Music of the Night

In Andrew Lloyd Webber’s timeless musical “Phantom of the Opera,” (based upon the Gaston Leroux novel) Erik (the Phantom) pleads with Christine to help him make “The Music of the Night.” In the context of this musical, Erik quite literally means he needs her to help him make the music that is only heightened and improved by the intensity that night brings…

“Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses”

Erik further pleads with Christine to give up her ambitions and daydreams to join him in a realm of endless night, where things are shrouded in shadow and darkness.

“Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your face away from cold, unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night”

What if we did as Erik suggests and “turn our faces from the cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night”? But what if, just for a moment, we consider the fact that the music of the night need not actually be something you’d hear on today’s Top 40 radio stations?

I just moved from a unique environment to yet another quite unique environment. I was living in an area where the possibility of having snow on the ground for 6 months out of the year was the reality – a place where some of the bitterest cold you’ve ever felt is experienced again and again every winter. A place where, when the sun shines during the summer, your breath is constantly and consistently taken away by the beauty that surrounds you…

A town small enough that, once you reached the outskirts, there wasn’t anything in the way of light pollution or much in the way of sounds that indicate you are, in fact, living in civilization.

The music of the night there varies as the seasons, as strange and short as they may seem, change.

On a bitterly cold night, you could be surrounded by complete silence – a silence so profound you can almost hear the clouds as they move through the dark sky. A silence so complete that you can lose all sense of time and place.

On those cold nights, when the air is so cold it pricks at your skin in icy needles like the fingers of Death caressing you… when the air is dry enough that you can feel it in your lungs as you struggle to breathe… on those nights when it seems no living thing would risk being out, you experience sounds you thought only existed in documentaries and horror films…

The quiet crunch of snow under feet as the wolf, out looking for a meal, treks through the darkness…

The silent falling snow (and yes, it can still snow even at -20) as it lazily drifts from the sky and lands on already impressive, gleaming mounds that look bluish in the moon’s reflection…

The lonely cry of an owl, awake and watchful in the trees, as it keeps vigil for a passing squirrel or hare…

The gasps of awe as someone stands in that inky realm, witnessing the majestic dance of the Aurora Borealis across the sky for the first time…

THAT, my friends and family, is TRUE music of the night.

Conversely, I now live in an area where people cannot fathom that kind of environment, that kind of cold, that kind of beautiful desolation. But yet, their night music is just as beautiful.

When I got home tonight, I stood in full darkness for probably 10 minutes, amazed at the wonder around me. I’m in an area where there is still no light pollution surrounding me – but if you look down the hill on which I live, you can see the pale glow of the casino lighting up the night with its buzzing neon signs.

At night, the saw mill just up the hill is closed for business, so the only traffic you really hear is the rush of semis on the highway as they make their long trip to the next destination – only to deliver their cargo, pick up another load, and get back on the road.

As I gazed at a sky filled with more stars than most people can IMAGINE seeing at one time (let alone have probably ever seen at one time), I could feel the silence of night surrounding me…

But yet, was it really silent?

The trees were alive with a chorus of tree frogs, croaking and chirping their song…

A young hawk that has been spending its days in the trees and sky around the yard, hoping to catch a squirrel or bird unaware, cried out as if it were telling its brethren the location of a fat possum or rabbit that was easily caught…

A dog, just down the hill yet still shrouded in shadow, barked at the rush of the semis in the distance…

Which awakened the coyotes that roam through here, raising a chorus of higher pitched yips and howls that mixed with the dog’s much deeper barking…

Just down the hill in the yard, the grass crunched as a few of the cows moved about in search of a midnight snack, softly mooing to one another as they did…

THAT, my dear friends and family, is ALSO the TRUE music of the night.

So please, the next time the sun has set and the moon has risen, bringing with her the inky blackness of night, go outside and listen to the music which surrounds you. You may be hearing a fantastic symphony – the likes you will never hear again – with ears that had been deafened before to the truly majestic world in which you live.