Resonance

The light glistened off the shining metal. The beam of the spotlight directly hit the spotless metal, yet it was directed right back off. The flute was held by a perfect set of hands–a set of hands that were molded to fit the flawless shape. The set of hands belonged to a flutist who was nothing in her red dress compared to the golden instrument she held. Her fingers lay on top of the keys of the flute as her thumb gently caressed the bottom of the flute to support it. As she positioned herself in front of the microphone, the keys reflected light elsewhere. The flutist brought the flute to her mouth. One could almost imagine the cold and velvety feeling of the bottom lip resting upon the mouthpiece of the flute. She adjusted her embouchure to, once again, mold herself to the instrument. Already at the edge of their seats, the audience was ready for the performance. The stage was made for the flute, as was the concert hall with reverberating sounds and voices.

The murmurs soon died down as the audience braced themselves for the sound. Her intake of breath was so immense we could see the widening of her ribs. She then blew her first note. Little did we know, however, that the sound produced would be the most immense sound to vibrate through the unbound hall. It was a magnificent sound, one that could be mistaken for none other than the graceful flute. The hall echoed with her sound. It was as if we could see the polished and refined sound of the flute. Her fingers danced along the keys as her body moved with the dynamics. Oh, how wonderful a sight it was to see and a melody it was to hear. The air she blew across the hole in the mouthpiece was felt to the back of the hall. The flute was played rigorously and with passion. I felt as if a part of me left my soul left my body to join in the exquisite dance of the flute.

The flute’s sound reached to the depths of our souls with its full and round tone as well as the flawless techniques of the flutist. What a privilege it was of hers to hold the man-made masterpiece in her hands. What a privilege it is of ours to sing through our instruments and to hear people’s stories through their instruments. The hall was ringing and our hearts’ doors were swung widely open, letting in the music of the flute.

Her piece slowly came to an end, as the flutist accented her last note. The audience savored the last note until its last beat and she took a step back. She was beaming with the fact that she received a standing ovation and the audience was awestruck. But I was in awe of the flute; of how one large piece of metal can be so well-crafted that it produces a sound that resonates through people’s very cores; how one can play a mere piece of metal and provoke all types of emotions. This is the magic of the flute and glad tidings unto those who have experienced it.