Love and music make of dissonant fragments a symphonic whole. It is as if the strings strain away the dross. Sharp ends soften. Dreams float to the surface. Memories pulsate, each note is a color, each note is a voice, a new cell awakened. It stills other sounds, drowns the harsh ones, it erects spirals and new planets. When the heart aquqires rough edges, music is the mute. When the heart freezes, music liquifies it. When it is lonely, secret notes will escape and find their way to the pulse, restore its universal rhythms. It is remote and gentle. It sobs for you. It cries for you. It laments, it rejoices, it explodes with vigor and life. It never allows our body to die because every wish, every fantasy, breathes and moves as if we were in the place of our first birth, the ocean. The notes fly so much farther than words. There is no other way to reach the infinite. ... Music holds the movements of life, the chained incidents which compose it, the eternal melting of one note before another to creat song. The notes must melt before one another; they must be lost after they have given their soul, for the sake of the whole. It may be a beautiful note, but it cannot strike alone forever. It must pass, as all things must pass, to make up the immense composition that is life. —The Journals of Anais Nin Vol 7 1966-1974 – Epilogue https://youtube/watch?v=Uft1hqBVZMA
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 04:56:41 +0000
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