Finding Hope through Cicadas

A RECENT music composition caught my attention last week.  It was written by a former colleague of mine, David Jones, who is currently a pursuing a doctorate degree in composition at Rice University.  The piece is called Soliloquy for Violin.  Here is a recording performed by Lauren Anderson, who will be performing the piece for her own graduate violin recital this coming January.  Just a warning, it isn't for the musically faint of heart (...or ear rather).  

QUITE THE piece isn't it?  As I said, it may be difficult to grasp by the everyday listener.  I myself am no musicologist, but I'll offer some bits of explanation that may help in the process of appreciating the music. 

FIRST OF all, in the description under the YouTube video, David Jones says the inspiration for the music began when he saw the empty cicada shells near his home in Houston, Texas.  It was funny to me to read this.  I grew up in the Midwest area where cicadas are an everyday thing.  I often forget they're out there, regardless of how loud they can become during the day.  It caught my wife off guard the first time she came out to see my family.  Due to the humidity in addition to the screaming cicadas I seem to remember her saying she felt like she was in the middle of some South American jungle.  For those who haven't heard a cicada, here is a video with a good depiction of what they sound like.  Their call can be heard for miles around.   

MANY APOLOGIES for those who have a disliking for bugs.  They're also known to be quite large.  They're several inches long, and larger around than your thumb (and completely harmless at the same time... I promise).  Anyway, their song is something I grew up with that I've even grown quite fond of, similar to the beating rain of the summer storms that would pound on our ceiling as I would fall asleep at night.  The shimmering of the violin brought back many memories of my childhood.  It's a shockingly similar sound to the cicada.     
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WHAT DAVID mentions specifically is their shells they would find in their yard.  They can be slightly alarming, especially for a mother who's children bring them inside, eagerly showing off their prizes.  Here's a pic below.  

DON'T WORRY, it's just an empty shell.  They're even more harmless than the cicadas that come out of them.  In the picture you can see the hole along the back where the cicada pulled itself out, complete with wings, ready to fly up to the tops of the trees to find a mate.  

THIS IS where David Jones' story becomes touching and personal.  The piece is called a "soliloquy."  A soliloquy, per dictionary.com, is "an act of speaking one's thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers, especially by a character in a play."  This happens a lot in drama.  For a Disney example, think  of all the characters taking a few moments to sing a song about their dilemma.  "Let it Go" from Disney's Frozen is actually a pretty good example.  During the song, Elsa sings through her thought process as she decides to quit hiding her "icy" gifts.  In the case for Soliloquy for Violin, the character of the play is the composer himself, with no words involved.  The description he gave with the YouTube video describes the thoughts he transcribed into the music,

"ONLY ABOUT a month after we moved to Houston, Hurricane Harvey struck the area, and our first-floor apartment was flooded, destroying many of our belongings, including most of our furniture and appliances. My family was safe in Dallas when the storm hit, but coming back to Houston to find

What began as a simple exploration of cicada shells transformed into a journey of loss, grief, recovery, and new beginnings."

our home and belongings destroyed by floodwaters was devastating. In the time that followed, many hands reached out to help us as we salvaged what we could from our old place, found a new apartment, and began rebuilding our lives. We couldn’t be more grateful."

​"DURING THIS difficult time for my family, this piece became more deeply personal. It became an opportunity for me to express some of the frustration and pain I felt during the ordeal of the flood and the process of rebuilding. What began as a simple exploration of cicada shells transformed into a journey of loss, grief, recovery, and new beginnings."

​THE LAST line I find especially meaningful, "What began as simple exploration of cicada shells transformed into a journey of loss, grief, recover, and new beginnings."  What a great fact of life we all receive opportunities to receive at varying times in our lives.  Even now, forest fires are continuing to rampage California, leaving many people homeless, their belongings consumed by fire.  I can't imagine what it would be like to lose everything you own to a natural disaster.  In David's piece I particularly get a sense of the pain involved as it becomes more dramatic as it goes a long. 

YET THE prospect of a new beginning brings hope.  One of my favorite scriptures is found in Ether 12:4 "Whosoever believeth in God might with surety hope for a better world."  For many people, we can be the means of bringing that hope to life.  David Jones mentioned many people who came in to help them recover their home after hurricane Harvey.  As a part of this holiday season we all have some way or another to reach out and restore hope and confidence in those in less fortunate than us.  I think that as we reach out in fulfilling others' hopes, our own desires for new beginnings and fresh starts can be made even more real.  More, just as the Cicada loses its shell to become a more perfect version of itself (complete with wings and musical functions) so too we, as we serve others and work through our new beginnings, find more perfect versions of ourselves that are more like our Heavenly Father, and more like the person he wants us to become.  ​