Here I am again, reflecting on my trip to Portland for the National Flute Association conference. This year I found myself seeing things from a very different perspective. Mind you, this isn’t a foreign perspective but more of a retrospective view of my life for the last 17 conventions or so. As many of you know, I have been attending the convention for many years representing several flute brands as part of my job. Oddly enough, this is the year out of the numerous years of attendance that one question caught my attention. Someone asked me if I was “having fun.” This year, this same question that has been asked of me so many times, hit me differently. Let me explain a bit further so that my philosophical reflection makes more sense.
This year, as in past years, I did participate in some way with the convention outside of my work obligations. I got a proposal accepted to premiere a commission that was near to my heart, written by a friend, for a friend. This premiere was for piccolo and there wasn’t much time to play, practice, or warm up once I got to Portland. The morning of the premiere, I had about 10 minutes to play whistle tones in my hotel room before starting the workday. Once things were set in the exhibit hall, I rushed to the performance room, tooted a few notes, and off we went. We were first, I was first on the program, and third, and fourth. The nerves and cold embouchure due to several days of not playing caused me some anxiety and I didn’t feel I performed my best. I made the mistake of listening to a recording way too soon and proceeded to beat myself up, as many of us do.
For the past few years, I participated in the LGBTQIA+ Flute Choir. What a wonderful and talented group of people that I am genuinely humbled to play with and call many of them my friends. I had a blast performing next to some of the most talented players in the country. BUT, between the rehearsals and concert schedule I would always be exhausted. I would start in the morning getting our booth set up. Then, I shifted to greeting people and spent hours introducing people to the brands and helping people fall in love with the perfect instrument. Next, I’d be off to rehearsal followed by dinner, which could vary greatly depending on the evening. Then, to bed, followed by a wash, rinse, repeat the next day. I took this year’s convention off from this group. I really missed it, but my energy went toward the piccolo premiere this year.
Now let’s skip to the workday. With my performance over, I was back on my feet for the duration of the exhibit hall hours. Hours of greeting people, answering questions, and demonstrating mechanisms, surrounded by constant flute-colored, “noise.” I call it noise because despite some exceptional players, it all becomes a mish mash of sound in many layers of Beethoven, Chaminade, Mozart, etc. After a few hours, these factors start to wear on you and energy dips. Those of us who do this regularly understand what we are preparing for and know what we need to do to manage getting through the conference. We know to drink water, make sure we eat, get as much rest as we can, and don’t overdue the evening hangouts.
Now off to a gala concert (second half only) to catch performances by two wonderful people, both of whom got standing ovations after very moving performances. This was exhilarating, and I did lose myself in their performances. Following the performances, I spent time down at the front of the stage supporting one of them as they received praise from everyone passing by on the way out. I spent a bit catching up with a few of my fellow military friends and with about 100 people left in the hall, we decided to head back to the hotel. At this point, we heard three loud, “pops.” Most of us knew what we heard and a few minutes later we found ourselves locked down due to an “active shooter,” outside somewhere. The association’s leadership did an excellent job of keeping us contained and safe and conveyed important information as it became available. A room full of military, both current and veterans, is hardly the group to be shaken by gunfire. I saw many colleagues shift from relaxed and laughing to a strict focus and ready for business. Many of us have been in high stress situations as veterans and this shift is normal as we prepare for whatever happens next.
Why am I sharing these experiences with all of you? Let me come back to the original question, “are you having fun.” I don’t know if what I experience each year would be considered fun, especially this past year. I will share what that question and these experiences had me thinking about over the last couple of weeks.
First, I realized—or rather, reviewed the idea—that we are extremely hard on ourselves. We are our own worst critics because that is what we have been trained to do: criticize. After a break, I gave the recordings of my premiere performance a listen. I felt much better. I know the factors that influenced the results. I also know that while it wasn’t my best performance, it was solid, representing me in that moment, and there are many others who wouldn’t be able to do what I did under those circumstances. So, I have more confidence about my own accomplishments.
Second, I realize that we must make choices to protect our energy. Sometimes we must trade one thing to do another thing that brings us joy. Balance is key! I got to premiere a special commission with fellow piccoloists. I also got to hear two incredible musicians perform works that motivated me in my own musical life. I felt my musical energy renewed at the end of a busy day.
Third, I realized that anything could happen at any time. As I stood there looking at a crowd of people waiting for more information about the active lockdown, I saw so many emotions. I thought about kids that go through these experiences daily around the country and those who never make it home. I found a new appreciation for what and who I have in my life. I also felt connected to people around me because of a shared emotional experience. I thought about how we are all connected on different levels and through shared experiences.
Finally, I found joy in reconnecting with old friends. We commiserated over sore feet and aching backs. We shared stories, we talked about families and life, and we talked about new projects. Most importantly, we connected! We connected!
Was the convention “fun” for me? No, it wasn’t “fun.” There were moments of “fun.” And although it wasn’t “fun,” it WAS a great deal of other things this year. It was about connecting and appreciating what I have, and for that I am grateful.