Thoth: When tears become dyamonds

It was almost dark in Central park last Saturday. A beautiful opera singing caught me through the tunnel. I barely saw the back of a human figure at the other sides of the tunnel and I was led to the darkness with excitement. I walked in the tunnel from behind this perfomer. When I looked at this person, surprisingly, it was not "she," but "he." He was almost naked, putting on a native Indian-like costume. He was dancing and playing a violin at the same time, and singing both part of male and female parts. He stepped on the ground, which acted as a drum, and bells in his both ankles were echoing in the tunnel. On the ground, some meaning patterns were drawn and crystals were placed on them. Due to the strange warm wether for this season, his appearance and performance, the darkness of that time, and the smell of incense, I felt as if I were completely bewitched. I could not understand what language he was singing; yet his voices were beautiful and keen with a sense of sadness. I was absolutely struck by his miracle. I bought his DVD and watched it later. Here is this perfomer,Thoth's story. Having been born as a son of a black woman and Russian man, he had to suffer from the racism in the society. Plus, he had a hard time identifying himself between his black and white roots. At his young age, his father left. In his confusion, he closed his mind without knowing why he could not be accepted by the society. Then, he started living in his own imagination world where there was no segregation, where all humans with any skin colors lived together. He created the map, the language and the story of his peaceful world. That was all about his opera performance. Because of his struggle, I believe that he tapped into his inside and he could find the treasure or diamond within himself: his deep voice that can almost reach to the sky and his own music. I admire his courage to be really himself. Again, I was inspired and encouraged by his existence. I said “ again.” It is because stories of occasional encounters like Henry Darger, Tu-pac or Elizabeth Layton inspired and encouraged me for my 3-years in NY from time to time. I had wanted to go to Central park for a month, but never had a chance until last Saturday. It might have been his soul who was calling me. Always, something that catches my heart has the story behind. Here again.