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témoignage au plus profond de l'âme de Neil Young (in Esquire)

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  • Rusty Words
    What I ve Learned: Neil Young Legend, 60, Woodside, California (Interviewed by Cal Fussman)
    Message 1 de 3 , 18 mars 2007
      What I've Learned: Neil Young
      Legend, 60, Woodside, California
      (Interviewed by Cal Fussman)
      http://men.msn.com/articlees.aspx?cp-documentid=760884>1=9212&wa=wsignin1.0

      A best moment in music? Sometimes when I'm playing my guitar, I get to a
      point where it gets very cold and icy inside me. It's very refreshing. Every
      breath is like you're at the North Pole. Your head starts to freeze. Your
      inhalations are big-more air than you ever thought there is starts pouring
      in. There's something magical about it. Sometimes when it happens, you
      wonder if you're gonna be okay. Can you handle it?

      Yes, there was something good that came out of having polio as a kid.
      Walking.

      The sound of a harmonica hits you directly. There's no language barrier.
      The wisest person I ever met had to be my companion in the hospital. I was
      recovering from complications after an operation to remove an aneurism in my
      brain. She was about eighty-five years old and maybe five feet tall. An old
      black lady from South Carolina. This young nurse wasn't really in touch with
      what she was doing, and the old lady would tell her how to do what she
      needed to do without telling her. She never talked down to her, just gave
      examples. I felt that this old woman must be deeply religious, but there was
      nothing forceful about her. I woke up one morning at a quarter to six and
      looked out the window. Fog was on the bridge outside the room, and I said,
      "Well, that's just beautiful." And she said: "Yes, it is." She turned toward
      me with this eighty-five-year-old face that didn't have a line on it, no
      strain, nothing, and she said: "So the master's not taking you. It's not
      your turn."

      Courage is a mindless thing. People say, "Wow! How could you do that?" And
      you say, "How could I not do that?"

      It's like having two eyes. You either look through one eye or you look
      through the other. Or you look through both of them. Sex is sex. Love is
      love. Love and sex is clear vision.

      There's something peaceful about boxing. If you beat the hell out of a bag
      or go against a competitor, you and your reflexes will be so at one that you
      won't have time to think about anything else. You have to be totally
      yourself to box.

      When I was six, I really didn't know what God was. But I did know about
      Sunday school. I was reading a lot about God, but I was bored. I couldn't
      wait to get out of Sunday school. God was secondary to the whole thing. But
      as time went by, I got more and more angry, to the point where I didn't like
      religion. Hate is a strong word. But I just kept getting angrier and angrier
      . . . until finally I wasn't angry anymore. I was just peaceful, because I
      thought: This is not fruitful for me. I rejected the whole thing and found
      peace in paganism. Jesus didn't go to church. I went way back before Jesus.
      Back to the forest, to the wheat fields, to the river, to the ocean. I go
      where the wind is. That's my church.

      Epilepsy taught me that we're not in control of ourselves.

      Most people think it's the other way around: that time is going faster and
      we're doing less. But really time seems to be going faster because we're
      cramming so much into it.

      Our education system basically strives for normal -- which is too bad.
      Sometimes the exceptional is classified as abnormal and pushed aside.

      One thing that has come out of having children with cerebral palsy is
      strength. At first it made me very angry. I was almost looking for a fight.
      I was always looking for someone to criticize my son in my presence. I would
      envision different scenarios in which I would become violent reacting to
      people's reactions to my children -- especially to my severely handicapped
      child. Eventually, he taught me that was not necessary. Just by being
      himself. By being a gift to us. He showed us how to have faith and belief
      and inner strength and to never give up. I look around and see people
      hurting themselves for no reason. Drinking too much. Taking drugs. Beating
      themselves up in some psychological way. That really bothers me, knowing
      that these people got everything they needed to succeed. All they have to do
      is believe in themselves and in the gifts they're wasting. And yet there are
      all these other people on the planet who have none of the gifts that are
      apparent. The gifts are all locked up inside, yet their spirits are so
      strong that they just keep on going. And I think: This person who has this
      spirit, why can't he have some of the outward gifts?

      Maybe this is a little too thoughtful, but we're all just passengers in a
      way.

      The best is approaching. I have everything -- well, not everything, but a
      lot of things that I've accumulated through my life experiences. It's easier
      to communicate through music than it ever has been before. It's easier to
      play. It's easier to sing. It's easier to write. Nothing is forced.

      When my doctor discovered the aneurism in my brain, he said I'd had it for
      about a hundred years. He told me I'd had it for such a long time that I
      shouldn't worry about it . but that we'd have to get rid of it immediately.
      Yeah, that's Zen medicine. He's very wise. I trusted him completely. All the
      people who took care of me were absolutely the best at what they do -- even
      though there was a complication, a complication that has a
      one-in-twenty-seven-hundred chance of happening in my type of operation.
      They go into your brain through an artery in your thigh. Later, when I was
      out of the hospital, my leg exploded. I was out on the street and it just
      popped. My shoe was full of blood. I was in some serious trouble. I was
      about fifty yards from the hotel and I just made it. The ambulance came
      about ten minutes later. I don't know if I need to go into this. I don't
      know if the event is important. But the result was. That's what led me to
      that lady. The wisest person I've ever met.
    • MoMo
      Merci à Between Move your asses :):) Que pensez-vous de cet interview ? Atchao MoMo
      Message 2 de 3 , 18 mars 2007
        Merci à Between

        Move your asses :):)

        Que pensez-vous de cet interview ?

        Atchao

        MoMo

        > What I've Learned: Neil Young
        > Legend, 60, Woodside, California
        > (Interviewed by Cal Fussman)
        > http://men.msn.com/articlees.aspx?cp-documentid=760884>1=9212&wa
        > =wsignin1.0
        >
        > A best moment in music? Sometimes when I'm playing my guitar, I get to a
        > point where it gets very cold and icy inside me. It's very
        > refreshing. Every
        > breath is like you're at the North Pole. Your head starts to freeze. Your
        > inhalations are big-more air than you ever thought there is
        > starts pouring
        > in. There's something magical about it. Sometimes when it happens, you
        > wonder if you're gonna be okay. Can you handle it?
        >
        > Yes, there was something good that came out of having polio as a kid.
        > Walking.
        >
        > The sound of a harmonica hits you directly. There's no language barrier.
        > The wisest person I ever met had to be my companion in the
        > hospital. I was
        > recovering from complications after an operation to remove an
        > aneurism in my
        > brain. She was about eighty-five years old and maybe five feet
        > tall. An old
        > black lady from South Carolina. This young nurse wasn't really in
        > touch with
        > what she was doing, and the old lady would tell her how to do what she
        > needed to do without telling her. She never talked down to her, just gave
        > examples. I felt that this old woman must be deeply religious,
        > but there was
        > nothing forceful about her. I woke up one morning at a quarter to six and
        > looked out the window. Fog was on the bridge outside the room,
        > and I said,
        > "Well, that's just beautiful." And she said: "Yes, it is." She
        > turned toward
        > me with this eighty-five-year-old face that didn't have a line on it, no
        > strain, nothing, and she said: "So the master's not taking you. It's not
        > your turn."
        >
        > Courage is a mindless thing. People say, "Wow! How could you do
        > that?" And
        > you say, "How could I not do that?"
        >
        > It's like having two eyes. You either look through one eye or you look
        > through the other. Or you look through both of them. Sex is sex. Love is
        > love. Love and sex is clear vision.
        >
        > There's something peaceful about boxing. If you beat the hell out
        > of a bag
        > or go against a competitor, you and your reflexes will be so at
        > one that you
        > won't have time to think about anything else. You have to be totally
        > yourself to box.
        >
        > When I was six, I really didn't know what God was. But I did know about
        > Sunday school. I was reading a lot about God, but I was bored. I couldn't
        > wait to get out of Sunday school. God was secondary to the whole
        > thing. But
        > as time went by, I got more and more angry, to the point where I
        > didn't like
        > religion. Hate is a strong word. But I just kept getting angrier
        > and angrier
        > . . . until finally I wasn't angry anymore. I was just peaceful,
        > because I
        > thought: This is not fruitful for me. I rejected the whole thing
        > and found
        > peace in paganism. Jesus didn't go to church. I went way back
        > before Jesus.
        > Back to the forest, to the wheat fields, to the river, to the ocean. I go
        > where the wind is. That's my church.
        >
        > Epilepsy taught me that we're not in control of ourselves.
        >
        > Most people think it's the other way around: that time is going
        > faster and
        > we're doing less. But really time seems to be going faster because we're
        > cramming so much into it.
        >
        > Our education system basically strives for normal -- which is too bad.
        > Sometimes the exceptional is classified as abnormal and pushed aside.
        >
        > One thing that has come out of having children with cerebral palsy is
        > strength. At first it made me very angry. I was almost looking
        > for a fight.
        > I was always looking for someone to criticize my son in my
        > presence. I would
        > envision different scenarios in which I would become violent reacting to
        > people's reactions to my children -- especially to my severely
        > handicapped
        > child. Eventually, he taught me that was not necessary. Just by being
        > himself. By being a gift to us. He showed us how to have faith and belief
        > and inner strength and to never give up. I look around and see people
        > hurting themselves for no reason. Drinking too much. Taking
        > drugs. Beating
        > themselves up in some psychological way. That really bothers me, knowing
        > that these people got everything they needed to succeed. All they
        > have to do
        > is believe in themselves and in the gifts they're wasting. And
        > yet there are
        > all these other people on the planet who have none of the gifts that are
        > apparent. The gifts are all locked up inside, yet their spirits are so
        > strong that they just keep on going. And I think: This person who
        > has this
        > spirit, why can't he have some of the outward gifts?
        >
        > Maybe this is a little too thoughtful, but we're all just passengers in a
        > way.
        >
        > The best is approaching. I have everything -- well, not everything, but a
        > lot of things that I've accumulated through my life experiences.
        > It's easier
        > to communicate through music than it ever has been before. It's easier to
        > play. It's easier to sing. It's easier to write. Nothing is forced.
        >
        > When my doctor discovered the aneurism in my brain, he said I'd
        > had it for
        > about a hundred years. He told me I'd had it for such a long time that I
        > shouldn't worry about it . but that we'd have to get rid of it
        > immediately.
        > Yeah, that's Zen medicine. He's very wise. I trusted him
        > completely. All the
        > people who took care of me were absolutely the best at what they
        > do -- even
        > though there was a complication, a complication that has a
        > one-in-twenty-seven-hundred chance of happening in my type of operation.
        > They go into your brain through an artery in your thigh. Later,
        > when I was
        > out of the hospital, my leg exploded. I was out on the street and it just
        > popped. My shoe was full of blood. I was in some serious trouble. I was
        > about fifty yards from the hotel and I just made it. The ambulance came
        > about ten minutes later. I don't know if I need to go into this. I don't
        > know if the event is important. But the result was. That's what led me to
        > that lady. The wisest person I've ever met.
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
        > Liens Yahoo! Groupes
        >
        >
        >
        >
        >
      • keith001@writeme.com
        ... Mmmm... rien? ou bien il devrait l exprimer en musique? ou bien un cybercafé entouré de gamers n est pas le bon endroit... A+ Keith - dans un cybercafé
        Message 3 de 3 , 18 mars 2007
          Quoting MoMo <gironnay@...>:

          > Que pensez-vous de cet interview ?

          Mmmm... rien?
          ou bien il devrait l'exprimer en musique? ou bien un cybercafé entouré
          de gamers n'est pas le bon endroit...

          A+
          Keith - dans un cybercafé à Nîmes
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