On a walk through a charming old downtown recently, was stopped by the ethereal sound of someone playing glass harp. We paused for a while to listen to an old man play some popular tunes. Seeing our level of interest, he was glad to show what else he could play.
We heard snippets of Haydn, Beethoven and Mozart. He played beautifully and his face glowed with happiness as he told us about the music and the labor of love that it had been to gather the full set of glasses he needed to play.
As we walked back we talked about the fragility of love - his love of his chosen musical instrument. It had to be loved and cared for or it might shatter. We wondered if he may be heart-broken if that happened and if anything else in his life held as much value and these fragile glass receptacles that held water and made such heavenly music from his touch.
crossings as in traversals, contradictions, counterpoints of the heart though often not..
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