August 21, 2012 at 2:56 PMI have just arrived at camp. I am sitting in a lodge, surrounded by thick and deep forest,so dark that at night you literally cannot see your feet on the path in front of you. There are tiny rustic (REALLY rustic) cabins strewn around this forest, like dice tossed from a giant's hand. Each cabin contains a musician, or several. And the most wonderful music drifts out of them... Brahms Sextets, Mendelssohn Octet, Mozart Quintets, as well as Quartets of every stripe, level and composer.
I have come this year exhausted, both physically and mentally. I feel almost fragile in my awareness of how drained I am. This place feels like therapy. It allows me to center myself again...I remember what the journey is really about.
I rest mornings, and then spend the afternoon and evening playing with the same 'once a year' friends who I meet with every August. For 15 years now. We nurture each other.
When you see certain friends only once a year, it causes you to step back and evaluate that year, as you attempt to fill them in. Wow... what a lot this year has wrought. No wonder I'm tired.
This respite feels heaven-given. It is both bare-bones elemental and exquisitely precious at the same time.
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