Carmina Burana

Last night, Arielle's high school chorus and orchestra performed Carmina Burana together with the Ithaca College chorus. They did a very impressive job and the soloists from Ithaca were extremely good.

Throughout the performance, I couldn't help but thinking what a wonderful experience it must have been to be on that stage. In high school, I participated in both concert band and chorus. I went to a small midwestern high school that couldn't support a full orchestra, but I was very dedicated to my participation in band and especially enjoyed when we performed "serious" music. I would have loved to have had the opportunity to be in an orchestra, playing the piece we heard last night. It had to be a real thrill. I'm delighted that Arielle had that opportunity.

I'm sad to think how that part of my life has slipped beyond my grasp. I can't tell you how many years have passed since I picked up a flute, yet the soloist last night moved me so that I ached to play like that. I know that if I were to dig it out of the closet, I wouldn't get that beautiful tone and fluid expression out of the instrument. I think I might still be able to squeak out a B flat concert scale. Yeah...that's probably still with me.

I was not raised to pursue visual art. It's ironic that my energies are so intensely directed that way now. I WAS raised with a lot of musical encouragement. I don't have a lot of innate talent...but I loved to practice so I wasn't half bad at the instruments I pursued. But in my adult life, I haven't had (or made time for) making music. At least not much.

After my dad died, I bought a piano. I went back to taking lessons and was getting into practicing again. It was all starting to come back to me. I prefer playing the piano because the music I can make is so much more full than playing the flute alone. Then, when Meg was killed, I just stopped cold. I'd sit down and play a bit and it all just felt wrong. I can't explain it...I felt nothing and too much all at the same time. The piano seemed to call to me, but I couldn't approach it...I just couldn't.

It still feels that way. I see the instrument sitting in my living room and I'm drawn to it but I can't bring myself to put my hands on the keys. I don't know if I'm more afraid of the emotion it will evoke or the fact I KNOW how rusty my skills will be and the frustration and disappointment that will come from that. It's a roadblock I can't seem to break through but after last night, I think I should try. I know it's all part of a bigger issue I'm having with clinging to pain and not allowing myself to feel joy.

But, I've decided that I'm going to call a tuner and get it in shape. It's a step...a tiny one but a step none the less. Then we'll see where it goes from there. I'm not destined to have the experience of playing as part of an orchestra, but after last night I realize that I need to try let musical expression back into my life.