Lux aeterna, by György Ligeti
The first time I heard this music, I was in my junior year of college. Junior year was difficult for me. I remember the constant knot of suspense in my chest, twisting tighter and tighter, then loosening, then tightening again. I don't know why, but my stress levels were high, and every day felt like a possible prelude to a breakdown. In my heart there was an ever-present, piercing desire; I just wanted to get away from it all, to run and run and run until I couldn't run anymore, to lie down in the middle of an open field where there was nothing but sweet cold and healing silence.
I'm a music major, and one of the required courses for my degree is called music literature. For me, that class consisted of reading background information related to music history and music theory, then listening critically to the important masterpieces of art music throughout the centuries, and afterward being prepared to comment on what I had heard. One day in my junior year I sat down in class, my bones still buzzing with anxiety and fatigue, and the instructor turned on "Lux aeterna" by György Ligeti.
And time froze.
From somewhere beyond the furthest reaches of reality, light breathes a cool eternal fragrance into the waking soul.
That is what I later wrote to describe what I had heard. Music came over me gently, like a delicate spray of mist; then it flooded the room, fog. I closed my eyes so I could see the voices. In my mind's eye, they moved like stars, an almost imperceptible drift across echoless chasms of space. I was transfixed, electrified. And, for nearly a sixth of an hour, I could feel the first filaments of healing beginning to whisper and to stir within my soul.
This music is strange, eerie, even somewhat troubling. For some people, it might only provide a headache, or might even create a knot of stress in the chest. But for me in those moments, it truly was healing... a haunting call from some altar across the universe: come forward and be saved. Come away, away, to the other side of the cosmos, and lie down in the open field. Let it soak through your body, seep into all the pinched twinges of pain and soften them into floating silken dreams.
Lie here forever for a moment, inside this silver song where there is nothing but sweet cold and healing silence.
That is what I later wrote to describe what I had heard. Music came over me gently, like a delicate spray of mist; then it flooded the room, fog. I closed my eyes so I could see the voices. In my mind's eye, they moved like stars, an almost imperceptible drift across echoless chasms of space. I was transfixed, electrified. And, for nearly a sixth of an hour, I could feel the first filaments of healing beginning to whisper and to stir within my soul.
This music is strange, eerie, even somewhat troubling. For some people, it might only provide a headache, or might even create a knot of stress in the chest. But for me in those moments, it truly was healing... a haunting call from some altar across the universe: come forward and be saved. Come away, away, to the other side of the cosmos, and lie down in the open field. Let it soak through your body, seep into all the pinched twinges of pain and soften them into floating silken dreams.
Lie here forever for a moment, inside this silver song where there is nothing but sweet cold and healing silence.
Beautiful writing Elyse. I know how you feel. I'm scared of standing front of the class and read. When I was in elementary school I wasn't very good student. But I am doing better now.. Having more confident.. I really like our class and teacher and all the students.. Have a good weekend..
ReplyDeleteA haunting piece, yet so calming and peaceful. I can understand how it would help manage stress. It even helped me de-stress a bit. I will need to remember it for the future.
ReplyDeleteThis is so cool! Music is so funny in that way, almost like an unbidden memory come back to haunt. It's not only music that's that way, of course, but I definitely see how you would have had a strong reaction to this.
ReplyDelete