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10.9.08

"Let there be light"

I forget how my Point Loma Singers pencil broke. It probably broke in my pocket or backpack. Either way, it broke sometime last week, and I’ve been too lazy to find a pencil sharpener to sharpen it for our daily choir rehearsals. It’s important to have our pencils during rehearsals because Dr. Pedersen often asks us to mark changes on our music.

Four days a week, the Point Loma Singers rehearse in Crill Auditorium on the black, wooden stage beneath dreamy lights that fall almost like soft daylight, surrounded by the highlighted darkness of theater-style seats and aisles. Today, I entered the auditorium from the side door with my brother and Dr. Pedersen. Everything was dark.

“And God said... ‘Let there be light,’” Dr. Pedersen said as he walked to the light switch on the wall, flipping it on. He then described to us a piece by Joseph Haydn, “The Creation,” in which the choir depicts chaos and the first day of creation by quietly chanting—Dr. Pedersen whispered, imitating them—“And… God… said… let… there… be…” Dr. Pedersen backed away as he half-shouted this final word: “LIGHT!” With a smile, he explained that at this point the choir bursts from pianissimo to fortissimo. When Dr. Pedersen finished, the lights were shining on the stage and we gathered around the piano with other singers.

Usually, at 12:30 pm, we stand in a semi-circle around the piano and Dr. Pedersen plays attention-getting chords (I, IV, iv, I), followed by warm-ups: stretching, breathing, singing, sighing, consonant-spitting, and today, massaging. Then we practice our songs.

My lack of having a sharpened pencil stung me hard today. About halfway into the rehearsal, we broke into different sections. The basses, sopranos, and altos went to different rooms while we tenors stayed in Crill to practice with Dr. Pedersen.

During “The Lord is the Everlasting God,” Dr. Pedersen asked us to draw in eighth rests and replace quarter notes with eighth notes on our music so that all of us can breathe at a unified spot. Only two of the four tenors had pencils. After Ashton and Taylor drew in the rests, I asked to borrow a pencil while the rest of the guys stood (Dr. Pedersen sat by the piano) in silence. There are no crickets in Crill; only silence, with the occasional ruffle of a turning page. The silence was heavy as everyone waited for me to draw in the rests.

“This time could have been spent going over that last part,” Dr. Pedersen said. “It’s important for each of us to bring pencils to rehearsals.”

I apologized. Because I’m the tenor section leader, I felt guilty about not being prepared. That guilt spoiled the tone for the rest of the rehearsal for me. It tasted a little like chaos.

We finished our rehearsal, and said good bye. Dr. Pedersen encouraged us for developing our vocal blend. Jon and I met up and walked to the financial aid office to establish certain monetary interactions, and there was a can containing pens and pencils being given away for free. So I thankfully took a pencil and slipped it into my Point Loma Singers folder. Now I’m ready for tomorrow.

6.9.08

About 7:46 am

The sunlight lifted over every rooftop
and fell through every corridor,
seeped through every room through every hole in every door;
peeped through every crack, danced with every palm frond
and shot every falling drop of water from every rain pipe,
scattering, for a second, every color through the air,
piercing, gift wrapping every note from every bird,
every morning.

1.9.08

When I wake up

When I wake up,
I sigh and find myself in scattered pieces tumbling in the sun
descending in a sky in which round clouds are brightly spun.

In sleep, I felt the careful summer wind on my closed eyes
and through an open door.
In sleep, I sang a song I've never sung before.

And when it ended, when my tiredness was done,
I awoke, and found myself as one who has begun
shaking death from off my sheets until there is no more.