There is a place where I can go, where I can stop thinking about the problems I have at work, and all of the various things I worry about in my house. I just sing. My mind fills with the music, the notes and the beat and the dynamics.
I sing music composed in another time and place, by Mozart and other names of the same caliber, singing from sheet music that is so old, the hands of the singers before me have worn away the part where one might typically hold onto the page.
The singers around me have never once criticized me, not when I missed notes, or had no idea how to count a passage(during rests of several measures, I used to listen to hear them breathe in, to know that they were about to sing), or when I've been late and yawned all through evening rehearsals because I was SO exhausted from getting up early and running from work to laundry to cooking dinner to racing out of the house. They are consistently kind and friendly, and I feel happier for having been with them.
I can not put into words how much it means to me to be able to climb those curving stairs and hide up in the choir loft.
This, for me, is sanctuary.
4 comments:
You do realize that I sat here at my desk and tried to sight read this sheet, and just at the point to where I was really getting into it and thinking "oh this is pretty"... it stoped. Mid song.
Teaser.
It's one of my favorites. We actually begin it in darkness, in the Tenebrae service we do.
I'd be willing to snail mail you a copy, or send scans... email me at carlyq80 at yahoo dot com
:) I love to read your Easter posts about the singing.. have a glorious weekend! Be sure to drink some hot tea and rest your throat
This description rocks! I can picture two feet quietly, confidently, and happily ascending the aforementioned stairs. And the peace that accompanies.
Great post.
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