Manon of the Storm (Manon la Tempête)
Manon of the storm goes out in the wind, that jostles the daffodils at the threshold of spring. She takes on the day with the fervour of young lovers' vows.
She braids the twisting tendrils of ivy in her long pale hair that floats on the air, and I realize that there's s huge gap between me and her fabled country.
Chorus: Heat of the sun, solidity of earth, gusts of wind, torrents of rain. Eye of the storm, source of all passion, Manon your mystery is the mystery of life.
When she goes out in the morning under the oak trees and the box, her rustling dress is woven from the streaming rain, with its gleams of silver under the
great grey clouds, and she opens to the secrets of the winds. Manon runs barefoot in the sea foam, on that edge which is neither water nor land,
and that's where she harvests those fertile flashes that inspire words and songs.
Manon of the storm does not let herself be trapped by numbers, structures, routines or notebooks.
She lives in the moment, does not weep for the past and opens like a flower in the spring.
And sometimes when fear holds me rigid I think of her and at last I sense her secret: that passion
is the reverse side of a peace so complete that it goes beyond all anguish and all fear.
Chorus: Song of the thrush at the winter's end when the power of the green pierces the frozen soil.
Source of miracles, source of inspiration, Manon your mystery is the mystery of life.
The Path of Healing (Chemin de la Guérison)
It's a long hard work
The work of healing
It's addressing the unknown
It's diving into the ocean
It's meeting the great walls
Of the barrier deep inside me
Which I have built, solid and long
Cutting off the way into the subconscious
It's penetrating a dark fog
And, the way the sap rises in the spring,
It's climbing the great cliff
That leads directly to the country of dreams
And it's a research, which I hereby begin
Into my own being, right into the depths,
Up to the summit, the very apex of it.
That's what the work of healing is.
And yes it's a question of letting go
Groping your way forwards
It's question of finding courage
Vast as a dragon's wings
And of daring to suddenly unfurl
The banner of passion.
You didn't know any more that it was possible
To trust in your passion.
It's a journey without remorse,
The path of healing,
Without anger against the wounds
That have made the bars of my prison
Against the scars of old pain
Of my fears and my sorrows.
At the edge of this new path,
That's where I leave them all without any regrets.
I choose the route of the imagination
Where every turning is a surprise
Where miracle is always close,
Like the power of mastery
The work of the heart, like music,
A symphony or a song,
In synchrony with the earth.
That's what the path of healing is.
Repeat of second verse.