We not only didn’t miss or desire full light, we actually resisted and were initially offended by it. We had, in fact, become so comfortable with the lesser light that we squinted and squirmed and felt discomfort in the level of light that had welcomed us when the concert began. When the light was restored to its original full position, our eyes had become accustomed to lesser light and had spontaneously adjusted to the dimness. The audience had been so intent on the music that we had not noticed the slowly dimming light. Near the end of the concert, responsive to a cue from the pianist, he abruptly returned the lights to the original full position. Over the course of the hour concert, that sound technician had very slightly lessened the light in the room. The pianist confessed that prior to the concert, he had instructed the sound engineer to gradually dim the lights in the house. He proceeded to share a provocative metaphor that I continue to reflect upon and learn from. Responsive to our surprise, the pianist offered an explanation for the offense.

Immediately after that nod, the lights in the room burst instantaneously into such brightness that we all squinted and even covered our eyes to defend against the shock of the wattage. Near the end of the concert, I noticed the pianist gesturing discreetly to the fellow in the sound booth.

On the edges of our seats, we paid careful attention while he entertained us with complicated piano pieces from his broadly assorted repertoire. On her violin, our daughter-in-law was accompanying a pianist as he delighted a full house of music lovers for an hour concert. Some years ago, I attended a concert in a small performance hall on a college campus.

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