Dots on a Page . . .

The composer said to the audience: "Until the music is played, it is just dots on a page". Modest and true. Yet, something mysterious and miraculous happens through creating and sharing music.

Pick your favorite kind of music, it doesn't matter whether classical or rock'n roll, the process begins and ends in the same way. In the first instance, an idea is heard in the mind of someone with pencil in hand moving on a blank page; from that moment on, silent sounds yet to be heard take shape. When the day comes, months or years later, the black markings come alive, even the silences, those rests written to breathe space in-between sound. In the end, our ears will hear what another once thought. Then, music becomes a live entity connecting the dots on the page to our lives and with others' lives. Every audience has experienced that ineffable connection with a stranger through music.

Like notes on a scale, I know not where words come from. Yet I sit at my writing desk looking out the large window framing summer like a photo and wonder what words will appear? Today, I started out to write one thing (music as the antidote to horrors of the world) and wound up here, instead. The writer/composer is also editor-at-will. I could simply hit the backspace and return to that original idea, but I don't want to. My head is full of music that I imbibed the past few evenings at the St. Augustine Music Festival. It lingers. The more I think I want to write about the power of music to heal, the more I want to share something of a moment that defies explanation. Music feels like a cool swim on a hot day; a walk through a garden full of red roses; a homesickness for some place; a longing for someone; a memory out of the blue; a bright yellow painting on a white wall; an old friend come to visit; a lost love; a newborn baby; a smile; a tear; a sigh.

Soulful and heartfelt gifts from the heart and soul of one human spirit to another heals individually and collectively. Granted much hard work is necessary from the process to the performance, yet it is that effort that underpins how meaningful and significant music is for a world ailing under its own weight.

A couple of summers ago while in Berlin, by chance I had a long conversation with an artist in her studio about music and time and Julian of Norwich. She invited me to make a video of our serendipitous meeting. This link is the final result of that process. You will find Suzanne Rikus is fluent in English, but you may want to turn on closed caption or follow along with the transcription.

https://youtu.be/ZAvETmk06f4?si=C73IY8WOSkutPWuZ

https://susannerikus.com/