About the singing (yesterday’s post) …

The café at Minard was standing room only, maybe 70 people.  I sat there beforehand, enjoying other performers – poetry, singing and playing guitar, and an artist who “looped” harmonies before launching into his melody.  All lovely to behold.

But I was so nervous!  I had a post-it note in my pocket, which said:

Where the earth shows its bones

Of wind-broken stone

I just couldn’t corral these beginning words in my mind.  And there was an internal bouncing around, as I tried to locate the pitch of the first note.  If I started too low, I wouldn’t reach the really low note that came later.

So much for the peace of the Buddha!

Then it was my turn.  I walked onstage, brought the microphone to my mouth, and did something unusual for me: I didn’t tell a story about the song and its writer.  I just … started singing.  Somehow “wind-broken” emerged from my mouth.  And somehow my beginning pitch was perfect, allowing me to touch a note at the very bottom of my vocal range (assisted by lots of oxygen):

I’m caught out of time

My blood sings with wine

And I’m running naked in the sun

I sang softly … loudly … slowly … quickly.  The words brought a spirit of love to many in the audience.  We were longing for a union of souls that would continue for forty-five years.

And I just want to hold you closer
Than I’ve ever held anyone before
You say you’ve been twice a wife
And you’re through with life
Ah but Honey, what the hell’s it for?

After twenty-three years
You’d think I could find
A way to let you know somehow
That I want to see your smiling face
Forty-five years from now

I sat back down and smiled as well