People here might of heard of the recent Leonard Cohen tour and the reception it received, and the comments of many who heard him.

Despite the cliches 'music to slit your wrists by' etc, this was a concert which people struggle to describe and fall back to comments like 'it was like a religious experience'. Even my atheist girlfriend was making such comments. I've heard lots of people say it was the best they have seen.

I do not exaggerate when I say that I saw people crying with joy during the show. I could swear that I heard angels.

The feeling of camaraderie and of community throughout was palpable. Strangers embraced at the end or shook hands with enthusiasm and a feeling that we were bonded by our shared experience.

A 74 yo man warbling for 3 1/2 hours in the dark in the middle of the Aust. bush humbled us and moved us and ultimately...words fail me.

I don't mind if people want to respond with a Leonard discussion or with their own similarly moving experiences.

O.M.G. - Cohen gave a concert-in-the-bush in Australia? What, did someone tip him off I was out of the country? Damn.

I first discovered him years ago when I was living in a really ghastly, semi-industrial section of Lyons, France with a depressed classical guitarist and his ex-mistress. You'd think that was a recipe for wrist-slashing if anything was.

Instead it inspired all three of us: I went to Paris to buy a couple of his albums and just kept going. (Still haven't stopped, actually) The depressed classical guitarist went to Africa and, five years later, went back and married the ex-mistress who had gone back to Uni and qualified as an industrial chemist. Cohen rocks!

As to mystical (music) experiences?
1. Sitting on a hill on leave from China where you never see the sky. Lying on my back with the scent of crushed gum-leaves,gazing spell bound at the stars, a couple of old and trusted friends within grinning distance and listening to Cat Empire. I felt happiness so profound it was almost too intense!

2. Sunday afternoon. A beer garden in a country pub stumbled on by accident. John Butler and a couple of mates, wives and kids, just happened to drop in also and set up an impromptu jam session.

Afternoon turned into twilight and no-one moved. No crowds, cows lowing in the background, no cars, just the music and the twilight, babies dozing on laps and everyone moving their chairs a little closer to each other as pub and local shop staff swelled the number.
Serrendipitous, unexpected, magic.

We went to the Brisbane concert. It was the best concert I've ever been to (and that's saying something!). With tickets, motel, travel, dinner and paying for relief staff there wasn't much change from $1000, but it was worth every cent.

I even bought the official programme (something I never do), which my partner framed and hung in the kitchen.

A truly beautiful, astounding experience.

It's moments like these that show us
that the heart not the brain, is the
light of the world, when the intellect
bows to the spiritual impulse.

Moments like these only confirm that
the psyche, as well as the body, need
both heart and brain, in order to survive
happily. Like Chinese women who bound their
feet and then couldn't walk freely, we can't
bind our hearts without stunting our growth.

Nina Simone at the National Theatre in Victoria, sometime during the 80's - electric.

As for everyone who sat enthralled by Leonard Cohen, you lucky b*stards, have been a fan for more years than I care to admit to.

However, spiritual moments? Even after the stress of the bush fires, I am entranced every time I step out the door of my house or I hand feed kookaburras or laze in the grass watching an echidna as it snuffles and trundles for ants or hold a baby ringtail possum in my hand. Too many golden moments to recount here. I am so lucky.

Fractelle, maybe it's as Ayn Rand wrote that religion has wrongly monopolised the language of our noblest deeds and most special moments that people resort to expressing these in 'religious' terms. It will be it's own wonder to see the environment come back to life after the fires.

Romany, Down and Out in Lyon with a depressed muso and his mistress. Very Cohenesque.

A couple of quips from the show

"thank you for having me, I was kinda nervous you know. First time I've done this in 14 years. I was 60 last time I stood on stage-just a kid with a crazy dream....."and

"I've also indulged myself in the various religions and philosophies. But cheerfulness kept breaking thru" and

"I was discussing my drinking problem with Sharon Robinson(co-writer etc). She said 'this is very serious, we'd better put it to music..."

I remember the very first time I saw
the ballet, 'Les Sylphides.' Its ethereal beauty
and flowing white costumes, where the performers
were required not only to dance with perfection
of line, musicality and feeling, but also in
absolute unity with the ensemble.

I remember when the curtain went up we all gasped -
the setting was a glade bathed in moonlight - there
was a blue mist emanating from the stage and slowly
the dancers began to move on pointe. I could
barely breathe. It was magical. It remains my favourite
ballet to this day.

Lovely Foxy, aaaalmost enough to get me to the ballet.

My second favorite moment in music was seeing My Bloody Valentine. 60 minutes of guitar squall in a wall of sound over a furious beat, but with a perfectly mixed flute! weaving beautiful melodies in and out of the storm. These snatches of simple melody thru the rage of guitar were transporting. Like waking after a pleasurable dream with the barest hint of remembering but feeling fantastic and trying to recall just why.

The SMH reported the next day that it was like an out of body experience.

Curious and enthralling at the same time.

Talking about wild guitars ...

Another magical moment for me was
my introduction to flamenco dancing.
Luisillo and his Spanish Dance Theatre
in 1976 (I think). I had goose-bumps
watching the fiery, passionate and
blood-stirring performance.

I even went backstage and got his
autograph (sigh).

Musicals are another favourite of mine.
From "Cabaret," to "Chorus Line,"
to "Fiddler," to "Cats," to "Wicked."
And who can forget, "Phantom of the Opera?"
Or dancing in the aisles to "Buddy," or
"Mamma Mia?"

Then there's always Reg Livermoore - mesmerizing
evenings spent with Reg - and his ability to
make you laugh and cry.

Peter Ustinov's one man shows - where time simply flew.

Memories ...so many of them.

Back to sublime moments - but this time with a non-musical theme.

I've never made a secret of the fact that I was married for 17 years to a guy whose happiest times were notched up dragging me round the house by my hair or bouncing me off walls.

But I remember a day when He had been sober for three weeks and had actually come to the deserted beach with us.

He was wandering the nearby rocks and had discovered a tepid rock-pool that somehow exactly fitted the curves of my body and in which I was lying. Our brown and naked baby was in a tiny pool of his own cooing as brilliant green and wafting red anemones lazily closed their fronds to make his fingers disapear.

The sky was cerulean, African blue and my huge yellow-eyed, ink-black dog was etched against a buttery yellow background of sandhills as he pushed his silly snout under the water vainly trying to catch tiny, scuttling crabs.

Out of nowhere I suddenly realised that this was Happiness. As clearly as if it was a voice-over I heard my own thought saying "I am Happy" (Yep, with a capital letter an' all). I remember also thinking that it didn't matter if I died right then because that one, sublime moment was so perfect it made my whole life worthwhile.

Of course, the next week He was back on the booze, I was sporting a couple of fresh bruises, the baby had pneumonia and I discovered that the constant indigestion I'd been suffering would end in about eight more months.

But that one, perfect, shining moment remains one of my most precious treasures to this day.