Category: Uncategorized

I am walking to class again. It is the middle of November and by now, I know the route well. It is a carefully planned path, borne of the experience of the last two months. Perhaps it is too well planned, because I am craving Starbucks and have set no time aside to stand in line for an overpriced hot chocolate. Instead, I had left the library with exactly ten minutes to spare for my journey across campus. By the time I approach the Diag, my time in the library has already become a blurry memory. Had I accomplished anything? I decide the answer has to be ‘Yes’, if only for my sanity. Of course, I am not the only person walking through the Diag on this wintery day. But I ignore the other people around me. It is the time that matters. I should have five minutes left. Still, I sidestep a pair of blonde girls. Their voices wash over me as I hurry past. They are walking too slowly for my impatient mind. Maybe they are going to the coffee shop to continue their conversation. Maybe they could buy that imaginary hot chocolate. Soon, I can’t even hear their words anymore and their existence seems to fade just as easily. Entire people gone, evaporating into the chilly air behind me. Our worlds intersected for the briefest moment and then separated just as quickly. Perhaps we all exist on the periphery of someone else’s world. Anonymous faces, barely even recognized, quickly forgotten. There are so many people at the University of Michigan and simply not enough time. For some people, we take the time, slow our steps, and talk. But for most, we only make tiny impacts on each other, slightly altering the paths of the people around us. We walk towards each other. We walk behind each other. We pass by.

I wonder if I have passed by these other people before. After all, I have taken this path so many times. They probably have a routine too. This is my path and theirs. Some of them might even be going to the same class, to the same crowded lecture hall. I am approaching my destination now. Someone opens the door for me and the warm air is weighing down on me, squeezing the cold from my bones. I say, ‘Thank you’, without meeting his eyes. I am not sure it is even a ‘him’. All I can see is the classroom and the ninety minutes of eternity awaiting me there. Then, my mind stretches beyond even that, to the evening ahead. I decide that I will make myself some hot chocolate then. And I have already forgotten the walk. Perhaps I will remember again, next week when I take the same path.

Our lives planned ahead. Our steps pre-destined. I only exist in the possible future.  You only exist in my past. The present is forgotten as we walk towards something else. We pass by others as time passes us by.

Middle C: the first note a student learns on the piano. The first note one hears, the first note one learns to identify. Geographically, sonically, visually. Home. It’s an important note, to say the least. It was the first note heard in a concert by The Knights that took place at 4 pm on Sunday in Rackham Auditorium, and the pitch that was sustained through the first piece, “Suite Upon One Note.” The suite was made up of three very different pieces: “Improvisation Upon One Note”, by Kinan Azmeh and Avi Avital, “Fantasia Upon One Note”, by Henry Purcell, and an excerpt from “La Camera Bianca” by Giovanni Sollima Viaggo. Three very different works from three different cultures, time periods, and backgrounds, all connected by a shared note and presented as one.
This idea of unity through a common language was present through the entirety of the concert. Joining the Brooklyn-based ensemble were two virtuoso musicians: Israeli mandolin player Avi Avital and the Syrian clarinetist Kinan Azmeh. Their influence was felt through the concert, as the program blended music from the classical tradition, Middle Eastern cultures, and jazz. On the Knights website, the organization notes that “We are serious about having fun. We thrive on camaraderie and friendship. We cultivate a collaborative environment that honors a multiplicity of voices.”
In today’s political climate, a concert presenting two accomplished, well-known musicians and music from the Middle East inherently feels like a statement. Although it was never addressed by the Knights, the statement that seemed to be made with the concert was that their differences as musicians pulled them together even more. Rarely is Azmeh’s “Suite for Improvisers and Orchestra,” based off of sounds that remind him of his hometown in Syria, heard on the same program as Bach and Schubert. This diversity in work is important: in playing works by Bach and Schubert, the Knights paid tribute to a shared classical musical background. Presenting works by Avital and Azmeh that were partly based in improvisation recognized and celebrated the individuality and virtuosity of the music and character of each other’s backgrounds and cultures.
These ideas are all based in the founding values of the Knights: they say that they are “musicians…who come from a deeply rooted tradition but are eager to look beyond those roots and embrace new means of expression.” Ensembles like the Knights and concerts like Sunday’s are increasingly important today. They encourage this idea of a shared “Middle C” in the audience; a shared sense of home and humanity present in each person. These musicians are not only virtuosic in musical ability, but in creating a community within themselves and the audience that can only be described as warm, inviting, and inclusive: three ideals to strive for in today’s world.

Sometimes I wish I could take words back. But no matter how much I try and grab at them, it is a hopeless cause. The words have crystallized, changing from mere thought to reality. Sometimes, I can feel it in the air. The awkwardness that follows wrong words is unmistakable. The sudden silence. The desperation to fill the emptiness with anything else at all. For me, it has always seemed strange that everyone complains about the difficulty of writing essays when speaking is exponentially more difficult. At least, when you are writing, there is a way to erase the offending words from existence. It allows for an infinite amount of time to search for the right phrase, for the perfect way to express one’s true feelings. I am always in a hurry when I am speaking with someone else. I worry that the other person, whether they are sitting across the table or listening on the phone thousands of miles away will lose interest before the sentence can stumble its way out of my mouth. Even then, someone might misunderstand my meaning. So, I speak out of fear.

Maybe that is why there are so many useless words cluttering our ears and minds. Instinctively, we want to communicate, yet surmounting the barrier efficiently is still an unsolved puzzle. Conversations happen every second, but so many are fleeting and forgettable. It is good that there is still a way to record our thoughts so that we may return to them and change them. That is why I continue to write. Not just to create flowery sentences or to impress others, but to clear my mind, to give it a clean start every week. I give my ideas permanence instead of just letting them flow out of my mouth. I pick words carefully so that they may carry my thoughts outside of myself. Speaking and writing are our tools, but we don’t often treat them that way. We replace words with emojis, limit them to 140 characters, skim over words, instead of reading more carefully. We do this to our detriment, for these are the only pathways to understanding that we have. Otherwise, we are doomed to be isolated forever, stuck in the same thoughts that we have always had.

The threat has only grown larger as time has gone on. We can message people at the touch of a button. We order pizza and stay in our respective homes instead of going out to eat. Conversations grow ever shorter and less meaningful. Sometimes, I believe in it too. I wish that I could take all my words back and stay silent. But the words are not the problem. It is how we are using them. We should not be speaking or writing out of fear, but out of necessity. Then, we trust that people are actually listening.