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Of
Love and of Music
The heart fills up with a secret joy. A joy meant to be parsimonious,
contained. At the very same moment, a melody, elusive and nevertheless
persistent takes over the whole vital space. The need to speak takes
on an urgency mode. To speak
that is, to paint one's thoughts
with words carefully chosen to provoke the spontaneous transplantation
of the listener into a universe unknown so far
a universe,
ours. To say how sweet it is to be alive! How grateful one is to
the simple fact of inhaling the air into our lungs and exhaling
the polluted air that will be purified to then anew accomplish its
vitalizing role.
To speak
communicate
express by choice, nice and tender
things. To reveal in this manner the soundless flight of this multi-colored
fragile butterfly, that one should not touch for fear of destroying
it. Every minuscule dust of color removed by a hand touching its
wings would take away of as much consistency and its vital ether.
To speak
murmur words filled with the hymn to joy, provider
of the caressing sensation of touch. One opens up with no fear to
the discovery of a faculty up till now unthinkable: an encompassing
infusion melting the song of a bird to the sounds produced by the
wind in its excursion through the tree leaves; an omnipresent influence
juxtaposing the song of the water pouring from a languishing and
majestic water fall to the crackling sound of a tree, warning of
its letting-go that will soon come slamming on the ground.
The heart
blossoms, releasing its rosy perfume which exhalations irradiates
to touch the center of the individual. There !
There, is the
secret door that opens to the land of musical realities. There,
is the sanctum from which dash forward "ringing personalities"
of all shapes and conceptions. There, is the palace of the subtle
principles of harmony. Harmony of the musical progenies but also,
harmony of the less tangible archetypes. Here, Love is Queen and
King all at once, eternal, enriching. One surrenders to the unpredictable
of discovery, with no holding back, ready to accept joy and sadness
with the same step back, with the same candor and the same equanimity.
Shouldn't so much peace profound exude the gift of the Elixir of
wisdom? Shouldn't immortality become the most common of all things?
The heart
then begins to sing. As long as the crystalline pearls of musical
notes will flow, it will sing and in turn make sing, in share. It
will in turn speak profusely to say things about the tenderness
felt for the beloved one and the one to be loved forever. The heart
sings the present time, past and time yet to come, prophet and historian
at once, in an unplanned alternation. It seems nonchalant but merely
to stage the reality of the expression of permanence. One loves
out of tenderness, one loves out of friendship. One loves out of
pleasure, one loves out of ecstasy. One loves out of a hurt, one
loves out of madness. One loves to death, one loves out of Love.
If a shout escapes the lips, it isn't out of distress, but rather
is a channel to vent out the overfilled of intense joy that one
could no longer contain without risking a euphoric explosion. The
birds in the sky will answer to it, having perceived the message
through the universal language of Love. The music of their repeated
songs in a continuous echo entertained by other living species would
have filled the whole space of the immediate environment
perhaps,
of the planet
perhaps, of the galaxy
Wouldn't it be henceforth
of a majestic musicality to be able to say: "My Love, I Love
you?"
Amicalement,
Jean-Pierre
Simons
© 2004
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An
Excellent Idea
It was strongly
suggested to me by a couple of friends to get "Turquoise"
published as a novel or novelette. I had thought of compiling all
the episodes at some point and have them published. But I found
the idea suggested to be more exciting and challenging. I will be
working in that direction. So, this 12th episode of "Turquoise"
is the last I will publish in my Newsletter.
I will quietly
continue to write the story until its completion. The past episodes
will be re-written, so as to include some details that I had left
aside in order to make things fit the format of the Newsletter.
When the
novel is ready, or is published, you will of course, be the first
to know about it. In the meantime, the past episodes written will
remain posted as usual.
I thank
you for your support. Your suggestions are welcome, as always.
Amicalement,
Jean-Pierre
Simons.
Note:
All the Newsletters can be read at the following address:
http://www.sighes.com/news_letters_lettres_publiees.htm
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