The Life of Sound

If God had asked me what gift I wanted, I would have told him I wanted the gift of being able to sing. I don't think any gift gets the yearnings out like the gift of song.

So I listen to Eva Cassidy sing and I think I can't sing like her, but maybe I can live my life the way she sings her songs. She sings in a very leisurely, very much listening-to-her-own-heart-her-own-rhythm sort of way. She meanders through her songs, unaware of oughts or shoulds or how others chose to sing the same song. She gently massages her songs, carefully caressing them, maybe lingering here and maybe lingering there, appearing hesitant to leave such beauty. She slides over words, leisurely wraps herself in the silk of sound, all the while doing a slow dance with notes lined up waiting patiently for her to bring them to life and then winding down to a reluctant ending. A true love affair with the life of sound (or is it the sound of life.)