“…silence fell and the performance began.

Every time, it’s a miracle. Here are all these people, full of heartache or hatred or desire, and we all have our troubles and the school year is filled with vulgarity and triviality and consequence, and there are all these teachers and kids of every shape and size, and there’s this life we’re struggling through full of shouting and tears and laughter and fights and break-ups and dashed hopes and unexpected luck – it all disappears, just like that, when the choir begins to sing. Everyday life vanishes into song, you are suddenly overcome with a feeling of brotherhood, of deep solidarity, even love, and it diffuses the ugliness of everyday life into a spirit of perfect communion. Even the singers’ faces are transformed…I see human beings, surrendering to music.

Every time, its the same thing, I feel like crying, but my throat goes all tight and I do the best I can to control myself but sometimes it gets close: I can hardly keep myself from sobbing. So when they sing a canon I look down at the ground because it’s just too much emotion at once: it’s too beautiful, and everyone singing together, this marvelous sharing. I’m no longer myself, I am just one part of a sublime whole, to which the others also belong, and I always wonder at such moments why this cannot be the rule of everyday life, instead of being an exceptional moment, during a choir.

When the music stops, everyone applauds, their faces all lit up, the choir radiant. It is so beautiful.

In the end, I wonder if the true movement of the world might not be a voice raised in song.”

The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery, Translated from French by Alison Anderson.

“…just one part of a sublime whole…” is what I experience during interpreting (at least when the interaction is going well, grin). One of the beautiful aspects of this passage is that, reading it in English feels exactly right, as if there could be no other, better way to express these sentiments. Yet the meanings were originally written in a completely different language!

That kind of blending, when so much difference is subsumed into a shared experience, is desirable to me. Not ALL the time (yikes!), but as “a rule for everyday life” – well, I think merging into communality is a skill that more people could use more often to greater effect. I’m thinking Mom experimented quite a bit to find the edges and boundaries of that kind of belonging. Meanwhile, my own practice shows I’ve got a long way to go.