Saturday, December 5, 2009
And then the whisper that I was. I am always making music. At this particular instance I was composing my solo voice piece for "Friday Morning Work Song." Presto and agitito were the tempo markings, the notes staccato, improvised in a dire key. All of which is wonderful if this is the music I wish to be 'singing.'
What is music? Notes organized in time is one view. A quality organized in sound. That gives me pause. What is this quality I was hinting at in my "vocal piece" and is this the music that would best serve life in this moment? Now I was moving my "musical piece" from an improvisation to a composition. Not that one is inherently superior, just moving from a piece "composed' in the moment to one where the structure, timbre, and notes were being considered and reflected upon. The theme being reworked. Tempo slowing to largo, timbre shifting to tasto, melodies evolving sensitively. The intention to Sing Beautifully, to Sing Joyfully being formed. Acknowledging the seed of fear, but not nourishing it. Choosing instead to water the seeds of peace, joy, and wonder in me; in life. Grateful for the practice that sustains my song. Breathing in I step back into the stream of life, breathing out I smile. Composing life one breath at a time, when I remember.