Dearest Diary,
I continue to find little pleasantries in the day-to-day that delight me so. They are the sort that are quite unexpected, though I cannot at present recollect a one. Nevertheless, I hold great anticipation for the Happiness that is the week's end. I am exceedingly grateful for that special holiday called Saturday. I suppose that what sustains me presently is the commencement of the chamber ensembles. I have a most eager lot this year and I am fortunate to instruct them in their practice. Having said so, it behooves me to reminisce about my own years under careful music tutelage. They are the sort of years I remember quite fondly and in fact embrace as some of the best memories I can own to. Those spent in finishing school became the inspiration for my studies at the University; and those spent at the University have become a great part of the long journey I have taken since.
I have often struggled with the responsibility of insisting on music instruction as necessary to one's maturity and wisdom. And while I profoundly acknowledge it's value, I have taken heed that perhaps more important is the ability to pen a letter or read a story, than to fully comprehend the great works of Brahms or Mendelssohn. Nevertheless, the art is indeed paramount to one's understanding of the world. It seems music, science, mathematics, religion, and literature are near inseparable. When I am nearly convinced that music is the lesser of knowledge forms, I am persuaded otherwise by the mere participation in it. But I beg of you, do not think ill upon me for defying my profession. It is not my intention. Rather, I am rebourn to it. I find greater need for its use and I dare not doubt its value again.
Not even tomorrow...
No comments:
Post a Comment