Komm, süßer Tod, (Come Sweet Death) is one of sixty-nine sacred songs that J. S. Bach contributed to a book, which was edited in 1736 and scored for voice and basso continuo. When I was a junior in high school, I was a flutist at a PMEA band festival, which was hosted by Valley View High School in Archbald, PA. The guest conductor programmed this famous Bach work on this concert for young aspiring musicians because it had been arranged for wind ensemble. It was the first time I had ever heard it before, and I remember being floored by its haunting beauty. Our district band had some phenomenal low brass players, who were given a precious opportunity to demonstrate their artistry with a work that truly allows the brass to shine brightly. I was recently reminded of that concert when one of my flute students brought her district band folder to her flute lesson for some coaching. The first piece she wanted to play was Come Sweet Death. I squealed with excitement when I saw that her district band would also be playing that work on their concert. My husband and I attended the performance, and I must admit that I will always prefer to be the performer rather than the spectator, but it was wonderful listening to such an exquisite Bach piece being played by very talented students nearly 33 years after I had played it myself.

I have been researching the music of J. S. Bach since I was a graduate student at the University of the Arts. My performance practice professor had received a critical edition of Bach’s Mass in B Minor as a wedding gift, so we thoroughly studied that piece in class for several weeks. We were better detectives than Sherlock Holmes or Adrian Monk as we uncovered clues as to what constituted the most authentic performance of the score. The bulk of our time was spent analyzing the written music and then listening to recordings made by the best orchestras and conductors in the world. Bach’s personal life mattered to us very little. It was not until I started lecturing at the Art Institute that Bach’s personal life piqued my interest as a way for my students to better identify with the man’s daily struggles, especially since it was so difficult to get them interested in his “outdated music.” Once I was able to establish a personal connection with a past master, the music became more impressive listening for them.

Johann Sebastian Bach was born in Eisenach, Germany in 1685, and when he was a young child, both his parents died within the span of one year. Nine-year-old Johann was raised by his older brother. Johann married twice, and his first wife, Barbara, died while he was away on business. He shortly thereafter married Anna Magdalena, and between the two wives had twenty children – seven from the first marriage and thirteen from the second! Ten of those children died before reaching adulthood and one died when he was in his mid-twenties. I devote a large portion of chapter 5 of Mirror of the Soul to J.S. Bach and his music. I specifically chose chapter 5 because Bach used the number 5 when referencing Jesus because of the five wounds he suffered at crucifixion – two hands, two feet and his side. J.S. Bach composed music for three reasons: (1) He wanted to feed his very large family. (2) He wanted his music to be used as a teaching tool for future generations of composers. (3) He wanted to glorify God, and thus signed his compositions, “For the Glory of God Alone.” He often wrote, “Jesus help,” at the top of the page before beginning a work as well. The composers and artists I referenced in my book were connected to the Source of All, and I believe it was because of each one’s spiritual practice, that he was able to produce such endearing and enduring works of art. Bach acted as a type of receiver for the greater glory of God, and he was a humble man who believed that anyone could do what he did. Although his notes seemed to flow easily or effortlessly, his life was, by no means, easy. He was a loyal disciple of Jesus who fully embodied the concept of taking up his cross and sharing in the Savior’s suffering. He lived a life of human loss, but despite the enormity of his losses, he was able to trust in the Divine plan, continue his work and become a very productive composer. I find his life particularly inspiring, especially now in the midst of so much fear and uncertainty in our world. We have fear of losing our loved ones or losing our own lives. We have fear of losing our livelihoods and the comforts of home we have so grown to love. We are bombarded with fear every time we turn on the news. The great artists that I have come to love so much embraced their God and created something astronomically larger than their fears.

Many years ago, I was carpooling with a musician colleague of mine to an orchestra gig. He was an avid reader and introduced me to a book by Arthur Abell entitled, Talks With Great Composers: Candid Conversations with Brahms, Puccini, Strauss and Others. He insisted I read the treatise because the interviews were so fascinating. The book was all about what inspires creativity. For the great men who were interviewed, God was their inspiration. He wrote the music through them. Writer’s block couldn’t possibly exist as long as they were plugged in to the Source of All. My friend insisted that the music of these men endured because it was divinely inspired – a trait often lacking in music of the atheist era. It was one of the best books I have ever read, and I enthusiastically referenced it in chapter 7 of Mirror of the Soul. When I began writing my book, I wanted to document the existence of God and support my theories by providing examples from some of the greatest creators who have ever lived – creators whose works mirrored the great Creator himself. As I began typing, my project seemed to take on a life of its own, and the evidence I needed to support my theories magically appeared. In many instances, it was simply a matter of reaching for the perfect book on the shelf of my home library and immediately opening to the page I needed to quote in my narrative. I reference over 50 sources in Mirror of the Soul.

My anxiety has been at an all time high over the past several weeks. I have been listening to various webinars, reading books and listening to music to reach beyond my fears. I want to use this time to create something meaningful that may be useful to others on their life journeys. I enrolled in Hay House’s Radical Remission Series, which was a lecture series inspired by people with stage 4 cancer who had healed themselves. Many had spontaneous healings. Some had combined allopathic treatment with alternative healing, but many abandoned allopathic care and, with the faith to move mountains, discovered a renewed sense of purpose and an infinite will to live. Humor was an essential element in the healing journeys of some. I particularly identified with this element because I have such a quirky sense of humor and love to laugh. My husband often jokes that we do not laugh enough! The key healing factors in this series were “empowering yourself, radically changing your diet, releasing suppressed emotions, increasing positive emotions, bringing exercise and movement into your life, having strong reasons for living, deepening your spiritual connection, using herbs and supplements, following your intuition and embracing social support.” For me, the common theme here seems to be looking for answers within as opposed to giving your power away by looking outside yourself and your Source. Simply put: As within, so without. If faith can heal advanced cancer, it can surely tackle a virus.

For decades, self-improvement has been high on my list of priorities. For many years, books were my primary development tools, but recently webinars and podcasts have piqued my interest, mostly because I can engage in other activities while listening. Several months ago, I discovered the music of Mark Romero. He is a guitarist/energy healer whose music heals on a very profound level. He and his wife, Lara, a doctor of metaphysics, host webinars and healing sessions several times per month. He urges his listeners to raise their vibrations so they might “tune in” to a higher frequency. Fear might register at 88.5, but faith might register at 105.4, so he encourages people to choose wisely. His music has been endorsed by NASA scientists, so I believe he has a high degree of credibility. Unlike the intricate patterns of the music of J.S. Bach, Mr. Romero’s music (http://markromeromusic.com/) is very simple and highly relaxing. He oftentimes leaves me with the feeling that I can accomplish anything as long as I can tune into the frequency of my Source. I listened to him while I was redesigning my website. I have posted approximately 40 minutes worth of music, which anyone can listen to at: https://tdevizia.wixsite.com/website/music. The first four tracks are the Reinecke Sonata Undine – a piece which is a companion to chapter 4 of my book. The remaining three tracks feature Friedrich Kuhlau’s Trio, op. 119 for Two Flutes and Piano. Those tracks were magical moments in time for me because I got the opportunity to perform with my mentor, David Cramer. It was more gratifying than the concerts I played at Carnegie Hall! Over the next several days, I intend to post some videos of music I plan to improvise on my various Native American flutes. I have a collection of flutes that are carved from different woods. As a classical flutist, I prefer my silver flute, but I love to experiment with improvisation on these different instruments. This pushes me beyond my comfort zone. I do not need to be a technical workhorse on these hand-carved wooden flutes and can concentrate on making beautiful music above everything else!

Last week, I took away a very valuable piece of advice from Mark Romero: He encouraged everyone to be authentic and embrace who it is you are. When I first started studying energy and sound healing, I was in a workshop where we had to accept our mortality. I learned to embrace the concept of death as a necessary part of life. Many of the gurus I have encountered since have said that death is actually less traumatic than birth – at least for the dying person. When we are born, our mothers agonize in labor, and once the babe emerges from the womb, he/she gets smacked on the bum. Crying is our initiation into this world. Death, on the other hand, can be more peaceful, especially if one believes he will be reunited with precious family members, pets and then welcomed into the arms of Jesus. I think I have gotten to a point where I only fear the process of dying and not death itself, but I am not yet ready to cross over to the Other Side. I still have work to do. I do, however, believe it is far scarier to be authentic in times of such uncertainty. When my book was heading into publication, I worried about what my boyfriend (now my husband) would think, what my colleagues would think, what longtime friends and family members would think and what musicians would think. I had written an interdisciplinary treatise that exposed my intricate thought process, which I had never shared with another soul. My thoughts are deep, and I didn’t want to reveal the depth of my intellect or talent for that matter. People would not like me or would ridicule me. I think what I have especially learned this past week is that life is too short to be inauthentic. Mother Teresa encouraged people to be their best selves and never to “shrink.” Perhaps one day…

J.S. Bach embraced his creativity despite the fact that he had many crosses to bear. I find the instrumental arrangement of Come, Sweet Death hauntingly beautiful. The lyrics are as follows:

Come, sweet death, come, blessed rest!

Come lead me to peace

because I am weary of the world,

O come! I wait for you,

come soon and lead me,

close my eyes.

Come, blessed rest!

 Today I choose to embrace the English translation of this text figuratively. I am weary of my old ways of thinking. In the spirit of Bach, I will humbly complete my work, enthusiastically receive the grace of my Creator and fully embrace my authenticity – one precious moment at a time. I wish the same for all of you!