Over the last couple of months I began the logistical and
emotional journey of repatriating to the U.S. after seven years in Qatar. Since
this isn’t only a journey to a different place but a journey to a different way
of being, I haven’t really known what to expect. As of this last weekend, the
logistics are pretty much in place – had a garage sale, sold the car and piano,
and completed the preparation for shipping my belongings. I still have the
processes of cancelling my residence permit, clearing my ville, arranging bank
closure, and a couple of other things but the week is manageable.
The emotional journey has been a mix of everyday life
coupled with occasional moments where I suddenly react, “Oh, this is the last…”
Because I am so excited about being back with my family, the idea of not seeing
some of my friends and colleagues here has not been bad but I anticipate that,
as the time nears, I am likely to struggle.
An odd emotional moment occurred in bidding farewell to my
piano on this last Friday morning. I had to leave early to participate in a student
leadership development desert challenge so I left my ville key with the family who
bought the piano, allowing them to pick up the piano whenever they could. As I
was waiting to be picked up at 7:30 a.m., I played several Rachmaninoff pieces,
ending with the Rachmaninoff Prelude IV, Op. 23, No. 4. The Prelude IV was the first piece
I picked up when I began to get serious about practicing again so it has a
special meaning to me as the invitation to what has been a rediscovery of music
in my life.
The Prelude IV, Op. 23, No. 4 concludes with a last crescendo from pianissimo to mezzo forte,
a silent (and in my interpretation prolonged) pause, and a very simple a-major
7th chord resolving into d-major. My body reacts to this final
phrase by gradually releasing a deep and long breath as the last crescendo
rises. Then my body automatically draws in a quick a renewing breath in the pause and then releases a final exhale as the
final two chords resolve quietly in a never- ending and peaceful silence. The
notes and the entire experience of breathing with the music are a relief to my
body and my heart. I hope that the little piano that gave me so much pleasure understood what I was saying…
3 comments:
Loved your imagery of breathing with the music; great parallels to life. WELCOME HOME!
Susan
I still vividly remember becoming overwhelmed with emotion the last time I walked out of the Student Center. I was uncomfortable in the moment but I loved the fact that I felt such a strong connection to my experience to have such a reaction in the first place. Wishing you a heartfelt goodbye…all my best, Curt.
Reading your post brought my vividly back to the moment when I was leaving Wollongong, Australia. I had been there for just three years, but it had been long enough (and such a positive experience) to genuinely call it home. I knew I would miss friends terribly, but was also confident in our ability to stay together despite the distance. I was excited by what may come (as I didn't yet know at the time), but buoyed as well by the promise of being closer to family again. Such a powerful mix of emotions. It took me more than a year to sort through those emotions, I think, and probably longer still to mentally repatriate. I see that process in the most positive of lights though. The learning never stops.
Safe travels and fond farewells. My best wishes to you in this time of transition, Denny.
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