He was called the Conductor. In reality, of course, the Conductor had a perfectly human name, and everyone remembered it, but he was called the Conductor, and nothing else. The thing was that the Conductor, though he was a very talented composer, performer, pianist, and much more, when he waved his thin white baton with a cork handle, Music began to pour into the world from everywhere, as if born from the air. It formed in thirds and fifths, shimmered with flats and sharps, magically rang with violin clefs, filling the air with multifaceted patterns, enveloping people’s hearts with tenderness and joy, bringing together the separated, reigniting the extinguished, turning estranged gazes back to each other, uniting, creating, filling, and enriching. And all because the Conductor loved Music endlessly. Essentially, she was the deepest love of his entire conducting life. And everyone felt good about it, even wonderful.
The Conductor traveled a lot and always carried Music with him. In his heart. In his thoughts. In his delicate sensitive fingers. In the cork handle of his conductor’s baton. In the scent of his shirt collar, in the keys of his touring piano. Music lived in the strings of his tennis racket, in the coins bouncing in his pocket, in the soles of the Conductor’s sneakers. He had the amazing gift of attracting Music to himself from everywhere—from raindrops, from curly clouds, from fluffy light-green grass. When he flew from city to city, from country to country, Music followed him, playing in endless sunbeams and sending sunbeams to the Conductor’s face, which made him squint, and when he closed his eyes, Music instantly filled his thoughts and began to sing softly in his consciousness, like a river. And even the neighbors in the airplane seat, if they listened closely, could hear her intricate magical melody.
The surrounding reality loved the Conductor very much. Even if he were not a famous composer, his ability to make everything around him sing was very pleasing to everyone he met. After all, as soon as Music sounded in his skillful graceful hands, it instantly penetrated into every heart, bringing peace and joy. Everyone fell in love with the magic of Music. And everyone thought that the Conductor himself, at least, was a Wizard. As it is known, people either love or fear Wizards. And it was impossible to fear the Conductor. One look into his open bright eyes and his sweet smile left no doubt that if he were a wizard, he was surely a kind one. So the Conductor had many acquaintances, as well as those who considered him their friend and close person. There were even those who were hopelessly in love with the conductor and even thought that the Conductor reciprocated their feelings. But the Conductor was such a good person that he never discouraged anyone because he didn’t like to upset anyone. In fact, he didn’t think that it had anything to do with him at all. All he thought about, lived for, loved, and filled his heart with joy was his Music.
Thus, in the joy and endless happiness of creation and creativity, beautiful and magical, the Conductor would have lived until the end of his magical conducting life if, on one distant journey, he hadn’t encountered Song.
It cannot be said that everything happened entirely by chance. Being a curious, interested, and developing nature, the Conductor constantly searched for new sounds for his Music. He listened to all sorts of sounds—all that his keen ear could catch. After all, as it is known, Music lives absolutely everywhere; you just need to listen very attentively— and there it is already singing with a hundred pure voices of a children’s choir or murmuring with a delicate flute, or sorrowing with piano strings.
Of course, the Conductor didn’t even have to listen particularly carefully. He seemed to attract Music, and all he had to do was simply let it into himself, mentally imagine its amazing image—and that’s it. He could take an airy sheet of paper and throw handfuls of notes of a new masterpiece onto it.
But, of course, the Conductor also had his tricks. For example, he knew that in some places untamed wild Music abounded in especially large quantities. There was real hunting ground for the Conductor. He could barely keep up with passing through his consciousness new unfamiliar tunes and writing them down, writing them down, writing them down. Sometimes he deliberately organized his leisure time to go on such hunting trips to come back with a thick folder of pages filled with notes.
And then one day, the Conductor was advised of a place where, as he was informed, Music was very rarely encountered, but if found, it would be something rare and extraordinary, because in that region Music took on especially amazing forms and sounds. The Conductor’s eyes lit up with the fire of passion and love for the Beautiful, he grabbed a new music notebook, his portable electric piano, and set off on the hunt.
He arrived at the destination by nightfall. Along the way, he couldn’t shake off a strange sensation. The closer he got to the coveted place, the quieter the accompanying Music became, which, as we recall, usually never left him. But then the GPS showed that the Conductor had reached his destination. He stopped the car, turned off the melody of the internal combustion engine, and was astonished. Such Silence he hadn’t heard in a long time.
At first, the Conductor felt uneasy. This Silence seemed remarkably unfamiliar. It was scary, yet enticing. It shimmered with the green light of fireflies in the darkness of tropical grass, twinkling with stars in the sky, fragments of which were visible behind the swaying palm branches. But no sound touched the Conductor’s ears. Being a very intelligent person, the Conductor, however, did not become upset or frightened. He sat down on the ground and waited for the arrival of the Music. And then something happened to the Conductor that had never happened before.
It started as a rustling in his consciousness, which the Conductor did not expect at all. Usually, Music flowed into his ears, grabbed his heart, playfully seeped into his thoughts, and immediately made it clear that here it was, Music, that it needed to be captured, understood, and recorded into compositions, and then played, performed, conveyed to others, and done everything that is usually done with Music that has formed into something people can understand.
This time, he couldn’t even accurately say that it was Music. The sensation he experienced was unlike anything else. And, most strangely, it arose in a completely different part of the Conductor’s head, completely different from where his Music usually arrived. The Conductor listened to what was outside, then to his feelings. The light, growing tingling and pleasant rustling left no doubt about someone’s presence. The Conductor tried to transfer the rustling into his thoughts to hear the melody, but to his surprise, he couldn’t. Then he tried to let the new feeling pass through his heart, but even there he failed. His nocturnal guest seemed to have some kind of amazing unfamiliar independence, making it seem like the Conductor couldn’t do anything about it.
Meanwhile, the rustling began to thicken, intensify, and transform. The tingling did not disturb the Conductor at all. On the contrary, the feeling was so delicate and pleasant, captivating and stirring, yet calming, refreshing, and, nonetheless, intoxicating, that at some point the Conductor even closed his eyes to feel this wonderful stream more deeply. But he still couldn’t wait to understand the source of this unexpected pleasure. With tired eyes, the Conductor tried to peer into the darkness of the night, and suddenly, so clearly and distinctly, unexpectedly and brightly, the hot air filled with sound. It was completely unlike any Music ever heard by the Conductor. The sound was strong but gentle. It flowed easily, yet the Conductor still felt its amazing density, thickness, and complexity of harmony. The sound was very pure, bright, and open. Taken by surprise, the Conductor straightened up and looked around, trying to understand where the Sound was coming from, but before he could think a single thought, his nocturnal guest spoke.
“Hello, traveler.”
“Hello,” replied the Conductor. His Music never spoke to him. It just jumped into his magical hands, allowing him to mold it into anything he wanted. This was something completely different. Something he had never known. “Who are you, lovely creature?”
“I am Song,” simply answered the Sound.
“Song? It can’t be. Because I create songs, sonatas, etudes from Music. You can’t just exist without a Master who created you. Who created you?”
“I created myself. From Music,” replied the Song and gently stroked the Conductor’s consciousness from within. For a moment, the Conductor felt nothing but this magical touch. But very quickly, he pulled himself together and authoritatively said:
“I think you’re mistaken, Song. You’re just Wild Music, filling these lands. I’ve heard about you. And I’m glad we met. And I’m even willing to call you Song if you like. I love it when everything around is pleasant and good. I came here specifically to meet you. What do you think about being captured in notes in my music notebook? I could then play you, show you to the world, let everyone around enjoy you.”
The Conductor knew who he was. The Conductor was a Master. The Music also knew that the Conductor was a Master, and that she would have nothing left but to become His Music. Usually, she agreed to everything at once. Sometimes, however, the Conductor required patience and tact, wisdom and skill to tame particularly stubborn Music. But even for him, a professional, it was usually an easy and, most importantly, pleasant task. After all, the victory of the Master in the process of Creation is the most desirable reward. The Conductor almost doubted that as wild and unrestrained as the so-called Song Music he encountered was, he would tame her, put her on a blank sheet, touch her notes with his long fingers, and create her for himself as His Music. And play her to the whole world. And receive many rewards for it. And put her in a thick folder of his musical achievements. He was almost sure, but he didn’t know who he had encountered on his way.
Suddenly, the Conductor lost the feeling of the Song that had filled his mind for the past few minutes. The feeling disappeared completely, and the forest was filled with Silence again.
“Song?” called the Conductor, listened to the Silence, and, hearing nothing, repeated louder: “Song, have you gone?”
And at that moment, he felt a piercing sense of joy, because he felt the Song touch his mind again. Touched from within. The Conductor couldn’t help but close his eyes in pleasure. He lay back on the warm moss and, without opening his eyes, enjoyed the magical touch of the sound, which caressed, smoothed, pleasantly tickled, and flowed inside him like a wonderful life-giving pure stream.
Delighted, the Conductor savored this incredible sensation. Although he clearly felt that the Song was in his consciousness, in some magical way he heard her presence in every cell of his being. For a moment, the Song fell silent. The Conductor came to from this incredible journey and asked:
“I want to create you, I want to make you my Song. I want to give you to people. Be mine, come to me.”
“You cannot create me,” the Song calmly replied. “I am already created. I already exist. I am quite independent. And I don’t need a Master for that.”
“I don’t understand,” said the Conductor. Everything he knew before was completely different.
“You don’t need to understand this. What you have seen here is different from your usual world. But this is not your usual world. You are now in my world. And you have no power over me.”
“But I want you to be a part of me, I want to let you pass through my heart, I want to conduct you.”
The Song smiled faintly and replied:
“All you can do with me,” – sing me. And you can only do it here. I won’t go with you. And I won’t be yours. Sing me – and then I’ll be yours for a while. But you won’t be disappointed.
But how will I sing you if you won’t be mine?
You just need to want it very much. Realize the strong intention – and do it.
The Conductor closed his eyes, stopped his thoughts, and suddenly started to sing. He sang the magical Song and felt how, before bursting out of his lungs with a dense, stirring melody, it filled his heart. Everything inside the Conductor transformed. He felt the Song flowing within, pricking gently with delicate multicolored needles, caressing with warm wind from outside and inside, warming with a magical motif. The Conductor sang the Song as if drinking from a source of refreshing water. Never in his life had he experienced anything like this with his Music. This new experience was an amazing journey into a world where everything was incredible and magical, even for such a renowned Wizard as the Conductor.
When the Song ended, the Conductor remained motionless for a few minutes, breathing deeply as if after a flight through the starry sky. Coming to his senses a bit, he wiped a hot tear from his cheek and suddenly felt an incomparable taste in his mouth. He touched his lips with the tips of his fingers, as if trying to verify what caused this magical taste. And then he heard the familiar and now so dear rustle again.
“Now I am a part of you. Not yours. And I won’t become yours. But you felt my magical taste. And now I will forever remain in your memory. In this world, there are things that are inaccessible even to such amazing Conductors as you. No one in the world can make me their Song. And very rarely do I allow someone to sing me. I was in your heart. I live in your consciousness. As soon as you leave here – I will remain as a taste on your lips. You won’t be able to forget me. I am what cannot be forgotten. But if you want to experience again what you just felt, come to me, here. And I will return when you call. And I will be yours again as long as you sing me in the silence of the new Night. And now, farewell, wonderful Master. I know that you are an amazing musician: I was in your heart.”
The Conductor remained silent, entranced. The Song disappeared. Around him was once again the astonishing silence. He looked at the sky. Dawn was near. The Conductor sat behind the wheel and drove home, focused and silent. The further he drove away from the mysterious forest, the more various Music swirled in his thoughts. But now everything was different. Somewhere deep inside, amidst the dense, wondrous background, he heard echoes of the Song and felt its taste on his lips.
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