This morning, as I traded written words with God, my thoughts turned to acclaimed cellist, Yo Yo Ma. Below is an excerpt.
I forgot about Yo Yo Ma. I was going to write about Yo Yo Ma. Apparently, I’m not enough of a musical nerd to have heard his stuff before, but we watched one of his live performances on New Years Eve. Holy crap. That’s about all you can say when you see a guy like Yo Yo Ma doing his thing – holy crap.
It’s not his talent that has me so dumbstruck – though his talent is staggering. It’s his PASSION. No, passion isn’t quite the word. He’s obviously a passionate man, but that’s not quite as unusual as the abandonment to holy pleasure so evident on his face. His expression when he plays the cello – it’s crazy, but I swear it’s like a man making love to his long time wife. A perfect mix of giving and receiving and creating and discovering – all evident on the face of a strikingly normal looking guy. You could see Yo Yo walking down the street, and well…you probably wouldn’t see him, because he’s a forgettable looking fellow – if there’s no cello in his hand, that is. But you put him in his divinely appointed element – BAM! You’ll never forget him.
You know why his performances are so captivating? I think I’ve nearly put a finger on it. It’s not his talent, and it’s not his passion, and it’s not the obvious pleasure on his countenance. It’s you. It’s like the man is engaged in a divine sort of dance – a forever dance – and you are his dance partner. It’s like Yo Yo coming home from a long term mission, and as he returns to the place he loves, there you are – music playing, ready to dance. He’s found his way home, into the arms of his celestial dancer.
I’d love a bit of that in my life, thank you.