Two days to my next concert

In two days' time, I'll be about to start my concert with Wayne. Having another opportunity to sing with him is more special than anyone could possibly understand. Since he left Cape Town, we've been able to do only one gig. This is our second gig since the end of 2012, and our only one for 2014. Insane!

I do think I'm a bit of a pain to live with right now, though. Even though I have different people playing roles on the actual night, I tend to do everything myself, leading up to the event. For many reasons, it's how I prefer to do a concert. Maybe I just have to put a team together well before the event and learn to trust people more.

Some of the things I have to do are relatively simple. like securing a suitable venue, which I do months ahead of time. Other things, however, can be really frustrating - like selling tickets! The good news is that I managed to meet and exceed my minimum, and the show is now sold out! How cool is that?!

I must say, though, that being a perfectionist is very tiring! Eish! I have all these details in my head - the aesthetics of the venue, lighting, sound, ticket design, brief for the MC, catering, my outfit, my hair - and, even though I work my way methodically through my extensive checklist, I tend to get really stressed out. And I haven't even mentioned the set list for the night, the songs I plan to perform. Deciding which songs to do, and then in which order, can be another headache.

The night before we had our rehearsal, I set time aside to do a long journalling session, processing my thoughts, my fears, my concerns. By the time I eventually fell asleep - at 4a.m. - I had arrived at a place of profound peace. The awareness that I gained was the same lesson the universe had taught me earlier this year: when I remove my ego issues from my thoughts, all I'm left with are feelings of happiness and peace, and clarity. When I focussed on Wayne's brilliance and on  the beautiful music we'd be making, I became super-excited, about the rehearsal and the show.

On the day of the rehearsal, all my pre-concert jitters disappeared, and I felt as relaxed as I did when we used to gig regularly. I'm really looking forward to the concert. Getting to the point, today, of having sold all the tickets, was exactly what I needed.

Tonight and tomorrow, I'll be busy with a few last-minute tasks, and then it will be Sunday, a day I've anticipated for a whole year! I'm going to be doing a concert of my original songs with Wayne, and I cannot wait! Bring it on!

I'll write again after the concert, tell you how it went.

Concert with Wayne on 28 December 2014, 7pm

TRUDY RUSHIN & WAYNE BOSCH

An evening of live jazz, in celebration of friendship. 

    

Trudy (voice, guitar) and Wayne (guitar) gigged extensively as a duo, from Feb 2009 to Dec 2012. Since Wayne’s relocation to Pretoria, the duo performs once a year – and this is it!

                           

                     Short opening set:  Summer Dawn Geffen – voice and ukulele

           Date: Sunday, 28 December 2014                        

           Time: 7pm

           Venue: District Six Museum 

          (Cnr Buitenkant & Albertus Streets, Cape Town)

          Admission: R100 (includes finger food). 

          

 Round up a couple of good friends, and join us for 

an intimate evening of live music,

   in this historic and evocative Cape Town venue.

To reserve tickets, contact me on this site or on Facebook: 

Trudy Rushin, Singer-Songwriter. 

Escape

Every now and then, when I find myself in a physical environment where something really unpleasant or offensive is happening, and there’s nothing I can do to remove myself from the place, I escape into my mind.  I go to a happy place, either a memory from my past, or a dream of a future situation – either way, I flood my head with as close as I can get to euphoria. I do this as a coping mechanism. Others might light up a cigarette or plug in earphones. 

Wherever I can, I walk away, removing myself from the chaos, as I try to adopt the nonchalance of “not my circus, not my monkeys”. But, since that’s not always possible, the only place I can escape to is the safe wonderworld of my mind, where I have the power to think anything I want to, the power  to stop any unwanted thoughts, the power to insert any thoughts I choose, and the power to create a preferred reality. I can’t tell you how amazing this is.

I’ve learnt, over the years, that one of the ways in which we discover who we are, is through interaction with other people. Their behavior – or, more specifically, our response to it – gives us a lot of insight into ourselves. Through other people, we learn what it is about ourselves we like and don’t like. It feels like the older I get, and the more comfortable I am with myself, the stronger my reactions to other people’s behavior are. I’m at that strange age where, even though I’m cognisant of the many shades of grey that exist, I’ve also become increasingly clear about what I can and can’t tolerate. Sometimes I don’t even realise the intensity of my  feelings about certain behavior, until I’m confronted with it directly.

But my recourse is to lose myself in my thoughts - in MY mind, where I make the rules, where nothing is out of control, and where everything I know is possible, is possible.

Of course, I would never sit passively while anyone was being abused, but let’s face it, there are so many forms of abuse, some of them so subtle, so insidious, that we can even pretend they’re not abuse. It just depends on how you label it. Or where on the continuum you sit.

Tonight, I wish I could forget some of the vulgarity I’m exposed to, some of the underbelly-of-the-world-wrapped-up-in-finery I have to endure. I wish I could rewind a certain period of time – purge - start again, without having encountered some of the things I have.  But I know that that’s not how life goes. In a strange way, I am as strong and resilient as I am because of the ugliness and adversity I’ve been exposed to.

Recently, when I couldn’t bear the horrible energy in a certain situation, I thought back to the time when I worked as the Centre Director of someone’s language school and then the 8-month period in which I owned my own one. Besides the financial difficulties (which eventually resulted in the closure of the school), I experienced some of my highest highs in that time. What I loved most of all was the freedom, the space, the wonderful opportunity to implement all those things I knew was possible. It was fantastic. I’m so glad I have those memories. They remind me that what others think is impossible, I’ve already done. 

Those memories feed my soul when I need it most.

Of course, there’s always that other thought: if I could do it once, I could do it again. 

I wonder

Can I type and post a whole blog article in half an hour, without tweaking and editing the thing to death? I wonder. Will I ever have a day where what I want to do and what I have to do happen at times that suit me? Like right now, for example: I want to type a blog post, but I’m supposed to be doing a household chore that will take me about two hours. When I’m feeling sorry for myself, it seems like most of my life is like that – a conflict between what I spontaneously and organically feel like doing, and what my various roles in society dictate I do. The sun shines, and I want to put up my feet and read, listening to the birds chirping outside, but no – the sun’s shining, so I have to do the laundry. The moon’s resplendent in a magical night sky, and I want to play my guitar outside, but no – I have to make supper, wash up, or get my things ready for the next day.

I know I sound like I’m whining, and I probably am, but something that a character in the movie, "Boyhood", said made me think about life and about ageing, and made me wonder how many people in my circle of friends could actually say, in their 50s, that life had lived up to their expectations. Did we all think there’d be more to it than what there is? Did we all expect more wows? Did we think we’d feel childlike anticipation and excitement all our lives, and did we think that life would continue to surprise us? When last were you surprised? How much of this is up to us? How much of a choice do we actually have?

One day I’ll write a cynical, disappointed-in-life song, because that’s how I feel, some of the time. I’m just such a bloody optimist, that when things don’t go well, I accept the bad time as a temporary glitch, sit it out patiently, all the time believing, with all my might, that brighter days are just around the corner. Maybe if we were more open about the fact that we felt really bad some of the time, we’d all end up feeling a little less weird for having these feelings. Because we’d know that many/most of our friends felt the same way too, some of the time, and that it was perfectly okay to feel that way.  

I’ve been asked this question by two life coaches: “If money weren’t a factor, and failure not a possibility, what would you be doing with your life?”  My answer was unequivocal: “Music”. But if I were to divide my activities up into percentages – an exercise I plan to put myself through, just to see – music would probably take up less than 5% of my daily/weekly/monthly activities. Now that’s what I call ridiculous. It makes no sense to me. Sometimes I’m surprised that I still gig, and that when I do, people enjoy it so much. I probably spend 50% of my time doubting myself, wondering why I still bother. But of course I know the answer. I’d be a very miserable person if the option of making music to an audience were to be removed from me. Plan B would be to play in solitude, but every performer knows the huge difference between the one and the other.

So, just about 30 minutes since I started blogging – because the mood took me there – I now have to go and do that housework. Housework is one of my least favourite things to do, and yet it takes up so much of my time. When will I get it right to tip the balance in my favour? I wonder. 

Maybe what distinguishes us as mature people is that we know we can't be doing what we want to all of the time. Maybe rich people, who can pay others to do the schlep work, don't have this problem. 

I wonder. 

,.:'!?

Alarm goes off at 04:40 snooze for 10 snooze for another 10 get up morning routine breakfast vitamins shower wash hair dress make-up scarf leave home 06:30 walk down the road it’s dark be brave be strong you’re the adult be the adult get to the creepy café opposite the creepy entrance to the railway station pass the creepy guys who always hang out at exactly the spot where people stream across in at least four directions getting to and from their trains in the morning rush walk up the steps down the steps through the subway don’t inhale or  you’ll catch some kind of disease oh wait here’s a tidal wave of people who refuse to stick to the left and leave space for the people coming from the opposite direction so we get to the other side somehow and we’re spluttering from the cigarette smoke we inadvertently inhaled on the other side we walk across a dark parking lot because the lights haven’t worked for ages I keep telling myself I should write a letter to the editor but I only think about the broken lights when we’re actually there so we walk the rest of the way and we’re in Main Road where we press the button and bam like magic the green light turns orange then red the cars stop and we dutifully cross now that the green man is showing oh shit there’s the bus so we run with backpacks banging against our backs all the time looking back to see how close the bus is and checking if there’re people at the bus stop realize there are and know we’ll catch the bus get on still out of breath but somehow feeling alive and ticking the bus driver knows us and says what he’s heard me say so many times before one to Newlands one to Wynberg I hand him the coins and he hands me the tickets we find space near the back and settle into the uncomfortably narrow seats like everyone else we plug in our earphones and lose ourselves in our music

I get off at my stop and walk a block down a garishly-lit road past really odd shops wait at the robots press the button wait like a robot while everyone else crosses willy-nilly as though the rules have changed I eventually start to cross and narrowly miss being hit by a taxi I glare at the driver who seems oblivious to any wrongdoing I shrug and carry on the day’s long I say to myself can’t lose my cool not now maybe later my mind starts to dart around this that this that but I’m brought back to reality with the realization that I’m at the worst part of my morning the walk under the bridge a narrow pavement ideally organized into a single line of people in each direction but once again the rules aren’t what I expect you walk you push you hold tightly onto your handbag you check the ground because you could step onto anything from phlegm to a dead rat it’s unspeakably disgusting and a route I take only because it’s too dark for me to take my preferred route the one over the other bridge that I take in the summer months I seriously try not to inhale again remind myself it lasts less than a minute so just grin and bear it realize it’s like other parts of my life that I put up with focus on getting under the bridge without any serious collisions take the minor ones into my stride curse mentally as cigarette smoke is blown into my face by someone from the other direction notice how people insist on walking two to four abreast and then I’m on the other side watch out for the bus  

Walk down the road past one of my favourite food places make a mental note to stop by after work and buy something to take home get to work walk past security greet walk across the parking area through the main building to our section of the campus step inside the office I share with seven other people a world within a world that I inhabit between certain hours where I forget my dreams and what makes me shine because there are certain places in my world where the message is loud and clear that to shine is inadvisable so I spend way too many hours of my life trying to blend and not shine voice my ideas because I have so many but learn early on how far that gets me so I remind myself that I need a job to pay the rent buy electricity feed and clothe my family afford medical attention and on and on and on I do however manage to find my voice in the classroom as I teach  a subject I love and I feel I am contributing to the new South Africa one of my life’s goals but it’s hard for me a free spirit to fit into the schedule of an institution with short breaks and so many rules that make no sense and so many opportunities to introduce new systems but I am a small cog in a big complex and over-complicated system of wheels some of which turn more smoothly than others so I am constantly reminded of how unwelcome my thoughts are and I strive every single day to fit in but it’s harder than you can imagine a place where everything about me is ridiculed my clothing is commented on deprecatingly by people who are drowning in debt but hey at least they’re wearing designer outfits there is very little depth to any conversation I have and I wonder how it’s possible for people to live in such different worlds with such different value systems

For a long time I’ve believed in a few unshakable truths which have unfailingly seen me through the strangest of experiences it’s time I did some serious meditation about the choices facing me I look forward to a brighter tomorrow where I once again feel like the life I’m living is truly mine

peace

Skygazer

I know now, after being on holiday for 11 days - and being housebound for most of that time because of the freezing weather - that I would be a far more prolific blogger if I didn't have to go to work. Haha! I still dream of being self-employed, doing what I love from my home, and making a difference in my part of the world in a way that is authentic to me. But life has situated me where I am right now, teaching English at a college. It's funny how, when I first studied at a teacher training college, in the early 1980s, the idea was to be a teacher for the rest of my life. And yet, as time went by, life sent me new opportunities and I deviated from the original plan. Many years later, after some wonderful meandering, here I am again, teaching in a government institution. It affords me an opportunity to interact on a daily basis with the youth of today and to hear where they're at. Unfortunately, it's also shown me how the education system in South Africa has failed an entire generation. And that saddens me. I want to do something to show them that life has a lot more to offer than they've been told. But more so, I want to show them that THEY have a lot more to offer than they've been told.

It's a daily mission, to live my life in a way that presents my students with an alternative way of looking at things. A gentler, way, a way that builds bridges, instead of further excluding the already-marginalised.

I'm sad that television plays such a big role in the value systems our youngsters have. Most of them want the success and the bling, without any hard work. Reality tv has promoted the idea of becoming famous for doing nothing. Singers become overnight successes because of televised competitions. While it may show that that's a possibility for some, it obscures the fact that what the majority of people do to attain success is work passionately and persistently, over a period of time, until greater skill and experience are achieved; that then leads to more opportunities coming your way and to bigger and better platforms on which to ply your craft. Not an easy lesson to teach. It's one of those lessons you have to learn by living.

What I've also realised is that the concept of success varies from individual to individual, depending on age, socio-economic background, religious convictions, family value system and so many other factors. One of the things I've had to do, over time, was to redesign my belief system, which found me re-evaluating everything I'd been raised to believe, sorting through the pre-packaged, one-size-fits-all clutter and coming up with a set of views that more accurately reflected whom I had grown into being. What success means to me now, after certain life experiences, is very different to what it would've meant had I never been retrenched, never been unemployed, never had an acrimonious divorce (yes, you do get divorces that are not acrimonious) and so many other things.

But I was actually going to write about being a skygazer. I live in a house on a little hill, where I've lived for the past 17 years. And from this hill, I have a beautiful view of the closest mountain range and the sky. I must have taken hundreds of photos of the sky from my kitchen window. What does skygazing do for me? It quietens my spirit. It makes me stop the frenetic pace of everything and just stand still and gaze. It teaches me that change is constant. It teaches me that change is natural. I've learnt, over time, to read the clouds and understand weather patterns. Sometimes, because life gets so busy during the school term, I find myself hanging washing on the line late at night. Watching the night sky is even more magical. It reminds you of your fallibility, your vulnerability. It whispers to you that, if you hang in there, tomorrow will come, and with it, a promise of a whole new set of possibilities.

In the time that my daughter's been on her adventure in Thailand, I've photographed the sky every day, so that I can show her what our favourite view looked like in her absence.

I look forward to showing that young skygazer my pictures of the sky.

Reflecting on the Thai project – No. 2: Five fundraising concerts

When I made up my mind to take on the one-year project of raising money to enable my daughter to go to Thailand with World Challenge, I knew that it would occupy my mind every single day, sitting alongside every other project or goal. Because I’m a practical person, I decided to combine as many of my goals as I could. I’m a full-time teacher and a part-time musician; my full-time job is there all the time, but I constantly have to market myself to find music work. My regular music partner had just relocated to another city, I needed to redefine myself as a musician, and I wanted to do so in a way that increased my networks and databases. The perfect solution was to put on various concerts, with different musicians, at different venues. Raising money in that way would be fun, for me, and not just hard work.

 

The first concert: 11 August 2013

Our first concert was held at Stephanian’s Sports Clubhouse, in Ottery, on a Sunday afternoon. We pre-sold tickets at R100 and were lucky to be able to sell more at the door.  We asked people to bring their own refreshments and arranged the hall with pretty tables. Friends and family pitched in to make it a very successful event. With an exciting backing band consisting of Keith Tabisher (guitar), Valentino Europa (double bass) and Roy Davids (drums), we had a line-up of young vocalists from Belhar in the first half: Ruby Truter, Courtney  Johnson and Zeta Botha. I sang a selection of originals and covers with the band in the second half – an absolute treat for me. My cousin, Derek Ronnie, was our MC. Andre Manuel did the sound and William Rose was our photographer.

The second concert: 1 December 2013

While my original idea had been to hold our second event in October, unforeseen matters derailed that plan. It’s important to keep your eye on your goal, as well as to be flexible and think on your feet when Plan A doesn’t work out. With that in mind, I adjusted the plan, and went ahead with our second fundraiser on 1 December, also on a Sunday afternoon. This time, I did a trio concert with Keith and Tino, at Baran’s Kurdish Restaurant, on Greenmarket Square, in the city centre. This time, we charged R100 again, but split the takings with the restaurant, as the ticket included a light meal. The food was great, I loved the venue with its Turkish décor, but decided that I wouldn’t repeat the ticket sharing concept, as it decreased our takings significantly. My son, Nick, was the MC, we did our own sound, and a young photographer, Lelie Hamman, took the photos.

The third concert: 21 December 2013 

If anyone had told me I’d end up doing two concerts in one month, I would’ve said, “Never!”. But that’s exactly what happened.  There were two main driving factors: one, I really wanted to have completed three events before the end of the year, and two, it was a perfect opportunity to gig with my former duo partner. When I heard that Wayne Bosch was visiting Cape Town over Christmas, I asked if he’d do a concert with me and he was very keen. We did a duo concert of mainly originals (including two of Wayne’s, played solo) - on 21 December, exactly a year after our previous performance. This was on a Saturday evening, at Erin Hall in Rondebosch. Once again, we charged R100, including refreshments after the show, but this time friends donated home-baked goods and helped with the serving, etc. Nick was once again the MC, we did our own sound, and Gregory Franz took the photos.

The fourth concert: 1 March 2014

The poor turnout at our last concert was a sobering reminder that the festive season was a risky time to put on an event. I realised that January was just as tricky, and that sometimes the festive season recovery period extended to February, so I chose the first Saturday in March for our next event. This time, the venue was Wynberg Secondary School, and the focus was on giving young musicians a platform to perform. Artists on the programme were Kai Chavda (a 10-year-old guitarist), Elton Goslett (versatile guitarist), Joe Schaffers (seasoned jazz singer) and the young band, The Dales, which did its debut performance. (The Dales, a 4-piece rock band, included my son, Nick Geffen, on drums, and featured my daughter, Summer, on vocals. A family first!) Others in the band were Ross on lead guitar, Dean on bass, and Matt on rhythm guitar. The final act was a talented group from the UCT School of Jazz, which I called The Keegan Steenkamp Ensemble. Andre Manuel did our sound, Mark Kleinschmidt was our MC and Chandre Lil’c Cee was our photographer. We collaborated with a small catering business and a close friend also donated yummy refreshments. Admission was R50, to encourage our young performers’ friends to support.

The fifth concert: 5 April 2014    

The final concert was a very special event for me – I collaborated with one of my heroes, the legendary jazz-ghoema guitarist, Errol Dyers, in a venue I’d always wanted to do a concert in, the District Six Museum Homecoming Centre. Summer and a friend, Nina, did our opening act, on vocals and ukuleles. Errol and I did the rest of the show, with a special treat for the audience in the form of a solo mini-set by Errol. I loved every moment of making music with Errol; the concert, for me, was a dream come true. We were once again in the capable hands of Andre Manuel (sound), Derek Ronnie (MC) and Gregory Franz (photos). The museum handled the refreshments. For some reason (bowing to pressure?), I charged R80 for this concert. Not only does it not make sense, in hindsight, but it was impractical finding R20 change for everyone. I suppose everything we do really is a lesson, in one form or another.  

Re-reading what I’ve just written, I can see the lessons I learnt along the way. The interesting thing about these lessons is that they empower and liberate us, so that when we embark on future ventures, we have an updated set of skills and knowledge. 

Life is cool, as long as you keep your eyes, ears, mind and heart wide open.  Right?