Music

I have Vivaldi playing as I type. His Concerto in B minor, opus 3, number 10. Divine.

I've thought about music lately. It seems to provide us a soundtrack for our lives, no? After my first was born, I did nothing but hold him while we listened to the local classical station. Laundry, some cooking, yes, but I was tired (dangerously anemic) and a hair flummoxed at 24, a new mama on autopilot, far away from family while my husband's daily commute (in our only vehicle) totalled upwards of four hours. What I knew to do was feed the baby both at my breast and with music, as I had been. So I did.

Since last summer, I've had several moments which have felt very much as though they're happening in extremely slow motion, with appropriate pathos audible in the background. I don't know what was up with the guys of the era, but the Baroque period answers the need for a melancholy wail; beautiful and poignant in it's palpable pain.

Or it could be just me. Listen to Albinoni's/Giazotto's Adagio in G minor or Handel's Largo from Xerxes or Bach's Air from Orchestral Suite no. 3. Get back to me, will you?

Have you seen The Mission? A good movie, not for children, it was shown at a vespers when I was in college. It haunts me. The plot and "message" are compelling, true, but the music, all original compositions by Ennio Morricone, help to tell the story in a never to be forgotten tone. I have at times, though not recently, felt that I'm falling as did the man on the cross, over the water fall, practically suspended in the spray, an emblem of needless tragedy and loss hung for inspection in front of an indifferent audience. Thank God it's not ultimately the case.

Quote for the day:

Be excellent to each other.
--Bill and Ted

Indeed.