"For nowhere with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does a man retire than into his own soul, particularly when he has within him such thoughts that by looking into them he is at once perfectly tranquil; and this tranquillity, I am sure, is nothing but the good ordering of the mind . . . . For with what are you discontented? With the wickedness of mankind? Recall to your mind these ideas, that rational animals were made for one another, that forbearance is a part of justice, that men do wrong involuntarily. . ." (Marcus Aurelius)

It's not hard to contact someone who has passed on. As I sometimes do when I'm unhappy, I listened to Mahler the other night. A kind of partner in misery and hope, I suppose. I played a bleak Chopin Nocturne, then remained on the piano bench, closed my eyes, and meditated about Dr. Gorno, who taught me twoscore years ago how to set my hands to a keyboard. Suddenly he was beside me, his hair and moustache white as ever, kind eyes peering at me reprovingly through rimless glasses. I heard his soft voice.

---You don't play that exactly as I taught you. Did another person instruct you?

---No, no, Dr. Gorno, but I need the freedom to express myself in my own way.

---Ah, of course, certainly! You always understood before you played. Do you remember my telling you that the constantly repeated note is like the dripping of water on a rainy night? But in your playing I heard you are troubled, Charles. Some problem with the music?

I couldn't cover my emotions, unhappiness with my life at the same moment as intense happiness at seeing my beloved teacher again, the magic of the silent semidark space around us.

---Dear Dr. Gorno, I can't handle this. You look just as you did when you taught me . . . I've missed you badly.

---I look to you as you knew me, I am only a ghost now. You are still alive. (He smiled gently) It is only a few years now until you are as old as I was when I died.

---Are you really here, Dr. Gorno, or is this my imagination?

---Of course I'm here, Charles. You were my last student. I loved you; our souls made the same music. Can't you sense it? I am often at your side when you play.

--- I felt it. How often I've wished we could spend one more Saturday afternoon together, playing, talking about music, arguing about how a bar should be performed, whether to make an unwritten pause! I can never forget how often you showed me the beauty hidden beneath what I'd perhaps played for years. Now I must search for it alone.

---You always seemed to be searching, Charles. Chords of the ninth, then eleventh, thirteenth . . . chords built on fourths . . .I saw lately you were testing different scales. What are you seeking?

---I search for sounds beyond earth, for chords, harmonies, and scales that can magically transport me to a happier and more loving world, even for only a few minutes.

---In my world are harmonies that you could not now bear to hear. If your search on earth is fruitless it will be rewarded there. In a short time we will play together again. But what is troubling you now?

---My life of late. I seem to be losing friends that I held dear.

---That is very sad. I lost friends too, by outliving them. At a certain stage in my life I could no longer gain as many as I lost, and when I died I had only two beside my brother. You were one of them. How do you know that what you lost were friends? Do you know what a friend is? Good friends are hard to find, and just as hard to lose.

---They said they were, Dr. Gorno.

---Of course! Anyone can say those words, but only deeds prove the fact. To help someone in need, to provide companionship where it is missing, to accept and have faith in another without conditions; those are the acts of friends. One does not walk a tightrope with friends; it is impossible for him to fall.

---It seems that some feel I could change from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde in a matter of weeks.

---Have you considered that they may have problems of their own?

---No, I did not. It has always been my failing to consider only my own feelings when I am upset.

---Many people share that failing, and there is only one way out of it. Don't be too quick to condemn another; do be ready to forgive not once, but many times. The seas of life are not always smooth; at times storms roil the waters. Any leaky scow can navigate calm waters, but only a sturdy craft can withstand a storm. Love and forgiveness are the caulk and pitch that keep the ship of friendship afloat. But tell me, was your experience totally unhappy?

---No, many old friends remain with me, and a new one became closer to me than most others.

---Ah! No effort ever halted the constant change in your world. You should know better than most, your search for permanence in human relationships always failed. Even the gold your world worships must change in time, ever so slowly. Why does change distress you so? Must you be so rushed to join me where things remain as they are forever? At worst, you have gained as much as or more than you lost. Perhaps you will find that you lost nothing after all.

---Oh, Dr. Gorno, to gain a friend is joy, but to lose one is great sorrow! I wish I could experience joy without sorrow.

He looked at me intensely for a few moments.

---You cannot, dear Charles. Your life must be exactly equal parts of pain and pleasure. Be thankful for your sorrows, for they alone make it possible for you to recognize your joys. If life were all pleasure you'd soon forget what pain was, and no longer be able to recognize pleasure. Remember the words to your favorite music:

"When night has gone comes the day,
The shadows will fade away.
T'ords the morning lift a voice,
Let the scented woods rejoice,
And echoes swell across the mighty stream."

He turned to gaze out the window. The blackness of the night sky was pierced by winking stars.

---Every morning, when the sun rises, awaken to your new life. Remember and respect what happened yesterday, but let its shades fade away with the shadows. Beloved friend, I must soon leave because my time here is limited. But please be so kind as to let me hear you play a piece I taught you long ago.

I began to play Debussy's First Arabesque. I had reached only the fifth or sixth bar when he laid his hand gently on mine.

---You are working very hard to accent those triplets in pairs, Charles. Why are you doing that?

---I want those bars to sound like water cascading over rocks, Dr. Gorno.

---Ah! I must try that myself some time. Please go on.

I began again, accenting every note as carefully as I could, letting the piano resound and trying to draw every ounce of emotion from the music. Now little rills cascaded over rocks, feathery leaf fronds trembled in the breezes, and the zephyrs filled with fifth-month scents. A final long arpeggio, and the softly ringing chorus faded slowly away. When I finally looked up, he was gone. A gentle breath of summernight wafted through my window. Outside, a silver bark sailed silently through a midnight sky, in its wake ten million glittering stars. "The harmonies of the universe," I mused silently, and wondered if it were carrying his soul back home.

They say that a person who takes up residence in your heart remains alive until you die. I'll never know whether his was an image from my heart, or whether he actually came to me to console me in a moment of sadness.

It doesn't make much difference, does it?