Automatic Reconnection
Thoughts and appreciation inspired by a bit of tech, and a bunch of people.
After roughly two months away from one another — a much-needed holiday respite after an intense fall season of concert preparation — I found myself back in rehearsal with the New York Vocal Collective earlier this week.
I walked into our usual building once more, reveling in both the welcome gush of warm air following my rather cold, several-block walk from the Q train, and the familiar delight of how damn good the place smells. (Studio and practice spaces aren’t necessarily renowned for the olfactory component of their offerings; it’s a nice perk, anyway.)
While settling in on the sleek lobby couch, planning to use the 40 minutes between my arrival and the start of practice to review the pieces planned for the evening, I double-checked the time on my phone — and found that the device had already synced back up with the studio’s WiFi.
There’s something rather sweet in coming back after some time away, and seeing a connection lock back into place.
I got maybe 6 minutes into the exercise of getting some tricky rhythms into my body, before other members of the choir began showing up. My fellow early birdies at first, then more folks as time elapsed. There were long, warm hugs to exchange, and pleasant check-ins, and then inquiries about private things we’ve shared, and uninterrupted eye contact as we filled one another in on both the light and the heavy…
I was reminded once again, in that relatively small pre-rehearsal window, of the special phenomenon of immediate reconnection.
It’s not the only way for relationships to exist and thrive, of course — and those ties that need more intention from us are no less tender and valuable and wonderful. In fact, I’d insist there’s something equally lovely in the preservation of connections that ask for our mutual care, and in seeing all parties involved committed to the task, even making it happy work. That is beautiful and heart-based, too, and just as much so.
But that day, I was awash in appreciation for the steadiness of hearts that fit with yours time and time again, no matter how much time has passed. Like a beloved puzzle… something special you’ve engaged with before, all warm and comfortable and familiar, then put away for some time as life demanded, before it’s found and pieced together with joy once more, the motions soothing in their enduring familiarity…
Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter how long it’s been. I recently took a course offered by Off-Site Writing Workshop, hosted by my sharp-witted colleague, Corinne Lestch. It was held in a building that I’d last entered in 2017 (to record a video with a different, also-stellar choir, Broadway Inspirational Voices). And due to the oft-remote nature of our work, Corinne and I hadn’t been in the same room for quite some time.
Yet when I arrived, my phone still logged into the building’s WiFi. And Corinne and I embraced, and laughed, and shared about our work as if we’d seen each other just days prior. The respect and admiration, as strong as ever. The internet, too.
It isn’t always so easy. But then sometimes… it is.
As that NYVC rehearsal ended, director Ben Bram happily concluded the evening by noting that we were, in his words, “locked in.” Given the themes I’d been contemplating in my mind all evening… as our voices melded and soared together again, while we also welcomed gorgeous new contributions to the mix… I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face at his phrasing.
The connection just felt so nice, y’know?
We've always enjoyed Candice's work.