Well, I did it. I guess a continued feeling of not being "engaged" provided the contrast I needed to propel me "home." for Christmas. I'm in England, and while it may only be for a short visit, it had to be. It's probably the only time I've come with no agenda but to be here and hear my music in its element, in any form. It's the first time since my dad died, the first time since I've been able to see a place of overlap between this music and my focus on the divine feminine, and the first time since I've "retired."
Perhaps this is why it has been a particularly magical week. Sinking into what is easy, local, and intuitive (rather than following an agenda) has led to beautiful synchronicity. Monday was a case in point. Following my gut led me to backtrack some steps and unexpectedly connect with some acquaintances. The proverbial right place at the right time. About an hour later, I turned on the TV and found a special about Canterbury Cathedral, where I sang services for a week in 2017. Lo and behold, I came in at the end of the program, where they chronicled the debut choral evensong service sung by the cathedral's new girls' choir. In one of the prayers, the celebrant blessed "these pioneers of English church music." Of course I burst into tears. They don't know from pioneers. They cannot imagine being a little girl in Schenectady in the 1960s, wearing out LP's of King's College, Cambridge, teaching herself Anglican chant. They can't know half a century of yearning, of a life in the desert. Yet ultimately my tears were of joy. That blessing was for me, too. It has all been worth it, just to see these girls in the choir stalls, where they belong.
In the evening, a television special on Tudor Christmas feasts included a segment filmed at Gloucester Cathedral with music by their choir, the choir I auditioned for four years ago. There was a marvellous efficiency in the entire day. It was almost as if, after a lifetime of struggle, the Universe was making all things easy. Sort of a, thanks for working so hard, Liz, now if you'll let us, we'll take over.
I realize that, above all, I am interested in everything over here. People have always said, Liz, you've had such an interesting life. That "interesting" life with all its harrowing twists and turns has really only been that way because I wanted to be "interested" in what interests me. Not what others might expect of my gender or generation or nationality or skill set, but the song that genuinely and easily unfurls from my heart. I don't know what will unfold after I push "publish" at the top of this page, but I do know one thing. If you are at the beginning of a discernment path or a retirement path, that is the question. "What interests you?" Not what interests your family or your spouse or your society or a guru or the corporate entities trying to sell you things. What interests you? That is the one thing that will never let you go, the one thing you came to this planet to explore. It's the one thing you will find your way to if you can trust and let go of control. Everything that doesn't match the energy of this interest may eventually fall away. The truth of your unique passion is all there is. I'm so honoured (my computer changed the spelling!) to live it one day at a time right now.
