malcolm guite and mystical sake...

Malcolm Guite oh so very kindly stopped in today. Rather an epiphany...a generous shining. Ah, grace...

Today's post was to be entitled "mozart...mozart...and then, mozart! mozart! mozart!!!" But, this is for Malcolm. I'm wondering if the Spirit that breathes upon poetic waters was/is the root of a distinctive presence -- a mysterious renewal, really -- that I felt a week ago.

The semester's Grace symphonic chorus project is the Mozart Requiem. The accompanist asked if I would fill in for her at the first rehearsal this past Monday. Sure, I said...amid trepidations of orchestral reduction reality checks. Then, the conductor asked if I would sub for him, as he went off to N.Y. for an audition. Why, Sure...

Not Brahms, Berg, Chopin, or Rachmaninoff. Mozart. Wow. Perhaps it's the prayers that sustain this place that whispered to me, 'Prepare". So, I spent time with the score - mostly the opening movement...marking themes...relishing them...admiring them. Internalizing them. Then, on to 'motifs'...and more of the same, admiring, relishing... In the end, it all came out well. The alums of the group were strong -- they sang it three years ago. For the student cohort, it might have been the first requiem ever (there's much to offer, beckon, embrace there - but they'll discover that). Yes, it went well.

Throughout the process, the prevailing spirit in my soul was one of wonder...of 'other'. Of timelessness. Of 'beyond'. These, from beginning to end, were a part of a unique epiphany: a connection with...a palpable sharing of...creation at Mozart's hand and of God's inspiration. I found myself calculating the 'mere' generations of separation (single digits, perhaps) that connect a work's premiere and a resurrection experience in the 21st century.

Later that week, a Grace violinist left a Mozart Sonatas book in my box. It plays vaguely familiar. A previous accompanist's life? Again, the Spirit glides over the waters. I rest in it.

This past Sunday, the much-larger-city Philharmonic chamber group came to Wonderful W for a concert. Actually, a rescheduling of their usual December visit (snowed out). T.V. says, with both dismay and amusement, "They usual dumb down for us" (totally unnecessary for this cultured crowd!). But they can't do Christmas music now. Nope. It's Mozart! (Eine Kleine...), Mozart! (piano concerto). Mozart! (Jupiter Symphony). Wow.

I prefer concert variety. But, this is an epiphany season. And, in such, of such, is a manifestation, an obligatory covering of glory. I take it, with gratitude.

The circle of blessing continues. Read and relish, Malcolm Guite's poem, Mozart at Greenbelt.

It was not lost on us that, as this concert ended, another one on the west coast was being prepared for at St. J's: furniture moved, musicians arriving, conductor's baton guiding the group as they glide through their second and final rehearsal for an event that evening -- the first of this year's 7th annual series of three. Sounds of John Rutter...of world class clarinetist Patricia Shands on Finzi (Here, you may read about one of her other performances. I am listening to the Presto as I write. Wow!).

Many thanks to T&S M for the Moonstone Sake accompaniment to this moment.