EDITOR’S NOTE–Due to yet another age-induced flub-uppence, Cameron’s Third Saturday of the Month Welcome column didn’t run last week…so here it is now. I’d like to be able to say that I’ll try hard to make fewer such mistakes in the future, but so far simply making a greater effort hasn’t helped. RC)
“It would be difficult to exaggerate the degree to which we are influenced by those we influence.” – Eric Hoffer
On the night of the supermoon, a small group of friends gathered on our back deck for a tri-tip barbecue and to play some music to celebrate the moonrise. A soft breeze was riffling through the treetops, and the dogs drifted from person to person to take advantage of the many ear scratchings available. A few crickets called to each other from the vegetable beds, but otherwise it was just us. The music was a soft backdrop to easy conversations, and it was one of those nights that is so “right” and so effortless that you just know it will reside as a crystalline memory for a very long while.
Our young autistic friend Jerod was noodling around the yard in his usual way, not quite connecting with anyone, but solidly in his own world. He liked the waterfalls in the koi pond, but was uninterested in the huge, brightly patterned group of fish who followed his every move as he paced at the water’s edge. He would occasionally brush his hand over a dog’s back as he walked by, but the dogs had largely learned to leave him to himself. Jerod preferred it that way.
We played our tunes softly, matching the mood of the moonglow as it began to rise from behind the ridge top. The evening shadows fell away and revealed every detail of the landscape in sharp relief. Our songs moved easily around the circle as the earth continued its dip under the path of the moon.
As I started in on “Walls of Time”, I was a little surprised to notice Jerod standing quietly, attentively, at my side. He gently placed his hand on the guitar top and I strummed a slow chord so he could feel the vibration. With an audible intake of breath, he made direct eye contact with me for the first time ever. His face lit up in wonder as he felt the sound transferred to wood. He surprised me again by placing his hand on my chest to feel the vibration of my voice, and in obvious excitement he next patted his own chest. He did this several times and waited again until my voice vibrated under his hand. And at the moment of completeness, Jared nodded once, and then headed back to the waterfalls and to his usual routine. This had been a moment of sublime importance and I felt as though we had, at least for this exchange, existed for some moments outside of time.
Coming back to the present, I noticed that everyone else in the circle had been aware of this exchange. As it subsided, we looked at each other, smiled in acknowledgement, and let out a collective breath. The supermoon continued its journey, the food was devoured, the songs were sung, the dogs petted, and young Jerod continued his dance around the koi pond.
Jerod had given us this gift of the power that music holds just by being himself. And he reminded me of the power that music IS. I believe these kind of exchanges happen to us all the time, but we rarely have a Jerod to laser focus our attention. Our music affects other people, ourselves included, more than we’ll ever be privy to, and in ways we can never fully comprehend. The vibrations of sound from our instruments and voices are received, and in turn are transformed into something…more.
