Vague Souvenir – Soulless Mornings, Grey Life
It would be hard for me to forget that first poem in French that Alex sent me. A simple email, not too many words, with an attached piece. Then a text message, making sure I had received the email.
I didn’t need more. The name of the attached file, in French, grabbed my attention pretty quickly. And so did the text. The more I read, the colder I felt. It was spring though, when I read it for the first time, and it wasn’t cold at all. But reading those words, I couldn’t help but feel empty. Empty and lonely. As if something that was very important, very dear to me, had just disappeared. Ripped away, leaving a hole.
I didn’t know the text was meant to appear on ”Vague Souvenir”. I didn’t know it was meant to become a song. Alex always wrote a lot, and usually sends me these words he gives life to. And around this time, I was gathering some of his texts together, for a poetry book. But it could have been a song, as well as a poem, as well as just words he wrote in the spur of the moment. I didn’t know… The only thing I knew is that it was giving me a feeling I had avoided all my life. I did not want to feel alone. I did not want to be alone. All my life, I had avoided getting too close to people around me, making sure they couldn’t really reach me on a deeper level either. Not because I didn’t want to… But because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand the pain it would cause me to be betrayed, to be lied to, to be left aside. “If you do not want to fail, never try”. I did not want to take any risks. I did not want to be hurt. Friendship was not worth it. Love was not worth it.
I have never been particularly hurt before in my life. I have never been overly bullied; only the average, where a few people dislike you and a few like you. I have never been beaten up; I was too quiet for others to notice me. I never had any financial problems. My family wasn’t rich but we never lacked of anything, and I guess I was on the spoiled side more than anything else, my parents never said no to anything I wanted. We were only 2 children. Lots of animals. A pool in the garden. Lived in a quiet, newly built neighborhood, where the biggest problems are the dandelions you can never get rid of. Trees and flowers everywhere. A park for kids just across the street from my parents place. I played sports just like every other kid, took piano lessons, drawing lessons but gave up everything after 2 or 3 years every time; I couldn’t invest myself in anything. I had good grades, but no perfect scores, grades good enough to send me to a private high school, though I never really took time to study. I graduated high school not really knowing what I wanted to do, but knowing exactly what I did not want to do: anything related to math and science. Not that I wasn’t good or that I didn’t like it. I just did not want to have to work hard for it, I did not want to invest myself. I wasn’t afraid of anything, but I did not have true passion for anything either. This is how my life was; grey. And the duller the color, the better it was for me. What if I could see the colors, and suddenly couldn’t see them anymore? What if I became passionate about something, but couldn’t do it anymore? What if I tried hard to study and couldn’t get better results? What if I had friends and people who knew who I truly was, but ended up being left aside? I didn’t want to think about it, so I made sure I would never find myself in a position where I could be hurt.
And this text, ”À Ces Matins Sans Âme”, it just brought this all back to me. My life is colored now, and I have learned to live with it. I am surrounded with people, and though it is still not natural for me to open up, I know I have true friends. They did hurt me, and I have been hurt. But I know I am not alone anymore. And reading those words, made me afraid I could lose everything, all of a sudden. The more I read, the emptier I felt. The more I thought about it, I should have never opened my eyes to those colors, nor my heart to what we call friendship. I would have been better off alone. Even if it was only a lie. And I was slowly getting ready to close up to everything that surrounded me again, to go back to that secret place where nothing and no one could reach me. This had never been something difficult. I was used to doing it. But this time, I just couldn’t. There was something telling me that, I couldn’t go back there this time. I knew that if I entered once more into that secret place of mine, I would never be able to get out. But at the same time, if I stayed out, I would never be able to get back in either. It was a choice I had to do now. You get in and stay there forever, and you live as a living dead. Or you stay out forever, and live, for all what it means. Being overwhelmed by the sounds, the sensations, the smells, the colors, the words, the friendship, the love… All those things I have always wanted to avoid were now a part of me. And accepting them also meant accepting this emptiness I hated so much. One cannot exist without its opposite. And part of my journey through ”Vague Souvenir” has been just this… learning to live. With the good and the bad things. Acknowledging both of them. Acknowledging who I am. The parts I love, the parts I hate. To simply… live.
– Stephanie
Here is a translation in English of the lyrics…
TO THESE SOULLESS MORNINGS… IN THE ABSENCE OF YOU
To these mornings with no warmth, sparks of light and intoxicating shadows, in the absence of you
To these sorrows with no remorse, to these winters with no colors, to these nights without you
Where I get high on the spirit of time, lost in between lures, without any true plan
Hiding in these moments called souvenirs, chimeras of the heart
that we believed sorrowless, a way to see each other, or way of saying
that we were eternal lovers, though in the absence of you… The tide pulls out,
without leaving a trace, would it only be of a hasty sigh…
To these soulless mornings, to this free space, that was once yours, to this forbidden happiness turned barren, that still bears your fragrance, those with which I become intoxicated, as in the absence of you, and for the moment of a desire, I can only pretend in half-hearted tomorrows, as my soul drifts off, out of these walls, its way it will not find… in the absence of you
To these mornings with no dawn, nauseas of yesterday and dazed memories, in the absence of you
To this mist with no regrets, to these flavourless touches, to these nights without you
Where I lose myself to excess, illusion of a look, with no real shine
Confused for having never grasped its true nature, artificial little death
That we believed free from mirages, a matter of seeing each other, or way of saying
that beyond backlit painted images, in the absence of you… dusk wrapped with strings of white
It is nonetheless trompe-l’oeil, as this house made with glass, polished by the wind of time.
To these soulless mornings, to this free space that was once yours, to this forbidden happiness turned barren, that still bears your fragrance, those with which I become intoxicated, as in the absence of you, and for the moment of a desire, I can only pretend in half-hearted tomorrows, as my soul drifts off, out of these walls, its way it will not find… indefinite drift… without forgiveness, without a word said… restrained dream and exiled hope… in the absence of you… I am, truth be told, another of these mornings felted and weary…
Comments (8)
Anna
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I remember the first time I heard that there was going to be French poems on the album… must admit I was kind of surprised but mostly very anxious to hear them!! I’ve always loved poetry… always loved how poets would play with the words to paint different images… it was such a fascinating world to me! The first time I heard ”À Ces Matins Sans Âme”, I couldn’t stop the tears… and I didn’t even hear more than just a few words… That was enough to be overwhelmed by emotion, reminiscing all my soulless mornings… how I’ve spent a big part of my life… pretending, wasting my life in hazy adventures, never building anything real…. too afraid to be left behind heartbroken. All those mornings waking with no purpose… no will to really do anything… living the life of a shadow… But this poem also made me realize that it didn’t have to be like that… well that it hasn’t been like that for a long time… yes I still have my felted days… but now I know that there is more… That my life isn’t a careless shadow… it’s meant to shine, it’s meant to be tasteful, colourful and so much more… I guess we all have our soulless mornings… but we also have the choice to live the life we want… to live with our good and bad sides… but to simply live… you couldn’t have said it better Steph 😉
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Moose
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It’s interesting to see the traces left by the past. What’s still fragile, what remained significant, the true heartfelt joys and the seeds of faith who grew. Nostalgia has been like a deadly bed I tried to find comfort in for too long. Every smile, scent, look, talk and warmth I would have liked to hold on to were enlaced with betrayal, deception and sorrows. Running after make believes I lost my life, I lost any perspective on what it could have been to taste, to feel and illuminate my sight. What remains is my will… My will to give a soul to this day, to embrace, to love, to taste, to breathe. It’s a blessing to be able to sit back and look forward with a renewed view, with a hunger for life I didn’t think I could have.
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Sef
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I’m still amazed to see how art, when it’s honest, raw, true to ourselves can inspire others to embrace something true in their own life… Taking that risk to believe that I have nothing to lose anymore… to revisit moments, seasons of my life hidden deep within myself because of the guilt, of the shame, of the bitterness… Yes, those moments have sometimes reflected really ugly aspects of my life in front of the eyes of the ones I love… but I realize that it has nothing to do with keeping myself in this fatalistic state of mind, keeping me prisonner of the past, of my own understanding of it… no… when I decide to open my hands and to live, those moments are part of my own story, part of the man I am today…!!
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Stephanie
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I guess those moments we all have and share together aren’t only ugly in the eyes of others, but in our own eyes as well, showing parts of us we wished didn’t exist! But when you accept those, and accept to show them, accept to release them, it is also the time when we can truly be free. There is no beauty without ugliness… I truly believe so! And this is what we think is ugly that makes beauty even more beautiful!
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Elizabeth
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ah Steph…I knew this about you somehow though we do not talk often – i am blessed beyond words that you chose not to go back into your secret place, though i know that must have been a terrifying choice…a dear friend posted the C.S. Lewis quote below in a blog recently and it seemed to fit so beautifully with all that is being said here – by Alex, by you, by those others close who are commenting..the Spirit of resurrection is flowing freely through Vague Souvenir – every part of it – you know that of course. You all send my heart soaring in joy made utterly valid by truth..
much love always!! and praying..mom e
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless–it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
-C.S. Lewis
may we all find the courage to keep our hearts out of that terrible safe casket…
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Stephanie
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Thank you very much for your words, Elizabeth!!! It does mean a lot to me!!!! It is a daily decision not to go back, but I am glad I made that decision!
Thank you for that quote, too… It does fit perfectly, indeed!
Love does mean you have to be vulnerable. Because you need to be true! And the more I discover it, the more I enjoy it, too. Well, hurting never is fun, but it’s part of being alive, and alive for real… And this is why I try to find the positive even in those! They made me who I am, after all!
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Chris
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”À Ces Matins Sans Âme” is a song that totally shocked me… Like some cold water slowly flowing on my skin, it was raw, the words were evoking my most vulnerable sides, the piano was making me feel like crying… At the same time, I truly felt at peace…
For me, when you are able to use such vivid and intense words, it’s that you are ready to assume it…and when you are ready to share such deep emotions, hurts and troubles, it’s that you are ready to go through it…It doesn’t possess you, you possess these emotions…At least, it’s how I choose to see it…I couldn’t believe that Alex was opening up this way, I was shocked and very speechless and at the same time… I know that he has nothing to prove and nothing to hide so I though maybe there is no shame, no fear and no problem in living such emotions and letting them out…
When I first listened to the song, I couldn’t pay attention to the whole lyrics and their whole meaning…It was too fast, too emotional and too much for me… I was shocked… But the music, the mood of the song and the few words I catched were enough for me to feel transported completely somewhere else…really deep inside of me. It was peaceful…Just like a big voice telling me ”it’s okay” live it, explore it, dig into it… Everything can be assumed. The intensity of the song was a good intensity…as much as the words were raw, It was a door opening inside of me, to just assume what I felt…Good or bad…
Now ”À Ces Matins Sans Âme” is a song that I need to hear, very often…Especially with the video that goes with it and the words being in French, I need it and it is a song that is good for me, every single time!
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Stephanie
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Thank you for sharing with us how you felt when you listened to the song for the first time…
I must say, it wasn’t exactly like this for me!!! Though I had already read the lyrics several times and knew them very well, to hear those words with the music that accompanied them made me want to go back into that secret place I couldn’t go back to! On the album, though, I must say that the French poems are the ones I listen to the least. Not that I do not like them; I have learned to love them! However, as soon as they start, I need to stop everything that I’m doing. They carry me in a place where only they exist…
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