© 2011 Jean-François Drouet
© 2011 French-speaking Association of Readers of the Urantia Book
Why are you knocking on my window, little moth? Is it my light dress that attracted you? Like your wings, it is colored with the pastel glow of twilight. You seem to me to be in very bad shape. Could this be your last dance? Your final interpretation of the death of the swan! But then, you make me shiver… Are you the sign of death, of my imminent death? I know… The disease that I was told was incurable, a rare case of algodystrophy. But, so soon! I kept the hope of a remission. Already, I had to interrupt my career. I could no longer stand the hours and hours of work at the bar… for a few minutes on stage. And yet, these moments are the goal that artists seek. For Alain, the philosopher, dance is the first of the arts, the primordial artistic language. To transmit the emotion of the author in osmosis with the audience. There is there, through gestures, sounds and breathing, something of another order which allows us to generate a communion and to feel the absolute of the ONE, living in all. The shared spectacle of beauty contributes to the transformation of the world, to its elevation.
I experienced it for the first time thanks to Maïa PlitseskaÏa, the diva assoluta of dance. Each movement of her legs, her arms, her whole body matched each note and each rhythm of the music. This unforgettable vision decided my vocation. If I have just seen a retrospective of her most beautiful performances(1), it is certainly not by chance! Her life continues in this way and I hope that it will be the same for me. And you, ephemeral moth, you have surely ensured your descendants before your final dance. I did not have children to be able to devote myself to my art, and today I understand better why, but I still have students. Who knows? Maybe one of them will become a new Maïa!
Ravel’s waltz now. Beautiful inspiration in the choice of this music. It goes wonderfully with the ballet of the butterfly at twilight. It is so catchy! I would like to be carried away in its whirlwind like before. I can only go around in circles, nailed to this wheelchair. It pierces my heart and my body, but it always transports me. What if I tried once more? I succeeded, I am standing! It has performed a miracle! It has transformed me, lifted me in its upward spiral. I dance again, transfigured and in this trance, I forget the searing pain. What does it matter if I fall and die. Death is only transitory.
Frail and dull moth, you still brush my windows with your wings. But I think about it, you have come to remind me of something else, you who have experienced the miraculous metamorphosis. Before being a moth dancing under the stars, you were only a poor caterpillar crawling on the earth. We humans too are currently dependent on this earth and this very dense matter. It is only a small fraction of the energies. And yet, from this crude raw material, many beautiful and marvelous inventions have seen the light of day, compared to which those of men pale in comparison. I am sure of it; a superintelligence is at work in this evolution where our earthly life is only a first step, simply punctuated by the abandonment of the physical body.
I aspire to know the next phase, my next life. I aspire to the lightness of subtle energies, freed from material heaviness. I want to be engaged among the celestial artists that certain books evoke(2). I want to know perfect love, and the eternal dance…
(1) on medici.tv
(2) notably the Urantia Book
Jean-François Drouet