New Music: "The Dragonfly's First Dawn"
A dragonfly is a truly extraordinary creature. It remains in its larval stage underwater for as long as 5 years. When it's ready to metamorphose into an adult, it climbs up a reed or other plant out of the water, at night, and emerges from its cocoon. When the sun rises — its first dawn — it pumps up its wings and flies off in search of food. Dragonflies are completely benign to humans — they eat pests like flies and midges, and only sting people in the most desperate self-defense.
Sue Marro, a good friend of mine, passed away this morning — finally succumbing to breast cancer. She loved dragonflies and decorated her house with all sorts of likenesses of them. She was an extraordinary person. She started out as an R.N., but became completely disillusioned with the "medical-industrial complex". So she became a massage therapist — and a magnificent one at that. Her hands had the sensitivity of a concert violinist. She would be working on your back, and say "you've had stomach trouble this week". "Why yes — several days ago something really disagreed with me." Or, as she is working on your back "you sprained your ankle". "Why yes, last week I just landed on it wrong, but it's feeling OK now." "I can still tell."
My most dramatic experience of this was when a 25' ladder got away from me and I dislocated one of those little bones in my wrist. This is critically important — if I have permanent wrist problems I'm going to have trouble playing my instruments! Decision...Sue, or the hospital? No question — Sue! She put me on her massage table — the last light of the day still streaming in from the windows. She started working on my chest! "Why?" "Well, your entire arm is rigid from the pain. We have to relax all the muscles in your arm first." So she started on my chest, and slowly worked down my arm. The light faded into twilight, and Sue kept working, ever so slowly working down my arm. Finally, she said: "OK, we're ready. I need you to completely relax your wrist. I'm going to do a small movement with your hand, you'll hardly even notice it, but I have to be in complete control." And with that she moved my hand maybe a half-an-inch. Just the most trivial movement, except that — pop! — you could hear the little bone quietly pop back into place. It has been fine ever since.
Sigh. Apparently it was time for Sue, the Magnificent Dragonfly Lady, to metamorphose — to climb up her reed, shed her cocoon, and greet the Celestial Dawn for the first time. Thank you, my dear friend, and bless you! You will be so missed ...
The mp3 is here (Approx. 6:00)
The pdf of the score is here