Tune Up To Bliss
Megalong Valley, NSW
I climb out of bed and drag myself to the Cathedral and stand before the organ.
I begin to play the scale as I look at the ceiling: God, sitting amongst his angels, extends his hand towards Adam’s outstretched arm and fingers. God’s fingertips nearly touch his, but not quite.
Oh, how much Adam yearns to be touched by God.
How much I yearn for the Light.
But I am stiff as a board and as I whine to the divine sounds of the organ, I sound like a cat as it is being skinned alive.
I listen to the metronome, trying to keep the beat and hear the beat and blend my voice with it:
Sa,Re,Ga,Ma,Pa,Da,Ni,Sa, – and down – Sa,Ni,Da,Pa,Ma,Ga,Re,Sa.
I try to chant softly to hear the beat to keep it, but I keep losing it.
I tap with my right foot and look at the light coming through a small opening of the thick curtain where it wasn’t pulled close enough to block out all the light.
I keep my eyes glued to the narrow five inch vertical line of light for visual anchoring.
I do the scale in base, baritone, tenor, soprano and alto soprano.
It is easy in base. There is already a richness to my voice there which almost sounds good.
But as I ascend towards alto soprano my voice gets progressively weaker and more distorted.
I feel and I am Quasimodo in Paris’ Notre Dame.
I sneaked into the Cathedral at six am, so that no one could see how ugly I am and how awful I sound.
But standing at the organ and in my mind’s eyes seeing the Sistine Chapel’s Adam and God communing in the Firmament I feel reassured.
I am a beast trying to articulate high pitched sounds to reach up to Heaven, but the stiff muscles in my throat, my stiff jaw, my cold vocal cord prevent me.
Yet it feels great to screech, to distort my face, squeeze the pain out of my rigid eyeballs, open my stiff jaw wide, trying to break free of the prison of my heavy, hardened, down pulling body. I try to leave it behind and fly up to the firmament to cozy up to the angels surrounding God.
I sing the love tune of ‘Mon Coeur s’ouvre a ta voix’ from Samson and Delilah’.
I feel my vocal cord stretched as I reach the crescendo of the melody.
But the cord begins to soften and allows the exquisite melody through as if surrendering to and being reconditioned by the beauty of the melody.
I am being moved to tears. My whole being begins to soften. Slowly I am getting tuned up. Keeping my eyes on the light finding its way through the opening between the curtains; leaning on the beats of my metronome, my hearing sharpens, my voice softens.
Slowly I am lifting to heaven.
Now my Quasimodo reaches Adam on the firmament and God’s fingers touch mine.
Or, have I become one of the cherub angels being energised by God’s presence at my side?
Actually, now I feel like a human being, not like a chained beast.
I am filled with gratitude for the transformation.
I chant: ‘Mindegy, Mind Egy, (All The Same, All Is One) in Hungarian.
I am tuned.
Bio: Andris depicts his seemingly miraculous experience of transforming from a chain beast to a blessed angel. He invites you to join him in his tune up . He would also appreciate your comments.