Today I had a very successful audition for a local orchestra. I am very pleased with myself for the hard work of preparing for it, and also for the promise of good times ahead.
In case you may have missed this: I love playing my oboe, and particularly I am in love with the process of Chessed that comes with that ability. How are oboe playing, orchestras, and Chesed connected? Well, one way is to think about the inspirational speech from Karl Paulnack (http://www.bostonconservatory.edu/music/karl-paulnack-welcome-address), who summarized to anxious parents of new music conservatory students that indeed, their children as musicians, will heal the world as well as any medical doctor, therapist, or rabbi. What he is saying is that from engaging in one’s own abundance, one finds gratitude that is so overwhelming that it is given as gifts to others. That is the nature of Chesed, gifts of lovingkindness.
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My first memory of this sort of Chesed giving comes at about age 3. I am visiting my grandparents and I have one of the hard candies that we are allowed after dinner. In my ecstasy of the abundance of having dinner of my favourite foods with my favourite people, I offer my hard candy to my grandmother, insisting that I want her to have it. She grins that mischievous knowing grin that only my grandma and I knew, our secret smile together, and she takes it, unwraps it, all the while smiling at me.
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And she winks as she pops it into her mouth. I remember he telling my mother how lovely and generous her daughter is, and my mother dismissing us both, the 1959 precursor to ‘the hand’—“whatever”, she says. 
No, this was not ‘whatever’. This was genuine joy. This was the pure knowledge of abundance, and the best way I could give thanks for that abundance of love and food was to offer my one candy to my grandmother. It somehow made me feel complete, that the cycle of giving contained gratitude and more giving.
I still feel that way every morning when I wake up. I lie in my ‘sky room’ bed, a day bed set in my enclosed balcony with a panoramic view of the City of Vancouver at my feet. Overhead, clouds drift, as if I am in the treehouse of my childhood dreams. Nothing surpasses this feeling that I have been given the simplest of gifts of abundance; a room to lie in, the sky as my ceiling.
What I want to do each day is somehow come closer to creating this sense of abundance for those who are looking for it. That may take the form of insuring that I am not taking up a seat in the front of the bus where seniors and the disabled need to sit, or making intentional eye contact and say a few words with the clerks in stores I shop at, continue to pursue my studies toward a career in pastoral counseling, and making real plans to begin offering service now, including creating my own music and playing in ensembles and orchestras.
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This evening, as I was having a long distance conversation with my mussar chevruta about Chesed, I sat in my treehouse office and watched absently in the window as crows gathered to roost for the evening.
In East Vancouver, this is quite a sight, and especially so tonight. In the ribboning sunset of colours, I observed three different clouds of birds arise from the Arbutus Ridge and begin to rise in a swirl of black bodies. The cloud shifted now left, now right, now up, now back upon itself. What was happening? It felt like I did inside myself, looking for the leader, first one, then another, no one agreeing on the direction, like a school of fish darting about in the sky, confused. They had to move on at some point, it would be dark soon. Eventually, pulled by the need to roost in the Grandview Divide, they flew East and landed. The next two clouds of birds that arose did the same this evening. Confusion. Who was the leader, and what was their ultimate destination? The back and forth was senseless, they would end up in the Divide no matter which bird was chosen, and they did end up there at last.
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Confusion about who is in charge can make coming home to roost difficult. The nice thing about an orchestra is that there is a conductor, and all that skill and strength of character that each artist brings is channeled into a satisfying performance. In fact, it is sharing of abundance at its best.
With the intentional cooperation of many individuals, musical ensembles become the suppliers of the conduits to our deepest desires and selves. Next time you attend a concert, whether it is an ensemble or a large symphony, recognize the exorbitant individual effort and cooperative giving each player has gifted you with. Perhaps this will open the doors to your desire to share whatever abundance you may find in your life, and pass it on to others in gratitude.
The Compassionate Oboe 