Grant us peace
Over the past couple of days, I've heard Lucia singing a couple of songs I didn't know, bits of catchy bright tunes, once while she was wearing headphones, once just to herself. I idly wondered what they were, but there's a lot of contemporary music I'm not familiar with, so I figured they were songs she got from her mother.
Last night I heard her singing part of the Mass, in the traditional Latin. What the...? Lucia has only been to Mass a handful of times in the last few years, and not regularly before that. How would she remember... Then things came together in my head and I realized what she was singing. This morning before she woke up, curiosity finally got the better of me, and I borrowed the CD out of her stereo and listened to parts of it, including the whole of the first track.
Everything they say about his voice is true. It's more than powerful. It's haunting. Unearthly. His music is the same. No one can hear it and be unmoved. He has a Gift, plain and simple.
I'm not sure what made me look into his journal this morning. I have a few times before but not often. The words I found there today moved me even more than his music in some ways, especially what amounts to somewhat of a summary: "I feel the same way about opera. People need to learn to feel music. It's not always about the words." ... That's exactly what I've always felt.
Over the past several weeks, I've developed a grudging respect and even admiration for this man. I can begrudge him those no longer. After listening to that first track a few more times, I realize what I was too stupid to see weeks ago. He's an artist who is so talented, so gifted, so driven, that he MUST do his art. I would guess that if he didn't make music, he would go mad. He has no choice but to do it.
I got a hell of a wake up call yesterday afternoon -- hell, I've been getting them all week, but this one scared me more than all the others -- and this just adds to it. Maybe God or the Universe or whatever is trying to save me from myself. You can bet I'm listening, and I'm hustling to do what's right before I lose some of the best things in my life. Today will be spent as I've tried to spend all of the holiday weekend: telling her and showing her in as many ways possible that she is and always will be the very very big bright center of my universe. I'll be doing that every day of my life. Nothing is more important.
Peace be with you.
Last night I heard her singing part of the Mass, in the traditional Latin. What the...? Lucia has only been to Mass a handful of times in the last few years, and not regularly before that. How would she remember... Then things came together in my head and I realized what she was singing. This morning before she woke up, curiosity finally got the better of me, and I borrowed the CD out of her stereo and listened to parts of it, including the whole of the first track.
Everything they say about his voice is true. It's more than powerful. It's haunting. Unearthly. His music is the same. No one can hear it and be unmoved. He has a Gift, plain and simple.
I'm not sure what made me look into his journal this morning. I have a few times before but not often. The words I found there today moved me even more than his music in some ways, especially what amounts to somewhat of a summary: "I feel the same way about opera. People need to learn to feel music. It's not always about the words." ... That's exactly what I've always felt.
Over the past several weeks, I've developed a grudging respect and even admiration for this man. I can begrudge him those no longer. After listening to that first track a few more times, I realize what I was too stupid to see weeks ago. He's an artist who is so talented, so gifted, so driven, that he MUST do his art. I would guess that if he didn't make music, he would go mad. He has no choice but to do it.
I got a hell of a wake up call yesterday afternoon -- hell, I've been getting them all week, but this one scared me more than all the others -- and this just adds to it. Maybe God or the Universe or whatever is trying to save me from myself. You can bet I'm listening, and I'm hustling to do what's right before I lose some of the best things in my life. Today will be spent as I've tried to spend all of the holiday weekend: telling her and showing her in as many ways possible that she is and always will be the very very big bright center of my universe. I'll be doing that every day of my life. Nothing is more important.
Peace be with you.