Miracle

In the summer of 2019, the idea of something big, unexpected and wonderful struck me – the idea of Miracle. When I started composing Miracle in the spring of 2020, the pandemic was taking over the world. A few days into composing, the tragedy hit close as we learned that a family member fell ill with the disease. A week later she was gone. Alongside me sadness, longing and trauma, and on the other hand the feeling of great love and the strength, presence, life and empowerment it gives, I wrote Miracle. 
The piece begins with ’a hunch’, a sense that something is about to happen. Everything is seemingly innocent and fine, but something threatening seems to try reach the surface. The steady ticking of the strings reflects time, anticipation, and an oppressive sense of moving inexorably towards something unknown, something that cannot be stopped. The rapid gestures of individual instruments and groups of instruments reflect animals that intuitively sense the danger and flee. Then comes ’the shock’ – something unexpected, traumatic and harrowing that cuts everything off and shatters your whole being to the point of numbness. Then the lamenting sorrow, emptiness and pain. Reverberations and processing of the trauma. The yearning, nostalgia and longing for love. But love invites hope, and melancholy gradually turns into healing. Healing brings gratitude, joy and a desire to move forward in life and to experience happiness again. Empowerment eventually leads to euphoria. A sense of something greater, something marvellous, uncontrollable and unexplainable. The joy and celebration of life, the dance and ascension. The piece ends in finding peace. In accepting that something has changed permanently, and the trace of it follows. The majestic chords reflect strength and powerlessness in the face of something greater, the same feeling as standing on the edge of a cliff. The brass chorale in the end reflects a connection to the past and the memory that never fades - the memory of love. 
Sebastian Hilli