Almost 30 years ago I was sitting at a dinning room table in our house in Oklahoma - it was that hint of fall day, bone dry and a perfect temperature that met the skin with no sensation...not hot, not cold...it is hard to explain but there was no sensation other than becoming one with the air around you. This morning was another time like that so I gather you run into this every few decades. It only lasts for a bit and the sight of not a leaf stirring or a wisp of movement striking your face....well by history I have about one more of these days in my projected lifetime.
I was reading the Mozart letters this morning early on. Yes nerdy. It is all the extant correspondence and notes of Wolfie Mozart in order of writing. This was the prodigy of all times mind you...the kid who wrote a very good symphony when the rest of us were searching for a pacifier...who wrote music from his head not from a piano keyboard....he just wrote it out in final draft ready for printing. His personal life was a train wreck and all his writings show that - a lost soul of sorts - a most difficult person with the social grace of toad but struck with this unparalleled gift - infused perhaps more than any person in history.
I think of this not only because of reading in the book and now with a horn concerto playing on the Internet radio station but because his entire being was consumed by this one wonderful and unique gift and I wonder how that must have felt....music being his "skin" and his world, his orb, being this smooth and unbroken transition between his physical self and the gift.
Every few decades I get a few hours of a day with a surrounding atmosphere that is perfect for me and the feeling of being simply part of the air around me is magnificent. More so as I know in a couple hours it will be gone so it is all the more precious. On the other hand we have this composer who had music in his skin and surrounding him like fluid in the womb.