What’s singing, if not the desire to affect your listener on the deepest level? The longing to express a feeling so profoundly that the Other gets goosebumps, or cries, or smiles with melancholia? A voice so powerful it feels as though it could move mountains.
Perhaps that is why I love singing. Perhaps it is because I have felt, deeply, the music of Mercedes Sosa, and I would love to evoke in others even a fraction of what her voice evokes in me.
The Artist’s Way focused this week on regaining a sense of power in creating. Cameron spoke about synchronicity, about the fear that holds us back, and about how vital it is to allow oneself to believe. Believe in anything—but believe with all of one’s strength. She reminded me how being guided by fear never leads to a safe harbour, and how those ‘coincidences’ we find might mean something more. Our generation suffers from too much cynicism, I think. For years, I’ve been fighting my own cynicism, waging a war against that insidious smirk that says: Oh, you fool.
I have sung twice this week. Played piano every day. Learnt more music theory. And I wrote a song—the first song I’ve ever written in my life! It’s not finished yet, but I felt as though I was opening a door to an entirely new dimension, previously unknown to me. Understanding music better—truly understanding it for the first time—is having a blessed effect. A language I have always loved but never fully grasped is now finally letting me in on its secrets, and I am over the moon.
I’ve journaled every day, and I can say this much: I have noticed a small—yet incredibly important—change. Call it placebo, call it magic, call it whatever you like. I am delighted by this tiny shift, and it’s only making me more eager to continue the process Cameron outlines in her book.
Like any experiment, it’s exciting, and I feel like nothing more than a child at play.
The stages of life, Hilma af Klint
G. Maria Bencich-Grigore 