A [not so] Random Excursion...

Today was an awesomely spontaneous day. at home somewhat bored.out.of.my.wits, I got up to answer "the call."

No, it wasn't the call of nature...per se...

Was an invitation to visit a friend's mother on her birthday, to brighten her holidays with company. It seems the trip was what all involved had needed, as a grand time was had by all, picking coconuts, cooking food prepared over an open fire (I LOVE spicy food, and mama Donna did NOT disappoint), splashing around, swimming and exploring the river in the backyard (the district of Deeside, St Catherine, Jamaica).

at the moment I had seen the embrace of mother and son, a pang of jealousy that I've come to be aware of but never able to banish or ignore flared up...and I remember I would never have that moment, that I was a bit of an intruder upon this family, a rare moment the voyeur on the other side of the glass could get up close... and I did my trademark, a smile a joke and a casual sidestep and was about to walk away when....she hugged me as well. bafflingly, she hugged us all, and in the brief embrace I felt a warmth I feel solely from the protective hug of the nurturing women in my life, as well as something more...undefinable but wonderful...*shrug* love of a mother? Guess that's due for more over-analysis as is my wont

 moving on, *awkward chuckle*I discovered I had not completely lost my ability to swim unceasingly in unknown waters, and in the process found the challenge of swimming against current was exhilarating, planting the seed of longing for my once constant trips to the pool. twas a great day all in all, and interestingly I discovered that a lot of my love for water is steeped in a fear and awe of its power. humbled as I waded through the cool stream, feeling the moss and silt and stones caress my soles, I felt an eerie peace...
I missed my other close friends terribly, and I had wanted to share the day with them, but It was not to've been...Maybe/hopefully next time...

The aftermath...

so...My solo turned ALMOST into a hot mess...a Hot.ghetto.Mess. but I survived...the accompanist kept driving me up a wall, at points redoing bars with mistakes WHILE I'M SINGING...so I had was to just finish the piece with a quickness...I braved out the rest of the first half valiantly, then went backstage during intermission...where I proceeded to cry that I ruined my friend's piece...yup cry...like a bitch... and though I should've foreseen it, I didn't think i'd've been caught by other members of the choir...but there I was, crying when hands came from behind and hugged my shoulders...and I tried to buck up and they still came down -__-...
 But they were cool, despite not even possibly understanding my state of depression at failing. It was a lovely thing, in retrospect at least, because I surely didn't allow myself comfort last night, I just totally retreated into myself, went through second half on determined autopilot, then except for two times when I sang 'Bb' as 'A', and 'D' as 'Bb',  I pulled off my second solo fairly well, was alternating verses with another tenor for Gustav Holst's "Lullay my Liking'.
All in all, I was ecstatic to sing the Hallelujah chorus and put a close to the night's show.
I was complimented on my solos, though I must confess these I disregarded, I think because either they were trying to be nice or trying to cheer me up (ones who caught me). I proceeded then to drink and eat with the choir, after a hard concert's end... and sleep was had and oblivion joyously received

yay, Christmas vulnerability!... -__- sigh

In the midnight hours while waiting to go to on the late night ride to the other side of the island for my uncle's wedding, I lay up thinking about my looming performance at a friend's Christmas concert, and the solos I had to do, as well as taking the mantle as one of two in the line that can sing by score. I thought on the rehearsal the night before, when I ruined the run through of Quiet Sings the Dawn, A Christmas piece he had written and one of my solos. It was my first time looking at the piece, and it is an easy enough piece, and written to span literally the octave of middle C (261.625Cps) to the C the octave below (130.8013Cps). I ruined the rehearsal of it. I was so nervous I sang it an octave higher for the first two bars then, having realised my err (and the shock on his face while he conducted the piece) I sang so quietly that by verse 3 to end the song I was in effect il Muto. Gripped in a fit of self doubt which almost became hyperventilating (cant believe i'm this nervous) , and a moment of Idiocy and madness I decided to try and see if I was able to do it, and I fetched my aunt's phone to record it, determined that, sink or swim i'd do the first verse at least, and...yup...post it...I know, what a colossal idiot... but, here goes...leave tips and comments please, anything suggested to help would be welcome

so...about that magical moment...

you know that moment where...you're dancing or viewing a dance piece and it becomes so intense, everything is a flowing beautiful mass of shifting lines and changing formations...and then there's this one move, this one transition where time stands still and for that millisecond that seems to last infinitesimally(sounds sooo made up doesn't it?) longer?well, when that happens, you see the most beautiful sight to me in the art of the dance.

That. that moment is what I like to call the instance of suspension...that second before BOOM! the lightning quick, very technical and often beautifully frenetic part of the routine comes in and you're left with your jaw simply at the floor, or (if you're the dancer) energy spills forth and you connect with your true self and the audience in a fragile yet powerful link of the art as transcendence from earthly to divine, orgasmic, ecstatic...or... *shrugs off excited face* you know, to that place where the beauty of the movements to follow and the passion of the dancer/ rapt attention of the audience causes you this strange overflow of excitement and wonder to burst forth from your very core, manifesting itself either in thunderous applause, or a stellar and uniquely "perfect" performance depending on which side of the Proscenium line you are taking part from.

it is that very moment, that second, the transition, that I totally LIVE for. It is "easy" for a dancer to move through a well rehearsed piece, present technical mastery in a change of back or perfect leg/foot/hand/neck articulation...but to go through this moment, to move through it and go beyond the mere transition from line to line to the communication of beautiful messages (and yes, even serious or evil themes have their place in the realm of beauty) THIS I believe IS TRUE ART...

just my take...am I alone in my fascination?

In the stillness....

Some Words from "the Man" John Rutter on his feelings on noise

‎"...I absolutely can’t abide noise. Musicians don’t... One of the most precious gifts in this world is silence and there’s very little of it to be had..." -John Rutter