I have the joy of being able to tell you that, though deaf and blind, I spent a glorious hour last night listening over the radio to Beethoven’s “Ninth Symphony.” I do not mean to say that I “heard” the music in the sense that other people heard it; and I do not know whether I can make you understand how it was possible for me to derive pleasure from the symphony. It was a great surprise to myself…
What was my amazement to discover that I could feel, not only the vibrations, but also the impassioned rhythm, the throb and the urge of the music! The intertwined and intermingling vibrations from different instruments enchanted me. I could actually distinguish the cornets, the roll of the drums, deep-toned violas and violins singing in exquisite unison. How the lovely speech of the violins flowed and plowed over the deepest tones of the other instruments! When the human voice leaped up trilling from the surge of harmony, I recognized them instantly as voices. I felt the chorus grow more exultant, more ecstatic, upcurving swift and flame-like, until my heart almost stood still.
Just finished reading Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore. I started reading and was struggling to try and uncover what is ‘actually’ happening in the physical plane; discerning between the ‘real’ the ‘surreal’ and the dream(scape).
But I began to wonder does the difference matter? How curious and willing was I to imagine the metaphysical possibilities into being?
I began to accept all things presented as both possible and impossible. Further clarity seemed unnecessary.
Even what is determined as ‘true’ (as existing within the more familiar physical plan) is just someone’s version of reality. Limited by the scope of what he/she imagines to be possible.