Support Naomi's Journey Back to Music

9/28 1:11AM edit/update: HOLY CRAP! Thank you so much to the people who have donated. If I can make it to $500, I can rent a top of the line bassoon for 9 months. I can't pay month for month because of the fact that the instruments are worth so much, but if we get to $500, I'm going to rent and hope that through finding a job and continued donations I'll be able to own one. But 9 months of bassooning ain't half bad! And it'll get me to conserving my skills faster. I'd really like to own a bassoon that's all mine, but in order to not lose more of my knowledge than I already have, I think renting would be a very good idea. Again, thank you so much to those who have donated and shared and I send my love and blessings to all of you!

9/12 1:33AM edit/update: people have been trying to donate but the website is being crappy so my cashapp is cotzojay49

Hello!

My name is Naomi Cotzojay Hazlehurst-Winters. Some people call me Naomi, some people call me Cotzojay, Cotzo, or Hazle. Most people can't pronounce Cotzojay, but it's kind of like coatz-o-high. I am half Mayan/Indigenous on my mother's side, and it's Kaqchikel (our village's language) for "house of blooming flowers," "Kotz'ij" being "flowers" and "Jay" meaning "house" or "place." I'm not quite sure why the spelling came out that way, but I guess maybe one day I'll find out as I continue to study anthropology in the upcoming school year.

I am in desperate need for a new bassoon. I was playing at a professional level until moving back to the US and getting deeply depressed. I lost my mother two years ago, and it's been extremely difficult pushing myself to continue my creative endeavors without her. When I would finish practicing a piece in my room, I could always count on hearing her clapping for me in the other room. I stopped playing almost completely after she passed, and just kept up my skills by constantly going through the circle of fifths with my fingers. As the depression has started to lift through immersing myself in volunteer activities ranging from painting a loft for the goats at a Buddhist temple to leading Narcan training at a clinic that serves the Latino population, I realized that my desire for music and creativity in general has returned. Unfortunately, when I finally did pick up my bassoon again, the constant pressure and temperature changes caused immense cracks throughout the whole instrument, even the metal parts. It would be more expensive to repair compared to just buying a new bassoon. It really hurt, that moment when I realized I was happy enough to play again only to be met with a terribly damaged instrument that I couldn't play a single note on.

I am on the autism spectrum, and chose to not speak for most of my life, until I was handed the bassoon. Through that instrument, I found connection, passion, and sheer joy. My band director would send me to a little practice room with our new oboist and we'd play duets. She quickly became the first real friend I ever had. I wish I knew where she was. She struggled too, and after school, we lost touch. I didn't know how to talk to people, how to even look someone in the eye before I held that crazy looking instrument that was taller than me when I first started playing. It was the first thing I felt like I was truly good at, but grief stole the passion from me, and now I have to put the passion I've regained aside (hard to do with ADHD) until I can get a new instrument.

My mother went through so much hardship, and it turned her to some not-so-great things, but in the last three years of her life, she completely turned it around and finally became the mother I had always dreamed of having. We would watch Howl's Moving Castle at least once a week and playfully argue about whether Howl would fall in love with me or her. She became my best friend, the only person who was able to make me feel like I was loved and appreciated. We would listen to Sara Curruchich, a Mayan musician who sings in Kaqchikel, our native language, in the kitchen every day as we cooked guisado and tamales. She accepted that I was queer completely in those last three years and became very supportive of me, confronting anyone in our village who had something to say about it. Her death could have been prevented very easily. At the time in Guatemala, if you called an ambulance and the patient showed symptoms of COVID, the law was that they would have to be taken to a hospital, however when my mother's oxygen dropped to the 80s, the paramedic and even a literal doctor who came said she was fine and refused to take her to the ER. They gave her some oxygen and then left. The next morning, she was gone. I wasn't in the house at the time, battling my own demons, and I didn't find out until days afterwards. My heart shattered when my dad told me, and I don't think I'll ever be whole again. Though I feel a lot of joy in my life, I don't feel complete without her, and I wonder if I ever will. She was my cheerleader, my number one fan, and she loved the music I made, even when I first began and my orchestra parts were just whole note after whole note. I think if I can play bassoon again, be part of a community orchestra and join chamber groups, a little piece of my heart will slip back into place. If I could just get back to playing the instrument I feel I was born to play (I've always gotten comments from teachers who say I have the perfect hands for bassoon), the one thing that kept me going through my teenage years, I might finally be able to feel like my mom is with me in spirit, like she would be clapping for me after every piece, every scale, from wherever she is right now.

Even if you can't donate, I want you to know that I love and appreciate you, dear readers. Please remember to be kind to yourselves. I've learned that self-love is the only way to get out of the mire so many of us have been in whether it be from loss and depression or just loneliness. Hopefully, we'll continue getting through the pandemic and live to tell the tale of the years the world stopped turning, the years of loss and anxiety. We've all been through so much as a species/society/whatever you want to call it, and we have to continue to be there for each other as we finally say goodbye to all the fear that's built up. Give the ones you love an extra tight hug for me and always let them know how much you appreciate them. It never hurts to say an "I love you" to the people you choose to keep close.

Stay strong, stay kind, and never forget that you were born with the ability to feel and change, to grow and learn. That alone means you are valuable, no matter your gender, sexuality, race, or financial situation. We all deserve love and stability.

If any money is left over, I will be donating it to Buddhist Relief, an organization I volunteer at which grows vegetables to give out to people in need and organizes food drives, among other things, like taking care of farm animals, cats, and dogs. I have been going there since I was very little and would always leave an offering of canned cat food at the main Stupa for the strays they take in.

Thank you for reading.

Naomi Cotzojay Hazlehurst-Winters