110th street to the East as far as I could see. The Cathedral's big, but it's not that big so I cut my losses and headed for the sculpture garden where I could sit in the grass, take off my shoes, read my book for an hour, and enjoy the music as the sun set.

I was one of the first people to arrive in the sculpture garden, though it filled up quickly. I looked around to see that everything I love about New York was on that lawn with me: the diversity of color, race, creed, age, social-economic level, and orientation. Men and women, families, friends, and single people, several languages all rising at once as we all waited for the main event. Though we couldn't see the show, we were well aware when David Robertson, the conductor for the evening, took the stage. The applause was thunderous.

I marveled that I should be so lucky to be in a city where this kind of event was free, practically held in my own backyard. It was comforting to see the cares of the world melt from people's faces, to see them lay down in the grass, staring up at the stars that started gathering, focusing all of their attention on the music. For that hour that the Philharmonic played, I couldn't think about anything except each note as it whizzed by me with so much emotion and passion. It has been a long time since I stopped thinking about any cares and worries - I was grateful for the break.

The concert reminded me of how much we need art and music in our lives - how critical it is to our happiness, health, and well-being. I used to make my living working in the arts, and on occasion I miss it. I miss being part of something that takes us to another world. Thankfully, there are organizations like the Philharmonic that can transport us all away from our lives, even for just a little while. The only requirement is that we show up and listen with an open mind and open heart.

The image above features Maestro Lorin Maazel as he conducts the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in September 2006 in New York. (Stephen Chernin/Associated Press)

My Year of Hopefulness - Small Audience

Seth Godin wrote a terrific post today relating the contrast between concert opening acts and rock stars to the different grades of marketers. He has some very good advice for all of us: Seek out a small audience who thinks you're a rock star and then grow that audience. Don't go out into the market as an opening act and have the market shape your work based upon something else they love (the rock star). You want to stand on your own two feet and have customers who love you and will back you exactly the way you are.

Many companies are so hungry for growth, so hungry for fast, quick wins, that they do whatever they have to do to their products and services to make them appeal to everyone. Of course some other companies focus so closely on one tiny piece of the market that they exclude others who might also benefit from their products with just a few weeks. So what's a company to do?

A few ideas:
1.) The "Me-conomy" seems endless. The personalization trend can be seen everywhere in the market. Is it possible for a customer to customize some piece or your product or service to make it suit them perfectly? This allows you to serve a number of different groups with just a few minor changes to your product. Think about what adding colors and engraving to the ipod did for that product!

2.) There are a lot of ways to slice and dice a market into segments. Is there a segment that you can serve that's small enough to provide something special to them while also having a wide enough appeal to enough people to meet your costs and profit goals?

3.) Look for holes in the market. Many companies are set on being fast followers. They don't want to get out there, innovate, and build something new. Fear holds them back. They'd prefer to watch others, copy, and paste. The saddest part about this kind of ambition is that it never allows you to be the first in the market to fill an unmet need that makes consumers grateful and loyal to your brand. You're just an opening act in that scenario. You want to be the first association a customer makes with a new product or service. You don't want people to say, "Oh yeah, there's that option, too" about your brand. So get out there, talk to people, and find a way to provide a service or product that makes their lives easier.

While it's fun to play in the market, it's more fun to build a market and delight customers with a product or service they never even thought was possible. Your following will be filled with early adopters at first so learn from them, get their input, improve your offering, and other people outside of that early adopter segment will catch on. Be a rock star.

My Year of Hopefulness - The Music Prodigy Down the Street

Last night my friend Richard and I stopped in to a piano competition at Symphony Space, a performing arts organization that has an incredible slate of programming. I'd never been to a piano competition and wasn't sure if I'd like it but it was only $5 so I figured it was worth at least checking out. Little did I know that just down the street there were several virtuoso piano players offering up a concert for a next-to-nothing ticket price.

All over the country, these piano competitions are happening any given night of the week. Performers are young and yet undiscovered musicians who have gone to conservatory and now enter as many competition as they can in an effort to boost the potential of their careers. They dedicate their lives to their art. And so few of them ever make it despite the immense talent within each of them. And to get by they work at The Gap or as temps in high rise office buildings. Think of the incredible artistic ability of temp staffs buried in the gray cubicles of New York's law firms and financial institutions.

So where is the hope in this? Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of young, talented musicians will never be discovered, never receive any acclaim, never achieve their dream of making their living through music. Or can they?

I emailed a friend of mine who works at Teach for America. A handful of corps members teach art or music in public schools. So look at the gap: a huge numbers of schools suffer from a complete lack of music and art education programs and a huge number of people in this world want to earn their living from music. I understand that most of these students want to earn their living from performance though wouldn't they prefer to have a teaching job rather than taking phone messages and selling mass-market clothing until their time in the spotlight arrives?

It seems to me that this is a gap waiting to be filled. I know that funding for art and music is tough to come by but with all this talent in the world and all the students who want and need an arts education, we can't let funding stand in the way. You can bet that I'm going to be looking into this further. There's too much kismet to let this challenge continue unanswered.

My Year of Hopefulness - Honor: The Voice at Carnegie Hall

Last week, I had the pleasure of watching the final performance of Honor: The Voice at Carnegie Hall. Curated by Jessye Norman, the show featured 6 young opera singers, 4 pianists, and an evening of traditional opera pieces, spirituals, and pop/Broadway numbers. The festival exists to "celebrate the African America cultural legacy".

The set up was simple and elegant - a grand piano, a pianist, and a singer on a bare, shining stage. No microphones. The talent radiating from the stage was so pure and overwhelming that I had to physically prevent my mouth from hanging open. The power and emotion of the music in those voices on the Perelman Stage filled the Stern Auditorium and then some.

My friend, Chris, who runs the international education program at the Weill Music Institute at Carnegie Hall, explained to me that this festival exceeded all expectations. The audience was much more multi-cultural than usual and the sales were impressive. On a Monday night, the auditorium was packed and as I looked around, I could see every race, every age range, and an even mix of men and women. That festival brought together a community of diversity rarely seen at most New York institutions. Inclusive and diverse, it was representative of our city's population - in other words, exactly what an audience should be.

And you might wonder what on Earth a white girl like me from a small rural town in upstate New York is doing at a place that celebrates the African American cultural legacy. I wondered, too. I love the music that was presented and the diversity of my city, though do I really belong here? Do I have the right to celebrate and honor a legacy that is not mine? Was I welcome?

According to Jessye Norman, the answers are yes, yes, and yes, because this legacy actually is my legacy. It is every American's legacy. In her signature, elegant manner, I had the great fortune to hear Ms. Norman speak about the festival and its importance, not just to African Americans, but to all of us. If we live in America, then the history of African Americans is our history and we have not only the right but the obligation to pay tribute to it. The feeling of inclusion, respect, and admiration in that auditorium was undeniable. I am honored to have had the opportunity to bear witness to the performance and to the inspiration it provided for all of us within its reach.

At the end of the performance, the audience cheered and applauded with great energy and Ms. Norman looked on with pride. Her performers, however, would not let it go at that. They brought her to the center of the stage, applauding, hugging, and kissing her. You could see and feel their gratitute to this great talent standing before all of us. Through my loud applause, I hope she knows that I am grateful to her, too.

NY Business Strategies Examiner.com: an interview with Michael Dorf

I've been amazed this week at how willing entrepreneurs are to talk to me, despite their busy schedules, so that I can showcase them in this column. This week I stopped by City Winery to meet Michael Dorf, founder of the Knitting Factory and KnitMedia. He left those ventures in 2002 and embarked on a new adventure that came to life as City Winery in December 2008. I would have considered myself incredibly lucky to get to interview one of his managers for five minutes. Instead, I spent about 15 minutes with Dorf as he gave me a tour of the restaurant and winery, and talked to me about his passions for wine, the music of singer / writers, and creating a community, as well as his journey as an entrepreneur. He was exceedingly gracious and humble.

To read the full article, please visit:
http://www.examiner.com/x-2901-NY-Business-Strategies-Examiner~y2009m2d15-New-Yorks-winery-an-interview-with-Michael-Dorf-of-City-Winery

My Year of Hopefulness - John Scofield

Last week a date took me to Carnegie Hall to see John Scofield. I had never heard of Scofield though listened to a few of his clips on-line and enjoyed them enough to pique my interest to see him live. He's a jazz guitarist with a very unique sound. I can see how you'd hear a few riffs and know instantly that he was playing. 

In hindsight, the date was largely uneventful though the concert has had me thinking about John Scofield ever since. I was a less-than-mediocre saxophone player in grade school and college, and not for lack of trying. I just didn't "get it". I can read music just fine, which is a problem. I approached playing music the same way I approached calculus - in a very academic, formulaic way. I couldn't play with any kind of feeling - I never felt any kind of kinship with my horn. It was some external piece of metal that I got to play notes in a very unemotional way. Writing became my creative outlet, and remains so, though a tiny of part of me has always felt badly about not being able to play an instrument well. 

I do find that despite my lack of talent to play an instrument, I get a tremendous amount of joy going to concerts and hearing musicians play with such soul. I'm green with envy and teary eyed with joy. It's so evident in their facial expressions that they are off in another world when they're playing. It's a world I long to see, though I've had to settle for being the person just outside, peering in through the window. 

John Scofield and his band are so in sync that there's barely any reading of music and changes are spontaneous throughout a piece. All of a sudden someone's taking a solo even though 30 seconds before they didn't know they'd be up. I sit there in awe wondering how on Earth they do that - how do they know which notes to play? It's a mystery to me. 

You would think my natural reaction would be extreme jealousy and confusion. And you're right, but I can transcend those feelings. What's so inspiring to me about watching concerts and listening to jazz is that through the arts there is another world that exists, whole and separate, from our everyday lives. If life on Earth has you down, put on a musician like Scofield and he'll carry you away with him, at least for a little while. I highly recommend track 5, "Behind Closed Doors", on his album This Meets That.    

Andre 3000

Have you heard of this guy Andre 3000? I haven't. Outkast, yes. Andre 3000 - nope. Wouldn't know him if I saw him. And I didn't know his name in the midst of a group of people today at happy hour. For so long, I was used to being the youngest member of a group. That switch has flipped, clearly. I wish I could say that I'm not as hip as I used to be. Trouble is I was never hip. Ever.

The conversation then switched to movies. I had mentioned that I just saw Crash on DVD and loved it. For this I was slaughtered by nearly everyone in the group. They hated the movie - they thought it was narrow-minded and too precious. "No one talks like that or thinks like that." "Could you make a more predictable movie?" Yikes. I was not in friendly waters.

So then we switched to books and someone said they were in the middle of A Thousand Splendid Suns, which I just finished. Finally - someone I can relate to! I said how much I enjoyed the book and also loved The Kite Runner (same author). Nope - I was the odd one out again. "That would never happen." "What an unrealistic story." "Too perfect an ending for my liking." Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. And then they all left in a rush. I guess my taste in music, movies, and books cleared the room. 

Needlesstosay, I was happy to get away from those people and back to my cozy apartment among my books and music and movies that I love. (And incidentally, ones that many others love as well - Crash won 3 Oscars including one for best picture and both A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Kite Runner were best-sellers before they even went on sale to the public.) With that crowd, no wonder so many people didn't come out for happy hour. They knew better given the company. Have any of these people read a newspaper, traveled outside of New York City, or even just learned to be polite? My guess is no. A resounding "no". So while I felt bad about myself on the subway ride home, I was also reminded that we all have to howl if we want to find our pack. Clearly, that bunch is not my pack. I better spend my time elsewhere, and that is helpful information to have. 

Taking stock of what I've got

This month, Real Simple Magazine ran a column by author Merrill Markoe who wrote the books Walking In Circles Before Lying Down and The Psycho Ex Game. Hmmm...I don't recall ever meeting her though it appears that she has her finger on the pulse of my life. Most of my ex-boyfriends aren't psychos per say, though a few of them have turned out to be so odd in the end that I am left scratching my head, wondering what I ever saw in them. But I digress...

Merrill's column details the fires in Malibu, California last year when she had to nearly evacuate her home and grab a few precious belongings to pack in her car. She considers what the belongings she chose to save say about her and her values. She is a deeply witty, self-deprecating writer - my favorite kind! - and her column had me thinking about what I'd take with me if I could only pack up a carload of belongings.

There are the items that must go with me without a doubt - my phone, my Mac, my external hard drive, my digital camera, my IBM laptop (merely because that machine saw me through my two years of graduate school for which I am intensely grateful), my ipod, the jewelry box my mother gave me, a handful of photographs, particularly those of my grandmother and one of my brother, sister, and I when we are all little and playing in my grandmother's backyard. 

If there's room, I'd stash all of my books and take them with me though if I can only have a few, I'll take Me Talk Pretty One Day autographed by David Sedaris telling me that he's so proud of me (though I have no idea what for), Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott, Nelson Mandela's Long Walk to Freedom, Three Cups of Tea, my autographed copy of Moving to Higher Ground by Wynton Marsalis, Dreams of My Father by (Future President) Obama, Hotspots published by Conservation International because it was signed by all of my friends there, A Reason for Hope by Jane Goodall, Women Who Run with the Wolves, Orbiting the Giant Hairball from my former boss, Bob Giampietro, who taught me how to thrive in a corporate environment, 700 Sundays by Billy Crystal, and Yoga: Poetry of the Body because one of my very favorite essays, "Winter" by Nina Zolotow, is in there. No fiction book made the cut...hmmmm.....what does that say?

I'd love to bring along my grandmother's rocking chair and sewing machine though that may be a bit ambitious given their bulky size. I'd definitely grab the knit shawl my mom made for me for my birthday, the teddy bear I bought for my grandmother while I was in college (she sat on the couch watching TV with that teddy bear every day up until she passed away because she said it made her feel less lonely.) I'd take the heart-shaped ornament with the word "Sister" inscribed on it, given to me by my sister at her wedding.

My Snoopy Snowcone Machine, in the original box, is a must-have as is a framed painting of a woman dancing with a rose given to me by Kaye Ballard. I'd also snatch the two water colors I purchased in Prague just after September 11th on my first trip to Europe. My poster of Sunset Boulevard signed by Petula Clark needs to come with me, as does the watercolor I painted that is a replica of the last greeting card my grandmother sent to me before she passed away. 

Cruising into my kitchen, I'd snag my crockpot, deluxe blender / food processor, and two magnets that read "Be Nice or Leave. - Thank You" and "Good girls go to heaven. Bad girls go everywhere" (A classic!). Everything else can stay. 

Bathroom - not much I'd salvage in here except my Sonicare toothbrush, my Dr. Greenfingers First Aid Kit, the purple vase from my dear friend, Blair, and my birth control (that stuff is EXPENSIVE!)

On my way out the door, I'd grab my black leather jacket, the purse my mom made for me that earns me a multitude of compliments every time I use it, a scarf my friend, Amy, bought me in Paris, my favorite jeans, my lockbox of important papers, the Chinese silk robe given to me by Petula Clark (I've never worn it though it serves as a reminder to me of what a true class act that lady is), my Tibetan prayer beads that hang above my front door, my swimming goggles that I learned to swim in just after my 30th birthday, the tiny birdhouse wind chime my mom gave me when I was in college, and the Coach leather bag I take to work everyday. And three more pieces of art - one of orca whales that I purchased on a solo trip to Alaska, the cloth painting I purchased in Soweto, and the painting of a monster in the forest given to me by the Crayola Factory. If there's any more room, I'll grab my two diplomas - the very small one from Penn and the very large one from UVA. Oh, and my passport.       

If our most prized possessions are a reflection of our values, what does this jumbled list say about me? Well, clearly there are a number of strong women who have made a significant impact on my life, particularly my mom and my grandmother. I deeply value my travels and education, and want to be surrounded by reminders of those experiences. I care about the environment. Art is a source of inspiration for me. And when it comes to appearance, I care only about the bare essentials (meaning, I'm most concerned about my teeth. These suckers were expensive and paid for by my Uncle Tom when he footed the bill for my braces. I think of him every time I look at my teeth, which is many times a day!) Technology is a big part of my life, and my life is easily transportable. I value my career. 

When I look around my apartment at what would be left after all of my favorite possessions are gone, I see some furniture, clothes, some small appliances. Though not much else, and truly all of that stuff is easily replaced for a very small amount of money. I guess I have weeded the garden of my life, stripping away nearly everything that is not essential. For one thing, I live in a 400 square foot studio. Though more importantly, I did cut back significantly on my possessions after I graduate school because I could only afford to take two car loads worth of items I could carry myself. (Movers and moving more items than that was cost-prohibitive for a recently graduated student moving to New York City without a job offer in hand.) Everything else had to find a new home in Virginia. It was an exercise in taking away all the non-essentials so the essentials could speak, and be saved. 

The picture above can be found at http://www.joanwadleighcurran.com/01Possessions_NewOrleans.jpg/01Possessions_NewOrleans-full.jpg

Genius Awards - $500,000 "no strings attached"

How would you like a half a million bucks with no strings attached? All you need to do is be a genius, and by genius I mean someone who is "creative, original, and has potential to make important contributions in the future." The John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation awards 25 people every year with their Genius Awards. The Genius Awards for 2008 have been announced and the variety of recipients is encouraging.

When I heard that they were awarded based on originality and creativity, I naturally assumed that the awards were primarily for artists. And many of the recipients are indeed artists from many different areas of the arts. But there's also an urban farmer, a critical care physician, and an astronomer. This variety supports the sentiment that artistry and creativity can, should, and will be found in every discipline the world over. 

We are all creative, inspired people regardless of our title at work or the discipline in which we work. The trick is how to leverage that creativity for the greatest benefit of the world at large. In short how do we take our precious, common gift of idealism and make it extraordinary? Geniuses take what we all have - this innate ability to imagine things the way they could be - and they go global with it. Well worth a half million dollars for their priceless contributions to humanity. 

The image above can be found at http://www.wilywalnut.com/Genius-choice.jpg

Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life

I gave up my horn about 10 years ago because truth be told I wasn't even mediocre, and even if I practiced for hours a day I'd never be great. I want to be a lot things, but I have no intention of getting in the habit of spending my time being mediocre. I love jazz, but I couldn't play it. I just don't have that ability. My creativity is in my writing. 

So for years now I have socked away all of the academic knowledge I built up around the music. (I studied it for a year in college and played in a few different bands.) People ask me if I miss playing, and truth be told I don't. I never even think about it. Playing music doesn't hold any kind of magic for me, but I still very much enjoy listening to it, and really what I enjoy is the history, all of the stories that come along with musicians. And there are plenty of stories to go around. 

My brother is a trumpet player and because he is 6 years older than me, I learned about Wynton Marsalis and the Marsalis family at a very young age. When I saw that Wynton would be at my local Barnes and Noble I decided to go hear some of his stories. He was so engaging and charming that I bought his book on sight, which I never do at author readings. And once I started reading Moving to High Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life, I couldn't put it down. (And it helps that his co-author is the brilliant and well-spoken historian, Geoffrey Ward.)

For me the genius of this book is not to tell you about all the drugs that musicians have done, or all the women they've had or how down and out and poor they were. It talks about what the music has to teach us about living other aspects of our lives. How we treat each other. It teaches us about acceptance and nurturing and compassion. Wynton lays out the value is studying jazz not to be great, but to realize a certain aspect of humanity that comes through generosity.  Its is a living, breathing thing that connects the generations. It allows us to learn from generations of people who were long gone before we were every a twinkle in our parents' eyes.  

Wynton goes on to talk about how we all hear something different in the music. He talks about arrogance and greed and the darker sides of our personalities that the music uncovers. But mostly he talks about how musicians with disparate styles can come together, should come together, to create something wholly different than they could ever make on their own. Nobody gets through this world alone in the same way that no jazz musician builds a career alone. Jazz is a way of capturing what it means to be out and about in this world. It's a way of sharing that experience with others whom we will never meet but for whom our music could be a beacon of freedom if we are strong enough to tell our own stories, look them in the eye, and harvest the very best of what they have to teach us.

Wynton's thoughts on community come at a particularly poignant time. Throughout the book I thought a lot of about the state of our world. How scary all these moving parts are - the economy, our national security, our political systems, health care, education. There is a lot to be afraid, maybe even more to be afraid of than at any other time in our history. What jazz, and musicians like Wynton teach us, is that the only way we can be safe is to let go of that fear with the confidence that those around us will support us. Their harmonies will carry us through. And if all else fails at least the swingin' will give us enough encouragement to keep our chins up and the rest of us moving forward with grace.  

How Ashford & Simpson showed me the way

I work out at the gym in my office building. It's nothing glamorous but it has what I need: a precor machine, easy to use weight machines, a rower, and clean bright rooms for classes. It also has a view that reminds me every day of the preciousness of life: it overlooks the 9/11 site. Today crowds of people will be flocking to the site to pay homage to the people who spent their final moments on that site, people who are sorely missed by their families, friends, and by our city. It is a sobering reminder that every day, EVERY day, counts. 

I am now in the midst of reading Wynton Marsalis's latest book, Moving to Higher Ground: How Jazz Can Change Your Life. I picked it up initially because I met him at Barnes & Noble during a session he was doing across from Lincoln Center, because my brother adores him, and because I was a mediocre saxophone player many moons ago.The book is incredible, and I'll write a proper post reviewing it as soon as I'm finish reading it. I mention it here because it's going to tie nicely into my thoughts on 9/11, right after I mention one more recent occurrence. 

My dear friend, Dan, whom I write about often and spend a good deal of time with, is the publicist for Feinstein's at the Regency on Park and 61st. He took me to see Michael Feinstein's Christmas show in December and on Tuesday he invited my friend, Monika, and I to see Ashford & Simpson. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun at a show. They play with such joy and love. I'm still humming Solid and Ain't No Mountain High Enough. I was dancing, shouting, clapping. I was living that music and I felt so connected to every person in that audience even though I didn't know anyone save for Dan, Monika, and Dan's co-worker, Danielle. We were all together, celebrating life.

After the show let out, I walked west to catch my bus home. It was a long walk and I waited a while for the bus so I had a decent amount of time to revel in my happiness. And I finally understood the premise of Wynton Marsalis's book in a way I hadn't understood before seeing Ashford & Simpson. I understood those feelings of gratefulness I get when I'm on the rowing machine and looking at that sad, expansive space where the Towers stood majestically watching over us for so many years. It's that feeling of just being happy "to be". 

The only job we have in this world, and I mean the ONLY job, is to experience joy and express it every day for as long as we have the privilege to be citizens of this world. Any art, but music in particular, is a thread to connect all of us because we all hear the same notes but they mean different things to all of us. It allows us to be the same, be different, be individuals, be a group, all together across many generations. We don't need to know a language, wear certain clothes, or be raised a certain way to enjoy it. It's an equal opportunity companion.

It's in our best interest to share joy because as we share it, there's more for us to have. Ashford & Simpson and Wynton Marsalis personify that principle and have reaped the benefits of its implementation. So sing, paint, play the trumpet, go to a show, write, love your job, garden, volunteer, run, swim, tell jokes, have a boogie break in your apartment. Spend time with interesting, fascinating, diverse people, and let them into your life in a profound way. And recognize how infinitely lucky we are to be alive at all. Just being able to walk around on this Earth and take it all in is an amazing gift.  

Shelby Lynne

Nearly all of my new music recommendations come from my friend, Ken. He always knows what's new and understands my taste in music exactly. A few months ago, he introduced me to Shelby Lynne and I've been listening to her recent album that is a tribute to Dusty Springfield. Lynne was on CBS Sunday Morning this morning, and showed a much different personality than her sultry voice lets on. 

She describes herself as a Hell Cat, someone who doesn't like rules and doesn't like people who like rules. Now, I like her music even more. She turned away from a big deal music career in Nashville to build her own road on her own terms. When I was a kid, my mom described me as "hell on wheels". I'm not exactly sure what that means - maybe that I used to raise hell and then run away really fast. It seems that Shelby Lynne and I both have spicy personalities, and neither of us would have it any other way.

As  general rule, I like risk takers who bet on themselves more than they bet on someone else. There's a certain independence and confidence in those people that I greatly admire. A friend recently told me about her fear that she has no ability to take a risk - twice she has turned down professional moves to companies that eventually went public providing the partners with million of dollars each and the opportunity to do ground-breaking work. Now she's worried those chances have passed her by. I hope that's not true and it was a good lesson for me. 

Life waits for no one so if you have something you want to do and something you want to say, it would be wise to do and say it now. There's no rewind or pause button on the world. And if you need some inspiration or a soundtrack for your journey, I'd recommend that Shelby Lynne album.      

A stroke victim learns to speak through song

I find is fascinating that speech is formed by the left side of our brain, while singing, though it uses the same muscles, is formed on the right side of the brain. That division may have saved Mr. Harvey Alter, a stroke survivor, from never being able to speak again.

After his stroke, and the resulting Broca's aphasia that is caused, Mr. Alter could say only short words after month of therapy. Now, the conversation is flowing with much less difficulty thanks to melodic intonation therapy, a therapy that helps stroke victims learn to speak again by first teaching them to sing.

In today's New York Times(http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/22/health/22stro.html?_r=1&th=&adxnnl=1&oref=slogin&emc=th&adxnnlx=1208867443-SaFTSaS+Lm2ZuHy3sjUsiw), the details of the therapy, as well as Harvey Alter's dramatic recovery are both touching and inspiring. "Happy Birthday" opened the door to a new life for him, the confidence to believe that he could heal himself. So while music may be good for the soul, melodic intonation therapy makes it also good for the mind.

Derek Paravicini - a musical marvel

I receive a daily email from an organization called Daily Good. I've blogged about them before - they're about sharing inspirational stories across many different topics. I believe they provide a greater service than their humble mission statement states - they give me a big fat wake-up call, jolting me out of even a twinge of self-pity I may be feeling. They make me grateful.

Today, Stephen Moss writes about an incredibly special musician, Derek Paravicini. 27-years old, Derek has severe mental challenges that make him incapable of caring for himself. Still, his musical creativity is not only intact but far superior than nearly the entire human population. Play him a song, any song, once and he will repeat it back through the piano perfectly. 

To read Derek's inspiring story, visit http://music.guardian.co.uk/print/0,,329797892-122426,00.html

Soundtrack for life

David Sedaris once wrote about how his Walkman helped him survive in New York - it gave him a soundtrack to live his life in, a way for him to drown out any of the noise around him on his walks. I feel the same way about my ipod. I suspect most people in New York with the signature white ear buds do, too.

This past weekend I had a great group of buddies from Darden in town. A bit of a reunion. Our semi-annual sixth month club has begun. I was talking about my birthday with my friend, Kelly, and telling her about how my birthday is really my New Year's. I was wondering how I would commemorate a new year. And Kelly suggested a soundtrack for my year.

I've been thinking about the project. Considering songs here and there. Some people put together scrapbooks (which I never even thought of doing), others keep a journal (which I used to do). I write in this blog, and now I'll be compiling yearly soundtracks.