Love. Love. Love is a beautiful thing! Time and time again, we are reminded of this element. Stories have been written about them. Songs have been composed of them. Ancient philosophy and wisdom is rooted in our quest to discover the very meaning of love. Love is complicated. Simultaneously, there is a reason for why it is so very complicated. Love is infinite. We can doubt that we have even truly touched the surface, in our very exploration of its existence. Every generation, and through every period, we are in an ongoing quest to find the very meaning of, love!
Back to the world of opera, we shall go! Oh, what a moment! What a show! Love is the embodiment of Heaven’s domain. Trhe musical genre of opera continues to move us into the very depth of its existence. Over and over again, we experience ourselves in a grander scope, when watching an operatic performance. It feels like Heaven, itself, has gathered around in the viewing for such a show. The angels are surrounding the concert hall. Some have entered inside. Once they have entered into the musical interior, Heaven has also receiving praise!
Oh, yes! We are still in an Italian sound. With that comes a colorful joy, within its own accord. The song? “Ah! Rimiro Il Bella Sembiante!” Translation: “Ah! I Admire The Beautiful Semblant!” Come to think of the term, “semblant,” we are present with something (or someone) who resembles. Hmmm. . .Interesting. How is love intertwined with all of this? For starters, there is the very content to the song.
Ah! rimiro il bel sembiante, I admire the beautiful semblant
Adorato, vaggheggiato, Adored cherished
Ei mi appare sfavillante, He looks sparkling to me
Come il di che mi piago, Like that of which I like
Parmi ancora che su quel viso, It seems to be that on that face
How is love wrapped up in the ability to resemble another? How does it grant us with additional power and explanation to comprehend love’s association with it? Wanting to resemble some means you find their being, attractive. Simultaneously, we want to ensure that we don’t reject out own beauty, as well. That’s when the meaning of love can get tricky. For, you can love someone’s image, while also coveting them. Oh no! You don’t want to do that!
Sometimes, we have those persons, whose beauty enters into our spiritual pathways, that we may use their presence, in order to dig deeper into our own. Admiring a person’s resemblance should never translate into an obsession. Never. In fact, it should be more of an appreciation; an awakening into our own treasures of wellness. Period.
Spunti languido un sorriso, A languid smile arises
Ch’altra volta a me si caro, Another time is dear to me
La mia sorte incateno, My fate binds
Oh memorie! Oh cara imago! Oh memories! Oh, Dear image!
Di morir per lei son pago! I am satisfied to die for her
Liberarla! Liberaria!
Well, now the story is starting to, unfold! He loves her. And, time permits him to love her more and more, each day! Of course, is it only her that he loves, or someone who resembles her? Has he fallen in love with her or becomes he resembles, another? Now, that’s a pertinent question. For, if he is in love with a resemblance of her, can we say it’s truly love? Hmmm. . .The questions keep ticking in.
There are many times, or a few, when we passed those, who remind us of someone we once knew. We see how their hair, face, body, and even persona resembles parts of a past love, or loves. It is such a memory, which gives us the ability to connect with another person. It’s simple. They remind us of another. And, so we fall in love! We desire them. We want to be closer to them, as they give us the power to re-play the past. And, yes! There are ways of doing that! However, you have to come and ask yourself one thing. Is it them, who you truly love, or simply the illusion of another? Do you love them? OR Is there a certain persuasion about their existence, which permits you to see that new love? Yes! There is a loving light into one’s existence. Love moves us into a beautiful beat! Just remember that it’s real love, and not the resemblance, of! Because if it’s not the real thing, it’s not, real love!
Enrico Di Giuseppe
