Choral Passion

I enjoy singing in choir very much. I love making side jokes and faces with my neighbors in between singing, chuckling at their humor, and, on occasion, sharing the pain of hearing discordant voices who can't quite detect their error. It's an enjoyable change in routine, as I traditionally prefer the company of myself.

What I love most, however, has nothing to do with socializing. I love the challenge of improvement, tackling a song one phrase at a time; the rush I get when I nail a tough interval; singing a low A with a broad vowel in my mouth; feeling goosebumps ripple along my limbs as individual notes burgeon into beautifully blended music.

I love making sweet harmony with something that is bigger than myself.

In high school, my class schedule never allowed me to be a part of the award-winning concert choir, so I never got the chance to sing beautiful pieces of music with passionate peers -- something I'd always dreamed of -- and recieve great recognition for doing so. I was stuck with my small-time church choir, never really coming across a truly moving arrangement or composition.

Imagine my surprise when I came across the works of Eric Whitacre and his virtual choir:

Underneath my stilled heart and mesmerization, as I listen to the music I can't help but feel a sense of longing: longing to be a part of that choir, longing to have had that opportunity just months ago. There's also a knowing that I just missed the boat on this. It's a crappy feeling.

I sometimes wonder if I'm destined to forever be the alto extraodinaire that could have been. It's a small hole in my heart, this dream, and although it's an absence of substance, it weighs heavy within me.