[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KHytuO8xVkw[/youtube] I hear the sound of an orchestra tuning, and decades-old memories of sending out the concert C come rushing back. Creating a sonorous slice through the audience's chatter with my oboe, followed by the hush. The anticipation. Theirs. Mine. Ours. A symphony unto itself.
Long skirts and crisp white blouses at Alice Tully Hall. Matching blazers and Russian Christmas Music at Woolsey Hall. Sharing pizzas in New Haven. Soaking my reeds in one of my father's old film canisters. Humming melodies. Dreaming of the Boston Pops.
This jumble of noise, the vibration of everybody matching their pitch to me, filled me with equal parts fear and confidence. Leading the pack and blending in all at once.
Even though my orchestra years are long behind me, it's a role I find myself still playing to this day, in work and in life. I set the foundation and then retreat, only to occasionally and precisely--deliberately--be heard.
Swells and dips. Crescendo and pianissimo. Quality not quantity. Always.
_________________________________________________________________________ © 2012 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because resonance is multisensory.
