{"id":8106,"date":"2014-03-15T20:34:17","date_gmt":"2014-03-16T00:34:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/beginnersheart\/?p=8106"},"modified":"2014-03-15T20:34:17","modified_gmt":"2014-03-16T00:34:17","slug":"seeing-what-might-be-there","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/beginnersheart\/2014\/03\/seeing-what-might-be-there.html","title":{"rendered":"seeing what might be there"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"birds<\/a>
photo by Paolo Pinto<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I saw this on FB the other day, and was mesmerised. Not simply this photo — I’ve taken several similar ones myself. But by what happened next.<\/p>\n

Jarbas Agnelli saw music, notes on a staff. I do too, and have written poems wondering what that music might sound like. But Agnelli didn’t just wonder — or write a poem about wondering. He wrote the song.<\/p>\n

What would happen if every day I moved beyond wondering to doing? If the curiousity I see in my grandson’s eyes were mine? How might my life shift, and what would my soundtrack sound like? Blackbirds on a wire, against a cloudy sky…?<\/p>\n

Here is Agnelli’s Birds On The Wires<\/em>. A thank-you to R. B. Smart, who told the story behind the music<\/a>.<\/p>\n