A story of true brotherhood

Carl “Luz” Long (left) and Jesse Owens

I first saw this as a post in Facebook. Curious to know more, I read a detailed article on a website about World War II history.

The enduring friendship that was forged during the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, Germany between American athlete, Jesse Owens, and German athlete, Carl “Luz” Long was truly inspirational.

I highly recommend reading the full article, and especially the last letter that Luz Long wrote to Jesse Owens. It’s deeply touching and also a real testament to the truth of our oneness in spirit.

Reading and reflecting on this brought to mind a song by my friend, Greg Tamblyn (I mentioned him a while back in my blog post about “Unconditional Love”).

Titled “One Day On The Fields of France,” it’s based on a true story from World War I, and conveys a beautiful message of healing through forgiveness. At the same time it reminds us that wars and division and conflict are not our natural state.

“One Day On The Fields of France” by Greg Tamblyn

Swami Kriyananda also put it beautifully in one of the most beloved of his songs, “Brothers”:

Then brothers, why endeavor
To set ourselves apart?
The fences we’ve been building
Squeeze tight upon our hearts!
Come sing the truth that all men are brothers!
Come sing the truth that all men are—
Brothers!

The FINAL final on the making of music

Once I was really thinking about the “making of music”, and pondering how one develops that sense of inner musical connectivity, many examples from my own experience came to mind.

One of them is the song Land of Make Believe by Chuck Mangione, title track of the very first record album that I ever purchased, back in high school. Man oh man, did I love that recording!

I hadn’t listened to it in probably twenty years, maybe even thirty, but hearing it the other day I discovered it still has the same tremendous effect on me as it ever did. There’s something about it; it simply makes me happy…and I’m finally beginning to suspect the reason why.

When (if) you listen to this recording, go ahead and enjoy Esther Satterfield’s beautiful voice and the clever and upbeat lyrics, but — please! — do me a favor and really tune in to the rhythm section; I mean, talk about blended and bonded! They are so tight it’s incredible, especially the drums and electric bass. There’s a sense of forward propulsion that’s relentless yet so light it’s almost effervescent!

I’ve listened to it a number of times over the past week or so, and today I had an “aha” moment. You see, often I’ll play a piece of music for someone because I want to share the incredible joy it gives me, only to have the other person say it’s “nice” or something similar. This has puzzled me for years, as I ask myself — how can they not feel it?

Well, I remembered what I wrote a few days ago, about learning to extend my “antennae” and feel the music from another musician’s perspective; from their center. And I realize that’s what happening as I listen to a recording like this: I’m feeling it as if I was part of that amazing rhythm section, intensely bonded in the now moment, in the groove, making music together.

A precious, itty-bitty glimpse of oneness is what it is!