Sharp Rock, Smooth Falls . . . . On the road in North America.
The whispering sound of a small waterfall. . . .Composed
of many tinkling, complex, high-pitched overtones.
This otherworldly sound is echoed, perhaps, in the
images long wash of smooth, steady, flowing time.
This is not the time or rhythm of busy traffic; it is
more akin I think to the manifestation in the physical
world of some spiritual essence, say that of a human being,
or of a piece of Classical music like Vivaldi or Bach that
seems more discovered than deliberately designed.
Im also reminded that this manifestation of spirit is frequently
not all of a sudden, but rather the work of a lifetime, or perhaps
many lifetimes, as the Buddhists say.
And as any real performer knows, two signs of a music's
greatness of spirit are that we feel we have betrayed in some
sense the truth of a piece when we play with less than total
conviction, and that we, alas, can never achieve a perfect,
complete performance. There is always something
more, more to be perfected, more to be revealed.
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