This is a repost of from one of my first posts on Substack, in October 2023.
I'm republishing it for two reasons:
1- It's increasingly topical, due to the growth of wars, and I know that many of my readers haven't read it yet.
2- War represents chaos, the beauty of things represents harmony and cosmos. I think that's what we all do here at Substack, add a little harmony to the chaos of everyday life.
This post will be without a paywall for 3 weeks.
A narrow dirt road, flanked by woods interspersed with small agricultural plantations. On the road, a small bridge rises a little above the stream that runs through the village. In the background, a wooden house with no more than three rooms.
The orange of the road and the brown of the wood blend together in a perfect combination that can only be seen in the Spring manifestations of nature.
The small stone courtyard where She plays was built by her father. The thatched roof, fragile but effective, provides shelter for the little family.
Father, mother and daughter live far from the city, but dream of going there one day. They will set off like someone on an expedition. The father has managed to scrape together some money that he earns from his job as a carpenter, and is thinking ahead. She dreams of one day being able to travel to the city, and although She has never verbalized her desire, her father knows that She fantasizes a lot about such a trip.
Ever since she was a child, when her grandmother who lives next door doesn't give her chores to do, She plays her brown violin. As She plays, She sways her body in lateral movements. At that moment, violin, body and melody are indistinguishable, as if they were elements of a whole that blends in with the landscape.
As the village was small, no more than ten houses, whenever She played, everyone could hear her. Some of them stopped their chores, pointing their ears in the direction of the music, as if drawn by a kind of enchantment.
- There you have to pay to attend this kind of concert - said one of the lucky few who had ever visited a city.
Through music, She and her violin made the harsh life of the village easier to bear.
She grew up dreaming that the voice of her violin would travel around the world as an echo of her emotions. She knew that art, like emotions, speaks a universal language that is accessible to everyone and can transform, unite, divide or leave anyone wondering.
She learned this as a child, when she played knowing that everyone in the village was listening. She realized early on that art is like a cry that never fades.
Today, just as when She was a child, the world is the stage where she and her violin continue to make themselves heard. Regardless of the harshness of life and the recent war, She feels happy and at peace. The dream hasn't died and she still is, and knows she always will be, the dreamy Violin Girl, as they called her in his village.
He also had dreams. Ever since he was a child, He had climbed trees with an agility that impressed anyone who watched. Every time he did it, He imagined he was the hero of an adventure book.
He knew he was the strongest boy in his village. He felt proud because he knew that the others looked at him with a mixture of disdain, fear and envy.
But his boyhood dreams didn't come true. Now He is forced to fight for his life inside a Metal Armor that condemns him to be one of the messengers of torture, terror and destruction.
Inside this armor, the characteristic smell of cold metal stands out among the tangle of wires, buttons and levers. It is a complex machine, of a crude and heavy complexity that is nothing like the lightness and simplicity of the wood and nylon strings of a Violin.
She doesn't know him. Before today, their paths had never crossed. She with her musical instrument, He with his instrument of war. Both are masters of their craft.
She had never imagined taking on a war machine, let alone with just her violin. Until today.
When He sees her, He smiles, something he hasn't done for a long time. It's a smile of surprise and amazement at the fearless female figure.
He doesn't know, but She has always known, that the chords coming from her violin are like birds caressing the air, capable of easing the hearts of the hardest.
At that moment, He smells the cold metal even more, the weight of the dark atmosphere inside the metal armor, the power of its strength and destruction, announced by a deafening rumble. He finds himself thinking:
- Could this be fear?
A chill runs through his body. He feels frightened and confused, like when he fell as a child from the chestnut tree he had climbed without his mother knowing. He remembers his family.
Fear makes everything so clear.
He realizes that inside his armor there is only the past and the present. Images of the little boy playing, his father's brown violin, the squeak of his mother's sewing machine as she stitched up her worn-out jeans from climbing trees.
Suddenly, the memories fade.
In its place, the deafening rumble of the metal armor, the pedals that brake it or give it speed, remind him of the improvised bicycle made by his grandfather, the same one who spent hours peeling the wood with which he made tables, chairs and the traps with which he hunted birds just to admire the beauty of their feathers, and then feel the joy of setting them free.
Amid the rumbling, wires, levers and the intense smell of metal, He found himself thinking about how fear was able to make him travel to a past where fear didn't exist, except when his mother discovered that he had torn his worn-out shorts climbing trees. The harshness of his village life prepared him to feel tough, but not to face fear with bravery.
Her life was tough too. When her music teacher gave her the violin her father could never afford, her mother had just died. She didn't pick it up for a year.
One day, she took it out of the black suitcase that was carrying it. The intense smell of dust made her fear that the teacher's offer had been in vain. When she started playing, she tried to imitate the song of her grandmother's yellow canary. She couldn't. She remembered the teacher's words when he said to her:
- Art is always inspiring, and it allows us to see the future differently.
When the war began, She knew that the metal armor, which spat fireballs, would arrive, planting the seeds of fear and destruction that would last for generations.
She played her violin, thinking that the universal language of music could awaken the universal language of the emotions of those at the controls of the metal armor.
The teacher was right.
What She didn't know was that inside his armor, He longed to return to his childhood, where there were no snores or bangs, only the harmonious melody of his father's violin.
She always knew that his music would echo around the world. He always wanted to be like his father, playing the violin on Sunday afternoons. When people asked him why he played, he replied:
- Just to hear me play.
They both know that violins are like time machines, transporting some into the past, while making others dream of alternative futures, where desirable destinies impose themselves in the face of the inevitability of what is possible.
From now on, between him and her, there is a kind of invisible thread that binds them forever, weaving through the meshes of time. He feels a kind of disenchantment with the world, so He looks for the beacon of the past, where history is built with the ink of memory, bringing him back to the happiness of his childhood.
She is looking for a future that is different from the one that lies ahead, where her childhood dreams are still achievable goals. Her desire is to find the invisible line that unites all people, something that is more than just a bright fear to run away from, something that can be a kind of perfume of childhood, peace and happiness.
They are both time travelers, who have only crossed paths for an instant, to which they have been led by the silence of invisible things. This instant's eternity can never be altered.
Who knows if one day the fate of the Violinist and the Soldier will cross again, and together they will be able to play the Violin that releases the eternal melody abble to end all wars.
I hadn't seen this yet, thanks for reposting!
Thank you
It’s hope when we live in chaos & uncertainty