I am one week away from the end of this strange, interrupted semester at Webster University.
My last summer trip has just been canceled.
So, with a week to go, I’m thinking of what this summer may be, and realizing that it won’t be like any summer in my last 20 years.
I’m taking a ‘diploma’ course in Jungian archetypes. One-hundred-fifty hours of work! I’ll start this later this week, I think, and pick away at it 10-12 hours a week.
My summer conference about the teaching of contemporary commercial music vocal techniques is canceled, so no trip to Virginia in July. I’ll take the course on-line in its virtual form instead.
My trip to Puerto Rico was already canceled, and it looks like I’ll not be going to New York this summer, either.
So, two courses . . . and books.
I’ve set out some serious reading this summer. Some Albert Camus. Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. Believe it or not, War and Peace, which I’ve never read. Perhaps the Wolf Hall trilogy.
And the piles of books about voice-teaching and teaching psychology and story-telling through song . . . all of which have been on the pile for some time now.
I’ll need to pay attention to the body as well. In this eighth week of physical distance, my weight has only gone up slightly, but it needs to come down for the sake of my joints, my heart, and my liver.
I’m betting this summer will also have a pile of Webster work too, since I’m anticipating prepping for on-line instruction (at least partially) of the musicianship course I teach.