Sunday, April 22, 2012

Moved by the Music

On Thursday night, after our dress rehearsal for the Spring Concert I sang in on Friday, I had an hour to kill before the next bus came.  The orchestra that accompanied us, was having their rehearsal of Stravinsky's Pulcinella Suite, and so I waited inside the church while they fine tuned.  Since all the other choir members had gone home, I sat by myself in one of the middle pews, and enjoyed my own little private concert.  It's probably a twenty piece orchestra.  Violins, cellos, bass, oboe, bassoons, flutes, trumpets, trombones...I'm sure there are more.  All of them in perfect time with one another, complimenting and contrasting, and creating a wordless masterpiece for my ears only.
For those of you out there who have never attempted to listen to a piece of classical music, you are missing out.  There is something about hearing a story told by several instruments, that quiets the mind, and allows you to get lost in the crescendos and diminuendos of the music.  The voices are in the sadness that emanates from a cello, or the joyfulness that comes from a flute.  There is nothing like being captured as the music builds and excites, and then lulls you back to simplicity.
I am lucky to have come from a very musical family.  My grandmother was a professional cellist, and therefore, I was exposed to some of the most beautiful music, at a very young age.  I can remember visiting my grandparents, and watching my tiny little grandmother sit behind her cello, eyes closed, white hair bobbing, as her delicate hands manipulated the strings and bow.  For a woman with such a small frame, the music that was within her was massive.  With each note she played, she captivated anyone in her presence.  She made you fall in love with the music, with her love for music.
Sitting by myself the other night, I was surrounded by that same love, times twenty.  I didn't have to watch the musicians to know that they enjoyed what they were playing, because I could hear the passion behind each note.  It didn't hurt that the empty church has amazing acoustics, and echoed that passion so that I felt as though I was wrapped in a musical blanket.  It reminded me of being tucked in as a little girl, listening to a recording of Chopin, feeling safe, and warm, and loved.  I was transported by the music to another place where tension is eased, and happiness is pulled out from the very depths of my soul.

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