|He is in his forties and has just celebrated a birthday. He is vaguely restless and feels that it is time for a change. What this change could be is beyond his knowledge. Without knowing why, he decides to change his name - not making an official or legal change of course, but just asking people to call him by the full name his mother gave him, not the short form that everyone, including himself, was apt to use.
Things start slowly at first. He has lived twenty years in the same village. Changes are slow but regular, people come and go. But he is happy to stay, life is good and predictable, relaxed, rainy and warm. Another new priest starts in the church again, and a voice teacher moves to the village. The first is a regular occurrence, but the voice teacher is definitely a novelty.
Word has gone around that he is a bit of a singer, and the voice teacher encourages him to join the community choir. Well, if the new priest is joining too, he thinks it will be OK - he wouldn't want to be the only man in the group. For a number of years, he has thought it would be a good idea to have some formal training in singing, and when he realizes that she would be a good teacher, he joins up for private lessons. It would be best to take the opportunity while she is still around: people with her talents never stay too long.
As time goes on the community choir is predictably abandoned, but a church choir starts, with weekly rehearsals. He and his wife continue with the private voice lessons, and all this singing seem to bring him a new sense of joy. Under the guidance of the musically gifted priest and the creatively intellectual teacher, his voice develops in beautiful new ways. The teacher encourages him to try to connect with the creative energy of the spirit to further free his voice.
As an aid to developing his creativity, his teacher asks him to write a dialogue between his creative self and duty. But that week he comes over sick and does not write the exercise. Yet the thought remains in his mind.