by John Gordon
class.
That evening they practiced dancing with music from the radio. Barbara had a natural grace that shone through the armor she carried around. Somehow the music from Carla's heart had a mysterious, friendly effect on the sullen eyed girl. She left Carla's house with a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her face.
"Remember Carla," Arlene said, "Jules wants to see you dance again tomorrow night. Are you going to practice?"
"I'll go without more practice, Mom, I already did some before you came home."
Before drifting off to sleep, just as she let go of the hopes and desires of the day, Carla whispered a tiny request of the Great Master of Dance, "help me to know where the music of my heart goes, help me to know."
This time Carla traveled a long way to a distant field of stars far beyond Earth and far beyond the solar system.
Instead of the old man, she came upon a small stage, like in a theater. An attractive woman dressed in dark clothing sat on the stage. Her face was streaked with tears. The woman had long brown hair and sat before a dressing table looking at the framed picture of a soldier she held in her hand. Carla could hear what the woman was saying to the picture . . .
"Last night was terrible for me Jim. When I heard you were dead I wanted to die too, I didn't want to live without you." Tears welled again in the woman's eyes, "then I felt a great surge of life, or whatever it is that fills us with life, and I knew you were happy. I can't give up loving, I love you and know we'll meet again, but I'm here to live Jim . . . and live I will."
Carla watched and listened as the music from her heart went out of her and circled the woman, and now the sound had a new melody as it echoed inside her, coursing through her body and once more out into the stars.
The woman faded away and in her place another image took shape on the stage. A dark haired man stood with a gun in his hand. There was a counter in front of him and Carla could just make out the edge of a cash register to one side. The man seemed to be talking to Carla, yet she knew he must be looking at someone else, someone standing behind the counter that she couldn't see.
"...all of it. I want every cent you owe me."
A hand put green paper bills on the counter and Carla heard another voice. "That's all I have, Bart. I just don't have anymore."
The man she could see snarled in anger "I'm going to hurt you, Alex. You've cheated me for the last time."
Carla noticed the music surge with a new pitch as it penetrated the scene before her. The gunman's face was transformed as the wave of melody hit him. His features softened, though he gave no sign of hearing the sound.
"Or at least I ought to hurt you. You're a crook and you know it, but you can still change your ways."
The young man put away his gun, took the money and left.
The picture faded.
A brilliant light exploded above the stage. She heard the shouts of many men and a cry of pain. Then she saw the scene as if she stood in the iron works herself. The rigging of a giant crane stretched out over the top of a huge bucket of glowing, liquid metal. A man yelled in agony as he lay near the edge of the pool far above the ground, he held his leg, unable to move away.
In the crane cabin an older man sat, his face strained with fear. The waves of Carla's heart music bathed him. She could see the patterns weaving harmony and strength into his body. Suddenly he acted, he lowered the crane arm to the edge of the blazing iron and then he leapt out on the arm and carefully walked on it to the steaming ledge that the crippled man lay on. Far below, workers stood in silence, watching as he lifted the wounded man and carried him piggyback to safety.
This image dissolved and in its place a face appeared, an old woman clutching fearfully at the arm of someone beside her. She lay in a white bed with the vague shape of a nurse to one side. The celestial music flooded the scene and the old woman's eyes closed . . . and her face glowed angelically with the sound. A smile formed on her lips and was frozen there as she left her old, cold body behind, dancing out on the waves of the marvelous music. In her new freedom she looked out at Carla and her smile broadened as she formed a 'thank you' with her mouth and traveled on her divine journey. The music now had deeper sounds in it, and deeper melodies.
Carla felt the Master of Dance beside her. Had he been with her all along?
"Now you know where the music goes, Carla. It goes out to open the door in the hearts of others so they too can dance. It shapes planets and moves stars, gives courage and joy. Nothing lives without it, yet so few know how to have it in their lives. It is the music of love for all life and there is nothing greater in all the universes." He smiled a crinkly smile, "you'll do lass. We have much time to spend together."
Carla awoke in the morning crying with happiness. The sun had never been so bright and her window plant seemed to sing to her from it's own secret heart. She spent the day amazed at how much life and color the simple things around her sparkled with. The mousiest, quietest girl in school shone with a special blend of sound and light to Carla's awakened sight.
That night Carla insisted that Barbara Wallace go to Jules with them. Arlene didn't know what had come over her daughter, yet she was delighted by the change, there was so much happiness in her.
Jules watched Barbara dance first. He was pleased with the girl and decided to take her as a student without charge.
Then Carla got up to dance. Instead of stepping out on the wooden floor, she turned to Jules. The music poured silently from her heart and she understood.
"Thank you Mr. Jules for giving me a chance. I'm not really a dancer, but especially thank you for helping Barbara. I am very happy to have met you and the friend you told me about."
In his office Jules talked with Arlene. "Calm down, please calm down. Your daughter is not a dancer, as she knows."
Arlene almost cried in frustration, Carla had been so much better last week. "Won't you please take her as a pupil Jules?" she begged.
"Arlene, your daughter has come with far more than I ever could ask. She has opened her heart to life. I think she is to explore other experiences now, dancing is not her path." They both looked out at the girls talking together in the studio.
"You see," he said softly, as if talking to himself, "Carla is not a dancer . . . but she has become something beautiful and magical, where everything is a form of dance."
END
