Friday, July 5, 2019

Transcending angels

Trancensding angels

Chapter 1.

Churches and walking along finding the Baroque before Bernini and not being able to view other churches including Bernini, I found Saint Cecilia, the patron Saint of music. Hearing the music. Quite small, the sculpture of her, lay there, towards the front of the church. Flying with angels, transcending. The church was airy, fairly spartanly furnished with church pews. Postcards were for sale, downstairs in the crypt. Walking and small images of the Virgin Mary, lined the way, old images, weather worn. How could the patron Saint of music be so small? Such a fragile tribute to the music heard by the Lord. Music is the same. Music sometimes is unnoticed and other times, stirs the emotions. Music is almost unconscious.

Myth and memory, sketchy details of facts, still allow for limited room for the imagination to wander. We enter a world of the barbarism of early Christian life of Saint Cecilia born in 2nd Century Rome. Sometimes God allows little understanding of where extreme martyrdom ends and the experience, transcends to become beautiful or God, where God steps in to take the heart past pain but in barbaric times this could simply be past fear. Saint Cecilia heard the music. Spiritual elevation is needed to transcend our hearts to the angel. Music takes the heart to God. The emotion is too intense but we should not need compensation. Delicate angels fall out of Saint Cecilia's heart to you and transcendence takes the spiritual back to the church.

Music is our angel.

We take angels to the sky, to the top of the church and transcend, become angel. Angels become the music, the instruments, the chorister choir and sing. Angels are the sky and the clouds and fly with the air waves, the sound waves and descend with us to the earth, walk with us. The sound of footsteps, your own while walking reminds us of universes of stars and pathways laid in front of us. Birds flying make a sound, overhead. Cats rustling through the grass sound like reeds blowing in the wind. The river flowing runs by Saint Cecilia. Musical angels sing in her honor, flying with composition after composition, singing and opera. Singing with the angels, composers write. We are here for the angels annotating their every need like the birds singing and the wind blowing, hear the music. Transcending blue skies take us to whispering history and reading the signs.

Nicole Page-Smith