Friday evening at CSE was indeed beautiful.  The sanctuary filled with happy people hugging and talking to each other.  Down front three tall stately vases held sweeping branches of trees blossoming.  Two were white like almond.  The largest in the center was a pink tulip tree, the shape swirling so that the blossoms not only reached up but turned as if stirred by some unseen wind.  Ah, as I took my seat, this was lovely.

When the program began with Yogicharya reading from her new book, The Moon Reminded Me, I settled into the places the poems took me, sometimes out to the coast along West Cliff and sometimes deep within my heart.

The musicians, Edwin Huizinga and William Coulter, performed Baroque classical music interleaved with Celtic dance tunes.  Both my favorite kind.  Edwin was a Rueben painting as he played standing, long fair hair swinging around his pink white glowing skin, and his sturdy frame swaying.  The violin singing and storytelling while his face mirrored the music.  While Yogicharya read, Edwin reposed seated in calm attentiveness.

William played the classical and Celtic tunes on a steel string guitar, masterfully.  He explained the story of the main piece they played, how they came to do a partita with a piano score on a fiddle and steel string guitar.   I loved the way the two leaned in and listened to each other and let their instruments converse.

The music took me to a marvelous place where there was nothing else but the music.  To be still and only have the song was exquisite.  Another selection lifted me to a realm in which everything was sun, wind, waves and I was coursing along, running – perhaps without a body – definitely not in time as I never ran out of breath.  I was in the soul place perhaps the composer wrote from, or an experience from the performers, or experiencing my own spirit exalting in freedom.

I will not be able to recount all the moods that the poems Yogicharya read from The Moon Reminded Me and the insights they offered.  I not only got cookies afterwards, but stood in line for the book signing.  And bought a copy of the music CD, Fire and Grace.

The next morning, with my tea in hand, I put Edwin and William’s CD in the player.  The Prelude from Cello Suite #1 began to play. I turned up the volume, to amplify the music squeezing from the Bose.  I was disoriented.  My experience from the live concert was a mismatch with this.  All that beauty was in a box, scaled down like a memory.


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