When she walked on stage, barefoot and soundless, it felt like she had come to life just here, just now, in front of his eyes, in front of the audience's eyes. She seemed to have no past and no future. She appeared like a newborn child to him, without memories, without scars, without hopes, and without fears. She, too, bowed in front of the audience, who seemed to hold its collective breath. There was no sound, no noise, not the slightest distraction. Everyone was totally focused on the silence and on her. The humbleness that she demonstrated in her moves was humiliating to Paul. He had never entered a stage like that, never bowed like that, with so little ego, with so little pride, with so little need of being acknowledged. And with that same humble grace, she sat down next to the tanpura player, crossed her legs and took her sitar playfully. People were still breathless when she pulled the first string, the initiation of a raga, that she began to play alone, slowly and quiet until she infected the tanpura, the violin and last the tabla to create a new experience of vibration and energy. Paul was not surprised when he started to realize that she told a story of innocence first, the same innocence that she had just embodied when she had entered the room. And when he felt that, he could not hold back the tears that needed to be cried, when a human being realizes, that he had lost his own innocence at some point on his way. There and then Karen Garin was a perfect mirror of innocence and humbleness. Paul was able to see these attributes of a pure soul and realize, that he was missing them completely. For the first time in his life, he could perceive his ego, the narcissistic face of his personality, that had been hidden from him totally. And at the same time, he was forced to realize, that he had traded a luminous soul against a faint self. But when and why? Tears rolled down his cheeks, when he began to identify more and more with her music and the ideas, she projected.
Karen Garin was like a magician, who knew exactly what the human soul needed to see and hear, what it longed for the most. And she gave that to everybody in the audience. Nobody was left out, everybody was included, because she communicated on and about a level of being that was part of everybody – the essence of human personality. Paul knew that she was not speaking of the ordinary, everyday personality. No, she was speaking about a refined, grown and matured personality, who had learned its lessons in life and evolved. She created the blueprint of a character, that had shed its masks and healed its wounds; a personality, that was not afraid of its vulnerability nor its strength.
Karen Garin changed into a faster piece that spoke to Paul of courage, of the need to leave the old, the deeply carved line of life that one had wandered upon for so long, making one blind for the new, the refreshed, the invigorating energy of life itself. Paul was totally lost in the music, fully identified with the experiences he uncovered in this mystical orchestras play. Easily his emotions and perceptions flowed and changed with the music. Now it turned darker, more dramatic and melancholic. A feeling of loss spread within him, the loss of the old and the struggle for openness and the new. A wistful look back to the scenes of life and the characteristics one had left behind ignited a painful phase full of fear. Was it right to leave the path that had been tread by millions before? Was it safe to leave it? Was it worth it? What would one win and what did one lose? Paul felt the hesitation accompanied by countless counter-thoughts which did not quite have the power to pull the wanderer back because he did not have a choice. He was constantly pulled forward toward a state of light and wholeness, of innocence and humility, a state of purity and self-knowledge. Karen Garin suggested that after the stage of pain and fear, courage was not needed anymore, but something else had to grow: faith, trust and the ability to let go. And – really – Paul felt relieved, carried by the flow of the music, which was again set by the violin. This was what he loved this instrument for. There was so much power in it, so much strength, zest, and hope. Paul was stunned by the influence the music had on his mind. Gladly he surrendered to the inner voyage the orchestra offered. It was the voyage of the soul, from darkness to light; the ancient, archetypical travel that fairy tales and myths, dreams and movies, great epics and fantasies spoke of. He had often heard of it, but never felt and experienced its importance and meaning for his own life.
The music grew more dense, compressed, condensed almost. The energy was building up, calling for a relief, the final letting go. Karen took the audience to its limit. But when the relief came, it was so sweet, so healing and so full, that the preceding tension was immediately forgotten. Instead, ecstasy took hostage of people's minds. Pure bliss; a beatitude that was purely spiritual, not physical. And with a last turn, a final twist in the storyline this bliss converted into a tranquil peace that concluded the evolutionary cycle. The person had returned to the soul, reunited with its essence, come home to its origin. He had become, what he had always been – a spiritual being.
Paul felt totally at peace when the music faded and Karen Garin – once more – allowed the silence to fill the room. This time the quiescence was stronger, louder almost, more alluring. The non-sound of the void was vibrant and energized. Paul could feel that it was resonating on a high frequency; the highest he had ever experienced. His mind was clear and calm and totally aware, yet detached. He felt more like an observer now than like a participant, and as such he noticed that Karen Garin had achieved, what he wanted to accomplish so desperately: she had made the numinous tangible and visible. The silence after her orchestras play was so strong that barely anybody could fail to see its beauty, its strength, its holiness. She truly was like a magician, who played the instrument of the human mind. Yes, she played the sitar, but with this string instrument, she reached deep into the human psyche all the way down to the level where experiences originated.
Paul did not wonder why and how he was able to see and understand all this. He did not doubt the reality of his experience, nor the meaning it had for him and everybody around him. All he felt was gratefulness. This experience was miraculous because it seemed like the answer to a prayer, he had not dared to pray. Karen Garin had shown him what needed to be done to make the language of music understood by everybody. She had shown him how everybody was able to experience the story that the musician wanted to tell with his music. The gap between the last tone and the audiences clapping seemed timeless. When the lights were turned on, Karen Garin put her sitar aside and stood up gracefully. She came to the edge of the stage and bowed deeply, appearing even more relaxed now. The applause was frenetic. Karen smiled and pulled the violinist in the front. People stood up and some even started screaming. Paul wondered when this hall had last seen a rapture like this. One musician after the other joined Karen in the front of the stage now. Paul was so touched and excited that he clapped louder and louder. Somehow it was clear that the orchestra would not sit down again to play another bonus piece. Once the clapping would ebb, they would leave the room. And surely because of this the clapping did not find an end. People did not want this moment, this experience to end. But nonetheless, the inevitable end came. Karen left the stage first, followed by the other artists. Only now people in the audience began to look at each other and some started to talk and discuss their experiences immediately. Paul did not want to hear any of this talk and fought his way out.
He needed to talk to her. He tried to find somebody who could lead him backstage. But people were pushing toward the checkroom, and he was caught in the stream. Outside, he tried to reach the back entrance, where he had entered the Konzerthaus only two days ago. People were pushing against a barrier. One of the security guards looked at Paul and he took his chance to speak up.
“I have to talk to Karen Garin! It´s important.”
“Sure. Everybody here wants to.” At least he spoke English.
“She asked me to come here”, Paul said not quite honestly.
The security man laughed. “I am sorry. But we can not let you in.”
“Do you know where Mrs. Garin is staying?”
“No, I don´t. Look, Sir, I told you… There is nothing I can do for you.”
Paul pulled his card out and wrote a note on the back: Midtown Hotel, room no. 263. Need to talk to you! He gave the card to the guard. “Please, she needs to receive this!” The guard grinned, but Paul did not care what he might think about him.
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“There