I’ve just been to choir again, it’s what I do on Wednesday evenings. It’s the one thing in the week that’s just for me, and just for fun. I also think of it as my community of a hundred aunties (well, more like 40 or so) as I’m often the only person there under 40, and I love being amongst the lovely, slightly older folk. We’re not a highly polished, professional choir, but we sound great, I think, and we all share a love of singing just for its own sake.
It never fails to amaze and inspire me how learning some simple songs and harmonies with a bunch of people can be so uplifting, moving and beautiful. I love watching these people, most of whom I hardly know but who have come to feel like yet another precious extended family, opening their mouths and their hearts so enthusiastically to sing these songs together in this weekly ritual we share.
I’ve noticed over the months that whatever state I’m in when I arrive, the singing and the sense of community invariably cheer me up. It’s amazing how the simple pleasure of sharing music with other people who love to sing can knock me out of my self-indulgent angst or preoccupations, and reconnect me with something timeless and essentially healing.
I’ve been singing in groups like this for so many years now and it’s such a precious part of my life. The concerts are fun and I’m happy if my friends or family come to them, but it’s the weekly sessions with just the choir and Roz our wonderful leader that are really what it’s all about for me.
With music in our lives and hearts and our voices raised together in song it’s impossible not to remember and celebrate the wonder of being alive.
“We are the young and old together…the gay and straight together…a gentle angry people…an anti-nuclear people…and we are singing, singing for our lives” (Holly Near)
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