As I am writing this, Harp Column Academy just wrapped up its online Summer Camp. I was fortunate to be included as a faculty member for this inaugural venture, where teachers, students, and technology merged seamlessly into an enriching shared experience.

…we are stronger and more resilient together. Whatever our shared experience is, we benefit from the experience of being together.

After being together, observing the commitment from some truly great teachers and the enthusiasm of the participants, I realized that in this era of isolation it’s too easy for us to forget that we are all engaged in the same struggles along the road to mastery, and that the struggles are real. We can view polished performances online, but in the process of being alone in our learning, we may forget that when we are together, we share in the process, we share in the hurdles, and we share in the achievements. We draw comfort, strength, energy, and ambition from learning together. The result is something quite extraordinary. In the process of working through something together we gain a community, friends and colleagues, insights, ways of being, exposure to new ideas, new approaches, and options for new choices. In this odd age of isolation it is too easy to lose this larger perspective, that we are all doing this thing together. Without the context of having others around us doing what we do, we can too easily develop tunnel vision about ourselves and our abilities. We can be equal parts overly critical of our accomplishments and overly complimentary about our learning process. This is the first thing that I know to be true: we are stronger and more resilient together. Whatever our shared experience is, we benefit from the experience of being together.

The second thing I know to be true: we are, from the beginning, who we are. We are born with innate abilities. Nurture may refine these abilities, focus them, hone natural skills, and give us context through training. Still, we are who we are at birth. And we are most effective in life when we stay true to our natural selves. Some families are sports centric, some adventurous travelers. Some are focused on serving others, and some find their groove in more eclectic ways. My family was musical. Growing up, it seemed that most everything we did centered around music. We talked about music, read about music, listened and played music, taught music, and many of our family friends were professional musicians. Still, going into undergraduate school, I was sure I was going to become a high school French teacher. I liked music, sure, but I had a great experience in high school with a French teacher who was incredibly inspiring, so that was it. I was going to be a high school French teacher. I dispensed with that romantic notion quickly, once I discovered that I would have to take classes in a variety of academic disciplines in order to become certified to teach in the public schools. Lab sciences and math definitely not being my strong suits, I realized that being a public school French teacher was not a realistic aspiration for me. When I accepted the inevitability of pursuing music as a profession, it became clear that I was destined to teach—just not French! I was able to build a career with the harp that allowed me to do what I love, and what I am good at doing. Sure I could probably have been a high school French teacher. But I can guarantee you that any students I had who wanted to learn French would most likely have ended up lost in Paris! I am a good harpist, and I am an excellent teacher. Teaching the harp is what I am good at doing. We can have the most impact on others when we do the thing that we are good at doing. This I know is true.

The third thing I know is that learning is a continuum, and I can do better. There’s no such thing as knowing too much, and there’s always something new that can be learned. I know that for me the process is the goal. I know that in all things, we bring our individual nature and nurture to all we do. And I know that when I am satisfied with my accomplishments it’s because I did all the work I needed to do; I was honest with myself in the process, didn’t cut any corners in my learning, didn’t fall prey to the illusion that I couldn’t do something, and when I failed, I at least tried to be kind with myself before being critical. Above all else, I prioritized letting the music speak over hoping an audience member liked me for playing well. I know these things are true because when I am a true and faithful steward of the music, the sun can set on a day, and I know I did the harp—and the music—justice.

The week of teaching for HCA Summer Camp brought all of these messages home to me in quite tangible ways. None of us are good at everything, and to imagine we are sets up staggeringly unrealistic expectations for ourselves. As the majority of us know from experience, the more unrealistic the expectation the more likely we are to be disappointed in virtually any outcome, even a completely acceptable one.

So, what I know for sure? In this exceptional age, and going forward, no matter what the world has in store for us, be kind. Cultivate resilience. Be patient—with yourself and with others. Get comfortable with being vulnerable and be courageous enough to accept that we learn more from failure than from success. In all things be truthful. We have friends across the world of the harp, and we are friends through the world of the harp. Let this community open new horizons for us all, introduce us to new influences and new choices. Because what I really know to be true—we are all in this together. •