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The notes

"My Lord! Only let me make my life as simple and slender as a reed flute for thee to fill with music" - this is how my favorite poet, Tagore, prays.

нотитеSometimes my eyes smile at this world and when my sight becomes so tender of happiness, it is able to see... the notes. Like these words, which written down in letters are signs for my feelings - the visions in the light of my eyes show the notes of the Divine melody. The drops of rain... the roaming birds... the bare branches, covered with buds... the snowflakes in the warm light of the streetlamps, the ever going on sweet twitter of the crickets... the wind, scattering the leafs of the trees...this tender merry-go-round of the seasons... this so quiet, almost stilly melody, woven into the very texture of life, sometimes fills me in from inside - deafening, like an underground river, welling up like the rushing springtime raving of the blossoming nature - and other times I seek and moan for its life-giving currents... but even my craving and moan - it is again... the notes.

May be for someone it is a distant world of poetic metaphors... but other will certainly feel... the melody of a finer reality.

With him I want to share my world! And "my" in the language of the melody, that pierces me through, means nothing but "beloved". As the melody I feel is no other than the melody of Love... the never-ceasing, springing out again and again throughout the innermost core of the soul.

And not only to feel, but also to express this melody I pray for! Let everything I do in this world... be the wavering will of the Musician. And not only to receive the joy of his melody... I want also to gratefully offer it back to him.

I started with Tagore - let me now bring you to Rumi, the other favorite of mine:

"The stars come up spinning
every night, bewildered in love.
They'd grow tired
with that revolving, if they weren't.
They'd say,
"How long do we have to do this!"
God picks up the reed-flute world and blows.
Each note is a need coming through one of us,
a passion, a longing-pain.
Remember the lips
where the wind-breath originated,
and let your note be clear.
Don't try to end it.
Be your note.
I'll show you how it's enough.
Go up on the roof at night
in this city of the soul.
Let everyone climb on their roofs
and sing their notes!
Sing loud! "