Return to The Moldau

 "Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it." ~ Norman Maclean

Today I listened to The Moldau, again.  It came about spontaneously but with purpose.  I have written about this beautiful, graceful classical piece before.  When I spoke of Music Nights a couple days ago, it was not to neglect the Classical.  It's just that the Classical fills a different kind of niche in my life, and typically not late at night.  (Late at night, particularly on the weekend, when I feel so inclined, tends to be occupied by music of the 60's and 70's.)

Grace.  That does indeed describe it.  Today it felt more poignant, sublimely reflecting life.

I've revisited, again, what I wrote about The Moldau several years ago.  Some is worth repeating here, in more than a link:

At the beginning, the awakening flow is virtually imperceptible, distinct elements joining together in a dance of potential.  You can literally hear how the quietly growing stream flows easily over the discrete rocks in its way, finding its playful path.  It's wonderful to listen to the gentle voice of streams at this stage - I could literally do so for hours.

Then the stream begins to grow.  As it gains in maturity, there is more sophisticated interaction with its surroundings, including the people who begin to appreciate its beauty and the gifts it brings.  There is mystery too as night falls, yet it flows undeterred by the darkness, the moonlight lending even greater beauty.

Then the channel narrows.  I know many rivers at this stage.  This is perhaps the most challenging part of the flow, yet also its most powerful.  If the flow truly desires to be free, the more discrete limitations placed upon it, the more the existing landscape attempts to channel its energy, the stronger it becomes.  There can even be a sense of peril perceived by those with whom it interacts, yet the flow of its creative purpose yearns to break free.

The rapids pass.  Liberation.  Stillness.  Hidden depths take form.  At this point, I must admit I become wistful following the river, as in Smetena's world it enters into a city, and I find myself rather sadly pondering its playful beginnings.  Yet one wonders if the multiple dimensions of this flow can actually exist in parallel.

In the end, Smetana's now majestic river lends the power of its full creative contribution to the Greater Unity of another, and one can imagine the Ocean that awaits.  One could say our beautiful little stream disappears, but does it really?

I could say more, but I'll say less.  My ponderings today as I listened weren't quite as intricately poetic, spiritual or deep.  Today I was thinking about innocence, poignancy and life.  And that was enough.

Waters in the Woods photo by Susan Larison Danz.