At the age of 40, I had the proverbial and perhaps inevitable “mid-life” crisis. Truth to tell, this period of disillusionment leading to self-reflection, acceptance, and understanding seems to happen to me in 20-year cycles. When I was 21, like many males, I felt totally assured about my destiny and my values. Four years later, I felt I was certain of nothing except my love for music. And I coped by taking to heart George Bernard Shaw’s famous motto that “An unexamined life is not worth living.”
Thus began my period of trying to answer “unanswerable” questions. My bookshelves are still groaning from the weight of all the tomes on religion and philosophy that I bought between the ages of 25 and 30. The result, though, was that I was even more confused than before. I think the “lowlight” of those years was reading an excerpt from the philosophy of René Descartes where he states that one cannot really PROVE anything—such as whether I’m actually writing this right now as opposed to dreaming that I am. Oy!
So, I simply gave up asking these questions. I decided that the pursuit of happiness was the one-and-only Meaning of Life. This revelation had negative consequences, however. In my 30s I entered into what I call my “John Belushi years.” He was an early cast member of the TV show Saturday Night Live and was famous for his hedonistic lifestyle, which led to his premature death at age 33. I am not proud of my behavior during those years, but I have come to realize that there is redemption even for fools—if they seek it.
At age 40, I realized that living only for the moment was a catastrophic sort of cul de sac to be in—and I wanted out of it. In 1995, at the lowest ebb, I finally had what can only be called an epiphany that turned my life around. I know it is not fair to mention this “moment” without giving the details of it, but it is a profoundly personal story that I will discuss in a later blog. (I promise.) The bottom line, however, was this: I realized that instead of living for myself alone, I now wanted to live as much as possible as a positive influence on others. And this meant that I very much wanted to devote a large measure of the rest of my life to mentoring and teaching. As I have said in a previous blog, I consider teachers and members of the medical profession to be “earth angels.”
When I became the Resident Conductor of the North Carolina Symphony in 1996, despite a busy schedule in that position, I became involved with many of this state’s universities. I was a guest conductor at Appalachian State University and with the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and at Greensboro. I worked with high school orchestras including the Triangle Youth Philharmonic and the Cannon Music Summer program. I gave guest lectures at Duke University, and as an adjunct professor at William Peace University, I taught Music Appreciation for four semesters. In recent years, I have greatly enjoyed teaching adult education classes sponsored by Duke University and NC State. These activities have been as satisfying to me as conducting a great symphony with a great orchestra–and because the contact is more personal, it has perhaps been even more meaningful for me.
I was greatly honored this spring by the invitation to be the commencement speaker for the 2021 Music graduates at UNC-Chapel Hill. I took this assignment very seriously, and my comments were created to avoid the generic collection of snooze-worthy platitudes that can make these events more about endurance than enlightenment. The graduation ceremony was a virtual event, and my speech was recorded before the ceremony itself. What I wanted to do was to share with these students the core of my Philosophy of Life. And yes, after several mid-life crises at various states in my life, I may not have answered all of the “unanswerable questions,” but I do feel that now I am closer to the Truth.
To me, every day is another opportunity to learn something and to share what I’ve learned with others. All of my selection of pieces for a concert and all my classes and personal interactions revolve around this. I am a lifelong teacher AND student. And as a teacher and writer, faced with the responsibility of being sure that what I’m saying is true, I have greatly benefitted from this process of clarification and correction.
In Rodgers and Hammerstein’s musical The King and I, Hammerstein’s beautiful introduction to the song “Getting to Know You” offers a pellucid explanation of the mutual benefits of teaching and learning:
It’s a very ancient saying, But a true and honest thought, That if you become a teacher, By your pupils you’ll be taught.
Video of Maestro Curry's commencement address to Department of Music graduates from UNC-Chapel Hill (May 16th, 2021) available here
Credits:
William Henry Curry, Author
Music Director
Durham Symphony Orchestra
Comprehensive Editor (Text): Suzanne Bolt
Copy Editor: Tina Biello
Digital Layout and Publication: Tina Biello
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