In-between

 

 

 

On Sunday afternoons, I leave the cathedral around12:30, have something simple to eat -- a sandwich, a bowl of soup - and then walk through the underground city or along the streets for two hours, before rehearsal for Evensong begins. The walking is exercise for my shoulders and legs, to shake off the stiffness from holding a music folder while standing in concentration, but also for my eyes and head: long views instead of arm's-length, bright light, the busyness and movement and indifference of the city forming both a respite from, and a heightened awareness of our practice: a detailed focus on six or seven centuries of liturgical music, performed to the best of our ability. The city swirls around me, rushed, fragmentary, neon, bought, sold -- and I am in it, part of it, and also there, in that other place, where out of the gathered silence emerges the first note, an enormity.