Would he ever be a really good violinist? After a few years, recognizing that he would never be a virtuoso, he regretfully gave up his music lessons. He kept his violin and continued to play, but never in the same way. His role in life was not that of a musician. Indeed, he had known for a long time that the higher beings who guided him put one obstacle after another in his way on the physical plane in order to help him to grow on other planes. Just as they had barred the route to a specialization in mathematics, so they now made it clear that the world of musicians was not for him. In his mind he heard them murmuring: You cannot lead people to the ultimate goal by means of music. We will show you another realm, a realm in which there will also be music; a realm in which you can act effectively. As soon as he acquiesced he felt a powerful urge to turn to inner realities; he was learning to recognize the music that is hidden in all things, animate and inanimate; everything became music.
The music of the spheres reverberated still in every fiber of his being, reminding him constantly that just as the stars, the tree , and the stones of the earth possess their own special note, human beings too are part of the great cosmic choir, of the great orchestra whose conductor is the Creator himself. Above all, he understood that he must learn to play as perfectly as possible on the instrument of his own being.
One day, this resolve received an unexpected stimulus.
“I was still a student in Sofia, and I was sitting reading in my room one evening , when I heard a violin being played in the street. It was so extraordinary that I went out to see who was playing like that. And what did I see? A gypsy, an old man dressed in rags and playing a violin ... but what a strange kind of violin! It was a roughly made wooden box , with some strings stretched across it, and from those strings he drew sounds ... sounds such as I had never heard of even the best concerts. I was amaze . And all the neighbors had come out on their balconies to listen. When he stopped playing I went up to him and asked 'Where does your violin come from?' 'I made it myself,' he replied . So then I asked him if I could have a closer look at it. It was simply a piece of wood that had been hollowed out, all crooked, and with a few strings on it. 'Would you sell it?' I asked. 'Oh, no, I'll never sell it!”
I kept thinking about this encounter: I could not understand how the gypsy could produce such pure sounds from such a crude instrument. How astonished Stradivarius would have been, I thought. But then I realized that it is not necessarily the perfection of an instrument that counts. It's something else. It all depends on the person who plays it. I thought about this for a long time, and I concluded that I too could make music with an instrument as crude as mine-that is, myself. The important thing is to have the will to triumph. We always complain that we don't have the right conditions, but that's just an excuse for doing nothing. If you knew how difficult the conditions of my life had been when I was young... You can have no idea! But I did not count on external conditions to bring me success and that old gypsy only made me more convinced. I told myself, 'I must produce good things from my difficulties.' And what was it that I really wanted? To be useful. This is the overriding desire of my life to be useful to others, to be able to help, console and comfort them. Night and day this desire is with me. It's this Desire that inspires me to play “my violin.”
In the life and in the mission of Omraam Mikhael Aivanhov, thought was an instrument capable of tremendous realizations; silence was both a need and a means of communication; a look was a mysteriously potent means of exchange. But it was perhaps his use of speech, the power of words, that was the most important. The only thing I am concerned about is the wind ... the Word. And the Word can achieve wonders. I have never cultivated a talent, I have used only words. When he gave advice he spoke with great frankness, and that advice cut straight to the heart of a problem. We see an example of this in the way he helped a wealthy young friend who always looked unhappy. Meeting him in the street one day, Mikhaël greeted him warmly, whereupon his friend ex claimed: ' You're looking very joyful. What has happened?' 'Oh, nothing much,' replied Mikhaël. 'I have just bought some joy. And it cost very little.' Puzzled, his friend looked at him in silence. He knew that Mikhaël had almost nothing in the world, and yet he always seemed to be in a state of supernatural joy. It was incomprehensible. On the other hand, he knew him well enough to know that he was not teasing. With a sigh, the young man complained that he had spent a lot of money in his life without receiving any joy in return. Wordlessly, Mikhaël beckoned to him to come with him, and pausing some distance from a poor man selling buttons, shoelaces, and string, he murmured: 'Look! There's someone who sells joy. He stands there for hours in the cold, the wind, and the rain, waiting for customers. Go up to him and buy something, shoelaces for instance. Ask him how much they are, and if he says they are ten pound, give him fifty and tell him to keep the change. When he hears that he will think: 'Ah, there are still good people in the world.
His faith will be strengthened, and his joy will be yours too. It will reverberate within you all day long, and it will have cost you only a few cents.' Thoughtfully, the young man looked at the peddler and suddenly a smile lit up his face. Mikhaël added: 'You can also pay a visit to someone who is ill. Take him some little gift. Tell him that all will be well; that God is merciful. If you comfort others and give them joy, you yourself will become joyful. But when you want to give joy to someone you must choose carefully, for not everybody is ready to accept it.
Mikhaël always spoke simply with words that went straight to people's hearts . His methods were those of all white magicians who, having mastered and refined their own faculties and feelings, are capable of using the power of words to great effect. For him, words were powerful instruments capable of eliciting vivifying reactions.
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