I don’t know if music is necessarily my first love, but as the daughter of a Suzuki piano teacher, it is certainly the first area where I received formal training. I started piano lessons one week before I turned three.
My first lesson with Aljean (because my mom knew that there was NO way that she could teach either me or my brother), involved learning how to bow, place my hands on the piano keys and put them back in my lap. It took me nearly a year to learn my first song.
But the thing Aljean didn’t have to teach me was the joy of making music. I’d been doing that my whole life! Like many—dare I say most—young children, I loved singing, dancing and making rhythms. I was obsessed with the Fisher Price toy horn kit.
Performing music on my own was delightful. But doing it with others…now THAT was new level! I loved singing with my family in the pews during church services, as part of the youth choir and on family camping retreats. A highlight of my church’s youth group houseboat trips to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area was singing around a campfire at night accompanied by guitars as waves lapped gently on the island’s shore.
While in college, I joined a community choir and had the stereotypical “shivers run up my spine” as my voice joined hundreds of others singing Handel’s Messiah.
From 4th grade through college, I was actively involved in musical theater. I lived for the moment when our voices melded into a powerful chord, crescendoing until raucous audience applause overtook it as the curtain closed.
Singing never left my life. But singing in community, singing in harmony, practicing and perfecting a song under the guidance of a director has disappeared. I’ve wanted to find an outlet for that passion for so many years, but it seemed like there was never time.
But last night that changed.
I saw the above advertisement last month from Compass Arts Creativity Project, the organization where I taught a children’s STEAM summer camp in 2024. I’ve been wishing I could join their Rising Choir for years. Unfortunately, my caregiver responsibilities meant I couldn’t commit to the time required.
But I took time to plant a seed a few years ago. While having coffee with Gina Samardge, Founder of Compass Arts, I mentioned that I’d love to sing with them if there was an opportunity with a limited time commitment. I was still feeling deep loneliness as we clawed our way out of the pandemic’s isolation and social distancing. She said it was something she’d be thinking about but did not have the capacity to do at that time.
When I walked into the rehearsal room last night and embraced Gina in a big hug, it felt like spring had truly come. The idea had blossomed into a room of women and treble singers from a wide range of ages and backgrounds, united in a desire for connection, release and justice.
In an hour and a half, notes on a page emerged as a haunting 3-part harmony accompanied by Gina on acoustic guitar. Tears filled my eyes as I sang the refrain, “I want a house with a crowded table and a place by the fire for everyone.”
And serendipity struck, as it so often does, in the final verse. It begins with a reminder. “If we want a garden, we’re gonna have to sow the seeds. Plant a little happiness, let the roots run deep.”
I’ve been planting many seeds, especially during 2025, and I’m thrilled to start seeing them bloom.
The Blossoming Community of Multi-Passionate People
If connecting with others and living a more expansive life is something you crave, join the Renaissance People Community! There you can engage with me and other multi-passionate people and get inspired.
And if you want to play a part and help me scattered seeds, check out an episode of my podcast, Connecting the Dots with the Renaissance People. Think about who immediately came to mind when you listened and share the episode with them. Not only does that help this community grow, but it builds your connections with others (aka strengthens the connections between your two dots).
What a glorious BOGO (buy one, get one free)!
