21. EVERYTHING IS RELATIVE

Today is my birthday.  Decades ago the most beautiful woman in the world labored through her agony, while I labored through my own I suppose, and in the end I had a body and she had a baby. Her sixth baby.  And though I was one of many, I never felt neglected, and thankfully I never felt lonely. The woman who gave me birth also taught me priceless lessons about perspective.

When I was a young mother and she lived with us in Pittsburgh, Mom and I took an art class from Mr. Fitzpatrick at Carnegie Museum. We had both taken classes from him before, and we loved his wisdom coupled with his talent.  I recall my mother’s hands cradling a charcoal pencil, sketching at the easel beside me. Her lines were graceful and balanced.  Mine always overshot the page, and I drew too hard, so that it always showed through after I tried to erase.  I stood beside my mother watching her draw a straight horizontal line across the page, marking the vanishing points on the left and right as she prepared to sketch a barn using perspective.  As her drawing progressed, the fence posts along the road beside the barn became smaller and smaller, up the page, until they disappeared into infinity. I heard myself whisper, “Everything is relative.”   From that point forward I have been blessed to be able to see, in my imagination, the vanishing points in life, making struggles and joys relative, and therefore bearable.

A dozen years ago I became very sick very quickly.  The myelin sheaths on my nerves were stripped by a confused immune system, causing quick paralysis to my legs and arms.  Boy was it scary! Because we didn’t know what was causing it, I spent days undergoing tests at the University of Utah.  Finally, I was diagnosed with Guillain Barre Synrome.  With the diagnosis I was handed a stack of papers that included the results of the many tests they had taken to determine what was wrong with me.  There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of tests they performed; from blood draws, EMG’s, spinal taps and the like.  I looked at that long list of things that could have been wrong with me…and weren’t…and again I whispered “Everything is relative.” Seriously, with the number of things that could go wrong with these machines we call bodies, we should all be dead!

And yet, we’re not.  At least not yet. I can now move my legs, and the frozen hands that I feared would never again press their fingertips against the strings of a guitar, are happily frolicking regularly up and down the neck of my beloved instruments.  My lower legs and feet, however, have not fully recovered from the trauma and I live with peripheral neuropathy and residual araphlexia (diminished reflexes in my feet). It always hurts to walk.  But it’s been this way so long now I don’t notice it too much.  However, I easily lose my balance, and have an inordinate fear of tripping up stairs or falling down them because I’m not sure where my feet are or if they are reacting correctly to what’s in front of or under them.  Every time I start feeling sorry for myself I whisper “Everything is relative” and I immediately think of my friend Joan who has no legs and I say, “What Joan wouldn’t give to have legs that hurt.” Or I think of my friend Joe who is paralyzed from the neck down. 

It is a healthy brain and spirit exercise to remind ourselves, on a regular basis, that everything is relative.  Compared to other options, we would almost always opt for what we are given to endure.

Even joy is relative.  And hunger, and exhaustion, and all that we experience.  I HOPE that the ones I love will have a place on their lips for the statement “Everything is relative” and an eternal eye for perspective.

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20. SURROUND YOURSELF WITH THE BEST MUSICIANS

“My name is Cori and I am a musician.”

I gather my gumption, like I’m at my first A.A. meeting, and confess it to all the world, only deep down inside I know it’s not the real truth.  Really, calling myself a “musician” is as lame as calling myself a “scientist’ when I don’t know the Periodic Table of Elements. I am not educated in the science of music.  I’m a hack.  But I’m a hack with heart.  The part of music that is not transcribed on paper is the part I know well.

Because of my musical illiteracy, I have handicaps that must be dealt with if I am to have a career in music, which is sort of what I have, except nobody could exist on what I make in this career.  I am a kept woman, thanks to Dave.

That being said, I have nonetheless had some degree of musical success.  I’ve had songs recorded by major label artists.  I have recorded ten albums, in varying degrees of quality, and I receive regular royalty checks (though you would find some of the amounts written on those royalty checks laughable).  I teach songwriting classes, teach guitar classes, and am called on to adjudicate competitions.  I’ve performed for kings and presidents and prophets, and received recognitions that might make anyone who doesn’t know me think I know what I’m doing.  But really, I’m just a fraud who tickles her guitar and speaks her mind through songs. 

Here’s the trick, if…like me…you’re a fraud:

Surround yourself with the best musicians.

 

I perform quite regularly, (for someone without a regular gig): Arts festivals, house concerts, on assignment with Heart & Soul, corporate, private and church gatherings, weddings and, (more and more lately) funerals.  My favorite gigs each year, are my Christmas concerts.  They’ve become a real treasure for me; so much so that I have tried to analyze why I love them so much.  My conclusions include the feelings of warmth and intimacy I exchange with the audience, the devotion of the people who pay a good chunk of money to come, the fact that tall the shows have sold out every year, and the intrinsic charm of the season of Christmas, with it’s good cheer, tender reminiscence, and lovely decorations.  But the biggest factor in the warm fuzzy these concerts give me is the fact that I surround myself with the best musicians. 

People like Mark Robinette, and Kelly DeHaan, Michael Huff, Melanie Shore, Merlyn Schofield, and the marvelous Eskeltones.   Kate MacLeod, Nicole Pinnelle, Aaron Ashton and Michael Dowdle, not to mention my brother John Hansen and his cronies, my son John and daughter Kate Connors of the angel voice.  Really, the list is long…much longer than this.  And THAT is what makes the music sound delicious! In the famous words of Bob Dylan; "It ain't me, babe. No, no, no it ain't me babe...."

And it’s not just about the making of music.  The best musicians are simply the best people who also play music really well. I say that with all sincerity.  The thing about music is that the soul cannot be hidden.  It seeps through, like blood on cloth. 

Christmas Concert 2015

I sound better than I am because I surround myself with the finest musicians I know, and I am blessed to call each of them friend.  We row the boat together, and the joy is in the journey, not the destination. I recall Christmas 2014, when Mark, Kelly, Merlyn and a young cellist named Emily Quigley were on stage with me.  I introduced the song Flexible Flyer with it’s sad preface of my father leaving our family.  I play the first lines solo on guitar. One by one the other instruments enter…Mark on bass…Kelly on piano…Emily on cello.  I noticed, as they entered, the first note Mark played was in the wrong key, which really shocked me because Mark is never wrong.  He immediately corrected himself. Then Kelly came in with the wrong chord as well. Unheard of! He immediately jumped into the right key as well.  By the time Emily’s solo came up, she had noticed what was wrong and transposed on the fly. I had begun the song in the wrong key, easy to do when you’re a hack and put the capo on the wrong fret.  There I was, playing along with my eyes closed and my heart poured into the lyric, and seriously few people in the audience would even have noticed anything was off. All three of those musicians transposed on the spot, making me shine where I could have fallen flat on my face. These are the Best…and I mean BEST musicians!

Off stage, I surround myself with the best musicians as well.  Every Thursday I teach 20 to 30 students how to play guitar.  The process of teaching and learning has been profound for me, and I see the benefits of a teaching.  It improves my own abilities, and it connects me with other good people who want music in their lives.  I adore my students!  Because I have taught a  number of years I have been able to witness the fruits of my labors and the fruits of their labors as well.  It is a beautiful white fruit, with a thirst quenching sweetness. 

Farmington City Beginner 1 Guitar Class January 2016

Friday mornings I spend with a group of ladies who decided, rather than forming a book club, that they all wanted to learn guitar.  So I teach that marvelous group of women guitar each week.  They are a joy and a delight to me, and their skills are stellar!  Really, how great is it that they thought enough outside the box to create the Girls With Guitars instead of book club. 

Girls with Guitars Nov. 2015

And tonight the walls of this house were once again seasoned and refined with the acoustics of a circle of songwriters I have come to know and love like family. We have gathered in a circle for nearly three decades now, cheering and critiquing and weeping and laughing together as we have poured our lives out against the rhythm of our guitars.  We have watched each other change with advancing years, and have stood in awe of the gifts and talents that are so abundant in singular human beings.  It took years for me to feel like I belong with these people, whose talents surpass my own.  But I feel their love, and their mutual respect, and so...finally...even though I'm a self-proclaimed fraud among them... I am one of them.

Saltwerks Song Circle  Dec 2015 

Saltwerks Song Circle March 2016

That old adage – Fake it till you make it?  There’s some truth to it. Part of making it is being lifted by the talent that surrounds you. In music, in spiritual matters, in life.  My HOPE for today: Be conscious of the company you keep.

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19. THREE THINGS EVERY TEENAGER NEEDS

In our Sunday church Sacrament meeting, years ago, a psycho-therapist spoke about raising teenagers.  I paid particular attention because I had four of them at the time.  She had the gift of being able to boil things down into usable tools for the average Christian parent.  She said three basic things every teenager needs:

1.) Rules  

  

2.) Flexibility in the Rules

    3.) Unconditional love from at least one person.

She expounded a bit on all of these. 

There need to be just a few rules.  “Don’t micromanage your families.” she said. 

Sometimes the rules need to be respectfully broken.  Even Eve, the mother of all mankind, broke a major rule.  But it is my deep belief that this was not from any weakness or spontaneous reaction to temptation.  The adversary used the truth to harm her, as is common even to this day, and the truth was she could not progress and fulfill other commandments without the knowledge of good and evil (represented by the fruit she ate).  But what harmed her brought opportunity to her as well, and to all of us waiting in our heaven place for the chance to have bodies. Oh Eve, thank you for breaking the rule, with wisdom and respect, knowing it would require tremendous sacrifice for you and Adam.

Lastly, the church speaker commented on rule #3.  “Every teenager needs to have someone who will give them unconditional love.”  At this point I was squirming in my pew, that old friend Guilt sidling up beside me.

 “And,” she continued…”that person is rarely the parent.  Parents, because of their stewardship to teach and discipline, don’t have the luxury of making their kids feel that way, at least when they are kids.  The person who gives unconditional love is more often a grandparent, or an aunt or uncle, a teacher or an adult friend.” Boy, was I relieved.  And I nodded my head, because I understood right away that this was our truth in the Connors household.  Our kids had a number of people who gave them unconditional love.  Their Grandparents, their aunts and uncles.  Gram was the ultimate champion for our kids, for all her grand kids.  She was more than just a timid giver of love.  She was truly their champion. If a teacher was unfair, if friends were cruel, if a stranger was rude, Gram would purse her eyebrows, roll back her shoulders and say “Want me to go hit them for you?!” We had relatively normal, intelligent, good hearted kids. They knew right from wrong, and of course they didn’t want vindication or revenge (usually).  But they did need someone who believed in them no matter what, who supported them no matter why. 

Intelligent people…both intellectually and spiritually intelligent people… know how time and the spirit of goodness that prevails over mankind eventually leads us to correct our mistakes, forgive others, and move forward.  We really don’t need to be preached to.  It is a basic human need to feel understood, and being understood is the first step in unconditional love.

Jesus Christ, the most unconditional of all lovers, took that first step in loving us without condition when he sought to understand us.  He lived among us, he suffered the pains of the flesh, and he accepted the burden of sorrow, suffering and sin first, so he could atone and advocate, and second, so he could understand us.  The first step in real love: understanding.

I HOPE to remember those three general needs of teenagers: to have rules, to be flexible with those rules, and to find unconditional love.  I am channeling my mother in giving that kind of love to my own grand kids whose adventure in teenage-hood is just around the corner..

18. THE VALUE IN COMPETITION

Competition: the act or process of trying to get or win something (such as a prize or a higher level of success) that someone else is also trying to get or win. 

Love it – Hate it.  In the decades of time I’ve lived and loved on this planet, I have gone back and forth about the value of competition.  I’ve personally been on the winning end and the losing end.  I think all of us have.  Usually the winning end feels better. Duh. 

Early in my writing career I used to submit songs to competitions. Love – Hate. I’ve submitted the same song in the same competition in different years, and one year it got terrible reviews and the other it won the grand prize. Go figure. Actually, that particular experience was a good lesson for me.  So many competitions are subjective.  Most of life is subjective.  We respond to some random judge, whom we usually don’t even know, like their opinion is omnipotent. I’ve judged enough competitions to be able to soundly testify that results are stupid.  But competitions…the things themselves…are really not inherently evil.  In fact, I find value in them.  Something in us awakens when there is a prize to be had, including when the only prize is recognition. And that internal stirring has a lot of value.

I sit on the bleachers and cheer, rather obnoxiously at times, for the people I love, all the while watching them benefit from the competition.  Their bodies are exercising; their minds are challenged; they are learning how to cooperate, and develop social skills, and support others.  They learn how to lose, and how to win, and how to hurt and survive it.  Because competition is an eternal concept (it has to be, because of our divine gift of free agency) we might as well learn how to be graceful in it when we are young.

The hardest thing about competition, for me, has been watching people I love have to deal with it.  I’m afraid I have made too big a deal about winning through the years.  I can be overly exuberant.  Boy have I ached for my kids.  I’d rather have lost at some of the challenges they have had than to have seen them ache or think less of themselves or quit altogether when they really had talent.  Oh man, I have a pit in my stomach just thinking back.

On the other hand, they are all generally happy, functional, kind, intelligent, talented, giving adults, and all that competition of our past must have had something to do with it. Honestly, as I’m thinking about my beloved grand kids at this point, I’m thinking that I hope they all get a chance to really fail at something. I am quite serious about this.  They need to be able to fail while they are in the safety of their homes and families.  They need to have the chance to get through sadness and  find the courage to try again with the encouragement of their families. 

Last month Timo won in the regional Reflections contest with a composition he wrote.  He scored and performed it completely himself, tracking it on Garage Band on his dad’s computer.  I guarantee that composition would not exist but for that competition. And yesterday our Sophie won 3^rd place in the school district science fair.  Her experiment involved Oreo cookies.  Her hypothesis was that Double Stuff Oreo's did not have exactly double the stuffing.  But after weighing and measuring, she proved herself wrong.  Now, seriously, would she have ever known the truth of the matter if she had not been given the opportunity to compete?

I remember one of Annie’s science fair projects was on the qualities of soap that make it valuable.  That’s when I learned about surfactants – when my last child was in sixth grade.  Now I think about Annie’s science fair project every single day when I get in the shower.  I know you might not believe that I am serious, but I think about the surfactant aspects of cleansing my skin every day.  Thanks, Annie!  Thanks science fair!

Dave and Libby have Fit Bits that they wear around their wrists.  The Fit Bit keeps track of the number of steps they take in a day. Sometimes they’ll call each other at 11:30 at night, asking “How many steps do you have?” And if they have less than their goal they will bundle up in the middle of the night in the middle of winter and go out walking so they can beat …well, honestly, I don’t know what they’re beating…maybe the clock, since the thing rolls back to zero at midnight… maybe  they’re beating the mediocre in themselves. They are definitely more fit than I am as I sit at home and click on the computer.

In the last decade, since our kids are grown, Dave has joined a golf league.  If his Tuesday court calendar allows, he rushes up to the golf course in Layton and joins his team.  It makes me happy that he has this outlet, and he is always considerate of me and our family plans - golf always comes second if necessary.  Today was the first round of the league, and when he came home I met him at the kitchen door.

“Hi!  How was it?” He had a nice happy smile as he kissed me.  “You must have had a good round?”

“Well, I did!” he said “I got a hole in one!”

Getting a hole in one on the golf course has not been anything I have ever heard Dave say he aspired to.  But by golly it was sure a fun consequence of his weekly competition!  And I am so happy for him.  He would be the first to tell you it’s not anything of eternal consequence… but it sure is fun.

Competition. Love it or hate it.  But it has its value. The prospect of winning is motivating. And there are great things to be learned in losing as well. If we fear losing, we will miss some amazing opportunities.  So my hope for all the people I love, including myself, is that we get the chance to lose now and again. And, of course, the chance to win.

WooHoo!