(My boob is fine. In case you are interested…)
My big Golden Retriever, Rufus McDufus the Third, hums when he is trying to get his point across or when he is getting a particularly nice belly rub. Sometimes, he just stares at you while you are eating and hums.
We think he must have a lot of room in is doggy sinus cavity. Perhaps this is the sort of noise the dinosaurs made. (Don’t worry, I am going somewhere with this).
I use to be a really good hummer myself. I could sing, hum, chirp and fa la la with the best of them. But in the last few years I seem to have lost my mojo in that department. I can’t get enough breath control to really sing the way I once did. I also keep having more grief from my off-operated on sinuses.
Is this an excuse? I don’t know.
I miss choir and I miss singing like crazy. It feels like a whole half of me is shut down. I figure I am using my creative parts in other ways.
I write this blog.
I try to work on my novel.
I am trying to teach and raise my son… who, believe me, requires creative techniques.
But, Oh! The music! I weep when I hear it. I literally cannot listen.
I am trying to hold the faith that in the next few years my time will free up and my body will cooperate and will again find a place to sing.
It may not be like before; I will never be the chirping bird I was.
I guess that will just have to be ok.
I know what I want to sing. I want to learn all the music that goes down in Temple. I want to learn everything that they sing there for High Holy days. I want to learn all the Hebrew responses.
I have a whole world of new liturgy and tunes to learn.
That makes my heart leap with joy. (I am weird.)
But all the liturgical music of my Christian past is still with me. I know so much of it:
The chants: how I love them.
The hymns: I love them too.
The canticles and rounds and the early music, Palestrina and Bach and Mozart and Verdi’s Requiem.
Everyone’s Requiem.
I don’t want to lose those.
I think I am overwhelmed just thinking of all the music that is already in me and all of the music left to come.
Maybe Blah Humdog is not the right title for this little ditty. Perhaps it is better to say: (See, I don’t know what to write here… )
Maybe I should just call this, “Hummmmm”
Or, “Blaaaaaah”
Make it a vocal exercise. I could use one of those.
In the meantime, I think it is time to learn how to download music to my I-phone so I can listen in the car. I have not done that yet. Either there is a teenager who wants me to hear their music, or the news, or I bliss out in the utter silence of being alone for a few minutes.
Maybe I will start humming new tunes….
Maybe that will chase the Blahs away………
Or maybe I will just chant “Blah, Humdog” over and over until my stress and my over active imagination give way to a blessed unity with the One who makes the music.
For that is what I seek, after all, blessed unity and calm with the Blah, Humdog that is sitting, looking at me with soulful eyes, at the very center of my being.