Making it to the Podium

Saturday was Mary's second in-house gymnastics competition.  She made it to the podium--as third.  There were five girls in her category, that puts her right in the middle, which is fine with me. Bill and I looked around with that deer in the headlights look--at all the heavyweight gymnastics families in the gym and he whispered to me, "this is how beginning parents in your studio feel."  It's true.  I know almost nothing about competitive gymnastics.  I don't know why she got scored the way she did, I don't know why she lost or gained points.  I just clapped when she was done and tried to take some good video.  It seemed pretty fair to me--the two girls ahead of her seemed more experienced and poised and the two girls behind her like-wise seemed a little fresher.  The winner had really straight legs and pointed her toes and her arabesque was a little higher.

It's all the same.

The beauty and skill is all in the details.  It doesn't matter much what the genre is.  It's about the focus and the ability to refine a skill.

That is not always her strong suit. She's only seven.

This week we are finishing up preparations for the honors recital out in Colorado.  Calvin and Mary are both sick of the pieces they recorded last September for the audition.  I'm sick of the pieces. But they hang in there and go through the details and try to play it from their heart for the twenty millionth time.  I try to think up fresh ways to help them remember the details. They make some catastrophic error every third or fourth run through, just to keep me from feeling too relaxed or confident.

Being there.  That is the challenge for them.  Being in the moment.  Focus for just 2-4 minutes.  That's all it takes. They know the pieces inside and out. But you have to be there.

Being there takes practice.  That is what we are practicing now.  Not the notes, not the dynamics, not the rubato.  I raised my voice,  you know it, you feel it, JUST DO IT!  Unfortunately it worked.  But, I won't be able to stand up in the balcony of the Vilar Center and yell down at them.  They will have to find their own focus.  Like the coach with her fingers just inches aways from Mary's fingers in the balance beam photo above, we must eventually let go.

We push them out of the nest and pray to God that they fly.

It's only a recital, but someday it will be the bigger elements of life.  I'm just practicing now.