My aunt said something interesting as we were talking the other day. She was talking about how her idea of paradise/heaven had always been a big, beautiful library full of interesting books, full of light and windows and opening onto a beautiful garden. There would be a grand piano in one corner, and there would be time---all the time she wanted---for reading those books, and when she got tired of that, walking among the flowers in the garden. "And then one day I realized," she said, "that now I have pretty much all of that. I'm living in my paradise already. I feel like I have heaven here."
It made me wonder, what is paradise for me? In some ways I think it's much like hers---books, time, sunlight (ah, perhaps this is the one she lacks? She is in Seattle, after all), flowers, music. Long, leisurely, interesting meals would definitely be on my list as well. We did discuss how we mortals can't help imposing our human ideas on heaven, and how the real thing will probably be much different. Still, it's an interesting thought exercise: what do I love now, what do I hope to enjoy one day---and am I on the path for it?
It's a lovely existence, being in my aunt's paradise. She has such a lovely, interesting, beautiful house. There are five pianos in three different rooms, so the house was constantly full of music. I performed at their big Bach Birthday concert on Saturday, which was delightful---I love having somewhere to perform. Every night when the littlest kids were in bed, we'd go off to practice. Kay would head up to her sewing room and we'd soon hear the Bach Chorale floating down over us, and then Harold or Abraham or my mom would start up in the living room, and I'd withdraw to the studio and lose myself in practicing like I haven't done since I was in college. In the pauses I'd hear music all around me, so companionable and comforting, and even later at night we'd come back together and perform for each other---"I know something's going wrong in the memory work, and I'd rather find out about it now than later," Kay would say. It's so rewarding to play for an appreciative and musical audience, I found myself wanting to play pieces I hadn't ever performed before, inspired and feeling like my playing was elevated by the adrenaline and the company. No one wanted it to end, so we kept talking each other into just one more song, one more story. It was magical.