I would love to say I made up this title today, but I stole it from a young teacher I was talking to at a professional development session this morning.  She described music as home.  That phrase made me begin to think about how music is home, assuming home is a place you love or long to be.  For instance, we live about 800 miles from my husband’s childhood home, but it is a place he longs to be and when he does go home, he spends time wandering the property, taking pictures to capture the feelings it stirs in him.  It’s that kind of love and longing we’re talking about here.

People talk about places being “home”, whether it’s their “actual” home or a place that brings a feeling of love, acceptance, peace and well being.  The beach does that for me.  But I don’t have to be in any particular place for music to make me feel at home.  Music stirs up feelings from the past, of people and places, good times and bad times.  I feel comforted by its familiar sounds and can be surprised when the sounds don’t happen the way I anticipate.  It’s something I carry in my body as I hum or tap or clap to make music anytime and anyplace.  It is the essence of who I am.

If music is home, then musicians are family.  I know that everyone likes some kind of music and there are different levels of appreciation from those where music is an oasis or distraction from their daily lives.  But there’s a different kind of relationship with people who understand what it feels like to MAKE music, especially making music with others.  Making music with someone where you can communicate without words is like a great marriage.  A person with whom you can anticipate things before they happen and read the tiniest gesture and follow.  It’s exhilarating and those times I have collaborated with other musicians, especially those I would consider more skilled than myself, have taken me to new musical heights.  I’m really not sure there is any other discipline or art form, other than dance perhaps that has that level of intimacy between people in something outside of marriage.

It’s those intimate relationships that create a home where musicians love to be.  Even if I’m not participating in a particular type of music making, just watching people who are, understanding how it works and how it feels, can bring those same feelings.  There was a particular teacher today who volunteered to play drums during our professional development.  The first was a large Native American drum where she and three others were to be the answer to another drummer’s “call”.  She happened to be directly in front of me and I watched the intensity on her face, the thought processes going through her head, the intense listening, the clenching of the jaw every time she hit the drum.  Then she had the chance to be the “call” and others had to answer her.  This time her smile beamed, and her body moved to the beat as she made music without melody between her and the other drummers.  Seriously – who gets to do these kinds of things besides musicians?

In my educational career, I’ve had the privilege to work outside of music to see how the “other half” lives.  It’s always a good thing to learn about and participate in other areas of education to get a bigger picture.  There are three stories I want to share where I realized the difference between being a musician and not being a musician.  The first was at a very large educational conference where I’m pretty sure I was one in just a handful of musicians attending.  At the beginning of each general session, they would showcase a school music group (for entertainment purposes, not necessarily educational – but that’s another blog for another time).  There was this phenomenal high school gospel choir that  just knocked my socks off.  The blend, the emotion, it was all there and I got completely lost – until my principal awakened me from my emotional attachment, saying something about trying to get my attention.  For most people this was probably nice entertainment, for me it was home and they were speaking my language.

Another time we were walking down a street in Chicago and we passed an artist’s cafe.  I literally felt pulled to go in and just absorb the atmosphere.  I even said something like “my people!” as I walked by, to which my companions laughed and we went on.  Whether visual, kinesthetic or audible art, we are kindred spirits, all belonging to the same home. The last story was another conference, this time it worked out where I could leave the first education conference to go directly to my national music assembly.  It’s not as though I disliked what I was learning or my friends and colleagues, but I could feel myself relaxing in the cab on the way to the assembly, and as I entered the hotel and saw other musicians, I knew I was home and among family.  It’s a feeling I believe all musicians share.

Are we that different?  I don’t know.  I’m pretty sure that Sheldon from Big Bang Theory feels the same way about physics, but that might be it. I know I have colleagues who are passionate about education, but are they passionate about doing math or science or social studies with others?  Is it a place they can meet with others who are also passionate and feel as though it’s home?  I don’t know.  I will tell you that the minute I walked into the professional development this morning, I was home.  The moment I heard our speaker play his instruments and sing, I knew he was family.  So yes, as my young colleague shared with me, music is home.