Yesterday I went to hear our local Chorale’s Christmas Concert. They’re amazing and there was a wonderful soprano soloist. Bill Payne, the conductor, is such a great gift to this area and these singers are proof that every valley and plain have incredible music if only someone will provide the venue. People here have rallied to do that.

So, there in living color and voice, was my past. I don’t know how many times I’ll choose to visit it again, without really strong impetus — and I’m not sure what that would be. As fond as I am of some of the carols and a couple of the stories, I realize there are so many messages of sinfulness and separation from self that I can’t abide to listen to it. I no longer believe, whatever my path, that there is only one way.

So, I found it, both thrilling musically, a bit sorrowful, and a fair amount indifferent. Next year, I want to sing paeans to the dark, the sacred and the mysterious. I want to hear music lift and soar to the heavens and and sink to touch the unfathomable Deep. This year a man’s written a piece the choir is trying. It’s very challenging… but we’re struggling through it… singing about the moment when the world stops on the solstice.

I need to do more about making space for myself and my friends and for our community… I will always celebrate the birth of that particular small babe… but I cling to the wonder and think/hope/pray we might look to bringing about our own Peace on Earth and Joy to the World, not just for that babe… but for all babies, because they all matter…