A love song, in Munich
The sun wasn’t as warm as memory promised it would be. The grass perhaps thinner, mud between the stalks, and itchy on my calves, which felt awkward in shorts after so long under professional trousers. I wanted so badly to enjoy my afternoon off in Munich, the city that most surprised me with it’s beauty when this new job introduced us. So I’d returned to the English Gardens, green and liquid among the concrete realities of urban modernity, seeking the easy summer joy I’d found there last time, when my friend/mentor and I had earned the respect of our Teutonic neighbors with our beer garden food trays.
“You are going to eat all of zis?” They inquired. “No, zis is not possible.” They informed. “Sehr gut!” They soon praised.
But this time, supper was solitary, crushed granola bar dug out of backpack bottom. And no bicycle, just the implacability of my own feet, again, still, always, forward because it’s easier than stopping. But now I’d paused, by a river that didn’t care, with no one to talk to about it. My nature, my vagabond urges, my desire to connect with the planet that threatens to disconnect me from my people, felt closer than my kin. And the water wouldn’t talk to me.
But this age, this semiconductor madness, it has its perks, and the phone in my pocket connected me with the woman back home. The woman I missed. The partner I loved. The deeper dream I wanted to reach. To reconcile with my wanderlust. And now the setting sun wasn’t abandoning, it was saluting. The air wasn’t sucking the warmth from my flesh, it was enlivening my skin. I wasn’t alone and forgotten, I was adrift in a city, the way I love to be.
My steps into the park had been dragging, an effort to reach someplace where Good would start. My steps out were light, aware that Good starts within. I was feeling that flow when I reached the musician.
I’d passed him before, but busy seeking the melody of happiness in my headphoned isolation, so had nodded hello and kept on. Now I took the earbuds out and listened to him. He was good. Soul and skill. I dropped a euro of gratitude in his case, and we got to talking, sharing who we were that day, until another voice spoke up.
“Excuse me,” it said in a soft German accent. “I just wanted to sank you for your playing. She likes it very much.”
The smiling man was pushing a stroller. Inside, an infant daughter watched the guitar player with a focus that seemed enlightened. Her infant’s inability to form facial expressions left her focus somehow pristine, unmuddled by self-consciousness or the details of communication. Just pure attention, approaching easy adoration. The joy coming from this tiny vulnerable creature felt invincible.
“Would you like another?” asked the guitarist. Then he sang her a love song, smooth and sweet, as evening light caressed down through the trees, which stood around to watch this tiny, perfect child listen to a musician’s harmony and care. And I, privileged witness, could only feel that the world was again in its perfect orbit.
(The guitar player can be found here.)
Nicely done. An acquaintance of mine would describe this state of consciousness as knowing what it’s like to “go through the rainbow.”
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I like that! I don’t know if it’s how your acquaintance means it, but I interpret that as a blend of universal harmony, transcendental happiness, and a touch of Kermit the Frog, all of which make perfect sense to me.
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Buskers fascinate me. I’ve seen some sensational ones that have been equally mesmerising. Thanks for bringing back those memories.
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My pleasure. Now pay me back with some of those tales! 😉
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Dreamy 🙂
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Yes, yes he was. I was a bit torn as to whether or not to put a pic of the guitarista, since ideas are always more poignant, but he really did have a very nice air. If you stop by Munich, give him a chance to sing you a song. 😉
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It was your writing that I found dream-like… 🙂
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Very sweet. I’m listening to Antò Nio now. Thanks for sharing!
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hahaha Excellent! I’m in awe of anyone who can write their own songs. I write my own lyrics now and then, but they tend to be more appropriate for the locker room than a sunset ode.
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This was lovely 🙂
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Thank you. Do any similar moments come to mind from your many travels, when disharmony dissolved into a feeling of rightness?
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I think it seems to be a constant in my travels. Just that perfect balance to remind you that it’s all good
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Awww how adorable is that? Love the buskers. We have some impressive ones around as well.
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I’ve heard that about y’all down yonder. Eventually I’ll make my way hither to see/hear for myself, any recommendations for where to go for that sort of thing?
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Sydney & Melbourne would be the best places I’d say! There’s buskers lining the harbour at Circular Quay near and around the ferry terminals. Also through the walk way tunnels leading to Central station. Although to be fair I hear there’s some interesting things that happen in Adelaide during festival weeks but I’ve never been myself so can’t say for sure.
Ps. You’re welcome to couch surf at our place if you’re ever in town! Or if we are in a place with our spare room set up you can even have a bed! Accommodation costs in Sydney are outrageous.
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Thank you! I deeply appreciate that. (And same goes for you, if you’re ever in Oakland/San Francisco when I am.)
And thank you for the recommendations. Funny about Adelaide. One of the Australians I traveled with the longest was from there, and had juuust a bit of a chip on the shoulder about being ignored by the rest of Australia. Can I ask your opinion of the place? Is it anything deliberate that has kept you away? (Not that I’m anywhere close to visiting everywhere in my country either.)
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*gigglesnort*
Adelaide has a bad rep here. Only because it’s seen as not having much on unless it’s the comedy festival at which point it gets interesting. For many it’s like a small town in the middle of nowhere that doesn’t have much draw. No huge shopping draws (shops close early) there’s no real cultural draw (Sydney & Melbs have an active blues/bar/pub scene as well as coffee houses, art nights in obscure pubs, etc)… I guess the rest of us view it as the sibling that couldn’t!
To be fair though, it was majorly known for as a mining town when the mines were running a hella more up near Cooper Pedy. But that’s now slowly drying up too. And to actually get to Adelaide isn’t an hour plane ride to Melbourne or Brisbane. Even if they have a great wine valley (for those of us that love our plonk)
My own personal reasons? I figure I’ll get there when I decide to do my train ride across the country and not before. There’s nothing that pulls me there. Not like Melbs, where I visit once a year.
Yay! Thank you for the offer of a couch! We may be passing through towards the end of this year but our cities aren’t set yet. 🙂
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I loved this,made me feel warm.
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Hearing that it did so for you, did the same thing for me.
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