Mar 2010
Two years ago I had a bad insomnia. As I remember, not sleeping enough led me to apathy and depression. Indeed, it was miserable time; I was lost in time and space, browsing through clubs and restaurants, looking for my medicine. But what I discovered was more than a cure from my insomnia; it was a life enriching experience that still brings beauty into my life.
It happened on one of those misty autumn nights. As I sat at the table, the DJ announced the name of a young performer. “This night will be just like all the other sleepless, long, and boring nights,” I thought, as she appeared in front of the audience. Seventeen or nineteen years old, dark blond, in a long black dress, a scared out of her wits conservatory student.
As I started looking impatiently for a waiter, she sat down at the piano and...
In the whole world clocks stopped. It was as if a colorful butterfly, following the shiny cold creek, flew into my soul, bringing the fresh breeze on its tiny wings. At her gentle touch of the keyboard, I got to see how beautiful she was. From the music she played, her face started pouring out light, and her pale skin glowed like the surface of the moon. Her music gushed into my veins infusing me with life. For a moment I thought, "She must be a goddess." The harmony of her music gave her confidence. She talked artfully to the black and white keys persuading them with striking chords. It reminded me of my childhood: easy, curious, satisfied and simple.
After she finished, she bowed down in front of everybody. Before disappearing behind the curtains, she looked at me and smiled for a short while, as though she knew me.
That night I came home and slept all night and all day.
I wanted to listen to her again, but I could not find that pianist anywhere; I did not even know her name.
After a while, insomnia came back.
Either in attempts to revive feelings of that night or just mere sleepless insanity, I had attended piano classes over one month, every evening. Considering that I was twenty one years old, it was not easy, but it was worth it.
Now remembering that one night when I saw the playing goddess, I understand what I needed. It was not a good restaurant, expensive meals, and drinks, but real beauty. Not the one that is on the surface of magazines, where everybody sees it, but the one that stems from the depth of the being itself, expressed in the art and love, that is able to go inside me and make me feel alive again.
Since that sleepless autumn, every time I practice my piano, the magic butterfly comes back, and when I go to bed, I sleep as sweet as a child.
It happened on one of those misty autumn nights. As I sat at the table, the DJ announced the name of a young performer. “This night will be just like all the other sleepless, long, and boring nights,” I thought, as she appeared in front of the audience. Seventeen or nineteen years old, dark blond, in a long black dress, a scared out of her wits conservatory student.
As I started looking impatiently for a waiter, she sat down at the piano and...
In the whole world clocks stopped. It was as if a colorful butterfly, following the shiny cold creek, flew into my soul, bringing the fresh breeze on its tiny wings. At her gentle touch of the keyboard, I got to see how beautiful she was. From the music she played, her face started pouring out light, and her pale skin glowed like the surface of the moon. Her music gushed into my veins infusing me with life. For a moment I thought, "She must be a goddess." The harmony of her music gave her confidence. She talked artfully to the black and white keys persuading them with striking chords. It reminded me of my childhood: easy, curious, satisfied and simple.
After she finished, she bowed down in front of everybody. Before disappearing behind the curtains, she looked at me and smiled for a short while, as though she knew me.
That night I came home and slept all night and all day.
I wanted to listen to her again, but I could not find that pianist anywhere; I did not even know her name.
After a while, insomnia came back.
Either in attempts to revive feelings of that night or just mere sleepless insanity, I had attended piano classes over one month, every evening. Considering that I was twenty one years old, it was not easy, but it was worth it.
Now remembering that one night when I saw the playing goddess, I understand what I needed. It was not a good restaurant, expensive meals, and drinks, but real beauty. Not the one that is on the surface of magazines, where everybody sees it, but the one that stems from the depth of the being itself, expressed in the art and love, that is able to go inside me and make me feel alive again.
Since that sleepless autumn, every time I practice my piano, the magic butterfly comes back, and when I go to bed, I sleep as sweet as a child.
