If I were a choir, but then again no...

She has perfect pitch, the conductor standing in front of the choir. No individual diversion will pass her by; no off pitch note will go un-noticed. Basses, tenors, altos and sopranos, the yins and yangs of choir dynamics, the highs and lows of sounds are all under her spell.

I find myself wishing I was like her, that I would be perfectly sensitive to each and every component of my being. Having the ability to immediately know what was off balance and where. And then to focus, to first find silence, then healing and then completion. Like she does when she silences the choir, practices the bad until good and then puts it back into its context.

And I think to myself that we should be grateful if our choir always sings the same song at all. Happy when all components move harmonically in the same direction. Off tune is not always our only problem, sometimes it’s off target as well. She does a great job at it, keeping everyone focused. Again, I wish I could hear what she hears.

There is always a dominant note, a top-note, like in perfume, that which sticks out. Sometimes it’s low and hard, others high and shrill. For some of us the top-note varies, for others it hardly ever changes. But the top-note always needs the others to be extenuated. A bass in itself will become monotonous; it requires altos, tenors and sopranos to finally become a song.

So can you always hear your own top-note? Or do you even know what song you are singing? When harmony is distant can you muster your energy, find your perfect pitch and recenter your forces? Can we be our own conductors? Or are we dependent on the reflection of ourselves from others in order to truly hear our-selves?

Is it possible to change our song and learn the rhythm, tact and melody without being accompanied by an instrument? She uses the piano, to clarify and to lead. It holds her hand as she lingers her way to satisfaction. Who holds yours?