Yesterday evening my friend took me to a lovely "Italian Garden Party." The weather was beautiful -sunny, cool, blue skies with just the right number of puffy clouds - and the scene was so festive: colored paper lanterns, scattered tables and chairs, all with different, multi-colored tablecloths, some with rainbow umbrellas shielding them. An opera singer performed excerpts from various operas, a few of which I had never heard, and in some cases, heard
of. And for a few moments, there was one of those experiences which come infrequently, but which linger in the memory. There was the singer, and behind her voice, so to speak, the sweet tones of a piano; congenial company surrounding me; glowing lanterns, towering trees - and then a breeze that gently swept past me and rushed through the trees, adding the softest rustling of the leaves. For just a few moments, time stopped, everything was so perfect. What a lovely evening!
Later, my friend and I listened to recorded music, some of it so bubbly and frisky, like the brook I so long to have behind my home someday, sparkling along; and some of it more profound. It still delighted the soul, but there were so many emotions within, so much of life with its sorrows and triumphs. When one is immersed in sorrow, this music can bring understanding and courage.
Well, I don't want to sound too solemn. The evening was wonderful, and a reminder to do the things I love. As the Bratslaver Rebbe said, and I have quoted before: "Do all manner of things to make yourself joyful." Amen.
