A couple of weeks ago, a choral group that I’m in had our summer concert. It’s like a summer project – we rehears for a couple of months, have a hell week of rehearsals every night and then perform on Sunday night.
The experience always leaves me with a few earworms.
This year, there was one piece that really stuck with me – even now. It had a bit of a haunting, lilting melody accompanied by a light piano touch. But what really struck me were the lyrics, which were adapted from a poem by Jan Richardson.
Here’s a bit of it:
Perhaps it does not begin.
Perhaps it is always.
Perhaps it takes a lifetime to open our eyes to learn to see
the luminous line of the map in the dark…
the vigil flame in the house of the heart…
the love so searing we can’t keep from singing.
I love these lyrics, because they really summarize where I am in my life right now.
I went to a big birthday party for my grad school roommate last week, and there were several dear friends from that period in our lives. At first, we were all thinking “who are these old people” and then with the voices came the spark – the flame, actually – of recognition of the young faces that still inhabited those older faces. The laughter still sounded like 25. My heart still expanded being around such friends who have known for almost always. And the line “the love so searing we can’t keep from singing” kept dancing in my head.
Living life and aging feels like that. Perhaps it does not begin. Perhaps it is always. We are where the light begins.
Memories and dear friends feel like always to me.
In the meantime, remember these things: You are loved. We are all loved. Let’s all be kind. And in all things – progress, not perfection!
Love, and light in the pages,
We don’t have our performance posted yet, so If you’re interested in checking it out, here’s a pretty decent rendition of the whole thing.