Symphony No. 3, opus 36, Symphony of Sorrowful Songs

Friday morning. Everything feels a little strange because I don't work until this afternoon. I usually work the morning/daytime shifts and so getting up early, but not having to go to work feels all kiddywhomper. It feels good though. I've just brewed a pot of some every wonderful Columbian coffee--decaf, in order to keep my anxiety-altitude at a manageable level.

This morning I felt (feel) overwhelmed. Like always, I am trying to do too much at once. I am having a hard time balancing work, family, friends, animals, writing, art, day-to-day stuff, and time with V. I just want to write and create. I am longing for a retreat that I cannot have. One that lasts for several months and carries me long into winter and deep into the woods. Into the woods--literally and metaphorically.

Today I don't feel like I have time to write as well as I'd like to about last night's performance. But let me just say, that it was beautiful.

Vinny and I sat in the third tier, almost at the very back. And, first of all, let me also say that Orchestra Hall is a very beautiful building. We were far enough away that the musicians looked like little more than quarter inch specs. And so, when the lights dimmed and the music started, I closed my eyes.

It started out quiet and low. Very quiet. Almost inaudible. And slowly, slowly...the sound grew. From the first pull of the strings, the bass nested itself somewhere deep inside of me. As cellos and violins were added, I felt it grow, expand. I didn't hear the music. I felt it. I cannot describe the effects of such harmony. But what I can say is that my body disappeared. Every molecule, every fiber of my being became the music. At one point I had to open my eyes because I got scared. I couldn't feel me anymore. I was vibration. Tumbling through space... I was the blue of the ceiling, the honey-brown of the wood walls. I was the air itself. I was blackness. It was frightening and exquisite all at once. I was afraid and so I opened my eyes. I had to do this on several occasions just to regain my bearings. And, each time, all I could think was how in awe I was that human beings are capable of such beauty. Such incredible harmony. Layers upon layers of sound. It was truly awesome. I would open my eyes and, each time, was entirely surprised to see people, real people creating that sound--together.

I sat there listening, feeling, and thinking about the ways that we, each of us, are connected--like music. I wish I knew the language of music so that I could explain myself more eloquently. I was thinking about how all of our actions, moods, words, creations, interactions...how they create layers of harmony or disharmony. And in the middle of this thought the orchestra did something amazing and carried a note together so flawlessly that it created a wall of sound as perfect as the sky. It was a sound the color of the setting sun. There were pinks and blues and small amounts of pale orange that shifted into lavender and strange greys.

Something new has opened up inside of me and will never be the same again. Such beauty. I am in awe of what we are capable of.