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Last night I attended Lea Salonga in concert with the BYU Chamber Orchestra. It was announced there that this same concert will be presented in May when the Orchestra joins Ms. Salonga in Manila, Philippines. There will also be a documentary aired on BYU tv sometime in the fall about the Orchestra's trip and how this all came about. Such a fantastic opportunity for societies next generation of music makers.
As for a concert, it has been rare that I have attended a concert that had a perfect set list from start to finish, but from Sondheim's Another Hundred People, to a finale consisting of Defying Gravity, True Colors, and an Abba medley, it was clear that Lea Salonga has only improved with age, if that is possible, since her early days as a young actress making her US debut in Miss Saigon. I enjoyed every single song in her set, and found myself wishing it could go on all night.
Right before her intermission, she sang the song I have linked above. Of course, a person such as myself, having grown up working hard to consume every single possible medium of musical performance, I am well aware of the amazing performance of Ms. Striesand in Yentl. However, due to the vast majority of entertainment at currently at my fingertips, it had been quite awhile since I had sat and listened to A Piece of Sky.
Years ago, before I lived through almost a decade of a marriage in despair, a diminishing self-esteem, and somewhat of an identity crisis, I believed so much in the words of this song that when Lea began to sing it last night, I took an audible gasp as my entire body echoed the remembrance of a woman who had the confidence that is required in order to fully grasp the meaning of the melody.
I first traveled to New York City in June of 1997. My sister is a theatre teacher, and she was taking some of her students on a senior trip. She encouraged me to make this my senior trip as well. From the moment I stepped off the plane, I knew that I had arrived in a place that would always belong in my heart. Every experience I had that week helped me see that this was a city I needed to be a part of. Many said it would never happen. Many said I should just be happy with what I have. It all began the day I found that from my window I could only see a piece of sky. I knew they were wrong. More than I had known anything in my life. I never dreamed it was so wide or even half as high.
I spread my wings. I served an LDS mission in DC. I graduated from college. Though it is safer to stay on the ground, sometimes where danger lies, there the sweetest of pleasures are found. I did it. In December of 2003 I moved to NYC. I lived there until May of 2006, and some of my greatest memories reside there. I got married and moved back to Utah because of pregnancy and sickness. I miss it everyday. What I miss most was the person I was when I moved there.
The more I live, the more I learn. The more I learn the more I realize the less I know. I lost my voice to the battle of emotional abuse. I became afraid because I did not live up to what was expected. I began to care about things I could not completely control, such as appearance and some natural abilities. I began to allow myself to feel fear. I became defeated.
And then, in February of 2013, I woke up. Each step I take, Papa I've a voice now, Each page I turn, Papa I've a choice now. Waking up has been more terrifying and risky than moving to New York was. I have lost friends. I have been judged and thrown under buses. I am all at once more brave and more terrified. Each mile I travel only means the more I have to go!
My challenge now is honestly figuring out what I want this next chapter to say. Figuring out who I want to be and how I want it to play out. I confess to often feeling selfish as I look at my hopes and desires for my future, but as I ingested the music of last night, I was reminded What's wrong with wanting more? If you can fly then soar! With all there is, why settle for just a piece of sky?
What is next? I wish I knew. I wish I could say. But I can feel it. I remember who I once was. I want to somehow be her again. Papa, watch me fly!
Last night I attended Lea Salonga in concert with the BYU Chamber Orchestra. It was announced there that this same concert will be presented in May when the Orchestra joins Ms. Salonga in Manila, Philippines. There will also be a documentary aired on BYU tv sometime in the fall about the Orchestra's trip and how this all came about. Such a fantastic opportunity for societies next generation of music makers.
As for a concert, it has been rare that I have attended a concert that had a perfect set list from start to finish, but from Sondheim's Another Hundred People, to a finale consisting of Defying Gravity, True Colors, and an Abba medley, it was clear that Lea Salonga has only improved with age, if that is possible, since her early days as a young actress making her US debut in Miss Saigon. I enjoyed every single song in her set, and found myself wishing it could go on all night.
Right before her intermission, she sang the song I have linked above. Of course, a person such as myself, having grown up working hard to consume every single possible medium of musical performance, I am well aware of the amazing performance of Ms. Striesand in Yentl. However, due to the vast majority of entertainment at currently at my fingertips, it had been quite awhile since I had sat and listened to A Piece of Sky.
Years ago, before I lived through almost a decade of a marriage in despair, a diminishing self-esteem, and somewhat of an identity crisis, I believed so much in the words of this song that when Lea began to sing it last night, I took an audible gasp as my entire body echoed the remembrance of a woman who had the confidence that is required in order to fully grasp the meaning of the melody.
I first traveled to New York City in June of 1997. My sister is a theatre teacher, and she was taking some of her students on a senior trip. She encouraged me to make this my senior trip as well. From the moment I stepped off the plane, I knew that I had arrived in a place that would always belong in my heart. Every experience I had that week helped me see that this was a city I needed to be a part of. Many said it would never happen. Many said I should just be happy with what I have. It all began the day I found that from my window I could only see a piece of sky. I knew they were wrong. More than I had known anything in my life. I never dreamed it was so wide or even half as high.
I spread my wings. I served an LDS mission in DC. I graduated from college. Though it is safer to stay on the ground, sometimes where danger lies, there the sweetest of pleasures are found. I did it. In December of 2003 I moved to NYC. I lived there until May of 2006, and some of my greatest memories reside there. I got married and moved back to Utah because of pregnancy and sickness. I miss it everyday. What I miss most was the person I was when I moved there.
The more I live, the more I learn. The more I learn the more I realize the less I know. I lost my voice to the battle of emotional abuse. I became afraid because I did not live up to what was expected. I began to care about things I could not completely control, such as appearance and some natural abilities. I began to allow myself to feel fear. I became defeated.
And then, in February of 2013, I woke up. Each step I take, Papa I've a voice now, Each page I turn, Papa I've a choice now. Waking up has been more terrifying and risky than moving to New York was. I have lost friends. I have been judged and thrown under buses. I am all at once more brave and more terrified. Each mile I travel only means the more I have to go!
My challenge now is honestly figuring out what I want this next chapter to say. Figuring out who I want to be and how I want it to play out. I confess to often feeling selfish as I look at my hopes and desires for my future, but as I ingested the music of last night, I was reminded What's wrong with wanting more? If you can fly then soar! With all there is, why settle for just a piece of sky?
What is next? I wish I knew. I wish I could say. But I can feel it. I remember who I once was. I want to somehow be her again. Papa, watch me fly!
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