Archeology

"zen" by Gabriel Nardelli


"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good." - Vaclav Havel

"I have my values, and if you don't like them, well I've got some others." - Mark Twain

"Feeling and longing are the motive forces behind all human endeavor and human creations." - Albert Einstein

"By believing passionately in something that does not yet exist, we create it." - Nikos Kazantzaki

I am listening to Pandora Radio these days. This has been eye opening. They have such a wide selection of music. I have found mine. Eric Whiteacre and other choral masters. Contemporary Folk. Dar Williams and Bruce Cockburn. Arvo Part and other masters of modern music. Deva Premal and other chant and devotional music. It inspired me to purchase some other stuff. I was singing in Unistus, a choral group focussing on Estonian folk music and other forms too. We sang in Eesti. We went to festivals and performed. Everyone was strong musically and mainly better than me at sight reading. It was one of the better experiences of my life, a few years of stretching and learning. There was even a chance in some near future of a trip to Estonia. They may have gone by now. Allergies wrecked my stability as a performer. It broke my heart. I still hurt. There is nothing to be done.

One of the best parts, we had a relationship with Sonfonia Conertante, a pro orchestra in the area run as a pet project by the former maestro of the Portland Opera. They would do Bach's Christmas Oratorio and it needed a choir with the orchestra. I did that several Christmas seasons - an amazing experience to sing with the big dogs. Four pros as the soloists, all pros in the orchestra. What a blessing. I will be forever grateful both that I had the chance and that I measured up. Age has caught me though. That's it.

I can have the sound in my house though. I can surround myself with the shards of song. I can visualize what it would be like to not cough if I breathe too deep as I must for song. I can still play the keys. I can still write.

Archeology

I walk so barefoot
carefully among the sherds
on this ground, this back
yard. I know you were
here, leaving your trace, your tears
and I know how hard
it will be to piece
it all back together. I
don't have the right glue.

August 31, 2009 1:25 PM