Secret-smiler, wrapped in wonder Floating in her cloudy magic 'Tis the moon that mints her silver 🌄 🚉✨️🌑

 

Sneaky 'Silver Aria' practice this morning at...7:15 am waiting for my train.

I always try to be as mindful and discrete as possible, but I am sure not everyone appreciates mid-century American opera, least of all before 8am! 👀😜

I know The Ballad of Baby Doe isn't everyone's thing, even amongst those who like or perform opera. It's considered "too American," and overly sappy and sentimental (although, on the latter accounts, what do they make of Puccini then? just saying!). I know that learning material you will probably never get to perform and that no one ever does is, by and large, considered a waste of space in the mental rolodex (YES, I said rolodex) that is supposed to be allotted for "work."

But what if you carved out spaces in your little mental rolodex (YES, I said rolodex) that are allotted for joy? I love this music. I love singing this music. I love that it marries my two abilities--the coloratura and holding notes until cows come home, the balance between delicate care and show of power. Is it a "waste" of time or space if you love it?

'Silver Aria' and 'Willow Song' are arias I consider indulgences. Of course they are gorgeous pieces of music and great audition showcases, etc. They are two pieces I enjoy luxuriating in, getting lost in, sinking my teeth into artistically.

Last night and today are the new moon, a time for "manifestation," AKA, the grown up version of wishing. I made my wishes. I whispered to the moonless night sky the inner-most wishes of my heart. I set the intentions. I gave the very specific-specifics. I told the dusk what I wanted. I told the stars what I wanted. I let it go into the deepest, darkest and most hidden parts of my heart. Parts that scare me. Parts I would never say out loud, let alone blog about. (Plus, if you tell someone your wishes, they won't come true! Everyone knows that!)

Gold is the sun

But silver, silver lies hidden in the core of dreams