It is one of those aching and yet wonderful sentiments “one can never go home again.” Change is constant, and absence does not leave anything in stasis, no matter how much you wish otherwise. Sitting in on a rehearsal of an ensemble that shaped my musical life and artistic perspective since youth til my eventual joining and subsequent departure this becomes startlingly clear. In the smiles and smirks of those who I met and left as i left to go in search of…myself… has been an interesting set of emotional experiences. There is joy, and grief, and hurt. And loss. Yet, there is such love. So much love.
Nostalgia envelops me as the pianists who helped develop my ears tease out the accompaniment of Wilberg’s arrangement of Homeward Bound. I have never performed this piece in this collective, but it is so apt for the mixed feelings I come home incubating on this holiday trip.
I even say “home” with a sort of cynical reverence.
It feels just slightly tilted. Warmth feels just a shade cooler, and smiles, even genuine as they are, hold the possibility of a cool reception. I say hold the possibility, since ultimately the truth is that perception is not the reality of the other person’s intent.
So we are smiling at memories as they give way to the added dimensions of the present. We laugh at remembered foibles, once so all encompassing, now flashes of youthful idiocy.
We meander our way through this to a sort of… nothing really. What was the point of this sojourn but to fill time with self and an attempt to corral thoughts? We move and are moved. We touch and are touched. We live and give permission for those among us to live.
As I move, I sing at turns with loss and hope:
"As i travel through this pilgrim land there is friend who walks with me. Leads me safely through the sinking sand….."
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