Magic Moments
Heidi J Torres
hjt at tenet.edu
Tue Jun 24 23:24:57 PDT 1997
Greetings from Mari!
Interesting topic. This is one my friends and I have been discussing at
great length for several years now.
Probably the climax of all "magic moments" for me occurred at a Bjornsborg
event
(Fall Court, I think) a few years back when Thomas of Tenby directed and
performed "The Battle of Maldon" around a campfire.
As is usual in many of Thomas' performances, the performers were
stationed around and within the circle. The quality of the performance
was such that you were immediately caught up within it. I cannot tell
you the words every one spoke, but I still remember the firelight, the
ring of their voices, the stillness of the rapt listeners -- who in
hearing had become participants.
I honestly felt their voices vibrating within me. I wager that everyone
else at that fire did as well. Thomas and his players swept us all up
into their performance and their world, caught up our senses then pulled
them so taut they could play our emotions like strings.
At the end of the piece, the crescendo of battle peaks and crashes, there
is a moment of silence, then -- I still have this memory so clearly -- I
can see Ragnar, the victorious Viking chieftain, his great axe hung over
his shoulder, and hear his soft, gravelly voice saying "Row, men, row.
The monks of Ely (?) sing of their dead. Let us row and listen
awhile....." And at that moment, Robyn Solarius' angelic voice rose from
the woods, pure and sweet, singing an old chant. The players all pulled
back into the darkness, leaving Robyn alone by a torch, shining like a
candle flame and singing, until he too stepped back and trailed off, like
a candle going out.
The hair was standing up on the back of my neck and I don't think anyone
was breathing.
There were this long, incredible moment of silence -- none of us who had
heard and were a part of it wanted it to end -- as if everyone's breath
was indrawn, waiting; then, I don't remember how, the howling and
cheering and clapping started and I don't know how it ended. Everyone
around me -- Athena, Galen Nicolli, Rognvald -- had tears running down
their faces.
To me, the world is often divided into those of us who were there that
night, and those who weren't. I'm not sure those who weren't will ever
comprehend what it felt like, but I hope another chance comes along. And
I will always bless Thomas for my chance.
Mari ferch Rathtyen
More information about the Ansteorra
mailing list