All a person has to do to kick the habit of looking through windows, is buy a front row ticket to reality that is spending several days a week at funerals. This is not a morbid or depressing thing. Believe it or not , it is quite the contrary. Sad? Most of the time, yes. Thought provoking? All the time, yes. Would you believe inspiring?
Now it may be hard to believe that someone who spent her young life living for art would be inspired in middle age by death, but it is not nearly that simple. Even after years in one of the best conservatories in the country followed by singing amazing music with fantastic colleagues, I have never felt that my voice was put to better use than it is now. Every time I enter the church and prepare to sing one of these jobs, I come closer to understanding the mystery and purpose of talent. The gift that we are to each other, the invaluable, intangible nature of a life well lived and it's impact on every creature, everywhere. I am humbled by the work because there is so much to learn as I bring the only beauty left on the worst day of a strangers life. Once again, I am looking through the window, but this time I see myself moving around inside. From my birds eye view, these are my notes from the loft: