Thursday, July 29, 2010

Music is the Language of God

As the rain poured down my face, my clothes soaked, my face turned upward, and my hands moved with the melody sounding in my head. The swish of the saw grass as the drops pushed the leaves against each other. The trees shaking with the wind. The thunder echoing through the sky. It all formed notes, formed sounds, formed melodies. Soon I was humming a complex piece, composing parts for cello, first and second violin, bass, piano...the notes swelled, their crescendos and decrescendos in time with the groaning of the trees.
Wandering around the back yard barefoot, wearing only a t-shirt and jeans, I, for the second or third time in my life, could hear the music coming from me. I didn't think about it. I didn't have to work at it. I just let it come forth. I closed my eyes and stared into the occasionally lit sky in intervals, my hands always moving, my feet always walking or tapping. I sad down on a rock between two saw grass plants. My hair clung to my face as I realized that while I wouldn't remember the entire piece, the main melody was stuck with me. I longed to play each instrument, to hear them come alive, to feel the swell of pride as the music of my soul was performed. And so it was, when I came into the house, that I grabbed my guitar. It had been sitting in the music room for a couple months, unused, as my fingers and arms have been and still are too tight and pained to play. But still, I sat, and strummed, enjoying the hum of the strings under my finger tips. I can still hear it playing in my head, coupled with the notes of Piazolla's Libertango and Escualo, Mozart's Turkish Rondo, Paganini's Caprice, and Beethoven's 9th. Alison Balsom's haunting trumpet playing Bach, Arban, and Debussy. Steve Erquiaga's guitar rendition of The Well-Tempered Clavier: Prelude in C Minor and his amazing, mind blowing adaption of Presto: Violin Sonata No.1 in G Minor.
Music is filling my very being, and I am slightly distraught at the inabality to play, my lack of training to be able to copy the master's in their works.
But drive to overcome my fibromyalgia grows with each second, just as my pain threatens to overcome me as I pluck out a simple melody on my classical guitar.
I still hope.
I still dream.
I still hear.
I just pray that one day I may have the ability to once more sweep my fingers over the keys of the piano for audiences and hear their intakes of breath. To play my guitar and see my teacher beam as I sight read a duet with him. To know that one day I could play Presto: Violin Sonata, and have the dexterity and muscle control to play the two to three different parts at once.
And so, my evening has gone.
I sit here still, listen to Beethoven's piano works, and Erquiaga's CD Cafe Paradiso, for that is all I can do right now.
But with more days like today, maybe, just maybe, I can recover.
Maybe I can play the music that infuses me with wonder and takes my breath away.
Just maybe.

"The vibrations on the air are the breath of God speaking to man's soul. Music is the language of God. We musicians are as close to God as man can be. We hear his voice, we read his lips, we give birth to the children of God, who sing his praise. That's what musicians are." Beethoven



Gioacchini said...

I love the way you write about music in this post......I'm your new follewer and I think its great...( or the American called awesome...) to express about your thought abbout it!!! Keep it up! ^_^ said...

Ciao from Italy

Rae Hitchings said...

Thank you! I'm glad you like it!! Is there a topic either of you would like me to cover?

Gioacchini said...

no problem!!!

Rae Hitchings said...

So what's your favorite post. This one?

Related Posts with Thumbnails

Popular Posts

Blog Archive

Grey Floral ©  Copyright by Musings of an Avid Thinker | Template by Blogger Templates | Blog Trick at Blog-HowToTricks