Classical Notes of Love and Living

In all of this lunacy, global vitriol and push, in the wake of senseless tragedies and the signs of a world spinning, spinning, ready to tip, I am distracted. I feel lost, until I find myself sitting with my friend, Diane Tait, on the floor in her house, listening to a recording of her playing Brahms Violin Concerto for a recital. She played it, years ago, backed by members of the Rochester Philharmonic. She worked on it, practiced, sweated, swore, for two years before this performance to get it just right; the nuance, the power, the emotion. She talked me through parts of it, told me how nervous she was in places. 

I was completely blown away. 

I had seen Diane play before she retired as Assistant Concertmaster for the Canadian Opera Company, but this is different. These are her notes, her interpretation of Brahms work as the focal point of the performance. I am moved, find myself welling up several times, not the least is because the music itself is tremendous, powerful, but also because, there she is! The musician is sitting right there, on the floor beside me! She is the one who was making those beautiful sounds. We talk about what it was like, in her twenties, to be working so hard, practicing for hours and hours, every day, learning, studying. 

To be that dedicated…

To something so beautiful…

I love classical music. We had it playing in the house a bit when I was a kid. I don't think I loved it then. My fondness for it came on gradually, as I grew into adulthood and went through the emotional highs and challenges that come with life. Once I got to the point where I could let myself be completely vulnerable, I began to connect with it. Pieces became sacred for me; entwined with instances of utter joy, catalysts for deeper, more profound emotions, the spark of bliss, or the sublime, almost unbearable pain of heartbreak. Through all of this, I began to know myself. I found my soul, my true soul as if it was waiting for me. My life became an adventure; thrilling to realize the capacity to connect with people on a deeper level, to know another's soul. To stop apologizing and trying to fit in, because the soul is where truth lives. Any charades crumble and fall away.

Diane's notes brought me back to that. Reminded me of the wonderful power of classical music, an art that is absolutely necessary for the nurturing of our humanity. We need more of it right now. We need to reacquaint with our essence, our soul, and live vibrant, connected lives, full of passion and grace instead of fear. 

Otherwise, why bother?

Classical music is essential.

Absolutely.

Thank you Diane! Thank you.

 Bravo!

Give Yourself a Break

Let your edges fall away in this warm summer wind.

Sigh into the sublime secret that is you, and

Hear the world whisper its love.

Let your shoulders drop as your loneliness blooms into the deepest connection of all things;

Earth to Pleaides and all between.

No need for the clarion call, you are

Open,

Authentic,

Feeling,

Sensing,

The very treasure this wind seeks.

Sometimes, you just need to be reminded of this.

Twist…WAIT FOR IT

There is a curious tree I found; a maple, rooted into the gently sloping lawn of the Uxbridge Quaker Meeting House. The tree must be at least 150 years old, judging from its circumference and height. Its leaves, and those of its neighbours, make an impressive canopy, volleying the hot sun's rays up top to maintain shaded cool underneath. Today, there is a light, sensual breeze from the west, rolling along the meeting house lawn, flinging perfume from the hay fields and the fence-line forest that it tripped through on its approach. I sit on the porch steps, thinking and trying to come to terms with myself, when I notice that the great trunk of the tree appears to be twisted. It is as if a great hand reached down and gave the tree a clockwise quarter turn giving its outer bark the unmistakably ropey look of a twisted towel or a whip of licorice.

I have never seen anything like this. I imagine the tree has weathered 150 years of storms, gust fronts, and all of the daily winds that have pushed against it, stressing it at the perfect angle to give it this unique texture. Remarkable tree. Its trunk is mighty and straight; twisted, but not bowed or bent. 

Remarkable.

I wonder, when the tree was a freshly planted sapling, did it know what was coming? Did it set its roots in deep in wise preparation before shooting upward? Was it sifting out subtle waves of indifference, complicity, and arrogance in the air before its very first fall, and therefore nonplussed with each added ring?

I wonder. I'm having a hard enough time grokking existence, especially if it means repeating the unnecessary loops of insanity mankind seems keen for. 

Blah, blah, blah…oh give me strength...

OKAY, I DON'T WANT TO WRITE ANY MORE OF THIS SHIT. SO EVERYONE GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER. THIS MEANS YOU. MAKE AN EFFORT. 

      I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS ANY MORE.

I'M GOING TO FINISH MY COFFEE.

 I'M GOING TO GO FOR A BIKE RIDE, 

AND WHEN I GET BACK, I EXPECT YOU ALL TO HAVE SORTED YOURSELVES OUT AND DECIDED TO STOP

 BEING

TOTAL 

DICKS.

DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO COME OVER THERE.

There. That feels better.