Accordion singing

Modifié le : 2019/07/24

Where is my life going, on these rainy and sun­ny days ? Kind of like that chang­ing weath­er of 2013. In me, as much the calm of an old lake as the splash­es of a riv­er fed by a dis­tant peak.

If I were an Abo­rig­i­nal ances­tor, I would prob­a­bly see the path of change. But I am just an aging and urban­ized West­ern­er ; the screens of my many com­put­ers eat up both my sero­tonin and my abil­i­ty to dream.

Yet I dream and I still dream. I have such nau­sea wor­ry­ing about my finances, such heart­breaks to see the human plan­et tear­ing itself apart or get­ting lost in vir­tu­al real­i­ties. I suf­fer and feed on an insignif­i­cant ver­ti­go. Every­thing, I say, every­thing I feel is part of the light­ness and heaviness.

This is a uni­verse made all the way up, it is a real­i­ty that chal­lenges me, it is almost an exis­ten­tial vocation.

And so are my days. Thurs­days are singing days. Despite my silence in describ­ing its progress, this aspect of my life is flour­ish­ing, caus­ing beau­ti­ful light to appear on the horizon.

Two months ago, a friend of mine, an accoun­tant, sug­gest­ed that I post­pone this course until I could get back into finan­cial health. I looked at him with a smile and replied a lit­tle vio­lent­ly that I would­n’t do any­thing about it. I will eat tab­bouleh sev­en days a week, if nec­es­sary, but will not give up this lesson.

Because, year in and year out, my voice seems to be free. You see, I man­age to issue B — sharp ! — , I’m telling you. And some­times I scream, some­times I catch C. Yes, sir. Exsan­guinat­ed Bs or screamed Cs, but they are there in my throat. In doing so, this lib­er­at­ing abil­i­ty to emit sounds tan­gi­bly influ­ences my vision of the world, my under­stand­ing of exis­tence. It’s not a hard job, but you have to be patient, get to work, let your­self go.

This is, after all, dif­fi­cult to describe. As my teacher Vin­cent often says, there are no high notes, there are no low ones. There’s only one hor­i­zon­tal stair­case, one accor­dion will. Mag­ic hap­pens when you suc­ceed in keep­ing your objec­tive, when you real­ly lis­ten to the sound and don’t try to con­trol it, when you men­tal­ly place your voice in the back of your palate and ask it to stay there, to be there while not for­get­ting to feed it with a vol­un­tary, but not rigid, seat.

Is it worth the effort and the can­dle ? I would say that it is like a farmer’s job. We can do it in the indus­tri­al or organ­ic sec­tor. In these cas­es, it requires effort, per­se­ver­ance. The fruit is bet­ter when you put your hard work and sweat into it.

The most amaz­ing thing is the dis­cov­ery of this qui­et pow­er that resides with­in me. This expe­ri­ence is well worth some finan­cial sac­ri­fices. My body is so hap­py when it sings.

May you, each of you, find that type of call shin­ing in you, be it a song, a dance, words, a loved one, some con­struc­tion, a garden.

You know that, don’t you ? Your life is short, more or less elas­tic. Stretch it out. Just what it takes. Like an arch, like an inspi­ra­tion, it will project you far, very far into this ephemer­al hap­pi­ness that serves as your breath and food.