Bucuria de a fi

Cartea vietii noastre, care se scrie in fiecare clipa, traita sau risipita, fericita sau trista, ar trebui sa fie o carte a bucuriei.

Unde este cartea vietii noastre?

In inima noastra, in sufletul nostru, in constiinta noastra. Uneori o vedem, alteori nu o vedem, adesea nici nu stim ca ea exista, ca ea inca nu este terminata, uitam de ea, desi… E ceea ce am facut noi, nu ceea ce am dorit sau am spus ca facem, e ceea ce am trait, iar visele, iluziile, pretentiile nu le gasim acolo scrise. Sunt toate din cele ce le-am facut sau gandit in fiecare secunda a existentei noastre, scrise nu cu cerneala, nu virtual, electronic pentru ca lacrimile, faptele insele, cuvintele, gesturile si gandurile se impregneaza in sufletul nostru, in constiinta noastra, dand marturie la ceea ce suntem, la ceea ce am devenit pana in punctul acesta al prezentului revelat.

Omul care isi vede cartea vietii, care citeste ceea ce e scris in ea, trebuie sa fie un om fericit, trebuie sa se bucure, pentru ca isi vede faptele, viata, sufletul, asa cum este el in realitatea adevarata, dezgolit de orice urma de fatarnicie, duplicitate, de orice tendinta de a se ascunde dupa nuante, prejudecati, compromisuri. si vazandu-si sufletul si viata asa cum s-au petrecut ele in adevar, cu semnificatiile si consecintele adevarate ale acestora, are sansa de a se indrepta, de a se corecta sau, dimpotriva, a se desavarsi. De aceea trebuie sa se bucure. Sa se bucure pentru ca astfel, poate avea, ar trebui sa aiba fericita ocazie de a transforma aceasta carte a propriei sale vieti, mai degraba rostita, traita, simtita, cuprinzand atatea emotii si impresii transpuse in fapte, gesturi si cuvinte, intr-o carte a bucuriei. O carte a bucuriei care ar fi, si poate fi, o covarsitoare poveste de iubire, povestea unei vieti ce cuprinde nesfarsita frumusete, noblete si eleganta.

Doar o clipa, omul de si-ar aminti si ar constientiza ceea ce este, ceea ce reprezinta, lepadandu-se de orgoliu si de tendinta de a uita ceea ce conteaza cu adevarat, s-ar lasa abandonat starii de bucurie nerationala ( nu irationala, a nu se confunda), bucuria de a fi, de a trai in lumina daruita, revarsata de dragostea divina. Cum am fi putut noi sa ne nastem daca nu incalziti, luminati, iubiti de un Dumnezeu atat de minunat? Cum am fi putut noi sa fim fara a avea in sinea noastra, in trupul nostru de huma, care se degradeaza obosit de neputintele si patimile noastre, sufletul, la care imi place sa ma gandesc si sa-l simt ca pe o scanteie de lumina, colt de rai sau de cer, care sa ne faca pe noi sa devenim purtatori de lumina?

Purtatori de lumina in intunericul nefiindului, nimicului, golului si pustiului aparut din lipsa de iubire, de viata si de speranta. Cum am fi putut noi sa fim rascumparati din robia pacatului, a adevarului pervertit, fara jertfa unui Dumnezeu care S-a intrupat pentru noi, purtand neputintele noastre, pacatele noastre, pentru a ne darui raiul, fericirea vesnica, pentru a putea sa ne intoarcem acasa, de unde am plecat pierzand starea de puritate, sfintenie?

Fara sa fim nimic in aceasta viata, avem doua motive pentru a scrie viata noastra ca o poveste de bucurie, de a o trai cu entuziasm, cu spirit de bunatate si pace deplina: faptul ca ne-am nascut, fiind oameni, precum si faptul ca suntem crestini ortodocsi.

Aceste doua motive se impletesc si dau omului tot ceea ce avea nevoie pentru a trai viata ca o bucurie deplina. Doar bucuriile se gasesc, se descopera in fiecare clipa si in cele mai nebanuite si aparent nesemnificative lucruri, stari, gesturi din viata noastra. Se traiesc pur si simplu, izvorand neincetat din sufletul nostru, mangaindu-ne, alintandu-ne, dandu-ne energia, dragostea de a simti, de a exprima ceea ce noi traim in sufletul nostru, aici, in exteriorul nostru, molipsindu-i si pe altii, stralucind de lumina interioara a unei stari de pace, de lumina, luminand, asa cum si altii lumineaza.

Nu poti darui iubire, bucurie, lumina celor de langa noi, indiferent ce ar fi pentru noi, ce ar insemna pentru noi, daca aceste sentimente curate n-ar izvori din sufletul nostru, din sinea noastra, rasarind atat de minunat. Sunt ganduri care te poarta in locul de unde izvoraste aceasta bucurie deplina, interioara si acel loc poate fi vazut cu ochii sufletului, fiind altarul bisericii noastre interioare vii, loc unde ne intalnim prin trairile noastre curate, prin emotiile noastre, prin rugaciunile noastre cu Dumnezeu Cuvantul, cu Cel ce este Iubire, Chipul desavarsit al iubirii. El ne daruieste toata puterea, toata energia, toata dragostea si lumina sufleteasca de care avem nevoie ca sa putem trai bucurandu-ne, ca sa putem bucura si noi pe altii la randul nostru.

A fi crestin inseamna sa implinesti un mare si greu canon: canonul iubirii, ca astfel, sa putem scrie cartea vietii noastre ca o carte a bucuriei. si ca sa fie asa, trebuie sa ne purtam asa cum visam sau visam sa fim: nobili, daruind cu generozitate iubirea lor, ajutorul lor, chiar viata lor, neconditionat, debordand de curaj si nadejde nebuna, utopica, debordand de o fericire si un entuziasm nerationale, de o prospetime molipsitoare. Cata mirare e in mintea deprinsa a trai, a gandi, a interpreta totul printr-o ratiune si un pragmatism al indoielii, al reductibilitatii tuturor la neputinta de a atinge starea de sfintenie, de puritate, desavarsire. A trai saraciti de starea de bucurie si de lumina permanenta, inseamna a fi nevoiti sa imbratisam o stare a resemnarii, a deceptiei, a pierderii sensului creatiei.

Ce inseamna viata fara a te bucura de ceea ce este, de ceea ce ti se ofera, neconditionat, pur si simplu? E intrezarire a uni iad, a unei ispasiri dinainte de eterna ispasire a neputintei de a vedea frumusetea, adevarul in cel mai elementar, dar si coplesitor aspect al vietii noastre: ne-am nascut… oameni si suntem. Ne-am nascut dintr-o dragoste divina ca sa fim, plamaditi fiind din huma, dar… primind si darul fericirii vesnice prin sufletul acesta misterios, scanteie de lumina si izvor al unei iubiri si bucurii nemarginite, noi, cei ce suntem atat de minusculi in raport cu universul, noi cei ce suntem atat de mici atunci cand ne deprindem a trai in intuneric.

Daca am primit acest minunat dar care este viata, viata vesnica, omeneste ar fi sa fim recunoscatori Celui Ce ne-a daruit aceasta: Dumnezeu, Cel in Treime Sfant si inchinat.

Si putem fi recunoscatori in multe feluri, dar mai ales prin acesta : de a trai bucuria, de a o pastra in sufletele noastre, de a o darui cu sentimentul curat al fiindului nostru, gestul bucuriei, gestul dragostei, respirand pace si lumina din intreaga noastra fiinta, fiinta ce poate, la un moment dat sa devina purtatoare de lumina, torta arzand cu nemarginita bucurie de a scrie frumusetea, dragostea, sfintenia, nobletea noastra. Bucuria de a fi.

Autor: Traian Calistru
Sursa: http://www.crestinortodox.ro

Delibes – The Flower Duet


“The Flower Duet” (French: Sous le dôme épais) is a famous duet for sopranos from Léo Delibes’ opera Lakmé, first performed in Paris in 1883. The duet takes place in act 1 of the three-act opera, between characters Lakmé, the daughter of a Brahmin priest, and her servant Mallika, as they go to gather flowers by a river.

Thank you for the NICE biography by Basil Rathbone (click on link)

19 marzo, 2013 by Basil Rathbone
MIGUEL DELIBES.BIOGRAFÍA LITERARIA

Johannes Brahms’ symphony no.3

In May of 1883, Johannes Brahms invited a close friend of his to a “little small sad festival” to be attended by only four people. This was the way Brahms intended to celebrate his 50th birthday.

That summer, he wrote his Third Symphony:

When he was 20, Johannes Brahms met Robert and Clara Schumann and there was much prophesying about future greatness, most of which seemed to backfire. For one thing, if he was the heir to Beethoven, where was all this great music? Even though Robert had described his piano sonatas as “veiled symphonies” and Clara had told him, to succeed, he would need to compose symphonies, the symphony he began sketching shortly after Robert Schumann threw himself into the Rhine – an attempted suicide – in 1854 did not become what we know as his first symphony which was completed in 1876, 22 years later.

But he took his time, dealing with negative criticism and taunts from other contemporary composers like Liszt and Wagner. Brahms didn’t want to engage in the typical “on-the-job training” so many young composers have, producing immature works that will be forgotten and only incur further heckling from the crowd demanding proof he was, in fact, Beethoven’s musical heir.

Once that hurdle had been (finally) surpassed – Brahms was then 43 years old – he composed his 2nd Symphony in one summer the following year. The 3rd Symphony came along six summers later. It too was largely composed over one summer.

Brahms had become primarily a “summer composer,” going away to holiday spots (or spas, to be more exact) like Bad Ischl. The summer after his 50th birthday, he went to Wiesbaden, a spa-town on the Rhine.

His choice of location was not accidental.

Brahms had been born in the German city of Hamburg, a great port city on the Elbe River. When he visited the Schumanns, they lived in Düsseldorf, a city on the Rhine where Schumann had been the city’s “music director” and where he composed his 3rd Symphony, known as the “Rhenish.” It was the river he would shortly try to drown himself in.

The Rhine is also where Richard Wagner begins and ends his operatic cycle, The Ring of the Niebelung.

And Wagner, whom Brahms respected to a certain degree despite their rivalry, had just died in February, a few months before Brahms’ 50th birthday.

But the main reason Brahms chose Wiesbaden for his summer composing sojourn was one of its residents, a 26-year-old alto named Hermine Spiess (in some sources, her name is spelled Spies).

Brahms first heard her sing at a friend’s home that January and whatever their relationship was, Brahms found himself writing several songs inspired by that beautiful alto voice.

The first of his songs he’d heard her sing was the delightful, folkish “Vergebliches Ständchen” (which he’d heard her sing, that first meeting: a young man begs his sweetheart to let him in to say good night to her, but she laughs and shuts the window in his face – as Brahms joked after hearing Hermine sing it, “I’m sure she’d let him in!”)

Many of the songs he wrote for her, rather than being the traditional love-songs you might expect, were, despite his flirtations, about unrequited love, rejection or the anxiety of growing older (think “mid-life crisis” 1880s-style).

Her family lived in Wiesbaden. Brahms jokingly called Hermine his “Rhinemaiden” (after the seductive young water nymphs who initiate Wagner’s “Ring”) and also, after Shakespeare’s queen in “The Winter’s Tale,” as “Hermione-ohne-O” – Harmione without the O.

How much of Hermine is in the Third Symphony remains to be seen. Brahms’ non-vocal music was always abstract but there were often specific associations he might have had in mind when composing it, regardless of what it might mean as a “program,” the dreaded “what-the-music-is-about” question.

Certainly, lots of Brahms’ music makes covert references to Clara Schumann right down to his quoting or paraphrasing what Schumann himself called his “Clara Motive.” And then there’s his Farewell to Agathe von Siebold in his 2nd String Sextet, her name spelled out in musical pitches.

If there is anything referring to Hermione-ohne-O in the symphony he composed that summer, Brahms never hinted at it.

A more likely inspiration was his proximity to the River Rhine which might put a man officially in Middle Age reminiscing about the events of 30 years earlier and first met the Schumanns in a town on the Rhine. From the studio he rented on the hillside overlooking Wiesbaden, he could see the Rhine in the not great distance: did that bring to mind musical associations?

The opening theme of Brahms’ new symphony bears a strong resemblance to a passage from Schumann’s “Rhenish” Symphony, inspired by the very river that Brahms could see from his summer home.

Whatever Brahms may have thought was behind his new symphony, what secret meanings there might be inside the music, he was completely silent about it. But others saw in it specific references: Hans Richter, who would conduct the premiere, after referring to Brahms’ 2nd Symphony as his Pastoral, called this one “Brahms’ Eroica” after Beethoven’s 3rd. Clara Schumann heard “the mysterious charms of woods and forests [in the first movement]… worshippers kneeling about the little forest shrine.” Joseph Joachim, for whom he’d composed his Violin Concerto a few years earlier, said the finale brought to mind the Greek myth of Hero and Leander: “I cannot help imagining the bold, brave swimmer, his breast borne up by the waves and by the mighty passion before his eyes, heartily, heroically swimming on, to the end, to the end, in spite of the elements which storm around him.”

Pauza de moment

Din cauza multelor cauze pe care nu le pot dezvolta acum, luam o pauza de la subiecte noi. Timp in care de bun simt e ca fiecare sa-si faca temele (de viata si mai ales de suflet) si sa nu iroseasca timpul. Va doresc din tot sufletul ca Dumnezeu sa va fie alaturi si sa va arate/indrepteze atunci cand calea nu e cea buna.

Eu va sunt aproape, in gand,in suflet si in rugaciune, chiar daca nu mai reusim sa ne auzim sau tinem legatura de cele mai multe ori.

Si nu uitati, orice s-ar intampla, TOTUL e VOIA DOMNULUI. Nu deznadajduiti.

Eu va iubesc, pe toti, ca pe fratii mei. Doamne ajuta! Cu bine!

Rugaciunea Sfantului Efrem Sirul

Doamne si Stapanul vietii mele, duhul trandaviei, al grijii de multe, al iubirii de stapanire si al grairii in desert nu mi-l da mie; 
Iar duhul curatiei, al gandului smerit, al rabdarii si al dragostei daruieste-l mie robului Tau.
Asa, Doamne, Imparate, daruieste-mi ca sa-mi vad gresalele mele si sa nu osandesc pe fratele meu, ca binecuvantat esti in vecii vecilor.

Amin.