Grasshopper’s Violin

I didn’t think long about what to write in the introduction to the book, “Happy Home Fairy Tales”. I just remember the evening, and the porch warmed by the sun, where we were sitting with mom. There where the grasshoppers’ songs, frogs’ solos, and firefly sparkles on the darkening starry sky. This world doesn’t have space because it has no boundaries. There are many inhabitants, and you and I too. Welcome!

Olga and the Fairy Tale Team 🙂

GRASSHOPPER’S VIOLIN

Grasshopper anxiously waited for the Sun to set, occasionally glancing at the small green Violin that lay beside him. Wrapped in soft moss, this Violin had waited a long time under the Christmas tree, and finally, it was needed. . . .

The Violin was old with scratched sides and a tiny crack in the middle, but when it sang in such a way, there was probably no living thing in the whole neighborhood who wouldn’t come to listen. For as long as Grasshopper could remember, his Grandpa Grasshopper played the Violin every evening. Tall and entirely gray, he slowly touched the bow to the strings and the Song poured out into the air. . . .

One day he called grandson Grasshopper over, held out the Violin, and said, “Here, hold it . . . take care of it and yourself too.”

“What about your Song? What will you say to your listeners in the meadow?” Grasshopper asked.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“I can’t play it like you! You have lived a long time in the World, you have something to say.” “It is not needed. Everyone has their own Song.”

“So why do they listen to yours?”

“To awaken their own. Everyone’s heart sings, only sometimes the sounds are very faint, and not always discernible.”

“Does your Violin help them?” “I hope so.”

“And no two songs are the same?”

“We are all different.”

“What will mine be about?”

“What your heart will tell. . . .”

“Will they understand me?”

“Those who are attentive to others will understand.” Grandfather gently stroked the Violin and handed it to Grasshopper, “Take it. . . .”

Small and light, he liked it at once, but Grasshopper did not know any melody then. So he brought it home and put the Violin in his hiding place. Since then, no familiar sounds have been heard in the meadow. The listeners, accustomed to them, first asked Grandpa Grasshopper when they would hear the Violin again. He smiled and replied, “The time will come. . . .”

Grasshopper missed Grandpa when he passed. There was no one else who could always support Grasshopper with his wisdom and kindness, and with whom he felt cozy and warm. Loneliness appeared, especially in the evening when the Sun considered leaving the day and going to rest. A new day, then night, and everything repeated with the same . . . and the Violin was still silent. That’s when Grandpa was here, then everything was different. He saw something interesting everywhere. Grasshopper sighed, “Again, ‘was’. . . .”

Once he had asked Grandpa, “What does ‘Life’ mean?” Grandpa smiled and answered simply, “All that is around us, and we are within it . . . in its sounds, colors: you just feel it.”

“How do we feel it?”

“Everyone in their own way, and in their own time.”

One day, Grasshopper looked around and saw what he had not noticed before: how beautiful a new day begins! Droplets of dew hung on the thin cobwebs, glistening like diamonds. . . . The flowers in the meadow stretched their petals towards the gentle rays of the Sun. . . . Even the gray clouds huddled in the corner behind the hill did not look sad and hung in the Sky like fluffy, slightly puffed-up pillows.

Grasshopper wondered to himself, “Where have I been?” It all became so light! He jumped high, throwing up his thin long legs, and laughed happily. It is as if only now, the new day brought with it a unique and big miracle, called by one small word, ‘Life’. . . .

Grasshopper waited for evening, occasionally looking at the small green Violin lying nearby. The Sky, slowly counting each star, gradually filled up with them. The evening came and changed its color from bright to dark blue. It became quiet. . . .

Grasshopper took the Violin. . . .

He carefully touched the strings with his bow once, twice, thrice . . . and his Song was heard in the meadow! Merging with each other, sounds floated into the humid air, composing a melody known only to one performer. This is how every heart sings when the time comes.  Grasshopper played, and in his Song was Life! The scent of flowers, the warmth of the Sun, the ringing of the rain, the whisper of the wind—is it possible to list everything?

Grasshopper was playing! The small green Violin was creating sounds in a boundless concert hall.  Piercingly high, then mysteriously low, they rushed to the heights, singing about what lived in his heart . . . and this Song inspired, gave joy, filling the whole neighborhood! The inspiration of one was passed on to others. Grasshopper finished playing and wondered: “So many listeners are around!”

“Someone said we wouldn’t hear the Violin anymore, but it sings again!” a voice was heard in silence.

“This is my Grandpa’s Song!” Grasshopper said embarrassed.

“He sang differently . . . it is your Song! Thank you. . . .”

It was quiet again. The listeners gradually went home, tenderly holding within the melody they had just heard. And together with it, everyone, somewhere in the depths, responding with a pure stream, composed their own song—the Song of their heart.

Grasshopper sat on the tip of a blade of grass and looked at the starry Sky, gently hugging his Violin. . . .

From the book “Happy Home Fairy Tales for children and adults” https://olgaverasen.com/library/

From a new fairy tale:
– Mom, why doesn’t my flashlight shine as brightly as yours? asked the little Firefly.
– Just take a rag and wipe it.

Each of us has our own flashlight, which has a very beautiful light. . . .

We can share what we have. If we adults help children to understand the unity with Nature, they will understand the unity with themselves and the Beauty of Life.