On Singing Faure's "Requiem" on the Feast of All Souls

Previously I had never sang a requiem Mass in the context for which it was actually written. In a concert, yes, but not during the actual Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Last night, on the Feast of All Souls, I did.

The joy was only heightened by the fact that the Requiem Mass I was to be preforming, with my parish choir and the hired chamber orchestra, was Gabriel Faure's "Petit Requiem Messe".

I shall never forget the thrills of the dramatic Introit; the graceful Kyrie, the sublime Sanctus, and the hopeful In Paradisum.

Someday, I want to sing the Pie Jesu, and I have wanted to ever since I first heard it, some years ago.

Merci, Gabriel Faure. Requiescat in pace.

Schubert

I just finished singing Schubert's Mass no. 2 in G. Splendid! I did not sing alone of course. I am only a soprano. It was so wonderful to sing this Mass as Schubert actually intended it to be sung: As a Mass, not a concert antique!

Oh the raptures of the violins! Oh the cellos and basses! Oh the swift, steady trod of the organ. It was a storm, a fireworks display of color and light and wonder!

This Mass had such a gaiety that was not frivolous. Its mirth is stately. Sometimes you feel as though you are shouting so loudly that a baritone thunder crash and a sopranic pierce of lightening are going to open up the earth beneath you! Other times it is so boistrous you can barely sing without laughter. Other times it is so exquisitely melancholy that you could swear that an angel somewhere in heaven was weeping as Schubert wrote those tender notes.

Thank you, sweet God! You give us music to tell us that you love us, and then you teach us to sing that we love You!

Veils

It is a pity that long lace mantillas are not recognized by the current fashion world. They are very aesthetically appealing.

The stupidities incessant cable tv watching

It is unfathomable to me how many people waste so much time of the valuable, unique adventurous sojourns of their life upon this earth in watching a second or third rate re-dramatisation of life in the form of series dramas or tv shows or soap operas.

This is the only life I have on this earth, my business life is too haphazard and whimsical to want to escape through the artificially preserved tension of a crime-fighting or discovery drama or a what-if-fantasy. My love life is tempestuous and tantalizing enough without trailing after ficticious relationships with air-brushed, painted, died, and self-consciously sensuous men who have unrealisitic and sometimes mindless tensions with unrealistically salon-groomed, manicured, push-up bra clad, gun clutching actresses. My man, my family and friends are dramatic enough and I am a human whirlwind of drama. Do not misunderstand me. I love movies, when well acted out, well executed, well-written, and weighty in consequence. But the series dramas of today have nothing on my life, my real life, as it is.

For that matter, the cheap romance novels have got nothing on my life. Moreover, those darn video games that men seem so entranced with have got nothing on my life, with all of its humor, joy, sorrow, bitterness, sweetness, swiftness, steadiness, unpredictability, adventure and peace. Yes, peace, even in the midst of all this uncertainty. To those of you who spend hours on end doing these things, I can only express my sympathy, because your lives must be dull right now. Either that or you have been blinded to the adventure and beauty and wonder that is right in front of your eyes.

Beautiful views of the sea

The ocean has always been one of the most powerful images of the infinite mercy, power, beauty and majesty of God. Though used as a subject in art constantly through the ages, finding something in art that will capture the wonder of each glistening green and blue, each curlings wave, each foamy pleasure; is as unlikely as being able to scale a star, liquidate a mountain or unravel the mysteries in the human eye.

On the unromantic, prosaic habit of wearing casual clothing constantly

There will always be a time and place for a lady to dress casually.
What irks me is the fact that women in this country wear faded jeans and shapeless T-shirts so often, that the men in their life, and even they themselves, have forgotten that
we were all born to be princesses and princes.

Dressing in a manner that takes more time and effort, but is more visually pleasing, conveys to the viewers that they are worth taking time to please. Also, it indicates a sense of one's own dignity. And that digity, and the poetry and romance of the human person, is a truth that must never be forgotten.

Musings on Love

It is a splendid but mysterious truth that all men secretly want to rescue the love of their lives. All men are born wild things, and yet they cannot truly be happy unless in their very freedom, they bind themselves; that in their very wildness they temper themselves.

The usual impetus for the revelation of this strange truth, comes in the form of a woman. Though like the man, she way relish an adventure and victorious battle, they wage wars in more concentrated spheres, and prefer to battle in groups. They are not naturally solitary and unsettled. They are quite adept at finding a cosy spot to take root and bloom, and if they a plunged in inamicable situations, they naturally want to do this or that or add this or that to make the environment more inviting and appealing.

Every woman needs to make a home, but making one merely for herself is not enough. She has to make it for someone else. And it must not be a merely external home. The woman wants herself to be the home. She does not merely want to be a bearer of gifts, she is to be the gift herself. She does not merely decorate and adorn herself and all around her, she is the beauty, the gem in the cleft of the rock, the guiding light in the shadows. She wants to give her labors, her smiles, her tears, the work of her hands and the light of her eyes to her husband and her children. (For secretly all women want to bring forth new life and nourish and shelter little ones.)

She needs the man to do all of these things. Hence, in receiving her, he gives her her the gift she most desires.

Likewise, the man, once he has fought enough battles, vanquished his enemies, he must do something even more daunting. He must conquer himself. Only once this feat is achieved, can he be ready to sweetly imprison the heart of his beloved. Hence, while the woman captivates the wild and independent man, she sets him free; and while the man gives himself to the woman, he is reaping the joys of this joint victory.