Good Evening, All. Recently, I've been thinking on something I wrote several years ago for a Masterworks Chorale newsletter. This writing had been on my mind for a few weeks already before this week of horrific tragedy in Haiti, and now I find myself thinking on it again with such a heavy heart for Haitians. I wrote this short piece for publication in our December 2001 newsletter. It was written early that fall, just a few weeks after September 11, 2001. (Please note, I am copying my own text from a very poorly edited reprint by the Otto Guide Arts Calendar since I can't find an original. I will get a copy of the original in a few days from a fellow singer, but I'm impatient and want to post this now!)
For the last several weeks my mind has, of course, been focused on the terror and chaos and fear that have grown out of those few short moments in September. I can't seem to sort my own thoughts and opinions about what we ought to be doing now, let alone the facts and viewpoints of the larger world. I have trouble even guessing what I might be able to do to improve the state of things.
And now, I find myself sitting here, trying to put together some brilliant words about singing and how it has affected my life. I wonder When did I become a singer? I sang with my parents as a child, and then in choirs through school. Before I knew where I was headed, I found myself studying voice in college.
I went to a Lutheran school where I was quickly immersed in the Lutheran choral tradition. I am not Lutheran, and in fact, I'm not sure I consider myself to be religious. I do consider myself to be immensely spiritual, and the music I discovered with the Chapel Choir at Capital University was nothing if not spiritual. I learned in that choir what it feels like to create music of the spirit with a group of singers. We didn't all come from the same background, and we didn't believe the same things. We all, however, believed in singing.
I have learned to love the rituals of learning music in a choir; the repetition of rehearsal, the changing direction until we get it just right, the amount of time spent working for a single performance. I have also learned to love the performance. The joy of offering music to an audience and the interplay between performers and listeners are some of the reasons I sing with Masterworks. How could I possibly not?
As for the larger world, I can't leave work and go to New York to help. I can't donate even close to what I would consider to be an appropriate amount of money. I can't even really make a significant difference in the lives of my friends who are more directly affected by these events. I can, however, sing. I can gather with folks from several walks of life and create glorious sound where there didn't used to be any. I can focus on the text, dissect its meaning, and choose the interpretation that speaks to me. I can feel my soul stretching to go to places it is pulled by the voices that surround and blend with mine. I can help to present the sounds we create to the communities we love. I have to believe that this is an offering the world will embrace.