Music is surely a divine gift. The sounds of harmony, the variety of instruments, the styles and individuality of each composer, musician, origin and era are part of the richness and abundance of this gift. Nations have different indigenous sounds and styles; cultural stories and legends can be woven into and expressed by a nation’s music. We can learn a great deal about the heart and history of a people by listening to its music through the ages.
My brother attended a conservatory of music for three of his four years of college, so I have an appreciation of classical music and musicians; though I am still fairly ignorant about it, I enjoy music, and love to attend live performances. I spent many hours of my youth keeping Jim company as he practiced scales on the piano, or played classical guitar pieces over and over again as part of his study, so it is fun to re-visit that world.
Last night, Gregg and I had the privilege of attending the Seattle Symphony’s concert, conducted by a friend of our friend Linda. Linda travels all over the world singing operas, so she knows musicians and conductors everywhere. She let us know that her friend was here in Seattle, and helped to arrange tickets for us (if you follow the link above, you can listen to excerpts of each piece by clicking on the small speaker icon next to its name).
We were given fabulous seats – the closest we’ve ever been to the stage – and could see and enjoy the music visually, as well as listening to it. We could see the expressions on the faces of the musicians, see the eye contact between them and study the various instruments. I had no idea, for example, that cellos could look so individual – there were at times six or eight cellists on stage, and not one of those beautiful instruments looked alike. The form of the instrument was similar – they resemble a woman’s body – but the color and finish of the wood was unique. Red, blonde, brown – so many shades and grains of wood – made me wonder about the history of each instrument. How did that musician end up with that cello? Was the tone of the sound just right for his ear? How old was it the instrument? Who made it, and where?
There was a cello solo in the Tchaikovsky piece which was pure joy to hear. The cellist was filled with passion for his music – his face reflected such intense pleasure that at times, it was hard to look away to watch his fingering and bow – and his technical expertise was stunning. Being so close to the stage enabled us to really appreciate the effort he was making and the joy he was taking in it.
The conductor was simply riveting. I have watched a number of conductors, and usually don’t pay a lot of attention to them, but because this was a friend of a friend, I was studying this one. Mr. Sondergard is very handsome, and he is a delight to watch, because he is filled with the music he is conducting. He uses his entire body to signal what he wants from the orchestra, and beyond that, as I watched his face and gestures, I felt that I could see respect, anticipation, excitement, teamwork, and embodiment of the pieces we were hearing. He seemed to feel the music in his veins, to throb with it, and the joy he radiated was contagious.
The orchestra performed three pieces, and received a standing ovation for two of them. Both times, Mr. Sondergard shared the limelight, pointing out and asking for sections of the orchestra to rise and receive its acclaim. I have never seen that kind of selflessness, to that extent, on stage. It created a feeling of community within the auditorium.
As an added treat, Gregg and I went to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants in the city, Cafe Campagne. As we were eating, I told Gregg that times like this are a miracle to me: the fact that we have delicious food to eat, time to enjoy it and each other’s company, and the privilege of listening to beautiful music – it is pure gift.
I told him that it seems to me, after six years of intense emotional and physical suffering, that the absence of pain now is nearly the equivalent of pleasure.
We took our time, savored each part of the meal, watched people come and go through the Pike Place Market neighborhood, and saw the afterglow of sunset behind the famous market sign as we strolled to Benaroya Hall. The hall has two of these magnificent sculptures by Dale Chihuly in the lobby – a feast for the eyes:
I find music to be an inspiration and a joy, an art form which can speak for us, to us and about us – in nearly every place and time throughout history. Music – a timeless gift of expression of the human and divine spirit – is part of abundant living.