This tale, if it is a tale, is one born from the workings of either my over active imagination, which over the years so many of my students will testify to, extensive research or could it just be everything I believe in? I’ll leave you to consider these choices. Always remember though, above anything else you are about to read, it has to be your choice, you and only you can believe what you want to believe. I can plant the seeds, but it’s your choice to allow them to grow or not.
Actually, I may as well throw logic into the mix while I am at it; it is based in things that have happened, but with the sweep of a brush of artistic license thrown in.
Let me start with many years ago in The Republic of Ireland. There I met an elderly gentleman named Thomas; this was in a pub from a bygone age on the south coast, when there really was sawdust to be found on the floors. Malc, my long suffering now retired Psychic husband and I, had been stopping in the pub and had gone downstairs for a drink, as you do. A silence fell on the room as we walked in: strangers! We walked up to the bar, sitting down on the stools and the room came alive again when we were greeted by the Landlady asking about our day: not strangers but guests.
After a very short time we’d struck up a conversation with Thomas, who seemed to appear from nowhere, pulling up another stool beside us. We talked about everything and anything, putting the world to rights and talking about his family. He was in his late 70s, one of 11 children and the only one still living in Ireland. The rest of his siblings had gone to England to seek their fortunes, and somehow forgotten to go back, which I found incredibly sad.
We steered away from politics and religion, which were topics best not to have an opinion on, especially in those days.
Now when I look back, he more than anyone else I have ever met, made me aware of my intuition and not taking things and definitely not people at face value. Thomas had that precious gift of true sight and in those few hours he taught me more than anyone had done before; without me appreciating it…
Thomas spoke slowly as he knew his accent was a difficult one for most foreigners to follow, the lilt to his voice was though mesmerising, watching his lips move was intoxicating. Without knowing it, or maybe he did, he taught me to listen to every word a fraction longer and to slow the conversation down in my mind. By the end of the evening it was truly difficult saying goodbye to him; knowing we would never meet again. Leaving him there in the bar, I also knew I would remember that encounter forever.
It has taken a while to finally appreciate it, but I’m pretty sure that’s where the seeds of The Crystal’s Songs were first planted; learning to listen.
Fast forward 25 years or more to earlier this year, when Malc and I were travelling through some of the most beautiful countryside imaginable. We stopped the car in the middle of literally nowhere, or it at least seemed that way. We’d been out for the day with our dogs so we got out and went for yet another walk; our Jacks can never have too many walks!
As we wandered, I kept hearing sounds, gentle hums, but couldn’t quite make out what they were. Since the first day I fell in love with Crystals I’ve always heard them, but these sounds were different, different notes, scales, call them what you will.........................