Anat Brusilovsky
This morning I was walking down the street when I suddenly saw an organ.
The surprise took my breath away. And so did its beauty.
Then my surprise gave way to a pang of pity for this majestic instrument, standing so lonely in the middle of the sidewalk.
As I walked, I thought that being abandoned is the worst thing that can happen to a musical instrument.
After all, it was born to bring music into the world, yet instead it stands there in silence.
And then—as in a picture with two images—my focus suddenly shifted, and I saw an entirely different scene.
I saw an organ that was free. An instrument that, even in the middle of the street, has not lost its grandeur and is still itself.
I thought that being put out on the street was not the worst thing that could happen to a musical instrument.
It would be far worse to have a pile of things dumped on it, to be turned into a stool, or simply to be locked away in a dark, dusty storage closet.
As it is, it stands there, breathing through all its keys and enjoying its freedom.
And perhaps someone will find it. Take it home. Adjust its keys and levers—and help it create the most beautiful music of its life.
In this new year, just before its holiest day, I want to wish you freedom. Inner and outer.
My wish for you is that you not be afraid of being alone.
That you always remain yourself.
And remember that your most beautiful music is still ahead.
G'mar chatimah tovah.
Wishing you all a good year.