Minnesotans are watching the winter Olympics more than any
other state. A cynic might say we have
nothing else to do, but perhaps we like to see athletes at the top of those
sports so many of us amateurs enjoy. Skiing, skating, snow shoeing and sledding
help us inhabit our lives fully during this stretch of subzero weather.
What also sustains us through the winters is art, which is
why having both the Minneapolis and the St. Paul orchestras locked out last
year felt dark in many ways. This past
weekend Brian and I attended one of the first post-labor-dispute concerts of
the Minnesota Orchestra. Sitting in renovated Orchestra Hall, chatting with the
people next to us about the improvements, awaiting a concert after over a
year’s silence, I felt very much part of this community. When the musicians
walked on stage the audience was on its feet shouting cheers of welcome and
delight.
At some point in the lush music of Holst’s planets I felt my
heart fill to overflowing with the beauty of the composition, the skill of the
performers, the fluidity of the conductor, and the proximity of my husband, who
took me to the orchestra early in our courtship. And then I was aware of my mother, dead for 13
years, who was a classical music fan and had attended many performances of this
orchestra with my grandfather. I thanked
her for teaching me to be open to this experience in the first place.
Our night out renewed my appreciation for live performance,
whether of classically trained musicians,
high school Thespians, sixth grade basketball, or a children’s program at
church. While most of us don’t play at an Olympic or orchestral level, to be fully
human we must create. When I attend a
live performance, a ceremony, a celebration, or just go to work, I come away recharged
and changed, simply because I’ve participated rather than consumed. When we
come together to celebrate the best of human beings, we are warmed from within, whatever the season.
