Monday, June 20, 2011

For the Love of Music

This past weekend, I had the privilege and great good fortune to travel to Lancaster, PA for my friends' wedding. Matt and Sarah are now Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Martin. They were married on his family's beautiful farm in Millersville, a fact that encouraged the vast majority of the guests to remove our shoes very early into the service. My heels (which had mired me unhappily in several spots ranging from damp grass to mud to gravel) remained off and were replaced by my chacos only when necessary. Though the day was warm, the light was gold, the fields and the willow tree were green, and we celebrated.

But a moment I will remember from this weekend came as I raced my car to keep up with Jeremy's on the back roads the night before. We were going from Panera back to his house and I was far from any territory I knew even though I grew up not too far to the north in Hershey. He had loaned me a cd before we left and said, "You have to listen to this." I turned it up loudly. It was an album by Mumford and Sons. It was green music. I don't know how else to say it: it seemed right to be played as I drove as fast I could through fields in a sunset. Green.

And it made me want to write. I've experienced this a few times before but had forgotten the connection: certain music will trigger an immediate need to make something. When we stopped briefly at redlights or while waiting to reach a stop sign, I scribbled words in my journal. It wasn't that they were very good words or will last very long, but it was the memory that art from one person can beget art in another, even diverse forms.

"But my heart told my hand/ this time no."

Thank God for farm country, for sunsets, for open windows, for music.

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