November Noir.

Fall is slowly concluding and the fiery glow of the ostentatious season is now only a memory. Instead, the outlines of trees stand naked, dark and ominous against a milky sky, their branches damp and still, resembling almost menacing silhouettes.
The remains of foliage and long gone bloom turns putrefied, instigating a sense of decay.

Late fall melancholy is by now truly apparent. To me it comes across as an intermission, a moment of stillness and tranquility that stands between the flamboyance of colours and the illumination of the Holiday Season.

I have been somewhat absent, in my writing and in my on-line life, for which I apologize. I do still ponder the bigger questions and I do still notice the enchantment around me, I only need more time to convey it in words and pictures to all of you you.
There are continuously issues that occupy my thinking, such as the fact that I find myself increasingly disenchanted with my line of work, a sensation that started a couple of years back and which only grows in intensity by each passing day.
I find this puzzling - that which once defined me and brought me happiness feels now as a burden and has lost its allure all together.

Is it midlife crises, I wonder, or is it I who have changed...
I feel a deep longing to realize old dreams, using my creative abilities, devoting what remains of my working life to an occupation that is novel and better suited the new me.
Curiously, life never works fully on all levels - if it did, I guess we would be done living it.

My reality evolves constantly and for someone who has lived by predictable routines for decades, I find the ongoing growth curiously reassuring. My husband's children are spending increasing amount of time with us, which changes the dynamic of our lives. It is a challenge on all levels, as I am thrown into parenthood of three teenagers, having never hold them in my arms as babies. Trying to be their friend and guardian and yet at the same time guiding them with gentle but firm rules as a stepmother is a balancing act of a novel kind. Yet as I refine my skills, the rewards are of indescribable measures - they are the children I will never have and their love and devotion surpasses all my expectations.

A move to a new house is now slowly becoming reality and soon we will be finally having a home of our very own where we can live as a family, with a sense of privacy and safe continuity. Thus as I look out onto our misty garden, I wonder whether this is the last November noir I am witnessing outside my windows in this old house. So much emotions and changes has undergone between its walls in such a short time. I know I will miss it in a certain way...

Nature is indeed winding down. It is entering a deep sleep, discarding the old and shriveled, renewing itself from within, in order to emerge reborn and revitalized a few months down the road.
This is a contagious rejuvenation, that applies to everything living, us humans too. Most likely when winter turns into spring, my own life will be reborn in a new place.

Late fall is in my perception always defined by one single masterpiece; Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21.
Thus when I look into the mist, I can hear piano and strings of violins, giving the melancholy of November a truly poetic, symbolic and almost meditative feel.

The Allure Of Autumn.

I am a summer child.
I am born in the midst of the golden season and I worship the white nights, the warm, long days and the richness and suppleness of nature.
However, as I grow older, I find more and more allure in autumn.

I enjoy everything about this versatile season.
The beautiful colour display, which happens with certain precision, yet which can change annually in regards to intensity and duration.
The sense of closure, and the increasing feel of tranquility - the slowed down pace that instigates a sense of rest.

As the air grows cool and damp and the daylight turns into twilight, the effect is a sweet contradiction - an atmosphere of certain gentle sadness and melancholy, which the receding sun leaves behind, yet simultaneously a welcomed and needed sense of rest.
A well deserved winter sleep for nature and for us, as we seek indoors to the warmth of a crackling fire and the company of loved ones, for cosy moments in the shine of candlelight.

Autumn plays a vital role in the yearly seasonal cycle and is deeply alluring in every sense, if we only care to take notice.

Year One.

The first anniversary of my move north came and went, without much notice on my part. Last week however, some reoccurring, yearly sport event made me realize that by mid July I have indeed spend one year in my new home.

I can safely conclude that these have been the best twelve months of my life. At times I view my life as a combinations of assorted segments. Personal eras that start and end with defying events. Taken together they make me feel like I have already lived several lifetimes combined into one. Last year yet again another new era started and I am endlessly excited about the novel prospects that await in my future.

Most of all I am looking forward to move to a new house, a house that I will hopefully one day soon purchase together with my husband. The period of looking, searching and planning is endlessly exciting. My old white house has been taken off the market and I am becoming a landlord, renting it out until it can be sold at a good price in the future. Today it is a buyers marked and the sellers have to comply, thus I guess we better take advantage of this fact and become buyers instead.

Time is definitely occupying my thinking as of lately. Yet, the avenues have shifted slightly and I have found myself contemplating the subject of death.
I have never contemplated it to any deeper extend before. Of course, just like everyone else, I too am scared of dying, but the fear that recently enveloped me is not the fear of death and the pain of the event itself, more the fear of the finality that it brings.

I dread the end of my consciousness.
The end of experiences, excitement and adventures, of new possibilities and unforgettable moments. I love to be alive - despite the pain and suffering, there is also so much beauty and magic at every turn, so much new to be discovered every day. The termination of all this a horrid and appalling idea. At least, unless one is a believer, death definitely brings an end to life as we know it. I truly feel these have been some of the most haunting thoughts I have ever had. Perhaps they are born out of the surprising and overwhelming happiness that defines my life currently, forcing me to see the other end of the scale. Taking a peak into an abyss that I know awaits, one day. As always, we fear the unknown - and death is by far the most certainly occurring unknown there is.

It feels as if our summer has not really begun - due to the absolutely unseasonable weather we have had. Yet small signs here and there tell me undoubtedly that my favourite season has passed its peak.
I just noticed that our rowan is already displaying half ripen berries. Plants, bushes and trees are now big and lush, having attained that deep dark green, signifying that their growth is slowing down and ceasing.

Yet for the first time ever this does not bring sadness into my perception. On the contrary, slowly a joy starts to gain hold, an anticipation and excitement, similar to the one I used to experience as a little girl when Christmas was approaching. Soon a true countdown will begin, as I await the return of the man I love.
With about five weeks left of our separation, I have finally allowed myself to slowly visualize his homecoming in my mind. Thus at last I can glimpse the light at the end of the dark tunnel and the approaching fall season has never looked more appealing and never been more anticipated in my eyes than this year.

Life Interupted, Yet Beautiful.

I spend the entire weekend writing.
I hoped the result would be a reflective prose, but reading it today, the words come across as gloomy, somber and melancholic. They do not flow and they feel negative - I guess they reflect the darker state of my mind and the gentle blues that hit me this past week.

I wrote about my involuntary solitude, and the negative aspects of loneliness and seclusion. About the lack of human touch over an extended period of time and what it does to our well being. How painful it is to miss someone we love and how unbearable it is to fear for their life every single moment of the day...
How sad it is to have life interrupted, being put on hold and paused and feel that time is standing still. How the absence of sun, the never ending rain, the darkness despite it being June bring on a strong sensory deprivation and momentary, but deep depression.

However, no matter how much I lament or wallow in self pity, one fact remains: this is my life. It might feel interrupted and at times very wrong, but right now it is all I have got.
Additionally, I have so much more. The sinister thoughts that cloud my mind occasionally prevent me from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

My writing is an outlet and a release, not just of the creative kind but also of the healing kind. Any form of sadness that I put down on paper, or screen, seems to leave me and the act of illustrating my emotions with sentences is the best form of therapy.
There is not always a need to share it with the world.

Thus instead of prolong words of sadness and complaints, let me leave you with a picture that brought a smile to my face this weekend. Watching felines relax as if they do not have one single worry in the world puts even my mind to ease and reinforces the belief that life is indeed beautiful, at all times.

Twelve Down, One Hundred And Fifteen To Go...

It is morning and I sit at our kitchen table. The house is uncomfortably quiet.

Looking at the wall calender on my left I see twelve red crosses drawn over the past twelve days. Twelve odd days have passed since I parted with the love of my life. He is currently thousands of miles away, in a distant, foreign country that I will never visit, making sure its inhabitants can face a better future.

These past twelve days can be summarized as a period of arduous re-adjustment. They have been at times extremely difficult and most of all very, very long. I am slowly forced to accept the fact that I am once again - against my will - alone and I try relentlessly to find some positive aspect of my new reality.

I have good days and I have bad days.

When it is as worst, it feels as if I can not stand this predicament a minute longer and I keep wondering why my fate is once again putting me through such an ordeal.
The first day was by far the most difficult one. After having said good by to my love, watching him disappear from my view, my world suddenly fell apart. I felt alone and abandoned, consumed by anguish, fear and deep sadness.
Even now, the notion of the prolong separation renders me at times emotionally unstable, leaving me with a sense of despair. I can not conquer the emptiness within, nor the state of panic that keeps rising, trying to overcome me.

Yet, as time moves forward, I also have days when all of this seems less dramatic - and they increase in numbers. These days are my beacons of light, illuminating the path in a long dark tunnel through which I am traveling. Brought on by a small simple pleasure or the beauty of natural wonders as they momentarily pass my views and consciousness.
And eventually by my positive thinking, which always disperses the train of unsettling thoughts. But most of all by the reassurance from the man that I love, in form of an endearing word or a kind voice, reminding me that he is still there and he still cares. More than I will ever know. And that he is safe.


Twelve down, one hundred and fifteen to go.
To endure so many more days without seeing his face or feeling his touch comes across as unthinkable.
However, when my sanity returns in those glimpses of light, I realize that I have to allow myself to mourn and to embrace the sadness, the longing and the deep pain, understanding these as something vital and good. It is a proof of deep affection and an intimate connection between two people in love.
Thus, as days move forward, I will slowly regain my bearings and turn this time into something beneficial and prosperous. Already I find gentle consolation in the notion that the countdown has at last begun. Only twelve down, yet twelve less that two weeks back. Time can be our friend and our enemy, yet it is constant and it moves forward bringing an end to everything, whether it is good or bad.

I am a firm believer in the notion that everything happens for a reason. The difficult and trying periods in our life truly have their purpose. They are a time of growth and learning and they bring us forward, saving us from stagnation. Eventually these create a healthy balance in our life, enriching us with beneficial experiences. Human psyche is very strong and we can get used to almost anything - we can always handle more than we think.

Thus even though the temporary separation from my husband is difficult and unbearable, it reinforces our devotion for each other and it makes the days we indeed get to spend together more precious and magical. My heart is saturated with so much love and I hope this love will prevent sadness and fear in gaining hold.

"This too shall pass."
The old saying holds so much significance in my eyes today. And I know in no uncertain terms that if I only endure this trying time, the best is still yet to come.

(Images: photobucket, with exception of the last and first image)

Current Contemplations.

I am starting my eighth month in a new home and yet if feels as if eternity has passed since July. Returning from vacation last summer, without much deliberation or discussions, we packed my old Toyota with a few necessities, not too mention Sammy - and that was it, I have moved. Some months after that my old house was rented out and simultaneously put up for sale.

It has all been easy and uncontrived. All the decision we make together come along naturally and are unforced. Even though our every day life is filled with problems, we seem to have the same outlook on life and share the same values and opinions on how to solve them. This fuels our passion for each other.

I truly do feel deeply loved and cherished. Oddly enough, the incredible respect with which I am being treated now keeps bringing to my recollection the terrible way I have been used and abused in my past.
I find it endlessly intriguing the way human psyche works and how we deal with the aftermath of the events in our life. Today I seem to be thinking a great deal about my loss, that devastating loss which I experienced last spring. The wound still runs too deep to reveal it's details in my writing, yet it is something that seems to haunt my mind currently.
This makes me struggle with an internal conflict over whether some people that cause us deep pain should never be forgiven and should only be forgotten. I hope one day I will come to that profound insight which will enable me to understand and finally forgive the actions of someone I trusted, but I am not there yet.

Fortunately I know that as winter moves into spring and into summer, even my recollection will dwindle and I will embrace my present and focus on my future.
One wonderful product of changes, among many, is that they force us to reevaluate our life and ourselves.  I believe our traits are a consequence of both our environment and our heritage. I know today I am a legacy of my past and the way I function is dictated by my experiences. At times I wish I would have been spared certain pain and setbacks, as it would have produced a much less complicated me. My personality is riddled with flaws that I have accumulated during troubled and sedative years in my past. There are aspects of my traits which have stagnated and are undeveloped and it is only now becoming clear to me how much I indeed yet have to learn. As I am exposed to new areas of my reality, I am forced to excel and extend the limit of my capabilities. At times this is slightly unnerving, but also endlessly exhilarating. I am still a student of life.

The lovely BPG shared a link to an intriguing article in one of her posts the other day. It listed the top five regrets people express when lying on their dead beds. A fascinating read.

This hit close to home for me somewhat as one of my relatives passed away recently. Riddled with disease, his ultimate years were a time of endless suffering. Yet the last time I saw him, he still had that spark of joie de vivre in his eyes. If anyone loved life and enjoyed living, it was him indeed. I bet he had no regrets at all.

His passing once again brought the thin line between life and death into my perception. It reinforced my perpetual belief in living each day as it was our last. The time we are given here is so very precious and incredibly fragile. Just the simple act of being alive is a miracle - how foolish it is to waste it away on petty worries and arrogant pursuits.
We arrive here with nothing and leave with nothing as well. All we own in the end are the memories and recollections that leave with us. Eventually the only riches that matters are the treasures we carry within.

In Memory Of J (1939-2012)

Twenty One Grams.

There is a theory, somewhat controversial and often discredited, which proposes that when a human being passes on, the body weights exactly twenty one grams less then when alive. Thus it has been suggested that this is the weight of a soul.

I wonder, if one could weigh my white house on the hill today, whether it woudl be weighing less than when I lived there. As these days it certainly feels as if the "soul has left the building".

Selling a home is a strange process. No matter the reason, whether one wants to do it or is forced to, there is a certain feel of termination of life in this conduct.
I believe a home is created.
It is built out of love and affection and supported by people, by their laughter and tears and foremost by their presence. Once this is removed from a building, it becomes an empty framework, a lifeless construction, a foreign place.

I take very little pleasure in visiting the house these days.
I do it nevertheless - out of necessity - on regular bases and will continue to do so until it is sold. The selling however is not going all that well I am afraid, considering the financial crises that has spread once again through the world like an infectious disease.

Thus the house, that one place that once brought me joy, safety and comfort has now become a burden. A lifeless shell, a forced commitment, a financial affliction. It comes across like shackles around my ankles, keeping me imprisoned in the past, preventing me from moving on into my future.
It is today a far cry from the place I once knew and loved, so endlessly removed from my perception, demanding my care and draining my energy.

I never ever believed that I would feel these kind of emotions. They are a mixture of sadness, deep melancholy and a bittersweet recollection of another life all together. One that is only removed a few months in time, but decades in my perception.
It is a very odd realization and a truly shocking surprise.

Thus I linger there only for a moment.
Almost immediately upon entering I am enveloped by a feeling of being in a foreign place. My things are still there - I recognize all the furniture and the decor - but it does not feel at all cosy or familiar. Even the scent is different. I catch myself being in a hurry as I water the plants, open the windows, sort through the surface mail. Dust of the shelves, sweep the floor.
I simply can not wait to be on my way again.

In short moments though, when I gaze at the framed photographs of familiar faces and sit down for an instant, gazing out of my westbound windows at a stunning landscape and open sky - a wave of memories comes sweeping back.
But they do not stay with me, it seems they only pass me by, reminding me to remain thankful and most of all respectful.

They caution me to never ever forget the beautiful moments I once spend between these walls, together with all the people that helped me made it a home.

One day I will leave it forever.
It will become a shelter for someone new, keeping them happy and safe.
One day new life will move into the white house on a hill and bring back its soul.

November Nostalgia.

As we stand between seasons, late fall melancholy becomes ever so palpable in the air. The sense of conclusion leaves its imprint in our surroundings, while Lady Autumn prepares to pass over her reign to the cold season.

In my mind, this part of the year plays out as a solemn symphony, in strokes of violins and piano, the likes of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21. In images, the misty landscape seems to be saturated by a sense of gentle sorrow, as drops of rain adorn the last, shriveled remains of foliage, like bittersweet tears.

This is the time of November Nostalgia, filled with sweet remembrance and contemplation of moments passed. It comes across almost as a stillness, a moment of tranquility that lingers for a while, while we prepare to say our farewell to the flamboyant fall.

Nature is winding down and this decline is certainly contagious. There is an atmosphere of rest in my surroundings, a sense of odd harmony instigated by the endless circle of renewal and growth that a year comprises. Each season is a part of nature's master plan and the consistency in this progress is curiously reassuring.

Very soon, the shift to the reign of Winter will occur and replace the sense of twilight with the brilliance of illumination - and in it its turn - late fall melancholy with the time of expectations and joy, while the Holiday Season truly begins.

The Last Sunset...

This past weekend I watched the sun set, for the last time over a true horizon. As the golden disc moved on an absolutely pristine autumn sky, it was initially obstructed by trees. Ultimately it reappeared in my view, only minutes before melting into the the dark silhouette of land, granting me the allure of its final setting beauty.


I admit that this final farewell touched me to tears...

The Scandinavian sun is to me the subject of infinite magic. It is either abundant in the summer months, giving rise to the enticing white nights, creating light shows unlike any other on the evening sky. Equally long however, it graces us with its total absence in the winter, when darkness rule our world and twilight our days.

It feels as if it was only yesterday I was rejoicing over the suns return, yet now the vital star has departed from my view again. This fall farewell effects me deeply, more than the one I usually have to endure when Summer's end is imminent. My world will soon be submerged into darkness for months to come. Thus this final sunset of the year is suddenly signifying - for the first time this season - a true imminence of winter...

(Please click on the images below for larger view)

Love Letters.

Love, that foolish, yet transcending emotion, that makes us feel invincible and so endlessly fragile, simultaneously.

Love is such a universal feeling, one that connects us all, as we are all familiar with its bittersweet allure, one that leaves us with the sense of flight as well as fall...

This powerful emotion has been described so many times, in so many ways, with enticing words on paper, creating unforgettable works of art.
I am sure I speak for many of us, when I claim to posses at least one manifestation of emotions, written by a lovers hand in a letter, to be forever immortalized and revisited by the eyes they were meant for.

Not long ago, I stumbled upon a delightful little collection of love letters at a flea market. They are bound into a book, entitled "Love Letters Of Great Men", compiled by Ursula Doyle. Almost every evening, I get lost in a sea of affection, as expressed by great minds of the past, reading through the candid lines of their desire, learning about their inner most emotions of often unrequited love, aimed at Ladies that won their hearts.

The ones that captured my senses more than any other are letters by Ludwig Van Beethoven, the talented composer, written to his "Immortal Beloved". Three such passionate letters were found after his death and the identity of the recipient was never conclusively established. This adds greatly to the uncanny enchantment that envelops every reader of the emotionally charged sentences, as the passion is so very palpable in every word...

Excerpts from "To Immortal Beloved, Good Morning, on 7 July"

O God, why must one go away from what one loves so... You made me the happiest and unhappiest at the same time.

What longing in tears for you - You - my Life - my All - farewell. Oh, go on loving me - never doubt the faithfullest heart
Of your beloved
L
Ever Thine
Ever Mine
Ever Ours.



Note: I was not the only one enthralled by the passion hidden within the love letters. Indeed, Bernard Rose directed a film entitled "Immortal Beloved" in the 90's. Filmed in Prague and in the Czech country side, it is deliciously melancholic, as the plot circles around the pursuit of unveiling the identity of the secret love of Beethoven... A beautiful piece of cinematography in vision and sound, highly recommended for all the fellow hopeless romantics out there...

Flashback Friday: "Guardian Angel".

I do not know much about Masquerade. Except for the somewhat ethereal composition below, made in 1984 in collaboration with Drafi Deutscher. It moves me back at least two decades, when it was played on the radio and reminds me of care free times of my youth.

Even though the harmonies in "Guardian Angel" might be slightly old fashioned, the lyrics feel very time less...

The Concept Of Fear.

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear".
Nelson Mandela

Fear. That unsettling feeling in the pit of one's stomach, that unexplainable emotion that overcomes us at different points in our life. And which will rule us for a moment or longer, as we feel saturated with sadness or aggression. Bringing us to the bursting point and at times plunging us into the dark abyss of our minds.

We can feel different kinds of fear; fear of being hurt, emotionally and physically. Fear of changes, fear of abandonment, fear of failure, fear of loneliness, fear of not being accepted or loved. Fear of loosing control, fear of being ridiculed. Fear of loosing someone or something. Fear of the future. Eventually fear of death.
And perhaps of life itself - the worst fear of them all.

We grow up with fear as an emotion. Some will claim that we are born fearless and only learn to display fear, as we sense it from our parents. Of course, as we grow older, unpleasant experiences lead us to harbour fear for certain situations or events.

A small dose of fear is actually good. It is indeed vital. Some people suffer from a rare condition called "Hypophobia". This means that they can not recognize danger and have no sense of fear. Individuals that experience this disorder are not afraid of anything, which can eventually lead to devastating decisions or choices. However, exaggerated or an irrational fear gives rise to phobias, which can impact our lives in the most haunting ways.

I know that my own fear, or the feeling of anxiety has certainly risen with age. Sometimes I envy my "young self", almost admire her at times. That young girl that packed her bags and flew half way around the world to the unknown. Without an ounce of fear, only an adventure in mind. Who never lost sleep or worried about the future, left problems in the dust and stuck by her ideals, never accepting that which was wrong, feeling empowered by her conviction.
Today she is only a distant memory.

I have developed a few phobias over the years, my fear of flying being the main one. I have also noticed that I dislike enclosed spaces and at times crowds of people, situations that make my heart race and my adrenalin level to rise.
I can lie awake late at night, woken up by a slight wind breeze, as strange and unnerving thoughts enter my mind, consuming my whole being, making me afraid. And making me wonder, where are the times when my sleep was heavy and undisturbed.

I guess ignorance is bliss. Not knowing the danger, not having anything to loose makes us brave and daring as young. Later in life, when we closely considered the consequences of every change, when every step counts and when making the wrong turns comes at a cost, we grow more cautious and we become more weary.

I have at last surrendered myself to the fact, that I might never be fearless again. As the summer of my life nears its end, I seek tranquility and stillness. Sometimes I long for a change, as I reevaluate my achievements and sometimes I still feel the calling of adventures ahead. And perhaps when my gut tells me they feel right, I might give into them one more time.

Today I know that fear is a constant that will be present in my days - in one form or another - for the rest of my life. It will rule my consciousness occasionally and at times, it will be justified. However, some fear has to be conquered, as life lived in fear is only life half lived. Playing it safe at all the times is futile as after all, we never know what tomorrow brings.

I have realized that as I grow more afraid with age, I also grow - in a certain way - more courageous.

Unforgettable Moments.

“There is no happiness; there are only moments of happiness.”
(Spanish Proverb)

Unforgettable Moments.
We all have those.
Memories of a fleeting instant in time, so powerful and compelling, it carves an imprint in our consciousness, where it will forever remain vivid and clear. Endlessly confirming the fact that our perception always overrules the laws of time.

These moments are as unpredictable, as they are enchanting. We can not envisage them ahead, they just appear, as if by magic, out of nowhere, when we least expect it. They instigate an allure, which is everlasting and fuels our joy for life at all times.
When they do occur, it feels as if we are standing in the very core of our existence, being able to control time, making it stand absolutely still, while we mastermind our senses. We can taste scents, hear colours and see sounds. And we can touch and seize the present, unlike any other moment, to conserve it as pristine as it feels right then and there.

We all carry in our memory at least one such a snapshot in time, which we love to revisit and relive, whenever we choose. When an ordinary morning or evening, in a very ordinary day, turns into that special recollection, which will never leave us. It can be a simple alignment of events, creating an absolute perfection in our perception. This flawless image can include beautiful natural scenes, alluring sounds, extraordinary interventions or the presence of exceptional people. A unique combination that will at all times reinforce our belief in the beautiful, in the divine, in the good, in the magical and in the miracle of life. Again and again.

Life is worth living, if only for those transcending moments in time. However few, and however far in between they are.

Flashback Friday: "Ocean Deep".

Sir Cliff Richard. Even the name sounds iconic. Whether one likes his music or not, one fact remains; he is one of the true remaining superstars, talented and charismatic, having been active on the scene for half a century and managed to supply us with first class entertainment, looking forever young while doing so.

My awareness of Cliff Richard occurred in 1984, as he was climbing the charts with the catchy compilation; "Baby You're Dynamite". I was at this point somewhat familiar with his music, mostly because his old hits from the 60's and 70's, such as "Congratulations" and "Summer Holiday", were translated into Czech and often played on the radio when I was a child.
There are numerous beautiful songs that I could share with you here, all made by this infinitely talented performer, such as "Dreaming" and "We Don't Talk Anymore", two of my absolute favorites.

However I opted for a somewhat overlooked gem, featured on the B side of the "Baby You're Dynamite" single. Not many are familiar with this beautifully composed and eloquently performed piece. Entitled "Ocean Deep", it is delicately sentimental and poetic.

The lyrics are full of melancholic longing and the harmony seems to make this song light as air, yet deep as the blue waters of the ocean...
It is simply beautiful art - music at it's very best.

Flashback Friday (Christmas Edition): "Song For A Winter's Night".

Sarah McLachlan is one of my favorite artists. I discovered her music in the early nineties, when I heard Possession being played on the radio one day. Her music spoke to me in an unusual way and I can not recall being so influenced by any other harmonies before or since. I went ahead and purchased every single album she released to date and at one point owned and loved all the records.

"Song For A Winter's Night" is a very unusual Holiday song I would say, but I love its originality and the tranquil melancholy in the lyrics. It is full of bittersweet longing in the midst of winter, a sentiment I can so well relate to. Complemented in a delicate way by Sarah's unique voice, this is an exquisite piece in my Christmas collection.
I hope you too will enjoy this ethereal compilation.

Flashback Friday: "Stín Katedrál".

Today I am sharing with you a compilation of the Czech music scene. It is very different, and quiet possibly of very limited interest, as few (if any) of you can understand the words nor know the artist or the song.
Still, perhaps some of you can find the beauty in the haunting harmonies appealing.

I feel very much removed from the modern Czech music, as I have not grown up there and my teens were spend in the west. Thus my knowledge of the Czech or Slovak artists is very limited. All I recall are the performers of my parents generation, such as Karel Gott, whose music equals my childhood.

During the late 90' while living in North Carolina, I realized that multitude of radio stations, even European, were transmitting live online. Thus I found a popular Czech station and used to listen to it every day in the lab on my computer. In that period, I knew all the Czech hits. This was when I made a brief acquaintance with Peter Muk. Much later, when I visited Prague with my parents in the beginning of this decade, his songs were often played on the radio while we drove through the Czech country side. I became completely infatuated with his style. His compilations hold the very essence of what I look for in music. His lyrics are incredibly poetic and his sound has that airy, escapist feel to it that the romantic in me enjoys to dream myself away to.

My favorite compilation of his was not available for sharing, unfortunately, therefore I decided to share the one below. I am not completely sure, but I assume this is a live performance in 2007 or 2008 of his big hit from 1996, entitled "Stín Katedrál" , which translates something like "The Shadow of The Cathedrals". It comes across as a tribute to Karel Svoboda, who composed this song in the 70's, I believe.

Svoboda was a very talented composer of a multitude of absolutely magnificent compilations, throughout almost four decades. He wrote hit after hit for numerous Czech performers (including Karel Gott). It is quiet curios for me today to ponder the fact, that he originally studied in the medical field and was a close friend of my father, while they both attended the Charles University in Prague in the 60's.

Unfortunately and very sadly, Karel Svoboda died way before his time in the most tragic way - by taking his own life in 2007.

I hope you will enjoy this rare and absolutely stunning performance in a breathtaking setting, of one of the most hauntingly beautiful compilations I know...

Late Autumn Melancholy...

The first week of November brought with it the sensation of the imminence of the approaching winter. The weather grew colder and the sun has been absent. We even experienced the fall of the first snow, which however failed to leave any cover. A strong storm swept over the country in mid week, ripping through the trees, robbing them of the last of their foliage and leaving a barren landscape behind.

The nature offers the first glimpse of autumn melancholy. The clouds are dark and low, the air is damp and still, the trees almost bare and the remains of their fallen leaves lie in heaps everywhere. There is a feeling of sad tranquility in my surroundings, however it seems not to darken my spirits. On the contrary, it fills me with calming serenity as I watch the fragile daylight slowly disappear.

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