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Anthology: A Collections of Flowers by Shiva

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The Street Corner Musician.

It was a bit chilly as I removed my gray overcoat and laid it next to my feet. I opened the violin case and gently and carefully removed my Stradivarius violin. I reached in my pocket and threw a couple of wadded up dollar bills and some change into the case.

I plucked the strings and quickly tuned this instrument that was not only one of the finest violins in the world, but a true work of art. It had been my best and only true friend for the past twenty years. It was a gift given to me by a dear departed friend who had recognized my talents all those years ago and bequeathed it to me on his deathbed. Every time I touch this instrument, he comes to mind and my heart aches and I smile.

I closed my eyes and ran through a huge repertoire in my head… hum, something by Mozart. I thought about the piece of music and the marvelous musical master that composed it. The music became clearer in my mind and suddenly the Stradivarius sprang to life. As the music played in my head, the fingers and bow, without thought, worked with the violin and the music rose into the air. Parts were tricky now. Years of playing for hours a day, had make this difficult passage stream out perfectly. I rose as the music rose. My whole body became the music… I was nothing but the music.

In the distant crowd, a part of me heard, "Man, He's Great!". A lady said to her husband, "George, He is magnificent!", to which he replied, "Hey, he's just a bum. Let's go!"

The music now came to a part where feelings welled up from the depths of despair. Slowly it struggled and climbed until, like a great bird rising above the clouds, it soared!

Part of me… a very small part, noticed a crazed filthy homeless man push through the crowd. He stood for a moment and suddenly reached down and grabbed a handful of dollar bills out of the case. "Grab him!", someone shouted… But he ran away.

The music was soaring ever higher now. I was the music… that is all that I am. The Stradivarius screamed and wailed and then settled on a single note. Then came the finale. The music stopped. A few people clapped and I could hear some coins drop into the case.

I opened my eyes, picked up the money and stuffed it into my pants pocket. I didn't bother to count it. I gently placed my violin inside it's case and shut it. I picked up my coat and put it on, grabbed my case and left. The music had stopped. I walked away.

The Street Corner Musician Commentary:

I really like this story. It reminds me that I am here for the music and when I do things just right, I am the music. It really doesn't matter what others think. It is only the music that counts.

   
       

 

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