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Tales of a Later-In-Life Blogger

2/21 - Stay Present, Do Not Future Trip With Grief

Stay Present, Do Not Future Trip With Grief

I attended a NextGen concert by Chicago Master Singers (CMS) last night featuring the compositions of Jake Runestad. In the pre-concert conversation he brushed on the idea that if everyone was in a choir today the world would be a different place. I flashed on the quote, the opposite of chaos is not order it is harmony.

Before I was a lover of words, I was a lover of music. Jake’s explanation of the role text has in shaping his music, stirred me. It was important for me to enter his thought process since the texts for his American Triptych are ones I have studied, and to keep learning is essential.

Listening to The Peace of Wild Things, I was struck by how Jake’s music slowly surrounded me like a parent who gave me permission to feel different things. There was this rising and falling like wind or waves and then a collection of my own memories clustered with a harmonic threading of my own existence. When the CMS singers got to what some of us call the volta (the climax) in poetry, I found myself shifting from the more familiar line, I come into the peace of wild things to the more salient point in our crazy world right now which is the second half, who do not tax their lives with forethought/of grief. It's true isn’t it that non-human things are not bound by guilt and shame and sadness and anxiety because they merely live in the present. Perhaps nature is then a metaphor for healing in this complex world.

Not only did this music soothe my soul, it reminded me that I am only free in the grace of the world writ large. It is why when I am in personal turmoil I take my camera and go to the woods like so many brilliant artists before me. Somehow, intuitively, I have always known that nature is my god. When I linger among the trees and ponds I am always inspired. Come to the Woods, the third piece in the tryptic, confirms what I know which is that there will be rest, but only for a time.

It seems to me that this is what we need right now. We must rest, repair, and re-engage. The end goal is the same: create. I think of all the times I have gone into the peace with wild things and then left briefly rested, but still unable to get unstuck, to get back into the swing of my own life’s work. This is when the concert by the NextGen of singers touched me most. Not only was I pleased that they are learning the value of unity and interdependence, when the women sang Your Soul Is Song they offered an antidote to despair.

When the seams burst,

and the traps ensnare,

and your body breaks,

and the light flees - 

Sing then!

It could be that I am overly worried about the young right now. Getting older and being a teacher come with a responsibility. It's harder and harder to see how I can have an influence when I am bursting with rage, trapped by disinformation, and feeling like my body and spirit will break. Is the world experiencing the dark night of the soul that I have many times? I think so. What did I do? I found a place. A poem I wrote explains:

There is a place I go

A place I go to remember you

As wide as you are deep;

Roots and branches,

Embedded and outstretched.

It is the place I first went

To sing as you danced.

As the words by Germain Aguilar suggest in Your Soul is Song. Sing then!/For then, your soul is song.  And whether you sing, or not, perhaps you might think of this call to action as purpose, essence, your attitude as you approach your work.  Our souls can not be legislated away. Our hearts cannot be governed. Our insides can be cultivated even if we are kept from blooming for a while.

I thank John Hughes and CMS for this inspiring reminder that we can go into the dark, dense woods and find ourselves. We can rest, repair, and re-emerge ready to sing our songs.

Consider making a donation to NextGen:

www.chicagomastersingers.org/nextgen.html#/

Andy Flaherty