(not necessarily in that order)
During both Village Choir and Ensemble rehearsals tonight there were moments that absolutely captured the meaning of this quote.
The wonderful thing is that the “first breath” happens with each song…and each time you restart a song that you’re working on.
So, we get to tune in again and again to that focus, intention, and emotion. We get to feel, over and over again, our unified energies as we create an ever-new expression of our beautiful music.
What joy.
Music notes are one thing. I never find them overwhelming.
Well, certainly not now, when I never play music of any real difficulty. But even when I was a professional flutist, I had to learn lots of music that was extremely complex and downright hard. But I never found it overwhelming.
These kind of notes are another story altogether.
This is a stock photo, of course. Trust me, my accumulation of notes isn’t nearly this neat and colorful and fun.
I know, I know — there are better ways to jot down reminders and random thoughts than on little slips of paper, but I’ve never yet been able to consistently adopt a better approach.
So, I write the things I need to remember on a slip of paper. Then I remember something else that goes on another (but the same color) slip of paper. And I maybe accomplish one item from the first slip and two items from the second, but I can’t throw away the slips of paper because there are items that haven’t been completed yet. Which means I’ve already got a couple of slips at the start of the next day…and on and on it goes.
Until after a week (or a month…or more), I’ve got separate little mounds of notes waiting to be sorted through, organized, and discarded. Meanwhile, my brain is busy trying to remember the really important items for which I can no longer find the darn slip of paper!
And that’s what makes it overwhelming. But tomorrow I’m going to sit down with a notepad and the current accumulation and JUST DO IT!
(Wish me luck.)
We had a particularly wonderful ensemble rehearsal last night. We were working on two songs that get sung a lot throughout the Ananda world — Life Is a Dream and Home Is a Green Hill.
There have been moments when I’ve heard someone say that they get “bored” singing these songs, but I can’t for the life of me understand how that could be. It’s not just that the songs are beautiful in and of themselves; it’s the profound meaning in the lyrics and the deep consciousness that they convey.
As we worked on details and dived into subtleties — with various singers offering insights and making suggestions — it seemed that each song gradually yielded up its secret treasures.
And then it happened — that exquisite moment musicians live for: when the music itself takes over and you feel like you’re slightly outside yourself, observing the music happen through you. At least, that’s how it felt to me. I can’t speak for the other singers.
When we reached the end of that particular run-through of the song, there was only silence and stillness. No one moved for a glorious, blissful, eternal moment in time.
And that — to me — is the absolutely best kind of rehearsal.
Below are the beautiful lyrics to Home Is a Green Hill, followed by a recording of Swami Kriyananda singing it.
Home is a green hill, home is a wind
Blowing betrayal, far, far away.
Home is the knowledge heaven is near,
Home’s the end of the fray.
Home is my heart’s land, home’s where I am;
Nothing can dim the light of my soul.
Home is forever, home is today,
Home’s a heart that is whole.
Often I dream that life is a play:
Laughter forever and skies never gray.
But when I’m silent, freed from all care,
I discover my home’s everywhere.
Home is a green hill, home is a wind
Blowing betrayal, far, far away.
Home is the knowledge heaven is near,
Home’s the end of the fray.
Today we had the great pleasure of spending time with members of the Ananda Virtual Community in their weekly “Say Yes to Life!” satsang.
We shared about what living in spiritual community has meant to us, and how important Ananda’s music is to living in community.
We also answered some great questions on a wide variety of topics.
What a joy to be able to have satsang in real time with people in California, on the East Coast, and in the UK!
It had been over twenty years since I saw Richard and Jim, so what a thrill it was to find that the love and joy we’ve always felt in one another’s company hadn’t diminished one iota over the years!
They live near Guerneville and this time Ramesha and I managed to schedule a visit while we’re here.
We go way back to my freelance flutist days in San Francisco — Jim played piccolo with the SF Opera and Richard was the driving force behind The Flute Exchange, a flute quintet with which we performed and recorded through much of the late 80’s and throughout the 90’s.
Gosh, we had a lot of fun and we made some glorious music.
Can’t remember the last time I sat up late handwriting music parts; it’s surely been decades and decades.
Fun to watch little details come back to me…and I’m grateful for it, too.
I’m very happy to report that our big meeting about new directions for the music at Ananda Village went really well.
But what a week it’s been! I’m totally ready to crash for the night.
Day before yesterday I wrote about recording “Secrets of Love” at Crystal Hermitage, which had me thinking about David Miller.
This afternoon I was reflecting that I hadn’t been in touch with him for a while and I wondered how he was doing.
And tonight I learned that he had passed away.
David was a big part of the music of Ananda for a long time, from way before I came on the scene. He worked closely with Swami Kriyananda on arranging the music. In fact, some of our most beautiful choir songs are his arrangements.
David was a gifted pianist, a quirky jokester, and a deep devotee. He will be missed.
Go with love, dear David. 💗
I totally resonate with this quote from Ray Charles.
In fact, I would take it even further: just as we can’t live without breathing, I believe we can’t truly live without music.
Swami Kriyananda left his body nine years ago today.
We were living in Los Angeles at the time and when we got the news, I didn’t handle it very well. My immediate response was to say “NO!” — repeatedly and with strong emphasis.
A few days later we were on our way to Assisi, for Swamiji’s funeral. It was the shortest trip to Europe we’d ever made; four days total, if I remember correctly.
It’s now almost a decade later and I still miss him every day. And yet I also feel him with me every day as well. It’s kind of a paradox.
I hope with all my heart to accomplish all that I can in service to him through his music, and I feel him helping me to do so.
Thank you, dear Swamiji. 💗
