zeeth_kyrah: A glowing white and blue anthropomorphic horse stands before a pink and blue sky. (Default)
[personal profile] zeeth_kyrah
(T'ema is back. Just a slice of life, inspired by a prompt in the January 2015 Crowdfunding Creative Jam, from [personal profile] alexseanchai: "Dreaming is free". Obviously this is a bit more of a free-form inspiration than direct interpretation.)

T'ema Huollo sat on the city bus,
Watching her fellow riders
One rainy winter day
After the holiday season,
When depression became more obvious.

A woman was sneezing
"Hard enough to break her nose"
As T'ema's people might say
And a man sneered at her, but
Said nothing as she blew her nose.

A family with two children
Clambered on board, multicolored children
Swarming the middle seat-rows while
The adults gamely shepherded.
This woman was pregnant.

A man in dirty clothing stepped in,
Pushing a worn-out ticket
Into the bill feeder.
The driver waved him in when it beeped;
He slumped into a forward seat.

T'ema in her warm new coat and clean slacks
Wondered how they all lived,
For she saw the poor and middle-class
But rarely the rich on her journey.
Then something happened.

A well-dressed man stepped onto the bus.
He fed a dollar into the slot.
Another followed, tuxedo and cummerbund.
They both carried instruments,
Wooden-bodied, with strings.

Three women followed the men,
Also in formal dress,
Also with instruments:
All told there were three head-sized,
One chest-sized,
One human-sized instrument.

Were they rich, then? thought
T'ema, whose experience was still
So very limited. She watched
Closely as the group went
To the back and mostly sat.

The driver called back,
"Third and Houston!"
Which seemed to be a signal.
The group nodded to each other,
One woman tapping her foot on the floor.

Instruments and sticks were positioned,
And the quintet began to play.
String music filled the bus with
Vigor, Order, and Light.
T'ema wondered whose work they played.

The riders were startled,
But began to smile, children
Shushed so they could listen,
The ragged man relaxing
Like a rabbit in his den.

T'ema rode to the transit station
Instead of the food stamp office,
And when the players paused there
She asked, "Excuse me,
Who wrote this music you play?"

"We've played several different composers,"
Answered the woman who led them.
"Mozart, Vivaldi, Dvorak, and a few others;
Mostly favorites that people already know.
Is there one you'd like to hear more of?"

T'ema considered. "I hardly know any at all,
But these devices sound so lovely. Which is
Your favorite of them?"
The man on the middle-sized one said,
"I favor Bach, myself."

"Please, play something about your world."
"Our world?" retorted the other man.
"Well, if you say so! It's yours
As well, isn't it?"

And T'ema shook her head. "No,
And I miss mine awfully. Please,
Let your music sing?"
The leader said, "Rin, please.
Let's play Bach's Air on a G String."

As the bus left the station again,
The group began a song
That sang of gentle meditation
And the presence of peace in
A busy world.

Though she'd missed her stop,
And through riders were not always welcome,
The driver let T'ema listen and talk
As the players took breaks on their ride,
Letting the good feelings flow.

When the bus reached the station again,
The unicorn took her leave
And stepped into the cold, wet, dim evening.
She sighed and pulled up her coat's hood,
Which stopped when it hit her horn.

A child getting onto the bus smiled
And T'ema smiled back.
Even in winter with no joy in sight,
She thought, Sometimes these people
Still think of love for each other.

The warmth in her heart
Kept her walking to the shelter
Where she would stay and talk to the
Homeless with whom she lived.
Tomorrow she'd have to move on.

Her magic was calling her elsewhere.

--

T'ema Huollo is a unicorn woman, brought to from her homeworld to Earth; she is a magician and singer, and her most powerful magic requires a gift of service when she uses it. T'ema is often homesick, which can lead to depression; this is common among travelers who aren't used to being away from home, as well as homeless persons, who rarely have anywhere to call their own. Late winter is also a time when Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD, also called Winter Depression) tends to manifest strongly, though T'ema is not herself a sufferer. Read her introductory poem, "Song of Life".

Magic in many ways is dreaming manifested; like physical labor, a cost must be paid to make it real. While some favor giving blood (which was common in older times when magic was more occult) and material things, many modern Pagans and magicians favor acts of service or labor. For some, this is believed to more effectively assist the magic, as one aligns material and spiritual acts with each other in this way.

Hear some classical string music:
* Mozart's Symphony no 40 in G Minor, 1st movement (6m 38s)
* Itzhak Perlman plays and conducts Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons", Spring movement (10m 38s)
* Dvořák / String Quartet No. 12 in F major, Op. 96 "American" (25m 5s)
* Bach's Air on G String (3m 51s)

Concerts on a bus do happen, as well as in transit stations, malls, and other public spaces! Public music encourages a sense of community and well-being in the places where it is played, while classical music encourages thoughtfulness and mental development. More modern musical forms, such as ambient techno and New Age electronica, can also encourage mental development and awareness, though these effects tend to vary with the meditative and active qualities of the music. They're also harder to play live in public due to a lack of social cachet and thus support for training and distribution; this is primarily an effect of excessive copyright restriction, which limits the copying, distribution, and public performance of copyrighted pieces.

Wow!

Date: 2015-01-20 03:41 am (UTC)
ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)
From: [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
This is lovely. I adore buskers.

Date: 2015-01-20 07:58 pm (UTC)
alexseanchai: Purple lightning (Default)
From: [personal profile] alexseanchai
This is lovely.

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