Summertime at home sometimes feels like a blur of days and weeks, with a few novel experiences and many mundane moments in between. This week was no different, although I’d say that there were a few more novel experiences than normal. Not only was it the last week at home before I left on my trip, but I also had the unique opportunity to record at MPR’s Maud Moon Weyerhaeuser Studio, celebrate my birthday(s), and attend and play the music at one of my closest friend’s wedding, among others. So, welcome to a July week in my life at home! This post will read like a journal entry or a retelling of events, and I’m not sure if I plan to do something similar in the future—I’m still working on figuring out my vision for the blog.
I started the week by celebrating my lunar calendar birthday. For us, celebrating means eating a bowl of 长寿面 (literally, long-life noodles) with two hard-boiled eggs; this dish signifies a prosperous year ahead while celebrating the past. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to savor a bowl of this that day since I had to make it to the Twin Cities for the recording session, but my mom took the extra step to prepare the soup and noodles for me when I woke up. Just look at how they turned out!
After breakfast, my family and I loaded into the car for the two-hour drive to the cities. Along the way, we passed the familiar golden and green fields that make up the Midwest’s landscape and talked about our dreams for the future. These conversations are my favorite—I love the serenity that comes from gazing at the open spaces of rural Minnesota and the inspiration that accompanies it. And, for this day, it was a welcome distraction from the what-if scenarios for what might happen at the recording session.
We ate lunch in the car, and then it was time to go to the MPR building. After my family dropped me off, I checked in at the front desk and was given a name tag; for security reasons, visiting the building requires an escort. My teacher and inspiration, Gao Hong, met me in the lobby, and then we were escorted to the Maud Moon Weyerhaeuser Studio upstairs. Along the way, I learned that this studio has hosted several impressive artists like Yo-Yo Ma and Mumford & Sons…wow! Adding to my awe of the situation was the fact that it was my first time in a professional recording studio—just looking at the audio room, with all its dials and controls, was enough to make my eyes widen and mouth open.
Gao and I first recorded 荫中鸟 (Birds Singing in the Shade), which took us three takes to get something that we were satisfied with. I felt my nerves decrease and my energy levels increase as time went on which was, of course, a good development. We then recorded 牧民新歌 (New Song of the Herdsmen), which was such a beautiful experience; that piece is my favorite piece that I’ve learned on the dizi (Chinese bamboo flute) yet, although I can’t say that I’ve gotten it to a level that I’m satisfied with.
Following this, we did a photoshoot and Julie Amacher interviewed me, then got a tour of the building. I’ve always wondered about how radio hosts do it, so it was really special to stand in the same room as Melissa Ousley as she broadcasted live on YourClassical.
All in all, the experience of winning the Karin Larson YourClassical Prize has been so unexpected in the best way. I didn’t expect to be a finalist when I submitted my recording and essays… in fact, I wasn’t sure if I was going to submit anything at all! However, it was that voice at the back of my head telling me that it doesn’t hurt to apply for things and my mom’s encouragement that convinced me to submit, and I’m so grateful that I did. Growth takes small steps, and I think that submitting to this prize was a step in the right direction for helping me realize that hey, we should try for things that seem impossible. We should continue talking back to that voice that tells you that you’re an imposter and that it’s stupid to try. Of course, I can’t say that I’m fearless and don’t give in to that voice anymore after this, but I think that taking the step of submitting to this prize was a major step toward becoming more self-confident.
And learning that I was a finalist! I remember getting the email and shouting out loud in my room—unexpected for me, a generally quiet person—and calling my parents to tell them the news. Telling people that I was a finalist and encouraging them to check out and vote for my submission was another challenge that taught me so much. I’ve always been a little shy, so reaching out to those around me to tell them about this was a step outside of my comfort zone. Along the way, however, I experienced the reward of connecting and re-connecting with those in my support network and sharing my love of music with them. I truly felt like the meaning of my name: much-loved.
Learning that I won the prize was kind of funny; I got a phone call from John Birge and the first time I learned that I won was also the first time that I was interviewed on the radio. I didn’t realize what was happening until after the phone call, but even then, it didn’t really sink in. Unlike when I figured out that I was a finalist and shouted in joy, this was a quiet realization that spread over time. Wow… that’s all I could say for a while. I’m endlessly appreciative of everyone who made this possible; special thank you to my teacher, Gao Hong, and the wonderful people at YourClassical and MPR for making this all happen. I’ll say it again: wow!
Back to my week—the mundane moments that filled the time outside of events like the MPR recording session included the usual activities of playing pickleball, working on the remodeling project, playing music, reading, thinking about life, you name it. My dad and I rode our bikes to a goat farm one morning—only a two-ish mile ride from the house—and watched the goats live their normal lives. It was truly a simple joy.
I also tried a new fruit (called “mamey”) and went to the library’s monthly book club meeting, where we discussed Kaitlyn Greenridge’s Libertie. I had mixed feelings about the book (I won’t go into a full report here), and participating in the discussion helped me see other perspectives on it. Later that week, I celebrated my 22nd birthday and then, the next day, attended and played music at a wedding. There, I saw friends that I hadn’t seen in so long, and that was so heartwarming. Meeting old friends is always scary, in a way—you don’t know if it’ll be awkward or if things will be different because of how much time has passed. It’s usually not, though, because friends are friends for a reason, and it’s not as difficult as it may seem to pick things off where they left off. Meeting old friends also makes me realize how much I’ve changed, and how much we’ve all changed. With time comes growth, and growth means change.
Change. I’ll be thinking a lot about what this word means to me in the next year (and for the rest of my life).