Blog
Noël
Reading this title, you may have recognized the French word for Christmas and thought right away of the festive season that is just around the corner.
Not at all. Noël is a person I met recently in La Pocatière, in Quebec. An anachronistic Christmas gift.
After a concert, Noël was there at the entrance to the hall, where I usually go to meet the audience. He seemed to be gripping his cane, sipping the last drops of his drink. He waited patiently for the conversations I had started to wind down.
Noël told me that the show had done him good: the music, but also the words. Two strokes over the past few years had left one of his hands almost completely paralyzed, making it hard for him to play the guitar. He explained why he kept at it: because the people around him told him it did them good. In that moment, I realized how lucky I am to be able to use my body without limitations. After a concert, I am usually tired. The performance, yes, but moving the harp and the set also often leaves my body aching. But when I find myself facing someone who has lost that freedom, I realize how lucky I am. And not far from the word luck, you will often find the word injustice.
But above all, Noël spoke to me about everything he had understood of what I tried to communicate through the music and my exchanges with the audience. About how the path his life had taken pushed him to reflect on certain things over the course of the performance. He explained it all in flawless French, with a breathtaking gift for synthesis and a deep understanding. With all his gentleness and greatness of soul, he made me feel seen and heard. That is a privilege in a society where so many people are increasingly turned inward.
Noël was to undergo open-heart surgery the following Friday. I gathered that life had taken many of the people dear to him, through illness or misfortune. Through his skilful phrasing, I understood that he would go through this ordeal alone. You can be a wonderful person all your life, do everything you can to make the people around you feel good, and still be hounded by misfortune, which leads you to end up alone in a hospital gown, waiting for a worrying operation.
In about ten minutes, Noël turned my life upside down. I had the strange feeling that my path had led me there to meet him. I told him so. I asked if I could take down his mailing address, thinking I would at least write him a short letter he could read when he got home. When I had finished writing down his address, Noël whispered, quite simply: “Oh. I exist.”
Through my career, beyond the luck I have to be seen, there is this incredible chance I have to see others. Thank you, Noël, for coming to meet me.
