On the power of music

Have you ever heard a piece of music that changed you, changed the way you feel about something, or someone? Have you ever heard a piece of music that had the power to draw emotion out of you that you never even knew you had in the first place?

Tonight, I was reminded once again why I am here. Why I do what I do. Why I love what I love.

Mark and I went to a faculty music recital tonight on campus -- one of our music professors was in it, but we weren't prepared for what we were about to hear. The program opened with a piece of music that is quite possibly one of the most moving, peaceful musical selections I have ever heard. It wasn't difficult or technical; it wasn't showy. It wasn't even written by a well-known composer. It was a duet for cello and piano called "Cancion en el Puerto" by Joaquin Heras.

We sat in about the 3rd row from the front, so close that literally the stage was at our fingertips. The cellist, his name is Andrew Snow, was someone I had never heard of or seen in my life, and yet, there was a sense of familiarity and comfort about him. It's a feeling I often get around fellow musicians. There's just that connection, you know? Anyway, not only was the music absolutely breathtaking, but the performance....experiencing the music live, and not only hearing it being created, but seeing it, was one of the most beautiful things I have ever been a part of. Andrew played that cello as if it was the last time he would ever hold it. He held the bow with the grace and delicacy of holding an infant, yet the sound that emerged from the instrument was full and rich, like smooth chocolate being poured , rippling and waving over itself. I could SEE the passion and love in the lines on his face, and through the dewy sheen of sweat that covered his skin. His eyes were closed, and he played effortlessly, like it was second nature -- like it was something he was born to do, and he couldn't stop if he tried.

The beauty of the music, and being part of that magical moment, where I am quite literally, one with the music, extracted these deep and intense emotions out of me -- emotions I haven't experience in a long time. It was like the the cello was reaching into my chest, through the cobwebs and dust, through all the messiness, and reaching straight to my core, until it reached my throbbing, pulsing, warm heart. In that moment, I felt this incredible sense of peace. I felt Mark's warm hand that was enclosed around mine. I felt the awe and inspiration of all the other people in the room. I felt Andrew Snow's passion and longing. I felt love, and happiness, and everything beyond that.

And not only that, but the woman who was playing the piano, accompanying him, was his wife. It was so incredible to see them interacting with each other, only through the music. It was almost like watching them make love on the stage, except it was through the notes and the music. They were seamless as a team, it was hard to tell where the piano left off and the cello began. They never gave any indication of their relationship on stage, (except as it was stated in the program), yet, it was so evident in how they played. It was so awesome to see a husband and wife performing music together, creating music together. It was intimate, yet it didn't feel like the audience was intruding on anything. They were sharing their gift with us, and doing it for the love of music, and their love for each other.

Here is a link to the piece: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vyh6eicQQR8
It won't be the same experience watching it on Youtube that it was for me to see it performed live tonight, but it's just to give you an idea, and to introduce a beautiful piece of music that truly inspired me. Tonight, I was blessed with the reminder of how powerful music can be -- not just to music majors, or experts, but to anyone. Anyone -- no matter how young or old, rich or poor, from any and all walks of life -- can discover a deep connection to a piece of music. When you experience that, hold on to it and savor it. It is one of the few experiences on earth where we can feel a hundred emotions and hear a thousand words, without a single thing ever being spoken.