Rushing

With an invisible guitar on my lap, I tried to move the fingers of my left hand as quickly as possible. It was only a minute before I felt my muscles start to cramp and fatigue.  Then I looked at down at the stage where Alex Lifeson of Rush, at age 59 had been moving his hands even faster...for almost 3 hours. Not only were his fingers moving ridiculously fast, but they were also landing exactly where they needed to be. And although he is capable of that, perhaps the most interesting part of his playing is that he can also use restraint and pauses. Musical negative space. Behind him was his band mate Neil Peart, nesting in metallic ring of percussion instruments. Neil didn't appear to be playing the instruments; rather he was a part of them. There was something in his eyes that made it look like he was in an alternate reality, experiencing the music in a private way disassociated from the thousands of people watching. Conversely, Geddy Lee was ever-present. Big smiles, peering out over tinted oval glasses, connecting with the crowd.  Moving all around the stage and hitting impossibly high notes.   

There is nothing like watching mastery—in anything really. I had a similar feeling a few weeks ago while at an air show. The Thunderbirds were performing. In machines whose very existence is a tremendous human accomplishment, the pilots push the limits even farther. In close formation, rushing at top speed, the six F-16s move as one. Their lives depend on it. Some people had earplugs in, but to me the sound of the jets added to the experience.  The noise and the vibrations reverberated through our bodies as the Thunderbirds made their passes, reinforcing the power that these pilots were harnessing. Creating beauty in this great feat of strength, endurance and timing.