Requiem Aeternam

Yesterday I and my choir performed John Rutter's Requiem piece. It's by far the most difficult thing we've ever done, and it went perfectly. I mean to say, after a few of the movements I had a hard time staying still for want to laugh out loud or burst into joyous tears. Not only was it a wonderful stretch for a Legato Soprano like me, it was a vibrant, nuanced piece of emotion set down in lyrical, expressive notation. I don't think I've ever felt so fulfilled after a concert before in my life. Nor have I felt so disappointed.

All the friends I asked to come save three missed it because I was stubborn and got the time wrong. I had a hard time getting into the mood of the piece at the beginning because I'd just found out that half of them would be arriving moments after the concert was over. Worse, they all blamed it on themselves. They wouldn't even make me feel bad about it. I'd expected them to be angry--annoyed, at the very least. But hey, I have wonderful friends. I suppose it was high time life gave me a reminder. I merely wish those fateful reminders did not take the form of my own personal blunders.

Our director told us that this morning someone came up to him, speechless at the performance. They tried to say something and then just began to cry. It's...awe inspiring to know that we did that. That's what ever artist strives for. I believe I learned more, about my ability and about myself as a person, while working on this piece than on any other one.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."