“FEELING GOOD”- NEW SEASON, NEW DELIGHTS

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FEELING GOOD

NEW SEASON, NEW DELIGHTS

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By Nevin Ulusoy

We are “feeling good”, yes, it is a new season, so “it’s a new day, it’s a new dawn” for us all. “Birds flying high”, they “know how” we “feel”, “sun” and “breeze”, “river” and “fish”, this is a new beginning for us all. Open your curtains for the new season, because “it’s a new life.” Life is renewing itself, our hearts follow the way of life, they quiver with delight. Even if we are sad, we suffer in some way, we feel good, because we know, like Daniel Deronda, we are not alone in our pain. We know that life would not be worth living if there were only pleasure in it. Instead of pitying ourselves, let us try to give whatever help we can to others who are in pain as well. Sadness makes happiness more delightful, smiles are more valuable then. Let the rhythm conquer you, lose yourself in a dreamy dance of laughter.

Nina Simone’s voice really “put a spell on” us in 1965, well, before and after that, it is an everlasting magic. She sang “Feeling Good” in her album “I Put A Spell On You”. It was composed by English composers Anthony Newley and Lesley Bricusse. Simone, an unforgettable blues, jazz and folk singer, a fighter of human rights and equality. She gives us inspiration with her tremendous tones and unique voice. Who is not thrilled as listening to “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”, that song of simple human feelings, simple but so intense, deep and stormy, as all we are, inside? Feeling sombre and deserted sometimes for no reason at all, some other time mirth breaking through ourselves, because we are all “human” and we all “feel a little mad”, some time or other. Jazz and blues, issuing from our bursting profound emotions, express what cannot be put into words by other ways.

Sadness makes happiness more delightful, smiles are more valuable then. Let the rhythm conquer you, lose yourself in a dreamy dance of laughter.

Panait Istrati, the famous Romanian writer, writes how he admires the heat of the sun in Mediterranean in his book with the same name. After the icy days of Romania, even the winter is warm there, “Mediterranean” always blue, always with a welcoming smile. Summers might be difficult to endure though and when the sun is not so boiling hot, when its beams are much more tender and they hold us with a lighter embrace, you take a deep breath, ready to live with the new cycle of days. Sweet scent of jasmines linger in the air, reminding us the lovely days of summer, when “Summer’s Almost Gone.” It is time for “Indian Summer” now, last warm days of autumn, murmuring it with Jim Morrison along the shorter days that bring longer nights to dwell on the moon and soft caresses. Autumn, a new beginning, getting ready for the coming spring, trees, earth, sea starting to rest to get back their forces more strongly. Each leaf that falls, with its amazing hue of yellow, orange and red, brings us the bright news of a coming spring and summer. How we have yearned for the cool, long nights, warming ourselves with the sweet cosiness of home and friends, after having shivered in a crystal white world.

“I find the autumn stimulating, as spring is supposed to be for others. Autumn is the time to work, I am at one with Pushkin on that.” writes John Banville in his marvellous novel “The Sea”. Tempest, rain and sea all through the pages, a fresh breath is there to busy days with the new season. Branches of trees dancing to the rhythm of “Indian summer”, their leaves saluting us. The body shivers with the breeze of salt smelling sand. Sand in our shoes in autumn, bringing the memories of “laughing sea”, “Summer’s Almost Gone.” Sunsets are unique in this season, clouds burning in the west and the sea catching the fire. Dark impending on the ancient city, blue mingling with pinkish orange, cool wind penetrating our hearts. Rueful looks at the darkening sea, sombre dusk with the chilling touch of cool water. Suddenly the vision of the rooms filled with smell of coffee and delightful books, lines waiting to be shared at long long nights. Rain, dropping like kisses on our hair, hands, face, on fallen leaves that we fear to tread on, refreshing us, taking the burden of the long, hot summer days. Grasshoppers’ songs still continue, dreamy songs of burning short nights where “insanity’s horse adorns the sky”, as The Doors tells us.

Suddenly the vision of the rooms filled with smell of coffee and delightful books, lines waiting to be shared at long long nights.

Mountains are behind a veil now, only the ancient city can be seen, rain odour is at home. Opening the window, the drops are in our palms, a bunch of raindrops. Clouds of mirth mingling in our eyes, singing birds perched on rainy branches. With a vibration of intoxication, we whisper with Albert Camus, “autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” The world wears coloured clothes again, clothes in shade of all the colours that we have no words for, our hearts can know them only.      

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