Minuet in G

My day has begun with two options- Laundry or Victoria Secret. I am still in dilemma, whether to wash one or buy one. Weather is good. Heat of the sun is blown away by the cool shiver in the wind. I might just go out.

I wonder.

I put on Beethoven's Minuet in G to ease my way out. Some one has said it and said it right that after silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. Silence I have enough. I am used to it now. May be that's why I don't get any answers anymore. Music is a better option.

Beethoven begins playing. The leaping music brings a smile on my face. My hand dances to the music pouring out of the speaker and my head swings along, accompanying the rhythmic fingers who on their own seems to portray Beethoven playing the keys. The music rises and fall, so does the energy, sometimes intermingled with sweetness of young age, sometimes with the naughtiness that spills only from the eyes which are in love. It has a softness of both a woman's curves and a child's smile. It has the haughtiness of the customs and the serenity of the short steps taken in the court dance that accompanies it- slow and steady, aware of where they are going and where they want to go. It has in it the freedom like the one a bird carries under its wings.

I too want to get up, twirl and jump up in the air. I want my body to feel the rhythm in the notes. I want to dance as I see it in my head. I feel shy. I feel I will look like a fool dancing on Beethoven. But then I hear the music again and realize that I will be thought insane only by those who could not hear the music. That's a good explanation. My head buys it. And any way there is no one around. So I get up tip toping on my toes, copying a few steps that I have been practicing watching those dancers on the screen, I jump here and there, letting my body bend and turn with the music. I feel no fear. I feel invulnerable.

Funny how as the music changes, so does the dance. So much like life, I think. But music feels so liberating. How easily it relates us to the earliest times and the latest. I wonder how Beethoven would have felt when he was composing it or when he played it for the first and the people clapped. Or did they? Did he like it? I know not the answers to these questions but I know that he played his music, unlike so many of us who happen to take our music to the grave. I don't even know if I can think with sounds. I wonder, if I can ever dance on my own music and not what life plays for me. May be one day. As for now I am happy with the borrowed notes from Beethoven and glad how successfully they are sweeping away the everyday dust from my soul. I feel peaceful. I feel a rush. I feel the height. I feel the depth. I feel full. I feel empty. I feel youth. I feel maturity. I feel all. Its like the actual has been taken out of me and now the music is whispering to me the secrets that I haven't known before, which makes me wonder as to who I am, and for what, when, and where.

I now know what people mean by when they say that "it is the stretched soul that makes music, and souls are stretched by the pull of opposites-opposite bents, tastes, yearnings, loyalties. Where there is not polarity-where energies flow smoothly in one direction-there will be much doing but no music."

I still haven't made any choice, but I know that the last one hour had been the best hour of the day. Music has whispered.