Candlelight
Suppose you are an introverted person like me, having to live with thoughts that don’t know where to go and don’t wish where-to-go. In that case, how does it make you feel if I say that those anxieties coming from your thoughts are actually dialogues with God — you can speak nicely with Him? We dare to put a question mark there because He is not tempted by anger. He doesn’t sway with sarcasm. He is Acceptance. He is love. Ideally. All of the above.
Now we are talking. As He is listening, He puts down the cigarette in His hand. (He is an occasional smoker.) He looks expectedly, shocked, (He is love, He can be shocked.) facing the thunder-like of my screaming, shouting, yelling, and endless spitting, he slows down the tempo of His breath, exhaling a mistful understanding.
“It was about exhaling.” I think that’s what you wanted to say.
No, cause if it’s quiet, I don’t need to.
“You don’t need to breathe?”
No, like we don’t need to emphasize the exhaling moment.
“What do we emphasize then?”
We don’t need to emphasize nothing. Just breathe, normally. Inhale and exhale. Both are being done without paying any attention to either of them.
“Just forget about the breathing.”
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Yes, just forget about the breathing.
Quite loud. Those thoughts. Silencing them doesn’t always work.
I found myself circling through all the drips and drops of sentiments, as I have wrapped my responsibilities on a Friday night. How very fortunate there’s something to do this evening. Thinking will continue do its thing because of the unresolved. The God we mentioned earlier, He is still listening. But maybe while I’m still on earth, my body can do something different than the kid in my brain.
As I arrived at the Emanuel Presbyterian Church in Koreantown, standing in the line waiting to get in, I realized it’s full moon tonight. The average adult body is made of water 55–60%. If the ocean tides are moving extremely with the stronger gravitational pull, 55–60% of my body might be convinced to do the same thing. I looked at the birds flocking between the buildings, flying annoyingly close to people on the streets. I’m glad that I’m not one of them. I’m here for a night of string quartet music. And it’s not a regular night of string quartet, we are expecting to see beautiful and fake candlelights, and tonight’s theme is neo-soul and hip-hop favorites — performed by Orchid Quartet.
A string quartet is an ensemble consisted of four string instruments — two violins, a cello, and a viola. Viola is famously one instrument in the string department that has gotten the least amount of proper praise and endorsement. The person who plays violin is violinist. The person who plays viola is violist. I can almost forget about this term at any time. They say that people choose violin because it’s lighter, easier to play. Viola requires more effort to play, covering the treble clef and the alto clef, more tenacity for the bow arm to handle strings that are further apart. Violins are tuned from lowest to highest, G D A E. Violas are tuned from lowest to highest, C G D A. This is where I find the beauty and mystery of music, how different tunings set the bases of different stories. Completely two different cover pages.
It costs hundreds to change the strings for a viola, and possibly a thousand or so for a new bow. Musicians can easily spend a fortune on the regular reparing and cleaning for their instruments. If you are looking for reasons why musical lessons have to be so pricy. Words discussing materialistic value are practical tools. Idea of an investment invites you to understand layers and layers underneath the monetary — monetary as a human invention sprung from a need. Today, the need was then able to put into execution and creation because of the psychological, spiritual, and metaphyiscal rounds of testimonials. The sweat that the craftsman left on a 66 dollar bow compares itself to the ones that cost a thousand or more. If in this logic, we hear the quality, history, and emotional weight of a piece of music, all being done through the tangible and intangibly inexplanable.
I look at the smiles, confidence, and the upright posture from these female artists I’m listening to tonight — the pauses they take to wait for each other, the signaling in between their breaths, touching ever so lightly with the chords chording, all while their arm and brain decide the strength of the coming notes.
There are stories like Bridgeton on my mind. And there is just present peace, a nice union of me and Orchid Quartet with Candlelight concerts, making music and cultures accessible, and everything else quieter.
