Why am I a blubbering mess? Why I am a blubbering mess.

Lights, Camera and…over

And Just like that, it was a wrap for the Paeroa Music Project. After working with 6 schools and over 70 students for 20 weeks, all that work and effort culminated in two wonderful concerts showcasing the students singing talent in a spirit of Kotahitanga.

For two days I was blissing out. The first day, I spent re-organising the house (as true to form, it was an absolute pigsty) whilst listening to BoyzIIMens greatest hits. It gave me time to reflect on beautiful moments during this project.

Here are a few

A student, top row, colourful top coming alive when the rock band played. Like Smoke floating upward, she would groove her arms upward to the music, full beam smile.

A parent comes up to me to say that since joining the choir, her son does not stop singing at home. This was a pleasant surprise because at rehearsals his expression was dead pan.

Two soloists with beautiful voices are intentionally chosen to sing a song and did so beautifully and proudly. They sing . ‘When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, im gonna send a flood gonna drown them out, I am brave i am bruised , I am who i meant to be this is me”

A gorgeous boy who can not sit still for long,often gets distracted has the gift of song flowing out through him in such a natural way. He is a soloists and sings his part in Te reo Maori, his language

Giovanni Waitai Sings Tua

A parent comes up to me after the concert, gives me a hug, thanks me for offering this opportunity for her child retelling how excited she has been all week. This same child a week before expressed how she wanted to quit choir and that it was boring.

The girl who at school is quiet, shy and unassuming. She is the same girl I gave a big hug to while she cried in my arms at a funeral of a student. She wants me to reserve a ticket for her grandma to attend. Upon arrival i notice she is nervous, I reassure her that her grandmas ticket is at the door. She relaxes. She looks beautiful in her yellow top and glittery face.

The boy at the front with his gumboots and gloves cannot help but radiate joy. His body responds to the music and actions burst out of him like sunbeams. The audience is drawn to his light . He closes his eyes as he sings “All my life Ive been waiting for the people to say, that we don't want to fight no more, there'll be no more war and the children will play…

A student at Waihi College plays the Euphonium

Students look down from the stage to the Waihi college Concert band. Unfamiliar Instruments, ears perked, feet tapping, heads nodding to the beat.

The Let Down

On day three, I noticed a difference. The bliss stage was being taken over by anxiety tinged with urgency. I start to overthink things and see myself taking things personally. In a short conversation with a principal, he mentioned that a teacher found the workload was “Too much” and mentioned the word "sustainable." My needy self took what he said to mean “ This event is too much work and is not sustainable”

I reacted by posting videos and photos on social media hoping to get more external validation. My mind obsessed over further music opportunities to offer our community. I felt a sense of offense over the lack of immediate support and commitment to continue similar projects.

During this manic mode, my mind concluded that to try to do anything in this town is too hard, I am all alone and no one cares because they are too focused on my arch nemesis….Sports!

Sob sob, poor poor musical me

Perspective

Fast forward to yesterday, I set up a meeting with my sponsor, firstly because I haven't spoken to him in two weeks ( a recipe for disaster) and secondly because I had been noticing my serenity is seriously out of whack.

I am a torrent of words. I talk about the event, how it went and what I am feeling now. My sponsor is a wise, direct, and patient man. He affirms the wonderful work i have done and that the event sounds like it was a success. He also observes through what I am saying that it seems as though I am hinging my worth on what other people say and do.

Bugger!…..I thought I had sorted that one out!

I am enough You are enough.

I am loved. You are loved.

Breath in…breath out…. And repeat.

I then start rambling on and then out of the blue, cry rivers.

Memories pop up of my childhood, like the good memory bank from the movie Inside Out”

I am around 6 years old and "On the mat" sitting in front of our teacher, Mrs Viljoon, with varicose veins and woolen skits. She plays and sings to us whilst playing the autoharp, her operatic voice warming the class as we sing Greensleeves

I'm about eight, and the whole school crammed into the library like sardines. Mr Froud, the teacher with a big mouth and bad temper is playing the guitar. We sit up nicely and sing our hearts out to the songs Sound of silence, California dreaming , Galloop went the little green frog, all for the chance to be noticed and given the opportunity to hold the song charts at the front.

I'm about 11 and we are at Auckland town hall. It is the APPA choir festival night The bright warm lights shine on me, I have a feeling of elation being up on stage. I feel flutters when we sing the song “ This land is mine…god gave this land to me”. I feel so happy. The concert finishes and I am beaming with pride.

At 13, I start to learn the saxophone. I am enchanted by it. It looks magical.I feel so smug when I can play it gutsier that the boys

As a teenager, I remember

My music teacher Mrs Saunders is So kind, so dedicated and so believes in me. She would say things like I am so talented and has a look of astonishment when I played well. If she thinks I am great and I can achieve things, maybe i can.

At times I remember my feelings being soo big and out of control, Feeling so sad and defeated and worthless and shy. I had no words, so In my room, I would get out my saxophone and find comfort in playing.

I remember feeling so alone and then laying on the trampoline under the stars with my CD walkman and listening to Nessum Dorma by Pavorotti and feeling less alone

Then came that A-Ha Moment

Music for me was and is more than just a subject.

Little Roshan was in need of love, comfort, belonging, joy and identity and for her, there was a culmination of musical memories that gifted her these things.

and then another

Not everyone has this experience with music and that is OK too.

I used to think that I wanted to change my career to align my passions with meeting some sort of need in the world. Maybe this would end up doing something like donating my limbs to some orphan child, eating only bugs to save the planet or adopting many but ugly-looking rescue dog.

Perhaps I didn't feel music amounted to much.

In a small community that does not have the same level of value, resources, and commitment placed on the arts as in bigger more cultural towns, it can be easy to feel defeated but I have to remind myself to be patient, kind and understanding. Like Mainland Cheese says " Good things take time"

I have realised this through writing this post and reflecting., that Music in itself is valuable. We cannot do it all but the little that we can do is enough. And that possibility to clock a happy memory in a child's memory bank whether it be through a big production or a small gesture such as singing with children in class with an autoharp is making a difference.