I write to you from the early light and the infinite orchestra of crickets that have been with us from evening to morning on the porch of an old church turned recording studio, Dreamland. The working title of the project is, Refuah [Healing], and tonight the full moon of Elul will rise with the music. Ten musicians, but no singer -- without voice, without language, like the shofar -- we give over our yearnings for a less broken world, in the majestic art that speaks most deeply to my heart, music.
Language is an eternal bridge from the solitude of ineffable beauties and struggles, but it is always partial, inadequate. As the old poets said, “If all the seas were ink, if all the trees were pens – still, your beauty would go untold.” Music, all high arts at their best maybe, point toward the inexpressible.
What is within me that I cannot tell you any other way, but by this music? And what within you, the same and different?
We all yearn to be listened to. And we should become again blacksmiths of language, and seafarers of the heart, courageous when we give over our most vulnerable truths to another human being.
But we’re also yearning for the world to hear everything in our being that language can’t convey. The heart, the mind, they are infinite caverns, and from those depths, genius ,love, and self are born. Oh my friends, I want you to hear my darkness and my deep.
So sing your hearts out tonight! The full moon overhead, sing in whatever language you speak, sing your silence and your deep. Our songs tonight will be arrows pointed to the heavens, shooting stars for rain.
Rabbi Zach Fredman