Frank frets over an unusual encounter.

I can thank my lucky stars that the man was a teacher. This thought is my lifeline, my safety net to the experience I am about to embark upon.

But, as is with most good stories, there is an overture.

Had Jean-Yves Ragot’s wife not taken part in one of my English courses, had she not had a quiet word with me about that class, had she not actively encouraged the Brida Journal and the Brida Project, I would not be having this conversation with her husband. Michèle is the sort of person who has a permanent question mark floating above her. There is something that puzzles one. Slowly it emerges. The patchwork family which now houses 12 grandchildren. The casual remarks, dropped like a handkerchief, waiting to be picked up and returned. In the summer comes an invitation for some coffee in the Blue House. And when the two halves present themselves as one whole, I still see the question marks. Months later, I realise, I am using the wrong sense. Do not look, listen.

At some point the handkerchief is dropped for the umpteenth time, “Jean-Yves writes an email about his work, would you like to receive them too….?” Meekly, I pick up the handkerchief, say yes and hesitantly something arrives. I read, it stirs, I listen, it stirs…but the end of year exhaustion is too great. An idea formulates but my body is crying for shutdown.

Eventually I open the door to this new world. Again, the question marks are jumping around, telling me to do something. But what? A question mark whispers into my ear, “you are using the wrong sense. Do not look, do not listen. Feel.”

And so, I jump into swimming pool and swim in music.

It is just over a week before Michèle and Jean-Yves come here to discuss his work. My head is spinning. This is one of these golden moments which I do not want to screw up. But how?

How do you talk to the man when he writes and then sings?

On en crève De tout c’qu’nous n’disons pas De ces mots que l’on garde pour soi.

We’re dying Of all the things we don’t say Of these words that one keeps to oneself.

He does not make it easy:

Qui, même toi Que je n’connais qu’depuis si peu de temps Mais avec qui je viens d’passer de superbes moments Toi qui es là Un peu paumé.

Yes, even you That I have known for such a short time But with whom I’ve just had a wonderful time You who are here A little lost

A little lost?

Je connais Paris, ville d’art et de misère J’ai vu Venise et les grandes villes d’Italie J’ai vu Munich et son Octobre de folie J’ai voyagé dans tellement de contrées.

I know Paris, city of art and misery I saw Venice and the big cities of Italy I saw Munich and its crazy October I’ve travelled to so many places.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I can look him in the eye. We share common ground.

But, before I know it, he pulls the rug from under my feet.

Mais mes voisins de palier, de quartier Je ne les ai jamais bien regardés

But my neighbours on the landing, the district I’ve never looked at them properly.

Yes, I admit, I had not heard of the person nor his music, although he lives only 15 km from me.

As I swim to the deeper end of the pool, I meet Madame Louise. She must be a beautiful woman as I listen to the softness of the music with a hint of melancholy.

Comme si c’était la première fois Puis elle regagne à petits pas Son vieux fauteuil où elle s’assoit L’instant sacré est arrivé Quelqu’un va enfin lui parler

As if it was the first time Then she returns in small steps Her old armchair where she sits The sacred moment has arrived Someone will finally talk to her.

The song softly unfolds and reveals a deep humanity, so elegantly portrayed, so simple yet so complex as life can be.

A lap or two later, as I continue swimming, the humanity is perhaps a little more risqué.

Le diable au corps J’en redemande encore Je calcule, je manipule Le diable au corps J’en redemande encore Je fais tout ce qu’il me plait Sans vraiment penser Au mal que je fais

The devil in the body I want more I calculate, I manipulate The devil in the body I want more I do whatever I like Without really thinking To the evil that I do.

Yes, we were young once. How could we forget?

As I continue swimming, I encounter Mathieu, Julien, Fabien and Benoit.
They are a cheery bunch, as the music tells me in a slight up-tempo gallop.
Who are these characters?

Mathieu, Julien Fabien et toi Benoît Venez, venez tous voir passer Passer là-bas sur le grand sentir De splendide cavaliers.

Mathieu, Julien Fabien and you Benoît Come, come and see all of us pass by. Passing over there on the big trail Splendid riders.

And as I look “over there” I notice something else, up in the sky. I meet an old friend, whom I had not spoken with since I lived in London, some 30 years ago. And the mist in my brain begins to clear and I begin to see, to hear and to feel, all at once.

File, file, redouble tous tes efforts Comme Jonathan Livingston le Goéland Monte encore, vole de plus en plus fort File, file vers une nouvelle aurore.

Go, go, double your efforts Like Jonathan Livingstone Seagull Go up again, fly stronger and stronger Flying, flying to a new dawn.

Working with another client, we stride through several “self-help books” as our discussion material. Jonathan reminds me how easy it is to glide through the sky and be different. And how to look for that next air current to propel us forward. Afterall, we just need to look, listen and feel. The seagull replaces the shrink.

The freedom that we experience here saves us from certain problems.

Avant de juger un homme Il faut marcher sept lunes dans les mocassins

Before judging a man You have to walk seven moons in your moccasins.

The teacher would not be a good one, if he did not let a little mystery enter your thoughts.

As-tu déjà songé Au mystère de toute rencontre.

Have you ever thought about the mystery of every encounter.

How do you prepare an “interview” with a teacher, a poet and a composer?

Et dans l’odeur d’un bon café Laisser s’approcher la journée.   Dans mes périples, j’aime flâner, m’attarder Faire des rencontres, discuter dans un café   Et quoi que to deviennes Quand l’aventure s’achève Même si tu ne vole pas aussi haut que tes rêves Non, ne regrette pas tes envols de joie Découvre une autre voie Mais surtout n’oublie pas   Mais tout ça bien sûr tu l’sais déjà

And in the smell of a good coffee Let the day approach   In my travels, I like to stroll, to linger Meeting people, chatting in a café.   And whatever you become When the adventure comes to an end Even if you don’t fly as high as your dreams No, don’t regret your flights of joy Discover another way But don’t forget.   But of course, you already know all that.

Would you like to swim in music as well?
Take the opportunity here: http://jyves.ragot.free.fr/