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---------"The key to unlocking joy and grief in one's voice..."Excerpt from Patti Miller's WHATEVER THE GODS DO -a memoirThe Gift of Song
To carry the key to unlocking joy and grief in one's voice seems the greatest
gift to me. Most of all, grief. What an honour to be given the task of releasing
sorrow. When Picasso (in the play) said what he really wanted was to be a singer
of love songs, I knew he meant he wanted to be the one whose voice would pierce
through the facade of control to release anguish and joy and dread, whose voice
kept singing until it had even quickened the soul. No-one can say exactly what
happens when we hear a song that moves us in the centre of our being. Why does a
particular pitch, a particular pattern of notes, inspire or soothe us? The waves
of sound from the human voice-folds in one body vibrating in the cells of
another, pulling at the bonds on the soul - that tugging under the breast - that
must be what it is, the unlocking of fetters.
And perhaps a human voice cannot then carry anyone all the way up to heaven
- maybe only the nightingale can do that - but to be able to lift someone far
enough above the waves to be in sight of a fellow amateur sailor, that would be
something. I realise now that it was the desire to be a vessel that I heard in
Einstein's voice; the longing to be capable of carrying the spirit across the
dark seas between souls.
(Not quite a vessel - rather to be clear and empty like a transparent
funnel, or a silver flute; to have both ends open so that nothing will get
stuck, sides polished, straight and simple. To be a conduit, without impediment;
which also supposes there is something to flow through it.)
It's perverse to long for what is not possible, and pitiable. Like Salieri,
I want what has not and will not be given. Whenever I listen to a singer who
undoes my tight soul - ah, see, there it is, it's quite all right really, now
that it's untied, and perhaps even capable of flight - there is a pang, a shard,
of envy. The singer holds me in the palm of her hand and I love her - but still
I'm greedy. I can learn to sing more or less in tune - I will; with long
practice it must come - but I can never be the one to untie grief. That is the
gift of temperamental and unreasonable angels who drop it where they please
without regard for longing.(end quote)
Well Patti Miller may not be able to sing, but she can write!
I think as Artists, musicians (especially singers) and writers are lucky in that
we can reach people very directly. And it IS an honour, and I grudgingly have to
admit, a responsibility. And so I must sing again... even though I hit the mark
so very fleetingly
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