Alice s Adventures in Real Magic (a journey of discovering enchanted music and magical nature spirits) by Alice Liddell Francis & Claud Brown Throughout the enhanced e-book are audio embeds, which are activated by touching or clicking on the musical notes, e.g.: When I play Debussy s Reverie In a print version of the book, a CD will be included. Claud Brown, 2014 (Year of the Wood Horse)
(the faerie princess) There s something about the French: when I look at books with paintings by Matisse or Monet, it s the way the colors and brush strokes come alive. Nudes, still lifes, or shimmering water lilies- it s almost too beautiful. If you look at them long enough, they start to breathe. That s when it happens- I slip into the painting, losing myself in the colors. And it s the same with French music. When I play something like Debussy s Reverie with Ebony (Mom s grand piano), the music gives my daydreams pastel tones. Everything feels dreamy, and if I close my eyes, I m swept away to Paris in the 1890s. Standing outside the cafés or inside the salons, thousands of miles away in another time. Feeling like that s where I belong. Which is as far away from here as possible. Last summer was when the hammer came down- when my parents got divorced. And I totally blamed myself. It s because I m too lazy and dreamy. Too self-centered and wrapped up in me and my music. Of course they told me it wasn t true, but it didn t matter. Honestly, after Dad left, every morning was like waking up to a kick in the stomach. And my one escape was losing myself in my favorite music and going on musical adventures. So now when I m home, if I m not doing schoolwork, I m taking a French vacation with Ebony. Or I head outside to hang out in the garden, or under Drew (my oak tree- and best friend). I spend hours just listening. To everything. To the crickets and songbirds. To a big truck shifting gears on Table Mesa, or a plane flying overhead, or the wind scattering some dried leaves. It s all music. I just hang out and listen to my own symphony. 1
Then after a while I take out my flute and start playing along, imitating the leaves staccato rhythms, or the pulsing crickets. And of course my bird friends. I ve really gotten into it since last summer. At first when I played with them, they seemed to ignore me. But I kept at it, listening to the birdsongs and imitating them. Call and response. And I swear, now when the birds begin singing and I imitate their songs on my flute, the blackbirds, robins or larks start singing back. We listen to one another, echoing each other s songs and melodies. And that s how it begins. You listen. Deeply, totally. Becoming the sounds. Then you join in. And I m not a girl anymore. Our backyard becomes an enchanted kingdom, and I m a faerie princess with a magic flute, playing music with my friends, the songbirds. Who are the only ones who really listen to me. Who understand me. (nature magic) After dinner I do the dishes, then go outside with my flute to hang out under my oak tree, seeing if I can get any action with my friends. I hear two or three birds singing next door, so I just sit here on the grass and meditate. Relaxing, focusing, listening. Enjoying their musical offering. Then two music loving chickadees fly from the aspens next door into the top of Drew s branches. We sit here together for a bit, and they begin singing again. It s so delicious. And now I pick up my flute and join in. Breathing out long, soft deep tones, inviting them to listen to me. I pause and wait for them to begin singing again, and then imitate their songs. Short, lively bird melodies, bright and quick. I play, and wait for them to sing. Then we take turns singing back 2
and forth to each other. Our songs vibrate and flow into each other, as a red-orange sunset glow slowly fills the backyard. It feels like I ve stepped into a fairy tale. My musical partners fly down closer, perching on the branches just above me. They cock their heads and look at me, and one of them chirps a little song. I hear his music, along with whistling words: It s you. You. We come for you. OMG! I freeze up- what happened? I really heard it- the birdsong and the words together! The three of us sit here, watching each other. And time stops. Reality has flown away. I ve crossed over, but I don t know where over is. Then the other chickadee flies to another branch just to my left. And they both twitter away- wordless birdsongs. Like they re super excited, trying to tell me something. Unbelievable. Comme un rêve. And it s not just the chickadees. It s the oak tree, the dandelions, even the air. Everything around me wakes up and comes to life. All of us breathing and vibrating together. Now the sunset s light softens and surrounds us, and everything glows with a shimmering red-violet aliveness. It feels like the leaves and flowers are about to talk with me, welcoming me into another world. Then my two friends give me one final, long look- and fly off. I m in shock. My heart s pounding as I lay down on a bed of grass, setting my flute down and looking up at the sky through the leaves that shimmer in the wind. Did it happen? And what is it? Questioning everything, as I lay here under my oak tree. Fearing what s next. 3
My body tightens up, like a violin where someone s twisting my pegs until the strings snap. I keep breathing deeply, feeling the cool air flowing through me so I don t faint. Or snap. I tell myself to relax and see what happens. I keep gazing into the sky, watching it grow darker, as the pale yellow moon begins to rise. And the whole time I have this feeling- I m not alone. Someone or something s here. Watching me. j (the excerpt below appears later in the book) (musical colors) What is it with me? This morning I m soaring, loving my backyard magic. And now, out of the blue I spiral down into a major depression. Because the truth is, I m clueless. I don t even know who I am, or what s happening. Is anything I love real? At this point, all I can do is tell myself to cut it- stop whining, try and raise my energy, and go sit behind Ebony. Mom s right, I need to talk with someone. So I invite an old friend into the living room- Erik Satie. And we talk as I play and listen, and he speaks with me through his music. I start with his Gymnopedies. These pieces can make me feel so happy, but sometimes they re so heartbreaking. Happy and heartbroken, back and forth- that s me. But I keep playing and relax into the music, and it s like Satie is taking my hand and leading me into a magical garden. Filled with the most lovely, fragrant musical flowers that are so- what s the word? Melancholy. 4
Beautiful and sad. Dark and melancholy. There s something about playing sad music when you re confused, feeling down, or even feeling like you re going crazy. It s like it understands you. Because that s when you don t just listen with your ears, you listen with your heart. Even if it s broken. Then the music becomes yours, and it feels the way you do. Flowing inside you, helping you get through the worst times. You know what I mean- because it s happened to you, and the music s been there for you. Right? Now I keep repeating my favorite passages, closing my eyes, and becoming the music. And the strangest thing happens. Totally unexpected. A dream vision appears in my mind. A daydream- a reverie. I see myself as a little girl, before I started school, playing in our backyard, then wandering over to the neighbor s garden, dancing with the roses and daffodils swaying in the breeze. Because I thought they were dancing to music I couldn t hear, so I d sing along and start moving with them. When I was born, Lili wanted to name me Jasmine Rose Francis. But Dad went on the internet, looking up names of people who shared my birthday- May 4 th. And the coolest person born on that day was Alice Liddell- the girl who inspired Lewis Carroll to write Alice in Wonderland. (Yes, Alice was real!) So I became Alice Liddell Francis. And I loved my name! The Alice books were my favorites, because I lived in Wonderland. Everything was alive with musical colors: the cardinal s red spring rhythms, as he flaps his scarlet wings in Mrs. G s birdbath, with water flying everywhere. Or the summer breeze whistling green through the bright oak leaves, or the hum of Mom s station wagon as I stick my blond head out the window, and the wind sings yellow through my hair. Luscious 5
strawberry red, bright lime green and sweet mango yellow moments, which slowly lost their delicious colors and magical music as I grew up. I d totally forgotten about all this. But now as I m playing Satie, it s somehow flowing back. It s like I m remembering what it was to be a little girl, eight or ten years ago. And what it was to be a sorceress, two thousand years ago. Seeing the world with young, wild, fresh eyes. I go back to playing his Gymnopedies from beginning to end, and now I start hearing sad blue melodies melting into hopeful, sparkling greens. And I almost taste juicy, strawberry red harmonies that blend into tangy, fluid violets. Just like in my dream. And I have to ask myselfis this really possible? Can we actually hear, see, taste, smell and touch music? Look, we can all hear the shapes and textures of music, right? Flowing arpeggios, bright grace notes and sparkling trills. But somehow, Satie takes us further. And if someone says it s just our imagination, or it s not real, maybe it s our imagination and it s real, too. So now I start improvising on Satie, adding my own JoyFull, ColorFull, HeartFull music. At first I take control of my improvisation, my musical dream, adding spinning melodies and pastel harmonies to the Gymnopedies. Falling in love with the way I m painting this musical portrait of nature, flowing and swirling through my imagination. Then I let go, letting the music take me where it wishes. Up and down the keyboard, strange modes and harmonies play and sparkle in the air. Again and again. And that s what I do for the rest of the afternoon. Creating sorcery. Making music and magic. Mon vieux Satie, je t aime toujours! w 6