I am awash with tears and emotion. Today the universe spoke to me. And I like what I heard. It spoke of new plans, of new horizons, of stepping stones.
See, I went to a concert held by Sting and Edin Karamazov tonight. And while there, on my own, listening to Sting sing Dowland, the Beatles, Vaughan-Williams and others, and Edin accompany him maginificently on his lute, I heard words that I had not heard before, the coming together of two worlds - the old and the new, the classical and the modern, the contemporary voice and the ancient didgeridoo.
There is another component to this story. I made a friend recently, a friend who I believe can open up new horizons for me, both musically and spiritually. That is, if, as he says, I believe and take the journey that the universe is beckoning I take, one step at a time. I hope I can. I believe I can.
I have a rose in my garden unlike any other. And although it may not seem extraordinary to others to me it is.
Despite the fact that some of its petals are shrivelling, some fallen, its stem is bent and arched over, there are leaves missing, despite all this, I love my rose above all others.
I have had this rose for almost 17 years. I have watched it grow, change with the seasons, wither, die, to be born again, year after year.
I sometimes forget to water it, sometimes to put a glass dome over it at night, sometimes let the sheep graze at it a little. But each time I allow this to happen I do my best to repair the damage, to nurse it back to health.
I have seen many roses in my time, many, many roses, all beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than mine, but I love my rose above all others for it is unique. It is unique because it is I, I, who tamed it. And he who tamed me.
My watch conked out yesterday. The battery went flat. And I've been living a timewarped existence ever since. I'm very attached to my watch. Despite the fact that I have a clock in my kitchen, on my computer and mobile, have a church nearby that chimes the hour, I find comfort in knowing that the exact time is, almost literally, at my fingertips.
I'm a little obsessive with knowing what time it is at any given moment. I like to know when it's time to wake up. When it's time to take my babe for a walk. When it's time to prepare lunch. When it's time for my son to come home from school. When it's time to pick up my daughter from kindie. When it's time to go out. When it's time to go to bed. And without my watch, I have been a little lost.
Funny thing time is. Constantly moving forward, relentlessly, at breakneck speed. The minutes, hours, days, months and years, going, going, then gone. Jeremy Irons said “We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.” I've been thinking quite intensely about both lately, but perhaps a bit more about the former. Just like my friend Ross, I have been thinking about two years in the past in particular - 1988 and 1989.
1988 was a significant year for me as it was my last year of school. And in the words of Dickens, it was the best of times and the worst of times. The best of times because I made some wonderful, lifelong friends and had some magical moments with them which I shall cherish all my life. It was also a kind of age of innocence - a worryfree existence with almost no responsibilities whatsoever, except for school. Which is why it was the worst of times. Because, as anyone who has completed school knows, your last year is your best, and worst - the unrelenting pressure and stress to get the best grades you can, finally finding out what you got for all your drudgery and then deciding what the hell you're going to do with the rest of your life. Not a pleasant experience. Oh yeah, that and unrequited love.
But 1989, now that was a very good year. If pressed, I would have to say my best so far. My first year at university. After having gone to Catholic schools all my life, the last 8 years of which were all-girls Catholic schools, I was now amidst Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist, Vegan, Leftwing, Rightwing, Chickenwing people, as well as others of innumerable persuasions, cultures and beliefs. I was, in short, finally in the real world after having been confined in the parish closures for so long. It was, in effect, the year my voice broke, when the girl in me started turning into a woman. My eyes began opening wide, the parachute in my head that was wrapped up so long started to unravel, my ears began to hear sounds unheard before and my heart seemed to pump harder and faster than ever. And again, I met some amazing people, some of whom have remained my dearest friends.
And then I started thinking - what happened in the world during those two years? What other significant events occured outside my microcosmos? Here's a list that I found on Wiki:
The bicentenary of the settlement of Australia Demonstrations in the then Czechoslovakia, Estonia, Hungary and other Eastern European countries begin Poland legalises "Solidarity" and they win their first elections in Poland after 42 years of communism Nato celebrates its 40th anniversary Students protest in Tianamen Square The Berlin Wall falls down The Velvet Revolution takes place in the then Czeckoslovakia Laurence Olivier, Diana Vreeland, Irving Berlin, Bette Davis, Samuel Beckett and Enzo Ferrari pass away Seinfeld premieres on TV :)
Interesting that the dark walls of communism were falling in Eastern Europe the same year that the dark walls of my former life were falling around me, crumbling at my feet, leaving me with a beautiful vista, a vista of what life really was and what it could be. I saw the lark ascending. How I sometimes wish that time could stop its neverending grind and stand still for just a moment, so that I could watch it soar and sing again.
That's what the posters and billboards for one of the latest Croatian theatrical productions claim. And every time I see that phrase, it sort of captures my mind's eye and imagination. And I have to say, I agree with it. We don't have to be where we are at any particular moment - we can travel if we let our mind and heart take us places.
Every time I want to exit the place I'm at at the moment, I put some music on. Nothing can trasport me like music. If I feel like going to Austria, I simply put Mozart or Schubert on and I can visualise the ever snow-capped Alps, the winding streets of Vienna's "ring" and "gurtel", the gurgling Danube and Mur Rivers. If I feel like going to Italy, I put on Vivaldi or Paganini and I can see Venice's Canale Grande or Piaza San Marco, the Duomo in Florence, the Fontana di Trevi in Rome. If I feel like going to Spain, I listen to Paco de Lucia and am in the centre of Madrid at 11pm amid a teeming crowd of people the likes of I have never seen.
But at the moment, it seems that both my friend Davor and I are in a "we want to go to France and we want to go now" kind of mood. But then again, when aren't we??? Dreaming of coffee at La Cigale, sitting on a rock at Pointe du Rez, watching the waves at Quiberon, walking through the streets of Dinan, driving from Nantes to Paris listening to Radio Nostalgie, walking through the Luxemburg Gardens. These thoughts constantly go through our minds.
So while on my way to French today, to transport myself to France, at least a bit, I listened to the soundtrack of "Moulin Rouge". And it was bizaare how many of the songs, to me, captured a different aspect of our trip. So I thought I'd share a few of the tracks and the thoughts they provoke in me with you.
Nature Boy Now, for some strange reason, this song reminds me of Pointe du Rez and Quiberon. I guess the title of the song provokes thoughts of nature in me. I also love the lyrics of the song. I can't be sure, but I get the feeling that Bowie based them on The Little Prince. Will have to look and see about that:
There was a boy A very strange enchanted boy They say he wandered very far, very far Over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he
And then one day A magic day he passed my way And while we spoke of many things Fools and kings This he said to me "The greatest thing you'll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return"
I particularly love the last phrase: "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return". I think that's all that the Almighty One, Mother Nature, expects of us - to love her and her love us in return. And I can tell ya, I sure love her Quiberon and Pointe du Rez.
Because we can This song definitely reminds me of Davor and I entering Paris after having driven from the tranquil and charming Nantes and Chenonceau. It was quite a shock to our systems: the concrete, asphalt, smog, greyness of the city. That, and the complete and utter madness of it all, where the traffic was chock-a-block and we were in a race to get the rent-a-car back on time. So the rhythm and mayhem of this song take me back to that rather low point of our trip.
Sparkling Diamonds This song conjures up memories of La Cigale - the glitziest, most glamorous cafe I've ever visited and probably ever will visit. This is the kind of place that in its heyday, being across the road to the opera, I imagine girls would get up on tables and start belting out arias, while men would drink champagne out of their shoes. And here were little ol' me and Davor, in this venerated place, having breakfast. I still can't believe it, simply incroyable...
One day I'll fly away When I close my eyes and listen to this song, I see myself at the top of the Montparnasse Tower. Now, the Montparnasse Tower is one of the ugliest manmade monstrosities I have ever set eyes on. But the view from the top looking over all of Paris - the myriad of lights, the Eiffel Tower sparkling on the hour, the bateaux mouches slowly making their way over the Seine - was, in a word, breathtaking, something I'll never forget. And although this is a bit morbid, but if I were (God forbid!) ever to consider ending it all, I'd have to say that freefalling from the top through the city of lights would be the way to go.
Complainte de la Butte Although we didn't fit it into our visit, this song brings Montmartre to mind, or should I say, old bohemian Montmartre - with its accordian playing street performers, its narrow, winding streets, where you can feel the melancholy of some of its former residents, like Satie, Edith Piaf, Van Gogh. I'm kinda glad we didn't go there, it's lost a lot of its old spirit and instead of being the centre of bohemia is now a shrine to tourist shops.
I'll leave you with my favourite song from the soundtrack, Nature Boy. Here's hoping Davor and I can listen to it in Pointe du Rez or some other nice place in France sometime soon...
