We tend to think of sabbatical in academic terms, as a school year free from teaching duties that can be devoted to research, travel, and writing. Traditionally, this occurs every seventh year. Because of this scholarly context, we may easily miss what is hiding in plain sight: that sabbatical is related to Sabbath, which refers to the Biblical day of rest, or the seventh day. We trace the origins of both sabbatical and Sabbath to the Greek word sabbaton. Sabbaton itself traces to the Hebrew word shabbāth, meaning “rest.”
My sabbatical was all these things–a break from my normal routine with time for travel, writing, and rest, as well as many blessings. Here is a highlight from my compositional focused time:
At the beginning of June I drove to Marquette, MI for a 2-week writing retreat to work on a commission by the 100+ voice Marquette Choral Society. If possible, I like to compose influenced by the geography surrounding me. In this case, it meant being close to Lake Superior. Not too shabby! The 7-hour drive from St. Paul was beautiful, offering glimpses of the lake and wooded landscapes.
A little background about the piece I’m writing: Elegy with Lake Effect is a 20-minute work for choir, soloists and chamber ensemble. I’m using texts by women authors with local roots spanning from 1827-2024, interspersed with verses from a traditional French Voyageur song from 1709. “Elegy” is a song of mourning–a common thread woven throughout the piece is loss and the grieving process, a universal human experience. The “Lake Effect” part connects and grounds us to this place—Marquette, the U.P., and Great Lakes region. Each poem and story is tied to water and nature—many to Lake Superior herself. Images of rocks, iron, ships, trees, snow, and ice permeate the entire work.
I had rented a small one-bedroom Airbnb that was unique in that it was in the middle of the city but on top of a hill in a nature preserve, reachable by a short gravel road. It was quiet, and wildlife was abundant, sometimes right outside the window!
It’s difficult to explain the creative process. It’s an intimate and vulnerable place. I can tell you that every time I start a new piece, I am convinced that it won’t come. Every time. But you know what happens? Every time I end up with a piece. It is perhaps the biggest act of faith I experience–faith in myself to create new music.