The sound of shattering glass is not usually one accompanied by delight. No, the sound of shattering glass, brief as it is, is often preceded by shouting or despair, or really any form of distraught and hopelessly futile exclamation. What I find more interesting, however, is the sound that comes after the moment of impact. To be more precise, the lack thereof. The sound of shattering glass is usually followed by crushing silence, panic and, finally, guilty acceptance. The world is torn out from beneath the feet of whoever lays claim to those clumsy hands, and thus ensues a lengthy and (in the case of those like myself whose path has pulled them to parenthood, particularly of young children) stressful cleanup. Everything and everyone around seems to pause for a moment before resuming their day because they know, deep down, that somebody is having a rough go of it, and they’re just glad that it isn’t them.

Glass does not usually break spontaneously. What starts as a small amount of stress, or maybe a set of small, curious hands, or just the slightest amount of condensation, creates just the perfect conditions for the devastation, be it spontaneous, malicious, or otherwise. Something small, possibly even unnoticed, turns into something big, and something big ends up in a dustpan, then a box, then the recycle bin, then eventually a facility far away where it almost inevitably ends up as garbage. Despite our best efforts, these things will happen. We cannot keep our children from throwing things in a fit of curious rage, nor can we keep our hands from losing grip on slick surfaces, nor can we avoid the myriad other events that lead to and play out within that moment of pure, agonizing silence. Sometimes we can try, and try, and try, and try again, and try once more for good measure, but no matter how many times we try, and no matter how far we push ourselves, and no matter how much we know that failure is not even remotely an option, we can still find ourselves on the floor with a broom and a dustpan, picking up Broken Glass. Where there once was beauty and hope, and maybe some water or ice or wine or spirit, now there is only a silent mess bound for the landfill.

As we enter the new year (2023), I find myself picking up broken glass, literally and metaphorically. Since October I have faced my own ambitions and decisions head-on and carried forward, only to find that achieving your goals takes more than just perpetual drive and a sad, frustrating story with too many chapters. Sometimes we can do everything in our power and make no mistakes, and at the end of the day have nothing to show for it. Failure is human, and it’s what makes our achievements in life stand out. Let this piece be a reminder that we can all find what we are looking for despite the mountains of (metaphorical) glass that surround us.

Notable Performances:

6/4/2024: “Sounds of Summer” Music Festival, Ensemble TBD