At Capacity

At UU Santa Fe’s fundraising auction last winter, we bid on an at-home musical performance by the Santa Fe Songwriters. Our opening bid won. Yesterday evening, six individuals performed three songs each before an audience of our friends from Monday meditation and a handful of our neighbors. 

Because that is what my brain likes to do, it would be easy for me to recite all the little things that didn’t go quite as I wished. That is not what I hope to remember from the evening. (Below: the aftermath of stacked chairs in the dogtrot. I forgot to take photos of most of the evening).

We began outside with as many chairs and benches as could comfortably fit on our deck facing the “stage.” A collection of make-shift seats spilled into the “dogtrot” (aka the breezeway between our house and garage). In the opening set Dierk sang a humorous song about some mysterious thing in the refrigerator making an awful smell. (Will you be mad if I leave it for you to deal with when you get home, Dear?) (Below: our stage for the first few performers. Imagine a speaker, some microphones, a sound board, stools, guitars on stands, and a musician).

As the second performer, Bill, sang about gratitude in a soothing baritone, a slight splatter of droplets fell from the sky. Stepping down from the stage he noted the change in the weather, while Cathy settled in to start her set. Her first song was an appreciation for her aging father, a man she called a troubadour who performed locally for many years. As she played the precipitation intensified into a light rain. When she finished, everyone immediately jumped for cover in the dogtrot. After a quick consultation of the weather radar, we reassembled in the living room and Cathy continued. (Below: Cathy performing in an “at capacity” room. She’s singing about going down rabbit holes on the internet.)

As the evening progressed, I had a chance to chat with some of the musicians. Bill is a professor emeritus of geology at Rice University. He gave Robert his card so that we can get on the invite list for the next house concert he and his wife host. 

Our last performer, Ron, who is also a neurologist, sang an up-beat song about riding a bus around town to avoid going home to an empty house after a break-up. 

After the music ended, our guests remained for a while chatting. As each left they expressed gratitude for the event. One guest, a musician who recently moved to Santa Fe said he was inspired. I was too. The quality of the performances varied but skill isn’t an appropriate lens to apply in the context of this evening. Even when a performer missed a measure and had to try again, the room patiently enjoyed the offering. Maybe that’s a particular quality of attention you get from a group of meditators, appreciation for what is rather than what you might wish it to be. Or maybe it was the spirit of the performers that elicited this feeling from us.

At the end of it all, I was exhausted all the way through. This morning I discovered in the oven the corn cobs I had forgot to put out on the buffet. (Below: here they are right after I shucked them).

Thanks for reading.