I’ve been an organist most of my life. I loved the organ (and perhaps I still do, but that’s a matter with which to be discussed later). There was a time in which I could not imagine myself not being an organist. For decades I was at most peace with myself, most focused, yet free when I would be alone for hours in a dark church or auditorium practising or — especially — improvising at the console. Improvising at the organ was often the inspiration for my composing. Not that I would remember much, if any, of the ideas which passed through my hands and feet; rather, I would come away with insights and the confidence to put musical thoughts on paper (and yes, I still compose with a pencil and several handy erasers). It was nice. The only person’s expectations of whom I was concerned were my own.
But, that’s changed now. A number of factors have occurred since I last played the organ, particularly regarding at the church I had been practising up until a year ago when the Diocese instituted a shut down of its churches. Since then (November 2020, apparently there has been some opening up of the church; notwithstanding the my last communication with the rector (July 2021) who informed me that for insurance reasons I still couldn’t come and practise the organ, even though I’ve seen numerous groups and individuals (outside of the rector and the church administrator) come and go.
Now, I’ve been here before, under different circumstances mind you; I've gone through “dry” periods of not having an instrument upon which to practise in the past; and it’s very frustrating. Just as I feel I’m regaining my technique, even progressing, some circumstance (too many to numerate here) comes along and I’m sans organ one more time; and the quest to find a decent instrument is renewed. But, this time it’s different. In this case I’ve decided that I’m fed up being at the mercy of duplicitous clergy. Concerning this last situation, since I haven’t received any communication from this clergyman, notwithstanding the obvious change from our last communication (e-mail), as if I’m blind and can’t see the comings and goings at the church, I’ve decided not bother. It’s pretty clear that my presence, no matter how careful, unobtrusive and deferential I’ve been, is simply no longer desired. At least that is my conclusion. I’ve pondered, a lot, as to whether I should ask one more time now. The issue is not that I’m afraid of what he’ll tell me. No, my concern is what I might say.
So, what does this have to do with my attitude to the organ? Well, I simply don’t like playing it much anymore. I’ve had the rug pulled out from beneath me too many times. And at my age I just don’t feel like starting over for ninth or tenth time. It’s a shame; because, I’m currently the interim at a church where the congregation (at least for now) truly appreciate my playing. The organ is much smaller than the one I used to play, and it’s decent for its size; but, at this point I’m totally uninspired and have no desire to learn anything new, much less work on another recital programme.
So, there it is. Unfortunately having had the instrument I have loved to play and has been so much of my inspiration for all the other aspects of my love of music taken away — again, has taken its toll on them and my whole thinking as to who I am.
I guess I should just stick to gardening.
