Beautiful Questions
Letters from Khankendi
Week 2
First, listen.
Then, hear.
But-
“Are you listening?”
Yes but – even then, even so, the act of listening is a reciprocal process. A collaborative miracle of sorts. What I offer, what you perceive. How you hear me listening. How you perceive how I’m listening.
And we run into another infinity paradox. No intention, then, in relation to another is truly our sole intention.
We are forever playing, in relation.
And even sincerity, even earnestness, won’t always translate. Yet-
Week 2, teaching began. The blessing of: work. Work worth doing, work worth doing with. Doing alongside.
And those definitions, need to be named, for ourselves, for our community.
Yes, ‘there needs not be a reason’, often. We don’t have to always know ‘why’. But that doesn’t take away the power, the magic, of asking: Why? Why you choose this, of all infinite parallel universes. Why practice piano for the joy, the self. Why teach. Why live in a foreign region of a foreign land without soy sauce or soymilk or tofu or berries coffee beans yoga mats string lights ... a beautiful baby grand Yamaha beside a floor to ceiling French window lined by hanging monstera plants?
Of course. The asking of the question is a reason in itself. It is grounding in itself. I wrote, I knew before, I would need to ask these questions again and again throughout my relocation here. Why am I here? And I know. Some answers remain, some change. Some disappear or falter.
But time and again, I sure am glad.
There’s a deeply unknowable blessing. Here, waiting to be noticed, discovered, unlocked.
I’ve dearly enjoyed my first lessons with the students. I’ve found ideas and inspiration from drawing up lesson plans, experimenting with and implementing what I have learned throughout the years with different pedagogy methods and studies: self-directed learning, growth mindset, practice journaling, and professional development.
This is a beautiful space. A platform that has its values, mission, mandate, and also a wealth of potential for freedom to build structure. An open-minded platform that respects tradition and welcomes new ideas simultaneously. For this, I am deeply grateful. I am humbled by the passion and work already done by my colleagues, their commitment to designing the most effective curriculum specific to the student demographic here and now, while considering potential goals and developments for the future.
There’s so much to observe, to witness, to understand as I integrate into this ecosystem. And - it’s a fascinating challenge- to notice my own pre-conceptions and reactions to the differences I’ve seen here with the western music conservatory and university system.
There’s a lot I believe I can offer. In terms of ideas, for courses, for seminars, for extra-curriculars, for subjects and topics I strongly advocate to be essential for the modern-day musician. And it is both my place and not my place to immediately jump on these instincts as I navigate the intricacies and mechanics of this system. But where there is a dream, a vision and passion, there is a way.
Like any newcomer to a land with deep roots, beautiful traditions, culture, and complex history, the first values to practice are humility and respect. The weekend trip to Baku not only took me to the old city, the hammam, Mugham center, F1, bookstores full of powerful and provocative voices on the Karabakh war ... but also through the land of this country itself, from mountains to sea and back, to feel its expanse by time travelled, just listening, just watching.
It really does take being here to ‘know’. To know what, I’m not sure. Perhaps, to feel, begin to feel, something in the air of... the spirit? Spirit of the people, of the times, of the history, the deep-rooted emotions, the ‘whys’.
The books are heart-wrenching. Poetry from native writers, memoirs from migrants, speculative interview stories with fallen soldiers.
It’s wild that I live here. That this is my home now. That I love it, already, deeply. To return here from Baku feels like coming home. The mountains, the fresh air, the peace. And so, what an incredibly complex subject: ‘home’. Whose home. Why. How.
It’s important to review our notes. To rewrite our mantras. I do believe music has power. It gives voice. How we use our voices is how we act as artists. Moral beauty. Moral beauty. That’s the duty, in tiny-huge ways. Every lesson, every pancake, every conversation, every concert.
Here’s to the continuation, of the asking:
Beautiful questions. Magical questions. Honest questions. Courageous questions.
