Megan Metheney - Solo Harp

Sunrise Breeze

2010-01-27T04:13:00.000-08:00

So it all started with me commandeering my neighbor's wind chimes at around 6 AM.

Brought them to 3rd period, which is a 7th grade class. Turned out the lights. We closed our eyes and listened to me brushing the chimes. Lights are on. We figured out the pitches of the chimes. Each composed 3 measures using only those pitches. Put them together to form one piece. Added a base line. Loaded the notes into the computer. And

Presto!

"Sunrise Breeze" for harp sextet (also playable as a solo). Enjoy!

Score:
Sunrise%20Breeze.pdf

Audio:
Sunrise%20Breeze.wav

Small Chunks

2010-01-16T08:38:00.000-08:00

From the classroom yesterday: "Ms. Metheney, why are you so smiley?"

We are working with the beauty of "small chunks" these days, still plugging away at the Permian Basin Harp Masterclass project. If you've got a large task in front of you (like learning a solo harp piece that you are totally unfamiliar with), our objective is: "Ok, guys. This week, your mission is to tackle the first two measures. Hands together. Memorized." Two measures are feasible and less daunting.

Then there are the small chunks within the small chunks. For example, first it's right hand alone until that's totally mastered. Then left hand. Then together.

And there are even small chunks within the small chunks of the small chunks. "This is a weird fingering that you've never done before. Let's do the first two notes like 20 times, then we'll add a note and do that twenty times.

I love how my students don't flinch anymore when I say, "Ok sweet. Do that 20 times and then call me back over." It's because they have found a feasible chunk!!

I'm sure the chunk methodology is applicable to the meaning of life somehow. Hmm... I will need a second cup of coffee for that one.

There is one student out of the 54 that believe their piece is too difficult. And there's one that thinks theirs is too easy. I think, slowly, that they will realize the possibilities within their own hands, both musically and technically.

May your day be filled with chunks,
Megan

Sunday

2010-01-10T21:23:00.001-08:00

Today was another good day. It's been quite a while since I took a Sunday completely off (I was told recently that "I have no life" and therefore decided to shape up), and today was a day that I forced myself not to look at my to-do list for work. Crazy! And I feel so refreshed. Harp practice. Clean sheets. Full fridge. Siesta. Phone calls to friends. I liked today.

On the school-front: something is in the air here... I feel like my students (especially the junior highers) are excited about harp. Their parents are excited that they are excited. I'm sitting back, watching people be excited.

There was a booster club meeting last Friday to discuss summer harp camps. It was a packed house, and there are many students that would like to raise the money to go on a harp retreat this year, both in-State and out-of-State. Sweet! They are gung-ho-ly taking responsibility for their playing and interest in harp.

Here is a pic from the OHS football banquet last Friday. I'm still reminded that I'm in West Texas when I see an event like this. No complaints! Just enjoying the observations.

And on the personal practice front: I'm working on "Otoño Porteño" by Astor Piazzolla, arranged by Argentine harpist Maria Luisa Rayan-Forero. I've never met Maria Luisa, but I feel like I walk through her head as I play through her transcription. Her arrangement is delightful. And Piazzolla on the harp... yes! Fan. Sometimes I wish I was a violinist or accordionist, but whatever. I'll take what I can get. My hope is that I can pull off the solo so that it's as in-your-face as it is with multiple instruments. My fingers are crossed, as it were. ... I can't imagine how amazing it would have been to play with this guy. Or heard him live. Intense emotion and energy. Mm- love it.

A new year and new music to learn.

2010-01-07T19:17:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Harpville. These past few days have probably been the most rewarding days of teaching for me since moving to Odessa. We are starting a new project: The Permian Basin Harp Masterclass. My kiddos were awarded a grant that will allow them to fly a harp clinician in from France to work with them on their playing. Each person will learn their own solo piece, and each piece must be written by a French composer.

Imagine thumbing through hundreds of French harp solos and finding one that suites a specific person. 53 times. That was Monday and Tuesday.

Today is Thursday, and I am amazed (shocked) at what has happened before my eyes. It's like watching a person who has their nose in a really good book that they "can't put down." They are eating up their new pieces note by note. Is this a dream?

The idea behind the PBHM is to advocate "musicality at any level." One can be expressive even as a very beginner with "simple" music. Complex pieces can be performed in a hollow manner. A complex piece that is not backed up by solid playing technique is bad news. We're steering clear of complex and going for simple, musical, beautiful artistry.

Something simple done well is beautiful. Something complex done passably is ambitious but... well, passable.

Each person has received a piece that they can learn and memorize in two months time (by the way, I feel like I've squeezed poor Bernard Andres completely dry). The goal: go from dots and lines on a page (written music) to carefully crafted musical artistry and expression. Mouthful.

One thing I hope not to forget that Elizabeth Fontan-Binoche said to me one day:
"The most important thing to teach a young harpist is
1. how to practice and
2. how to listen to themselves"

I'm trying to achieve these things in class with the repertoire as our aid. Such good times. Mm.

K-State of mind

2009-10-29T23:08:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I joined a bunch of my family up in Kansas for K-State's homecoming football game. I appreciate my family; we all have our issues but we love each other anyway.

I was there solely for "the hang" but also got to take in some football fanaticism (I did wear purple as to not be a party pooper). I live in West Texas and yet I still go through culture shock whenever I'm at a football game. Like I've never seen a football extremist. We tend to take things pretty far, don't we? I mean, as humans sometimes? We just get fixed on something and run with it.

I obsess, too. But I can't think of something that I've totally sold out for. Harp, I guess, if that counts. Pizzeria Bianca in Phoenix maybe.

I was at the game thinking that the stadium was not too far off from what the Roman Coliseum stood for 2000 years ago. There must be something built into us that wants to be "better than that guy." Or that team. Or that school. Or that harpist. And it's life or death.

This past month at school, my students and I were following the International Harp Competition in Israel. It was the harpist's version of fantasy football, if you will. Good times. They all picked who they were routing for and tracked their way through the four stages. Sometimes here (in Odessa), it seems like it doesn't necessarily matter WHO you are routing for, as long as you are routing for SOMEONE and that you are their die-hard fan. UT or Texas Tech? Permian or Odessa High? Rosa's or Taco Villa? Ina Zdorovetchi or Remy van Kesteren?

Besides football and Mexican cuisine, music competitions are also a big deal in Texas. All-City, All-Region, All-State... many music classes totally revolve around upcoming competitions and contests.

Somewhere someone said that the last shall be ultimately first and the first shall be last. Someone also said there's nothing better to do than to eat, drink, and enjoy your days under the sun because they will be all too short. Someone else taught that whatever your hand finds to do should be done with all your might.

There's a balance in there somewhere. I'm working to find it. I'm trying to be thankful in all situations and to be correct in my ways. I'm trying to be kind. To be humble. To do a good job. I'm trying to enjoy my days. To enjoy a football game with my family. To take my best friend to Rosa's when she's in town. To take one day at a time.

Seasons

2009-09-03T08:34:00.000-07:00

To everything there is a season and a time for every purpose. A time to: be born, die, plant, harvest, kill, heal, break down, build up, weep, laugh, mourn, dance, throw away stones, gather stones, embrace, refrain from embracing, gain, lose, keep, throw away, tear, sew, keep silent, speak, love, hate.

This has been an intense few weeks. School is back under way- 53 harptastic students this year! I'm in heaven. I'm so thankful that I love my job.

It seems also that I've been surrounded by change in this past few weeks. And not only my own change, but changes for other people. Dave and I have been been on the humble side of making music lately- hospital visit, weddings, a funeral, and a birth. The birth was yesterday- and my first harp delivery! My friend's son, Max, was born to the key of E Major. It was so amazing to be playing mere feet away from someone entering the world.

Max was breathing his first breaths as someone nearby dialed the mother's sister back home in Germany. The sister was anxiously awaiting the news. I was immediately taken back to three different phone conversations that passed between my sister and I- her being in the delivery room and me on the other end of the line somewhere or another- California, France, Texas. I am so sad to have missed all three of her deliveries, and I was moved at the conversation in front of me. It was the middle of the night in Germany. September 2nd. Same day as my nephew's birth.

I'm excited for this school year. Did I mention that I love my job? As it being my second year in Odessa, I feel like my head is all of the sudden above water! Strange, relieving feeling. My resolution for this year: do not compromise my own time alone/ practice with the harp. After the very-often 12-hour day of teaching, I crave "my time," and I'm not going to give it up this year!

On tap this weekend:
Bernard Andres' "Danses d'Automne"
Bach's Cello Suite #6- Sarabande (so beautiful on the harp!)
Douglas Gibson's latest harp sketches

Things I like about fishing

2009-07-17T15:34:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful, sunny day Utah. I have been slowly re-entering real-life after being in the Blue Lake bubble. My clothes have been washed and I no longer smell like a camp fire. Sad to say.

Voila... some thoughts I had during this morning's outting with my uncle. There may be a metaphor for life or some insight into the harp world in here, but I'm guessing not. Here we go...

Things I like about fishing:

The way the floating bobber creates an image of a jalepeno suspended in front of an upsidedown mountain.

The rediculus smell of power bait.

Lulls in conversation that are broken 45 minutes later simply by, "I outta go back to worm."

Each catch is a celebrated event- it may only happen once after a whole day of trying. I like that the fish don't make it too easy on us; it's like playing cards- half skill and half luck. Maybe mostly luck.

I like cleaning the fish guts out and washing it up. (This is odd and unexplained, but it goes back to when I was 7. I'm going to blame it on my dad being a horse surgeon.)

I like the luxury of capturing your own dinner.

I like that it's all about getting the darn fish to bite your hook, but it's also not really about getting the fish to bite your hook. Yes, you are out there to get fish, and you will do whatever it takes (change the bait up, switch locations, cast into a promising area, etc)... but it's also about (at least for me) just sitting there and enjoying being outside. If I get up before the sun comes up in order to "catch fish" but only end up hanging out with Uncle Mike and enjoying the scenery for 9 hours, I'm totally cool.

Thanks, Beth and Mike, for letting me come to visit!

My Blue (Lake) Heaven

2009-07-10T14:55:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Michigan, where converse are the shoe of choice and 30 kids make up the tuba department alone!

This place is wonderful. I walk around with a giant smile on my face, that I could be up with the trees, talking harp most of the day, hanging out with interesting people, hearing some great music, seeing great art, watching great dance & theater... this is becoming the highlight of my summers.

There are about 100 faculty members and 1300 campers for each session. The faculty tend to whine about the coffee, the occasional mouse in the cabin, our paycheck, the mosquitos, and the 8 AM classes. In all honesty, though, we love it here. We would actually pay to be here because we love it so much.

I have a fantastic group of 7 high school-aged harpists. We spend about 6 hours a day together playing, playing, playing, playing. They spoiled me from the first day because of their ease in working together. We've been able to do a lot of exciting things because of how motivated and easy-going each of them are. My personal favorite was watching them perform "Chanson dans la Nuit" by Carlos Salzedo for the camp talent show, arranged completely by themselves for 14 hands instead of two.

I think the talent show night has actually been the highlight of camp for me (not counting the 4th of July campfire on the lake). Next time I get down or blue, I'm going to remember seeing that entire crowd of young people cheering for each other, some of them getting up on stage out of sheer bravery and zest for simply being able to breathe, and all of them having one care-free heck of a time. Favorite act: glow sticks guy.

This past week marks the first time that I have actually enjoyed conducting. The harp ensemble made it a pleasure to wave my hands around, especially for Stephanie Curcio's "Flume Gorge." Great piece.

Another thought from this week: my teacher in France would always kinda sink into her chair, kiss the cross around her necklace, and say a prayer before one of her students performed in public (it didn't seem to matter which one). I would watch her and think it was strange that she would be so nervous for them, but am starting to experience the same thing when I have to sit in an audience while my students perform. What's up with that? I'm more nervous for them than for myself.

Can't not mention this: I would like to send a special shout-out to Chris Smith who brought the house down with his fiddle playing during the faculty recital. We did "The Devil Went Down to Blue Lake" for harp and fiddle, and it turned out to be a memory that I will gladly keep for a long time. I've never played with a mic in my face before! Very strange. I've been wanting to perform that tune for a long time now. Thank you, Chris!

I'm going to miss this place.

Whats the point?

2009-05-27T15:44:00.000-07:00

Every Friday in harp class, I give a short quiz. This quiz asks questions about stuff we talked about or studied that week. Of course, I use the quizzes to gauge the progress of the students' learning, but I mostly like to give the quiz out of sheer curiosity... I wonder what in the world they will write.

A quiz question from a couple weeks ago was "Name three ways music serves us as a culture." Some of the answers were:

to help us dance
to express feelings and ideas
to entertain each other
to enrich religious services
to help us feel emotion

The other night I went to the Midland Odessa Symphony's pops concert. That's an entire blog entry in itself, but I've got to say here that they played one medley of songs called “Salute to the Services.” The conductor invited veterans to stand and be honored when their armed force's song was played. Wow. Powerful and moving.

Earlier in the afternoon I had been at an outdoor harp recital at the hospice in Odessa. Some of my students played in the garden there, and it was lovely. I know one person personally who was there that has been facing the death of a close friend. I thought about that quiz question. Why is there music? What's point of it? How does it fit in to our lives?

In this case, the music may have caused the person to feel hopeful and sad at a time when it was perfectly alright to feel sad and hopeful. In the case of the pops concert, the music had evoked in me feelings of gratitude and humility in front of about 50 men that had served my country. And now tonight as I write this, I'm listening to Sigur Ros. Perfect music for reflection and inspiration.

Here are some photos of the last month's harp happenings in Odessa. School is out for summer time. I'm going to miss seeing these peeps! I'm happy to have some time off from schlepping harps around... I've discovered this great diet called "Harp Mover 3000." Move 3000 harps in a month and shed those unwanted pounds. (I didn't get a completely accurate count, but I think it was around 3000 harps.)

Happy summer!

Uncomfortable

2009-04-20T08:58:00.000-07:00

Uncomfortableness is a good sign. Being uncomfortable (in the non-physical sense) means that something is growing and making progress inside of us. It means we are allowing ourselves to FEEL, to taste, to be in forward motion, to live.

This past week I organized the "First Annual" Permian Basin Harp Masterclass. I have this habit of throwing myself in way over my head and seeing what comes of it all, and this event was yet another example for the books. Sometimes I stub my toe on the moon and sometimes I come out victorious. The idea of a music "masterclass" hadn't seemed to be too familiar in Odessa, and I had planned all of this with no expectations but also with very very high hopes that the harpists here could be touched and transformed by two special guests.

"You want to do what? Who?"

"Ya, so I'd like to have a harp workshoppy thing with my teacher from France and this other harpist guy from Mexico."

And what do you know? It happened! Elizabeth Fontan-Binoche and Santiago Morales flew in to paint the town red for five days and five nights, all because of this crazy instrument with too many strings. 15 young harpists from across Texas were present to soak in teaching, humor, and harp music. They visited my classes and were interrogated by my students. I am so thankful for these two; they make me a better person just by being near me, let alone a better harpist! Now I'm not the only one in Odessa who feels this way.

But an idea keeps lingering in my mind now that my guests are gone and the dust is settling- something blog-worthy. Here it is: it's all about being uncomfortable. Madame Fontan travelled countless hours to a foreign country to GIVE of herself and her experience as a harpist. Santiago travelled and managed to be here to GIVE of his heart and music. I didn't sleep for a week so that I could somehow GIVE this masterclass to my students. The students pushed themselves and mustered up their bravery to face new challenges in their playing and performing- to GIVE all that they could. I'm proud of us. A Man once said that we are happier when we give than when we receive. Giving is usually against our nature and quite uncomfortable, and being uncomfortable isn't comfortable. But giving invites happiness into our lives. I could feel the love this past weekend. I could feel the happiness in my bones by just sitting around watching people in this give-fest. Can I get a witness?!?!

My favorite moments in the masterclass were when Madame Fontan would go off on a tangent in the middle of someone's lesson. Not an angry, off-course tangent, but some story or anecdote that related to the moment. I usually lean in to hear what she has to say anyway, but when she starts in on some obscure thought (which isn't at all obscure), brace yourself for a profound message encapsulated by humility and love. Good stuff. Really good stuff.

And who knew Madame Fontan likes horchata and mariachis!?!

Grandjany's Rhapsody

2009-03-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

So there are things in life that happen to you or that you see that will stick with you and never leave you alone thereafter. One of those moments for me was the first time I heard French harpist and composer Marcel Grandjany's harp solo Rhapsody. This piece is nuts! Wow. Wow. It has ever since been on my list of things I'd like to experience before I die. I'd like to play this piece.

I'm in the midst of learning it now after several attempts here and there over the past 10 years. This time I'm not taking it off my music stand until it's really learned, really memorized, really a part of me. Grandjany wrote it for his teacher, Henriette Renie, roughly 50 years ago. For me, this is his masterpiece.

I've never been hoarse after practicing before, which prompted this blog entry. There must be something even nuttier about this piece than I had bargained for. It's funny- I don't even realize that I'm singing while I'm practicing it... I guess it just sucks it up out of my vocal chords on it's own, which does not surprise me. This piece sucks everything out of you that it can. I feel like I need to stop and eat a power bar by page 5, and I have a lump in my throat pretty much from the get-go. Man.

Can I just tell you how amazing this work is? It spans over the full 47-string range of the instrument, not wasting a single drop of the harp's capability. Grandjany's notation reveals his anal retentiveness, indicating every nuance and subtlety he intentioned. The notes alone, though, without those clues, lends itself so well to what he wanted to express that I find myself saying aloud, "Duh" when I see a crescendo marking, rolled chord indication, or an accelerando. It's like the markings are just ways to keep yourself in check to make sure you're on the the same page (so to speak) with his hoped interpretation. You feel for sure that a harpist must have written the piece (as opposed to composers like Faure, Hindemith, or Debussy) because of the intuitiveness of the way the notes lay on the harp. It plays itself. It feels like you're rolling around naked in kashmir from start to finish.

Which is not to say that this is not an angry piece. It is. If Passion is Switzerland, Anger and Hate are its neighboring countries, along with Love and Sincerity (I'm not sure what that means, but bear with me). You've got it all in Rhapsody. Everything is on the table for eight minutes and it's a vulnerability that I'm a little scared of. It requires a perfect balance of strength and delicateness- the lion's power in one measure and the lamb's gentle spirit in the next. The silence after the last notes die away makes me want to drive home with the radio off and ponder what the heck just happened. Wow. It's really strange to say this, but it's like I can feel very close to Grandjany himself when the piece is over. Like he's in the room. Like he's also in tears and he's also exhausted. It's as if I'm not only producing the music, but I'm also simultaneously experiencing it for the first as a listener. Weird. Hard to explain.

Let's talk about hand span for a minute. Guys have the obvious upper hand, as it were, in terms of reaching giant chords... and there are a few places where it takes every ounce of relaxation, strategic hand position, and power for a girl-sized hand to hit some of those non-rolled chords at full volume. Yikes! But it's like riding on the Matterhorn at Disneyland: once it's over, I want to turn around and do a certain passage again. And again. And again.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Rhapsody is a harpist's crack and I'm proud to be in the club. I hope to humbly play it for you one day.

Things that I like about this month so far

2009-02-19T20:02:00.001-08:00

Things that I like about this month so far:

Finally performing a Pat Metheny tune that I have been drooling over for 9 years: "Just Like the Day." Thank you, Dan Smithiger, for the magical drumset-ness. I will remember that.

A Valentine's Day margarita on the romantic riverwalk of San Antonio (tout seul, mais ce n'est pas grave).

A surprise from my niece: a frog valentine card waiting for me in my post office box.

Practice time. That's something I hadn't had much of in the past months. On the front burners: Grandjany's Rhapsodie (another drool song for me) and Mambo by Bernard Andres.

Sushi in St. Louis.

Tasting my own medicine. In my dictator fashion, I declared Wednesdays a composition day in my harp classes. The students are working on their own compositions and writing them out- sweet! Until one of them asked me to write out one of my own that she'd heard me play. Touché.

Yes we can.

2009-01-20T22:22:00.001-08:00

I write this after more than 15 hours of CNN coverage of today's inauguration, and 15.6 miles away from where George W. Bush made his homecoming this afternoon.

What a day. I'm emotionally exhausted and I was just watching it all from my computer at school!

This was a day of "WOW," followed by Yes ... Yes... Yes.

Today was the first day in my adult life that I have been proud to be a United States citizen. I remember being patriotic as a girl, but the past decade of meg-life has been one of cynicism and discontent towards America which has slowly grown into a fluffy tree of bitterness.

I have spent many years hiding my face as an American. I have, on several occasions, apologized to my deceased grandfather for my ungratefulness of his service in the military, and for being so embarrassed for his country, our country. I had been sitting down for the USA. In the place of patriotism I have had no comment. In the place of 4th of July fireworks, I've had skepticism.

But today. Today was the first day that I had hope for us as a nation. I'm standing. In silent somberness, I'm on my feet for President Obama. With a breath of relief, I'm standing in prayer... God bless us, God have mercy on us, forgive us. God help us. You can. Yes You can. Change us. Amen.

Odd

2008-12-30T23:04:00.000-08:00

I found myself in a strange situation this evening. Here I am in Phoenix, and the Odessa College Women's Basketball team is in town for a tournament. Odd. I am a friend of the coach, so I found myself there tonight cheering not for the Phoenix team but rooting for Odessa. "Go Odessa! That's right, Lady Wranglers! Go!" I'm not a big screamer, so it was easy for me to notice what a bizarre situation it was.

Time is odd. Life is odd. A year ago tonight, I was making a vegan dinner, walking my puppy around the village, and spending time with my friend Alexis during her visit to Cabris, France.

Time is odd. Life is odd. And I have absolutely no regrets.

As the end of 2008 is fading away, I have a thankful and dumbfounded heart. Life is funny sometimes, how you can never explain or predict or really plan anything.

I am really glad that I moved to Odessa. I'm glad to be doing what I'm doing. Since I moved there in August, various people have asked me how I'm doing with the adjustment. "So how are you liking it here? Are you doing okay?" And they lean in a little bit with a concerned eye, waiting for my face to to do the talking. I realize that I tend to do a bit of complaining in these blogs, but the truth is that I'm really liking it. Besides the Mexican food, the sunsets, and the convenience of a small town, there are many things that I enjoy about Odessa.

Such as: I am surrounded by harps all day. I am surrounded by young people who want to play their best. I love my students so much that I just want to squeeze them sometimes. I am a geek.

I know you're not supposed to have favorites, and I don't, but I REALLY enjoy working with the junior high aged students in particular. By the time 2 PM rolls around and I start wanting a siesta, I walk into the junior high harp room and spend the next 2 hours with 14 hyper, happy harpists. I've laughed until I've cried in that room on several occasions, and I usually leave that place in a great mood thanks to them. And besides all of the laughing and getting to know each other, I see each one of them making progress as a musician. I can't be happier about this!!

Once during this past semester, I was preparing for class by tuning the harps. As I was plucking away at one of them, I was thinking about how I wanted each string to be ready to be played that day for the students, and how I was excited for them to come to class. And then it was like something whispered to me: "Just as you are preparing for your students to use this harp, I also go before you to prepare your way. I have fun things planned for you, Megan."

It reminded me of a couple things: "The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. He knows the plans He has for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Deuteronomy 31:8, Jeremiah 29:11)

This semester, I have encountered many situations that made me grateful for my past. Random things and significant things. Things like working at a harp store years ago, which in turn taught me how to care for harps. Things like my rock climbing days in Arizona, as it prepared me for loading the harp trailer to move 17 harps for our winter recital (now THAT was an intense weekend). I was thankful for the time I spent with my teacher in Austin, as she challenged the way I thought about teaching music. I was happy about having lived out of a suitcase for months on end, as it made me more of a flexible and chillaxed person. It was like every fun and unfun event in my past had led up to me moving to Odessa and was now affecting each breath I took.

Funny- one of the things I missed most when I was in France (besides my family) was Mexican food. Even as I type this, I smirk as I picture the quantity of Mexican food establishments in Odessa.

Time is odd. Life is odd. But I'm starting to see that there's some kind of weird and positive plot going on here with a weird and positive, ever-present Plotter behind it. And this is only the prologue.

Odessa won the game tonight, by the way. They creamed Phoenix. Who would have known.

Christmas Blisters

2008-12-20T17:05:00.000-08:00

So. Christmas. I try not be a scrooge when it comes to all of the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, but sometimes I can't help it. Jingle Bell Rock and Santa Baby do not help the situation, nor do Walmart and Rudolf.

But God was wise when he introduced me to the harp. It may be the only way I can get into the season.

Years ago I admitted to some close friends (after a couple glasses of wine) that one of my biggest regrets in life was that I didn't know the words to the Christmas carols. It's still the case to this day, but I've been trying to remedy this remorse. Now, when I'm sitting behind the harp during the holidays playing for various events, I try to read the words to the music as I play. There's some good stuff in there! And worth taking a look at. To me, the holidays are empty without music, and the the music is meaningful because of the spirit behind them.

December 1st kind of jumped into the picture before I was ready, and 17 concerts and 15 days later, I had the infamous Christmas Blisters. But it happened. And it happened earlier than expected. I was playing at the Dolly Neal Chapel in Midland for a Christmas open house a couple weeks ago, and it happened. It was a reflective and quiet bunch of people, and as I was reading and playing along my merry way, the words sunk into my head, my fingers, my heart...

Joy to the World. Emmanuel. God is with us. Fall on your knees.

O%20Come%2C%20O%20Come%20Emmanuel.m4a

Thanksgiving 2008

2008-11-29T09:02:00.000-08:00

Things to be thankful for, things you can never replace:

A hug from my mom.
Going along on a house visit with my dad the amazing horse vet.
The smell of the desert after the rain.
The Squaw Peak mountains by moonlight.

Santiago de Mexico

2008-11-29T08:33:00.000-08:00

My favorite blog topics are my friends and the people in my life that I admire. And one of my favorite ways to pass the weekend (since moving to Texas) is actually getting OUT of the State to spread a little lone star love to other areas of the world. Which leads us to this blog entry. I call it "Santiago de Mexico."

Earlier this month, I made a quick escapade to Guadalajara, Mexico to visit a harpist friend I know from France. We had both set up camp in the Cote d'Azur to study under the same teacher, and he was one of the first people I met when I arrived there over three years ago. His name is Santiago Morales. He's originally from Veracruz, and I had never seen him on this side of the Atlantic. We were past due for a visit.

Santiago is the kind of person that inspires you to be a better person... to enjoy life and to be your beautiful self. I would have been happy to visit him for 10 minutes, but I got to spend the entire weekend there- playing music, meeting his friends and students, drinking coffee, eating amazing food, and visiting the market. Our usual.

During our overlap in France, we spent a lot of memorable time together. We laughed till we cried, cried till we laughed, commiserated about the French, celebrated the French, explored, practiced, performed, and pushed each other to be better musicians. With Santiago, you can talk about anything from skin exfoliation to Jesus to relationships to fears to homemade salad dressing. He's the kind of person that lights up an entire hotel lobby upon entrance (namely, the Negresco). Maybe it's the giant smile. He laughs easily and tells stories like it's his favorite pass time. When I first heard him play, I wept- I just couldn't hold it in. But it was a good cry somehow. He has a very musical, rich sound. Hearing him play makes you want to go home to practice and be a better harpist. A better person, even.

And what I like about Santiago is that he's not perfect, and he knows it. He is his humble, loving, lovable self 24/7. So- cheers to Mexico. Cheers to harp playing. Cheers to being yourself. Cheers to Santiago.

The numbers are in.

2008-10-25T14:18:00.000-07:00

2= the number of students I've made cry since the first day of school
35= the number of school-owned harps in this county (I think of it as me suddenly adopting 35 children)
.0004= number of harps per capita in Odessa
1362= the collective number of strings on the harps in Odessa
1099= number of harp strings tuned per school day
486= the number of harp strings I've changed since the first day of school
62= the number of days that it's taken me to change strings and make sure every harp is in tune and in playable condition
.05= number of chihuahuas per capita within the city limits of Odessa (estimate)
97= percentage of chihuahuas in Odessa that are stray
92= percentage of stray chihuahuas I see during the course of the school day
.008/1= harp-to-chihuahua ratio in Odessa

Now, if we plug those numbers into this equation:

5d+3a-2(3[25])-psum-i-(d+t)= profit

Our profit turns out to be:

.06

Tongue

2008-10-03T09:46:00.001-07:00

Today in Odessa, you are either wearing Red & White or Black and White. Today is the day. Today is the annual Permian Basin Showdown. The two high schools in town will either take or loose all of the glory on the football field in a very important game. This is the day that is has been talked about and will be talked about for months to come. May the best team (Odessa High School!) win.

I received a very surprising phone call from a long lost friend yesterday. We hadn't spoken for about 6 years, and through the power of Facebook, we were reunited. Both his world and mine have done a 180 since the last time we spoke. Life is funny sometimes. Time is funny sometimes. After a couple of hours, I hung up the phone in a strange daze. It's amazing how one person and their words can make or break your spirit. Mine were made. Someone once said that "The tongue has the power of life and death." So true. And so what I want: to have my words bring life to people.

In a town where segregation was legal until 1981 (yes, n i n e t e e n e i g h t y o n e), where good live music is 150 miles away, and where you can't recycle your glass bottles, I'm looking for things to be thankful for. Let's play the "let's be glad" game! Here we go, Pollyanna...

I'm thankful
My Brother
My Sister
My Parents
My Niece and Nephew
Coffee in the morning
The beautiful weather in Odessa today
My students (who inspire me)
My harp and its music
My roommate
Enchiladas from Mi Milos
Long Lost Friends

Plates, Mexican, Music, and Poems

2008-09-09T22:40:00.000-07:00

Today was a grim day. Today was the day I traded my beautiful Arizona license plate for one from the Lone Star State. Not that I have anything against Texas, but this act felt like the end of a very nice dream somehow. That plate and I had memorable travels together. Perhaps I'm a little apprehensive about giving up my unique identity as being "not from here." I don't necessarily want my car to say "I'm from Texas." I don't like the look of the new plate; those purple mountains and cacti are going to be missed.

So I'm wearing black.

The good news: Despite the rain and gloom, I drove into a ray of sunshine around lunchtime: Mi Milo's Mexican Restaurant on the corner of 2nd and North County Road. The quest to find the best Mexican food in town seemed a little daunting before, and now I see that it has ended entirely. This is the place. This is hands down the best Mexican food in town. Gracias, Mi Milo's!

School is going well. I love getting to know the students. And there seems to be bits and pieces of past Type A personality traits coming out of the woodwork of my mind. Handy.

And as far as my own playing goes... I'm excited for some new projects brewing! Recordings, new compositions, collaborations and concerts with friends... all very good things. Now all I need is 34 hours in a day.

Another piece of good news: I found an open mic and poetry reading that happens every Tuesday night at the Barnes and Noble in the town down the street. (I think it's probably the only open mic within 100 miles.) Last week I listened. This week I played. I really like the people there; it feels like the way church ought to feel. So. To end tonight, please enjoy this poem by a new friend and fellow open-mic-er, Kat....

"West Texas" by Kat (May 2008)

Cotton, tumbleweeds
Cattle and oil
West Texas homeland
Part of the Texas star

Longhorns, longnecks,
Rednecks
Loneliness in a crowd

Desertscape, subtleness
See forever and a day

Sand hills move,
Reshape
Yesterday's design
Sifted away

Moonlite, daylite
One and the same

Wander and saunter
Desert willow
Mimosa flower

Sky, clouds
See forever
And a day...

Things Mrs. Wolfe Didn't Tell Me- Part Two

2008-08-28T22:16:00.000-07:00

This week I got to relive the first day of 6th grade, middle school, and high school... all in the same day, and this time in high heels.

If I had I dollar for every time I accidentally introduced myself as "Megan" instead of "Ms. Metheney," I would buy us all a round.

Speaking of which, I had no idea that school teachers partook in so much alcohol consumption during the first week of school. I must admit: a cold beer never tasted so good on Monday. I was exhausted! A very fulfilling, relieved, exhaustion.

I really love my new job. I get to travel to four different schools each day and teach harp to a selected bunch of really bright, kooky, hilarious kids aged 11-18. I love them already.

And just for the record: high heels on the first day... never again.

Things Mrs. Wolfe Didn't Tell Me- Part One

2008-08-24T22:27:00.001-07:00

So it's official. The Permian Basin is totally flat. I even went to the tallest building in Odessa and walked the full circumference of its top floor. Not a hill in sight. This is strange for me. I've always lived in a place enveloped by mountains; I feel a little naked out here.

I'm slowly finding my bearings, though. I've spent the past couple of weeks accumulating keys, being powerpointed to death, meeting new colleagues, and changing harp strings. School starts tomorrow!! This is going to be fun. Tomorrow starts the reason I moved to Odessa... to meet up with 38 young people that want to play some music. THIS is why I'm here.

6 of them will have never touched a harp before. I get a little geeky about first lessons- it's an honor and a huge thrill for me. FUN. This is going to be fun.

I came across an old school paper earlier this summer as I was going through a room in my parent's house. It was from the 6th grade, and was apparently some assignment we did in writing down our goals for life. Here it was- a whole page of goals I had created for myself. My mom and I had a good laugh. I won't list them all, but there was one that stood out:

"I would like to be a school music teacher and teach harp."

Odd timing that I would find this paper now.

Above, in red ink (of course it's red ink), my teacher had written: "Super goals, Megan! I know you will be successful!" Her name was Mrs. Wolfe.

There's a lot of things Mrs. Wolfe didn't tell me, though... things that I'm finding out as this "goal" is starting to play out.

She didn't tell me what an amazing energy there is when you walk in to your teaching room for the first time, fumbling to find which key goes where, flip on the lights to an empty room (full of harps), set your bag down on the desk, and take a full breath.

I guess she couldn't have really explained it. I can't seem to, either.

Half Full

2008-08-09T22:00:00.000-07:00

I'm really not a "half empty" kind of girl, so I'm glad that the moon was looking a little more half full tonight.

Still dealing with a little culture shock.... In Cannes after a church meeting, we'd all meet in the back for a glass of wine to chat and hang out with each other. It was strange for me at first (drinking in CHURCH?), but I had nothing wrong with it; it made a welcomed addition to my Sunday morning ritual. In Odessa, they open up school teacher's meetings with prayer. I was at a music teacher's association meeting today and with an auditorium of random teachers, everyone bowed their head as they were lead in prayer. And I think it was legit- they were all really praying. This is strange to me, but it's the same story: there's nothing wrong with it. Why not join them?

The moon is half empty because there are so few local businesses in Odessa. No local coffee places. 2 Walmarts. This bums me out. But the moon is half full because all of the local eateries and such are usually authentic Mexican. I had a sopapilla the other night that changed my life.

The moon is half empty because Odessa doesn't recycle. This causes me to fall asleep with guilt in my stomach (thanks to my mom and my friend Francois... not for the guilt, but for instilling a "green" habit in me).

The moon is half full because everyone is outstandingly nice. I don't think there's a single mean person living in Odessa.

The moon is half full because people appear to know all the lyrics to hip hop songs. Every single lyric. This is respectable.

The moon is what it is: I'm embarrassed that I ask people to repeat themselves sometimes.... the accent is stronger than I am.

The moon is half full because Odessans and I have something in common: we are fans of a Red Volvo C30 with Arizona plates.

The moon is half full because there's an ice-skating rink in Odessa.

The moon is half empty because I miss my niece and nephew. I can't even type this without having wet eyes.

I read something yesterday that rang true: "A man's steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand his own way?" (Proverbs 20:24) Who in the world can understand what the heck we're doing and where we're headed? All I know is that somehow, my little feet were lead here. I'm not going to ask questions or try to understand it for now. Instead- I'll enjoy another sopapilla and go ice skating.

Half Empty

2008-08-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

ODESSA.

Odessa.

odessa.

"What possessed you to move to Odessa, Texas?"

"You moved to SlowDeathA? Why?"

"Odessolate? What for?"

The moon is half empty tonight. It will be half full again soon, and even completely full later on. But just not tonight. Tonight it's half empty.

Driving into Odessa.... I have to admit.... I did shed a tear or two. Oh my goodness- what have I done?

I'm living in Odessa.

But the moon will be half full again soon, and even completely full later on. But just not tonight. Tonight it's half empty.

I had the French figured out. Upon meeting a French person, I knew what to do. I had a grip on the culture and fit in okay despite being a foreigner.

And now I'm a freshman again.

With the French, I knew that all you had to do was talk about the weather for a few minutes to be "in." Throw in a couple complaints about bland food and George Bush, and I was good to go. I had worked through the difficulty in understanding the accent. I was on level ground.

And now I'm a freshman again.

I don't think the "weather" topic works the same way here (and PS this is Bush's home town). I'm back to square one with the understanding-of-the-accent, not to mention them understanding mine.

The moon will be half full again soon, and even completely full later on. But just not tonight. Tonight it's half empty.

Odessa.

It's not about the harp

2008-08-02T09:27:00.000-07:00

The summer as I know it will be ending very soon. What an amazing couple of months- and a bit of a blur. A few Saturdays ago I was honored to play in Nashville with singer/songerwriters David and JJ Heller. The following Saturday was a cozy solo concert tucked up in the mountains near Colorado Springs. The Saturday after that was a concert with my harp quartet in tiny Isolabona, Italy. And today... another Saturday... drinking coffee on my aunt Beth's porch in Riverdale, Utah. Like I said, it's a little bit of a blur... and this is only the past 3 weeks. I didn't think I would ever, in my life, say this, but I'm really looking forward to moving to West Texas next week. It's going to be great to have a home base (other than my car) for a while.

Some things I'm particularly thankful for in these past couple of months have been meeting new people and meeting up old friends and family. It's been a blast to be able to play in such varied venues... this makes every performance fresh and different and risky. I love it. I'm one lucky gal.

One of the highlights in playing this summer was this recent concert near Colorado Springs. I'm still just warming up to the idea of playing my own compositions in concert, and that night I decided to play one that I wrote for my mom called Mimosa. No, it's not just brunch booze anymore! It's a tree that blooms radiant yellow blossoms in February. Anyway, my mom's birthday is in February and I wrote this song for her when I was in France, as I had a giant mimosa tree outside my window. So I played this Mimosa song at the concert, and a beautiful woman from Argentina said to me afterwards that it really touched her. Her mom's birthday is in August, which is when the mimosa trees bloom in Argentina (Southern hemisphere). Somehow, this song meant a lot to her because it reminded her of her mother. I don't like making people cry, but I think this woman did.

I've said this before, but I believe it more and more: it's not about the harp.

It is, but it's really not. My life seems to be totally oriented around this instrument - this piece of wood with strings on it. It's caused me to search the world over to learn how to play it better and better for the past 17 years. It's what I depend on to earn a living. I spend much of my time thinking about, teaching it, or sitting behind it. When friends introduce me, it's usually, "This is Megan the harpist."

But it's not about the harp.

So what is it about? People. Love.