October 15, 2019
Chez TROOT
We are right here:
In that small space; that moment of anticipation where we all breathe together before we head out into whatever comes next.
Two years ago on this day, a group of Trootians gathered to begin breathing life into the music that would become “Constance and the Waiting. That October afternoon, I was sitting at a piano in the house we had rented for rehearsals, nervously practicing, when the first of our troop, Beth, arrived, marking for me, the start of what would be a year-and-two-thirds-long period of frenetic engagement with that music, and the somewhat quixotic thrashing about that was involved in attempting to bring it into being during a time of non-trivial personal change that would see me relocate with my family from France back to the States, and once again re-learn that feeling of being completely unmoored from my usual, habitual anchors.
That fantastic dance of engagement came to a natural pause this past June when Trootians again gathered and performed Constance in her entirety, before a wonderfully appreciative audience in Seattle, after which Constance spun off to catch her breath, and I began a summer of winding-up and trimming-off various loose ends, and intentionally setting things down and aiming for silence.
We are right here:
In that small space. A breath after a pause; with as many things as possible set down and an intention to pick up only that which is needed to proceed.
Primarily, right now, that is a pencil sharpened for composing. Very little in terms of plans and progress, very little of what’s next for TROOT, can happen without me dipping into the stream to filter out more music. So from silence, and with a hearty gulping of air, we dive back in at the beginning.