Progression

Last Saturday, I attended my youngest brother-in-law’s graduation from an architecture program with a master’s degree. As I sat next to my nephew, youngest sister, and brother on a riser in the stadium and the PA system broadcast a recording of the traditional “Pomp and Circumstance” to begin the ceremony, I was—predictably, always—overcome with emotion at witnessing the scale of persistence on display in front of us. Every single person of the 2,000 walking that day had refused to quit in the long process from setting to reaching their goals; had overcome their own internal obstacles and every other barrier to submitting all required academic and creative work and completing all required administrative paperwork; was either continuing a worn but still rocky familial path of higher education or forging a new one, with all the uncertainty and burden of being first. The graduates evidenced their own resilience, the support of their family and friends and institutions, the grace of God; we clapped and waved and shouted in response. There were many bachelor’s degrees awarded, a smaller set of master’s, only a few doctorates; all of us in the audience shared feeling proud of their accomplishments, celebratory in that moment, encouraging and hopeful for their futures. 
 
The Saturday before, R. and I attended our middle-school granddaughter’s solo flute performance in front of a music judge. Our granddaughter—her long, dark hair in light waves, her dress chosen carefully for the occasion—introduced herself and her pretty Bach piece to the judge with a short statement, her smile apparent in her tone, then played with all the warm emotion she brings to every interaction. We were keeping the beat in our own heads, following every note, hoping that her performance would do justice to all her hours of practice and that the experience would buoy her feelings about her dedication and efforts and instrumental music itself. Leaving the event, we remarked that it was at the beginning of this same sixth-grade school year that she began with just the mouthpiece—and now there she was, having learned to play the whole instrument and entire songs! She FaceTimed us later in the week, glowing with happiness over having received top marks; yesterday, we learned she has been placed in her first-choice band level for next year.  
 
I cherish meeting you in this email/blog post on (most) Fridays, but I will be suspending writing in this space until I have submitted both the artifact and its exegesis for my creative research doctoral thesis, which I plan will be this December. I hope to welcome you to the first weekend of the new year of 2025 when that time comes (just six months from now!); I will be greeting you with all the satisfaction and relief of having crossed a finish line at the end of a 3-1/2-year (by then) sometimes meandering but sustained journey. In the meantime, watch for emails from me next month, September, and December about recordings of new summer solstice, autumnal equinox, and winter solstice nidras for you to access (for free), as you wish. I will also be experimenting with posting more images of my creative practice and processes to Instagram; find me @NancyMessegee and/or @EnchantedRockStudios. Enjoy the months ahead!