I didn’t find God; I found Mozart
I used to be a Satanist. I know it may sound funny to some if you aren’t acquainted with them, but I was too angry to be a Satanist. They’re great people, and I wanted to be like them, but I was far too dogmatic. You see, under Satanism, you’re not really supposed to give advice unless asked for it. Really, you tend to be encouraged to be quite passive until someone crosses you. As the years went on I had found it harder to be quiet and passive and to hold my tongue. I was a terrible Satanist! All along I found myself wishing I could believe in God just like my family had and taught me to. So badly did I want what they told me to be true, I just couldn’t pretend to believe in something I did not. Then I found Mozart.
I always loved Mozart. I know some might say “what an overrated composer”, but for all that he’s done and could do, I maintain he is the most underrated of them all. There was so much of Mozart I loved, but there was nothing that I adored more than Requiem in D Minor. I had that funeral mass on a lot, and as the daughter of two morticians, it was not very strange for that to be my favorite piece of music. I’ll admit, some songs I gave more stock in than others at first (I still don’t listen to Süssmayr’s additions), and my first favorite, as with most people’s, was Lacrimosa. And then, I grew really much to like Confutatis, which was then superseded by Kyrie. However, I think that journey was preparation to really appreciate the first movement, Introitus. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I didn’t think too much about Introitus on my listens. Of course, I adore it, but I never spent time with it. And one day as I listened below the surface, down under all the rest of the notes, lived just 5 notes of a bassoon deep in the background. I somehow had never heard them before, but I heard them this time, and I wept when I did. Truly, I had found myself weeping. I clasped my hands to my mouth that was wide open in astonishment as tears rolled down my face. I couldn’t believe it was in there the entire time, and I had never heard. I believed in that very moment that Mozart must have left those notes for me and for all the people discerning enough to listen so deeply. I had felt as though I had just been inducted into a secret society that knew the meaning of life. I listened to every performance of the song I could find just to hear those notes. And to this day…
