HeartFelt

It seemed like I stepped out of a movie this Sunday when the porter asked me if I had ever visited this park before. Just like in one of those scenes when the spectators and protagonists know that this question can only come from a clueless outsider who missed the narrative of the past 50 years, I stopped and swallowed my shock. And for that moment, while reflecting on an adequate answer, I felt slightly insulted as everyone should and so should he know that this is my birthplace, my DNA, my right to be here even when the gates are closed. Because this landscape, the paths and the bridges, the trees and bushes all know. They saw me as a kid playing with our gang of kids, witnessed our antics and joys. He is merely a porter guarding an abandoned hospital site and its serene park but "I am coming home. " I said. And walked and breathed and took it all in for I never get tried of listening to the birds, to the sounds of nature, to the total absence of man-made-noise. This is my eternal landscape of bliss.

In another landscape I was again by eight pm. In a supreme, gold-guilded, red-velvet-cushioned hall of music where Max Richter transcended us into his musical piece of In A Landscape: an otherworldly interpretation of sounds that transformed my mind from hearing his music to only hearing myself beyond the ordinary level of thoughts. His music cleaned all the noise out of my mind creating an ever expanding space for intuition to awake and fly.

This experience that I had only felt in the landscape of my birth place was recreated by this extraordinary musician in a concert hall. And now I can't stop longing for this supernatural state of mind, for this purity and intuition.

For when I hear Max Richter's In A Landscape I ultimately and finally hear myself.

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