Michel claims that he was born on December 14th. 1949. Listen up! Thatīs not true. He was born on Dec. 14th. - some centuries ago. He grew up in a small village in Central Europe, I think it was in France. He had a good childhood. The woods was his playground, somehow he thought of wizards, elves and unicorns. (And he had a little sleep sleep there.)
One day, Michel sat in the shadow of a huge tree in the wood and played on his lute. He was 18, a jester and a minstrel - sort of. Out of the blue, with the sound of thunder came a strange vehicle, silver-coloured, without wheels. Upon it sat an old man with sad eyes. "Whereīs your horses?" said Michel when he had got hold of himself. He thought it was a wagon.
"Iīve been at all ages, Iīve seen too much. Give me your tree and lute and river-streams and peace and Iīll give you my Time-machine".
Michel picked up the lute he had dropped, pondered for a minute, and gave it to the man.
To make a long story short: One silent, misty morning Michel started on his journey. Adventures was ahead.
Remember Tillers, when Michel claims that he reads 100 books in a good year and 50 books in a bad year, we know thatīs not true. Thatīs just a constructed explanation to how he got his knowledge and wisdom. The truth is this: He travelled back and forth in Time, through the centuries. He visited every "wise man of the village" he could find. Can you imagine how many philosophers he has met. In their dusty chambers Michel sat and listened, without talking (can you imagine that!!!). Silently he absorbed every word. Candle-lights, cobwebs, smell of dusty hand-written books with leather-sleeves, theories, this was Michelīs tiny world when he settled down for a day or two.
Once upon a time a man tried to write a book. He sat in his room,
in the lamp-light, nothing happened, only his hand throwing a shadow
on the blank sheets of paper. His head was empty.
A blast outside the house made him run to the window and in the dimmed light of the setting sun he saw a strange vehicle standing on the lawn. Upon it sat our Michel Mouse. The writer experienced this sight for a few seconds and it all disappeared with a new blast. The man ran to his sheets of paper and wrote frantically for days. His name was H.G. Wells and he called the book "The Time Machine".
Michel stopped his journeys in the early 60īs (our time) because he
heard The Beatles. He coulnīt travel away from this music.
Then he heard The Doors, Hendrix and Cream.
In 68 Michel heard two strange people performing strange songs about unicorns, elves and wizards. He remembered his childhood and loved this music instantly.
Marc Bolan and Steve Peregrin Took changed his life. He loved this music and forgot his own lute-playing.
He experienced the early 70īs, the highlights of T.Rex and the tragic death of Marc Bolan. Michel was really mourning.
(And he thought: "Iīm glad there is no such vehicles in my time").
The Time-machine is now hidden somewhere in the Canadian woods.
(Simes has been observed in the area with a spade and a torch looking for it).
Michel has now two options.
He can travel back to his own time because heīs missing his relatives and heīs missing the local "flute and lute - orchestra". Tillers, did you ever wonder why the Beltane CD has that "baroque-style"?)
If Michel goes back this will happen: He will sit in his house in
the evenings, singing and humming songs about Unicorns, White Swans,
Futuristic Dragon and Dandy in the Underworld.
He will be playing on a guitar from our time, can you imagine the local lute players - they will stand and stare in awe!!
Rumours will spread and lovers on their evening walk will go to his house. After a few days, the citizens will gather outside his windows. The evening walk will become Beltane Walk.
More rumours, and people will come from neighbour-counties to Michelīs house to hear these fantastic songs.
Soon Michel have his followers, a huge movement will arise. The Pope will be worried, "Is this a religion?"
The Spanish Inquisition will raise its head and spread its claws and Michel will have to flee!
The other option is to stay where he is now, with his family, and
linked to the Tillers with love and true friendship.
If Michel is silent for awhile, maybe, maybe he is having a jam session with some lute-players down the centuries.
Michel, thank you for staying here with us!
Thank you for being our friend!
You are special.