Projection

On Friday my students are going to be in their first RCW Taiko performance, which for the majority of them will be their first taiko performance ever. I resist the urge to project my own feelings upon them, but I can't help but feel them anyway.  I don't think I remember what my first performance was, but I certainly remember significant performances--the preparation, the hard work, sore muscles, the stressing, the nervousness. You get there and you hear the crowd before you see them. Your stomach twinges, your palms sweat, your heart flutters. There's that thrill and excitement in the air. You get up there, in front of friends, family, strangers, and do the thing that's been such a long time coming, and then it's over, just like that. And then maybe you realize it's not the performance that was significant, but the actual build-up and anticipation and all the work went in it to get you there. I'm personally not a bit nervous about this Friday's performance, and I feel a little proud saying that. I mean I've been there already.  But no way do I take that for granted. There are still performances that make me feel as green as the first day I picked up a pair of bachi, that make me all nerves. During our first Ghosts and Girls show I was standing there behind the curtain that separated us from an auditorium filled with people (we could hear them!) and I didn't know what to do with all my nervous energy so I started doing silly dances and stuff with Crissy. So I hope that this recital means something to my students. I hope they realize how hard they have been working. How all the energy they have expended in class works toward something.  How they have contributed to the community that RCW strives to create. 

Or maybe I'm just projecting. The experiences that taiko has brought have come to mean a lot to me, so maybe I just remember and process these experiences differently than, say, my first driving lesson, or whatever. But maybe I think that you gain similar significance in your life with whatever it is that means something to you. There are lessons to be learned and taken away and applied to the rest of your life. This recital doesn't have to mean that to my students, and I don't expect it to be, but I hope that if there is anyone in this class who wants to take taiko, or music, or performance, or the arts more seriously, then I hope that all their hard work pays off for them in the long run. They worked hard. They asked for rehearsals every week before their recital when I asked for nothing more than showing up for the requisite classes. But my philosophy is if that if they were willing, then I would be there to encourage it.

So the best of luck to them all. Break a bachi!