If these words resonate you might want to check out The Quiet Place Project. I have the iPhone app on my phone. If you need to slow down some time and be quiet with your world you might want to visit The Quiet Place.
This is going to be the shortest post of original words that I have ever posted, I think. My mind is not really on Toronto today. I had a hectic week and after I complete one more item from my job jar I will be heading up north soon for some time with friends. As spring approaches and so does the anniversary of the start of my epic journeys of last year, thoughts of some of the beautiful places I saw wander in and out of memory. Such memories as the one represented by the picture above when I spent 4 days in the French Alps at Chamonix. I could have stayed there a lifetime.
Since it is poetry month, I need to slip a poem in here and there is one which I think fits my theme, since music is my choice way to de-stress. I have written before of the musician Luciana Sousa and how she has set some of Neruda's poetry to music in one of her albums. Here is another from her album "The Poems of Elizabeth Bishop and Other Songs". Luciana Souza put these lyrics to music in a Carole King type arrangement and its folksy and yearning style is a perfect match for the words. I couldn't find it on You Tube so I had to create one myself.
Sonnet
by Elizabeth Bishop
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.
I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep.