Early Memories

HAIKU, Maui, July 24, 2011 - The dimly pub was dingy and full of smoke.  Men were sitting around tables swapping tales about their daily lives.  The only woman in the bar was a Gypsy dancer.  She was taking a break while the band continued to play in the corner of the bar.  I was the only kid in the place.  I loved it when my father would take me with him to places like that.  Or when he went hunting with his friends.  It made me feel all grown up. One time, they let me fire a shotgun.  The recoil knocked me on my butt.  Everybody laughed.  Me, too.  It was great fun being "one of the guys," especially since I was only five. 

"Dad, can I have a five dinars?" I asked my father, interrupting an animated conversation at our table. (Dinar was the Yugoslav currency.  You can see a 1950s five-dinar banknote on the right).

"What do you want it for?"

"I want to give it to the Gypsies.  Like this man just did," I added pointing to another table.

My father looked a little perplexed. But the laughter of other men around our table swayed him to give in.  He handed me a five-dinar bill.

As I walked up toward the "stage," nothing more than an elevated podium, the Gypsy band was still playing some lively tune. I walked up to the band leader, a violinist.  I waved the five-dinar note in front of him.  He smiled, and not missing a beat, bent down toward me.  I spit on the banknote and pasted it on his forehead.  He nodded gratefully and continued playing.

That's the way one used to tip musicians back then.  Back at my father's table, men were smiling at me.  Somebody patted me on my back.  "Well done!" 

Also, whenever my parents would have guests over for dinner, I role-played that Gypsy band leader.  As the guests were leaving, I would take two wooden sticks, pretend that they are a violin, and sing some Gypsy songs for them as farewell.

* * *

Fast-forwarding to age of nine.  Following my father's release from Tito's communist prison, my family moved to a different town - Sremska Mitrovica.  I did not know it at the time, but its ancient name was Sirmium.  In the early fourth century, Sirmium was the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire.  Before he became emperor of the entire Roman Empire in 325AD, Constantine ruled the dioceses of Pannonia and Macedonia and took residence at Sirmium, from whence he could wage war on the Goths and Sarmatians in 322AD, and on the Goths in 323AD" (per Wikipedia).  (Click on "Constantine and I" to understand the significance of this).

Back to modern-day "Sirmium," at age nine, my  mother forced me to start taking piano lessons.  I hated it.  I would much rather have played soccer like other kids on my street.  But I loved reading.  And while browsing through books in the city library, I came across one about the life of Franz Liszt, a famous Hungarian-born composer of the early 19th century (see a portrait of a young Liszt - left, and a middle-aged one -right). 

I was captivated by his life story and devoured the book in a matter of days.  The book also inspired me to try be a better pianist.  I adored Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody and other Gypsy themes.  Liszt was said to be the greatest pianist of his time. 

* * *

Moving on, but still at age nine.  One of my kids in my class at school was a Gypsy.  He and his family were very poor.  So I would sometimes bring him to our family home.  My grandmother would prepare a snack for both of us.  One day, he came to school on a cold day, wearing just a shirt which was torn in places.  When I took him home after school afternoon, I gave him my jacket.  Later that evening, my parents reprimanded me.  They explained that we were not rich, either.  (Nobody in a communist society was rich except those at the very top).  They also said that it is one thing to give someone food, and quite another to share with them one's clothes as well.  I did not see the distinction.  But I nodded obediently, pretending that I understood their point.

* * *

Fast-forwarding to age 11.  We are in the same town, but now in a different house.  We now live on second floor of a modern apartment building.  Yet from our kitchen window, I can see a Gypsy camp just beyond our back yard.  They look filthy and live in shacks.  They support themselves by begging, stealing, or taking a bear (yes, a real live bear!) on a leash to the market square, where the bear "dances" for the amusement of the crowd.  Women also did other things which I did not understand at the time.  The Gypsies never steal from us, though.  It is some strange honor code intended to keep peace among the neighbors.

Their chief is a legless blonde Gypsy with long curly hair.  He looks just like Liszt in the right picture, except that he was blond.  I had never seen a blond Gypsy before.  He wheels around sitting on a wooden cart with four metal ball bearings as wheels.  I notice that everybody in the Gypsy camp cow-tows to him.  Women bring him money.  Police sometimes come and take him away.  But he always comes back.  Much later, I realize he was probably a pimp who lost his legs during the Nazi occupation of Yugoslavia in World War II.

Messengers of Cosmic Music

Back in Haiku, Maui.  Saturday, July 23, 2011.  The night before, I had just recorded and published my latest music video - Dance of Stars and republished the Dance of Planets, Stars, Gypsies, which incorporates the new segment. 

 

Wonderful reactions are pouring in from my friends all over the world.  It is evident that this music had touched many people's hearts and souls in a unique way.  A friend from Florida writes back, "Gypsies flying to the sky!!!"  "It would appear that the Gypsy soul is somehow more connected to the universe and cosmic journeys than the rest (of humanity)," I replied.

Another friend from Ohio says he had watched both of my videos twice, and then went on to spend three hours listening to some old Mahavishna Orchestra recordings from the early 1970s that he used to love. 

I had never heard of this band before. But after I listened and watched A Lotus on Irish Streams and Meeting of the Spirits, I understood why my Ohio friend made that connection.  Maha Vishna means Great God in Sanskrit.  The statue in the right picture depicts one of many beautiful aspects of this Indian deity.

And then the penny dropped.  Cling!  Gypsies or Roma or Romani people originate from India (left map).  They migrated to Europe around the 12th century (right map). The country in which I grew up (former Yugoslavia) has one of the highest concentrations of Gypsies in Europe (left).  A few short miles to the north is where Liszt grew up.  His (and Brahms') work contributed immensely to the popularization of Gypsy music and their amazing rhythms. 

I then recalled an amazing French film which we saw just before our trip to the Big Island.  Here's what I wrote about it to friends:

How often does a movie make you cry?  Okay, so it happens once in a while.  Happens a lot?  Nothing special?  Fine.

But how often does a movie make you cry for joy, have you laugh yourself to tears, make you cry again when the plot turns sad, and feel your tears rolling down your cheeks like a spring thaw, the way we cry when we're touched by divinity, when heavenly music fills our souls?

Well, the Golden Globe-nominated French-made movie with a Russian musical theme - "The Concert" - achieved all four in my case.  It caused tears, tears, tears and tears of all four kinds.  The film was joyous, funny - farcical at times, sad... but above all, uplifting in its BEAUTY and celebration of human spirit!  It gets five stars from this reviewer.  

Elizabeth loved it, too.  She ended up taking over as a conductor, waving her arms with an imaginary stick at the end of Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto. :-)  That's all I am going to say for now.  If you want to learn more, click on the following link...

The Concert (2009)

In this movie, one of the central characters is a Russian Gypsy violinist.  He is the boss of a Gypsy colony that reminded me of the "blond List" from my youth.  He was an outstanding musician but also not beyond breaking the law at times to get what he wanted.

But it was not until I recalled something that we learned from the source of the highest authority about human history that caused my penny to drop.  And as is usually the case, the revelation was followed by a flood of emotions and an overwhelming sense of bliss.  Not only do the Gypsies originate from India.  Our entire human race started the latest 5,125-year cycle of development there, according to a divine source to whom I will refer as the Teacher.  He was referring is the cycle that will end on Winter Solstice of next year.  And it is India where the birthing of a "new man" will also begin. 

And what will be a mark of a new man?  Community comes first, individual second.  Equality of sexes.  Care for the young and the elderly.  Reconnecting with the environment, the Mother  Earth of which we are all a part (see 2012 Revisited: Toward New Breed of Man, May 11, 2011).

In other words, not unlike the GYPSY LIFESTYLE!  Free roaming of body and spirit.  No boundaries.  Joy of living.  And that's why Dance of Stars and republished the Dance of Planets, Stars, Gypsies music touched so many hearts and souls. Because it embodies the freedom and the joy of a cosmic journey.

When I first received a download of this heavenly music, I had just finished constructing the celestial network at the Rainbow Shower web site as part of my planetary mission as Altzar (Dance of the Planets, Gypsies, 5-31-2010, and Living a Dream: Celestial Chakanas-Apuchetas, Hawaiian Mesa, Sacred Trails... Come Together on May Day, 5-02-2010).  It has been evolving ever since until the latest version - Dance of Planets, Stars, Gypsies (by Altzar, July 22, 2011).