There is something fantastical about the world of moving through the dynamics of French sounds. Something about those French singers of the older days, who brought the classical element of France. They were sheek, eloquent, and possessed an allure of moving through French landscapes, which presented the aura of France; and especially, the Parisian auras of French urban life. When they sang, France’s natural landscapes and settings came alive, and swayed to every beat. They were meant to showcase that pleasing aesthetic of nurture and affection through song and space. And of course, every nation has that. Every culture has that. Every category of people maintains that. Its an intrinsic persona arena within the world of culture, nation, and entertainment.
Oh how we wish to return to those good, ol’ days. Those times when singing had that certain element of elegance, grace, and pleasure, which personifies those eras. Those particular eras of the 1920’s-1940’s. For some reason, the songs of those times captured the meaning of love, in a way that you knew a singer had truly experienced love. Not only were they in love, or had been in love, but they were not bashful in showcasing to their audience how giddy they were about the very meaning of love. In fact, if you were really in love, you were supposed to be “giddy.” That was the purpose of being in love. It was supposed to lift you off your feet, and float you through different parts of the natural terrain. True love brought fantasy into realistic terms.
There were certain French singers, gifted enough to sing about love in France. They presented love in such a way, that you knew this particular context of love came from France, the moment they opened their mouths. Even if you did not know the singer, or recognize where they derived from, you knew the song was a French take on love and life. That’s all there was to it.
If there was ever a singer, of French breeze, who could perform songs, awakening others to the wonders of French landscapes, and the love, within, it was none other than the legendary singer. . .
When you think of Edith Piaf, you think of France. Quite honestly, there is no way around it. She embodied the very charisma of French charm, allure, and elegance. In many ways, she was part of that aesthetical realm of depicting French themes, for medicinal healings of the land. No matter what happened. No matter the hardships that France would endure, there was always the option of listening to her sound. Hearing her sound, her voice, so that others would know France was still alive.
Too often singers, and those legendary entertainers, are not appreciated for their power and ability to revive a nation, or keep the Spirits of her people floating, in times of pain and turmoil. Sometimes their efforts are acknowledged and celebrated. Other times, the work may not get the acknowledgement. In fact, sometimes a nation may have forgotten. The people may have forgotten with the passing of time. Age causes that. When a legend is no longer on Earth, the people may forget. It means that sometimes,they may need that reminder. A reminder for love, life, and happiness. A lingering memory of those passed songs, which re-nourished those auras and elements for the current times. The sacredness of those songs took on a greater level. In fact, a common core of such entertainers, and their songs, is how they reminded their people who they are. What is their culture? Who are they as a people? What is their journey in inhabiting this land?
When Edith Piaf was alive, her talents and vocal performance radiated among the hearts of French people. They were affirmed in being French, and they felt pleasure in the affirmation of their particular sound, through a maiden and mother image of French paradises.
It should not surprise audience and listeners to the wealth of passion and versatility in her voice. Its often those whose childhoods were filled with hardship, who end up being bearers of sacred talents. When Edith Piaf was born, she had been abandoned by her mother. She was reared by her maternal grandmother, and it was not until father was recruited as a soldier in World War I, that she found comfort in her paternal grandmother-who ran a brothel, in Bernay, Normandy. Edith Piaf received nourishment by prostitutes, working in the brothel. It goes to show that even among the marginalized, there is loving energy and nurture.
Researching further about the earlier life of Edith Piaf, she also suffered from keratitis, which blinded her vision, temporarily. In fact, the women prostituting from her grandmother’s brothel, even reared enough money to journey with her, on a spiritual pilgrimage to honor Saint Therese of Liseux. Studying more about to this precious nun, who was canonized,” it turned out her biggest gift was the spreading of love. Her birth name was Therese Martin, and she was the embodiment of love. Now, it makes sense. Now, everything is clear. In order for Edith Piaf to spread that love among her country, it was necessary for her to find healing and love through this belated Saint. Its precious in many ways.
On a deeper level, this fascinating story of Edith Piaf’s earlier life symbolizes the sanctity of earlier, feminine wisdom. That’s the blessing of love. Even brothel women are granted access to experience love, through another, spiritual, feminine Being. Its something that men, paying them, cannot provide. Furthermore, what makes this intriguing is how such circumstances allowed her to experience the real world. She was granted the opportunity to experience the humanity of those regular, ordinary, every day French people, who were making it through-one day at a time. And it is often, within this side of humanity, where the artistic riches, lay.
Listening to her performances of different songs, there is versatility, and diverse coloration, within her voice. Edith Piaf performs it with such eloquence and excitement, that one feels each piece is different from the other. Not only are they different, but you desire to desire into these different areas of French landscapes. That’s the dream of listening to her speak. In fact, its the living testament, that beauty is crafted and cultivated, in some of the most forgotten places and people of our society. Those, whom society are quick to throw away are often the ones who bring the most joy to the lives of others. And their gifts come from a sacred and peculiar arena of mystery and Universal artistry to the Divine.
There are particular songs, sung by Edith Piaf, which highlight the magic of French perfumes, from the very moment they are heard. You know it is French. It paints in French. It dances in French; all the while alluding to French customs, mannerisms, and creative expressions. In fact, you cannot achieve the true experience of French living, culinary, or atmosphere, if you do not hear them. In the vocal career of Edith Piaf, they are songs such as, “La Vie En Rose.” It is the enchantment of hearing love as consistently, as needing to breathe. Its about knowing that love is a necessary food, and when malnourished from it, our reason for living ceases to exist. Let’s not forget that many people pretend to be living; having confused existing for tasting life’s vitamins.
Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un ride qui se perd sur sa bouche Voila le portrait sans retouches De l’homme auquel j’appartiens
Quand il me prend dans sea bras Il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose
Eyes that make mine lower A wrinkle that gets lost on her mouth Here is the portrait without touching From the man I belong to
When he takes me in his arms He whispers to me I see life in pink
In hearing the performance of such words, a person cannot help, but to want to know the meaning of love. What are its other colorings? How is love expressed? And then, there is the meaning of living life to the fullest, without having wondered if one should have done anything, differently.
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien Ni le bien, qu’on m’a fait Ni le mal, tout ca m’est bien egal
Non, rien de rien Non, je ne regrette rien C’est paye, balaye, oublie Je me fous du passe
No, nothing at all No, I don’t regret anything Nor the good that was done to me Neither evil, all of that is equal to me
No, nothing at all No, I do not regret anything It is paid, swept away, forgotten I don’t care about the past
With the recent incidents of terror and pain in France, the words of Edith Piaf, are needed more than before. A reminder in the spreading and sharing of love is what makes life worth living. That’s the very essence in experiencing what it means to fulfill the our very purpose on Earth. We continue to live, even for others no longer here. We spread love throughout every terrain of French perfumes and nourishment.
Love. Live. Spread healing abundantly, until HOPE is restored!