Music Through My Eyes

We had a concert yesterday for the South Bend Youth Symphony Orchestra, and might I say we rocked it. I can remember last year (I know..it was not long ago but for the purpose of this entry we'll pretend) , when I was in theConcert Orchestra sitting out in the audience with my grandmother, my aunt, and my two sisters listening to the SO play their pieces after we the CO had crashed and burned through our pieces. Seeing the passion in their eyes and the intensity in their fingers. They're love of music was inevitable. I wanted it. Because it was the same passion that I saw when I would listen to brother sing at church and/or or the same intensity I would see when I would watch my aunt direct the choir. Of course their love for God added to that passion and intensity but whatever it was, I wanted it!

Being the Apostolic believer that I am, I'm restricted to certain things including music. Usually in my family at the time it was Gospel or...no that's basically it, GOSPEL. Classical music for me some how found its way into the equation. Besides gospel, it was music that I could really relate to. Music that I could connect with. I received my first classical music CD the christmas of 2004. It was the Nutcracker, which was, at the time, the only classical works of art I knew of. I can remember also receiveing a CD player that christmas. I would be in my room with the CD blasting in my ears, conducting the song in the mirror, picturing what was going on in the orchestra. The violins and violas, the cellos and basses. All the woodwinds and the brasses. For a brief moment, I was there. One moment I was playing moving my fingers as though they were on fire. The next I was conducting, closing my eyes and paying no attention to the score, letting my hands feel the music. The next I was a noble fan.Listening. Looking. Feeling. Then the song would end and I would bow.

There are times when I'm in the orchestra. We are resting and listening to someone solo. In those times, I wish it were me. But at the same time I'm glad it's not. Whoever is soloing, whether it be Brian on the violin, Larry on the viola, Mark on the cello, or Cassie on the bass; I listen to their story, their cry, and even though there are no lyrics, I understand every word. Being on stage with the rest of the symphony orchestra, my mind went back to all of those times I was listening to this huge symphonic number on my computer or in my CD player, imagining how they look, how that felt...and in a moment zapping back to reality and facing that fact that I was doing what I always wanted to do. Hearing the conversations between the violas and the cellos. Hearing the plea of the violins and the assurance of the flutes and the oboes. Hearing the suspense of the trumpets, the horns, and the basses. And at the end, hearing the applause of the noble fans who felt the same way I did.

A good friend of mine once said that he, every now and again, considered music to be a religion. Something that's not necessarily meant for everyone, but once it finds those few who will committ, it's a reward in itself. I wouldn't say that, but it's definitely a way of life.