The last words

A while ago, I wrote about a Solstice concert by Sound Circle, a small (16-20 voices), Boulder-area women’s a cappella ensemble. I’m not generally a choral music fan, but this group is special. Their small size makes for a more intimate experience, and their varied and always beautifully crafted performances keep me coming back—always grateful that I did. This weekend, I attended a Sound Circle performance that included one of my favorite choral pieces ever, Praises for the World, composed by Jennifer Berezan.  

I've heard Sound Circle perform this piece before, and I keep going back every opportunity I get. Each performance has been slightly different; each one has had the same effect on me: calm, enwrapped meditation. I love just sitting with my eyes closed and being absorbed in it. This weekend, as on other occasions, I found tears slipping from my closed eyelids as I listened … if listening is even the right word. I feel transported every time I hear Praises.

This time, being in this music had an added dimension for me. I’m thinking a lot these days about the meaning of life and living (which is not the same as thinking about death). I’m thinking about the need to be engaged with the world, even as I’m aware of and striving to find peace with the approaching reality of leaving it.

Praises touched both of these places in my soul. I sat, immersed in flowing, meditative rhythms that took me someplace else—and at the same time, invited me to be completely present, right here.

Lines in the opening vocal solo convey this better than I can:

If I die tomorrow, may the last words that I know

Be praises, praises for the world

I suppose that all of us, as we age, wrestle with how to do it well. This changes with time, of course. Personally, I’m very aware of the rapidly decreasing time ahead, although I realize that compared with lots of folks, I’m very early in this process. But still, that awareness of entering this final stage of life changes just about everything. And finding peace in the middle of that seems to me to be the developmental task of this period in life.

We’re told that this will mean “coming to terms” with aging, “accepting” our limitations, aging “gracefully,” “acknowledging” the inevitability of the end of life. Alternatively, we’re told to stay lively, be “young at heart,” enjoy these “golden years.” I’m not certain what those things mean, but I’m pretty sure there’s no set formula for how to do this process, or for how to do it well. And for now, for me, I am very drawn to the image of doing it to the strains of Praises. Completely appreciative of the world, completely engaged with it, even as I anticipate leaving. Praises for the world. May those be my last words, indeed.

I realize that Praises carries different meanings for different folks—folks of different ages, and even other folks in my generation. This is how it touched me. This time. Next time I hear it, I may come away with another layer of meaning.

In any case, it’s an extraordinary experience, and I’d hate for anyone to miss it. So I’ll risk the charge of shilling for Sound Circle to let you know that they’ll be performing this concert two more times this spring. The first half of the program includes several other wonderful pieces, and the second half is devoted to Praises. If you’re wondering whether to make the time, ask anyone who has heard this piece. They’ll tell you to go if you possibly can. I know that’s what I’ll do.

Sound Circle will also be doing another concert this summer (details TBA) that touches me in a similar way: Path of Beauty: Singing the Grand Canyon. I saw this concert two years ago (and “saw” is the operative word here: the music is accompanied by a wonderful slide show of scenes from the Grand Canyon. It’s enough to warm the heart of any desert rat). I’ll be going again this year. For this one, I can’t close my eyes, but I know it will be wonderfully meditative in its own way.