If we speak from our soul, we can arrest people, amuse them, thrill them or even anger them in no time. Then why are we scared to bare our feelings, to speak what's on our mind? We can speak straight, yet speak kindly.
These thoughts gather me when I listen to Francesco Manfredini's 'Sinfonia in e minor'. The first two minutes of this music arrest me. That's all it takes for this composer to meet my soul.
His music speaks of a certain pathos that is identifiable even after some 300 years. Don't I always say, classical music connects to the soul?
Those violin strings take you to the field of action; they announce that something major has occurred. And a minute or so into the music is the most incredible play between the violins and the bass instrument (cello). It's like the cello is witness to the major occurrence and the violins weep and admit the agony. All this while, the harpsichord (kind of an earlier version of piano) with its rhythms urges the rest to carry on with life.
And some two minutes later, you feel you were part an unknown event in time of which this music told you a story.
A story in the first two minutes, and there are some seven more minutes to amaze you. Seven soulful minutes of the violins speaking to your soul.
Who says pathos can't be delightful? Pathos with a purpose, pathos with its truth can purge your heart of doubts. It can cleanse you of your fear of future. For this pathos hums to you the meaning of life. We can't express this meaning in words, but we know it within.
Francesco's symphony is full of such pathos. And I swear it will survive long after we are gone. The song of soul is everlasting.
Image from rhapsodyinwords.com
