Welcome to Mondays With Moira. An erstwhile tradition from 2022 that I’m resurrecting as a tool to explore creativity and to encourage ‘letting go’ of a piece rather than attempt perfection.
Each Monday (or more like….selected Mondays), I’ll upload a video- an acoustic version of one of my metal songs, a classical piece for piano and/or voice, a reading of a poem (mine or that of a well-loved poet), or a pseudo-improvisational exploration of something that’s in my usual repertoire.
This very short little composition by Hildegard is an antiphon from a larger series of works in honor of St. Ursula. I will let premier Hildegard scholar Nathaniel Campbell explain:
"Hildegard composed an elaborate series of eight antiphons for use in an expanded edition of the office of Lauds for the feast of St. Ursula and the 11,000 virgin-martyrs of Cologne. This is the largest single office that she composed and indicates the special value that she placed on developing the feast of St. Ursula into an important celebration affirming the life and mission of the religious women (virgins) of her monastery.“
It is believed to be used as an antiphon with Psalm 148, a psalm that particularly praises creation— the sun, the moon, the stars…even calls for the dragons (!) to praise God in some translations.
We’re going to sing about the sun and the moon and the stars? Say no more. I’ll be there ASAP. screeches to your door!!
Here is the Latin, collated by Beverly Lomer and Barbara Newman and translated by Campbell:
Aer enim volat
et cum omnibus creaturis officia sua exercet,
et firmamentum eum sustinet ac
aer in viribus istius pascitur.For the air is fleet
to function with all creatures,
while the firmament sustains it,
the air fed by its energy.
Hildegard’s poetry is so visceral and lacking any sense of self-importance. It somehow carries with it the weight of acknowledging the divine without feeling clunky or paternalistic. This particular piece is curious in its brevity and on its focus on air.
Just one element. One that I identify with quite a bit.
From the Diaphragm
I’m attracted to anything elemental in nature, as it’s always been a comforting way for me to organize my universe and understand my own body moving through it. As a singer and a thinker, I’m particularly drawn to air.
The very word ‘inspiration’ comes from the Latin inspiratus, or ‘to breathe into.’ Some of Hildegard’s visions included the four winds as anchors to the universe on display for her. In her antiphon Ave Maria, O auctrix vite, she includes the repeating phrase: ‘On him has breathed God’s Spirit,’ and ends the piece beautifully on that sentiment (shameless plug…check out my recording of it).
Life comes from breath, breath is life. We are nothing more than a breath sustained in space.
As a singer, everything begins with the breath. Having a deep connection with ones’ breath is paramount above all else. By utilizing our breath in the most efficient way, we more clearly reach through the particles to both express our Divineness and also commune with the Divine.
It Was a Dark and Stormy Afternoon
The wind was crying the Sunday afternoon I recorded this. Wailing against the leaded glass of my office windows. Howling through the hole in the wall of the neighboring office, which was once the Monsignor’s bedroom. I looked out and whipping trees hid the gravestones from view.
You would think that’s why I planned to sing this song, but sometimes I’m not that prepared.
I was planning Lent music between two masses, and the storm had settled in earnest. I wanted to light my office candles and get under a blanket and think about sad motets and just soak up the ambience. Or else bundle up in solid outdoor gear and wander through the forest in the mist and the rain. But duty called. 12+ services to plan, another to play shortly, to do lists to make.
It was a very long work day, arriving before dawn and not making it to my family until tea time. Factor in dinner and a whiskey, and then a broken vocal looping pedal that started smoking….I almost gave up on creating any music in favor of putting on Supernatural. But I’ve been making a concerted effort this year to not let myself become musically burned out at work and to accept even the small moments of creativity that don’t seem like much. I’m a results-driven person learning to love the journey. It’s a bumpy ride.
I’d printed the music out for this piece months ago with the mind to include it on this year’s Hildegard tour and possibly a new album, and it’d been shuffled into a larger-than-life pile by my keyboard. It happened to fall out when I picked up the pile.
Seemed like serendipity.
So, I pulled on my dressing room robe from Dollywood (named Cassandraaaah for those who care), pulled out the neglected music, ran through it 3 times completely fresh, and then hit record on my phone. No phantom power, no preamp, no EQ, no split takes, no rehashing mistakes. No academic dives into the piece. Just instinct. I tried to make the first round close to the score, include some improvisation, and then a variation on the theme.
I’d love to play with this some more and truly allow myself to fall into a trance state. I felt the beginning twinge, but felt self-conscious of the nature of cell-phone recording and promptly fell back to earth. But like I said. Baby steps.
I find it peculiar that Hildegard didn’t go much farther with this piece, considering some of the text painting she is known for. But it is short and lovely and I’m sure I would need to acquaint myself with the entire set of Ursula chants in order to feel I understood it. Something in it is calling out to me and I’m excited to see how it develops further.
For now, I’ll count my personal win and give thanks again for the wonderful mind of Hildegard.
xoxo
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