Dance of the Springs

By Nick Cascino

Those of us who cherish the forbidden fruit are defined by the thrills we seek; the arousal of love, the exhilaration of sport, the stimulation of risk, the seduction of high speeds, and many more exhilarations that combine in endless ratios. They spiral us in the shape of a vortex, from the quantum center of our brain to the infinity of the universe, and back again. Along that spiral, that bending ladder, that uncoiling snake, we are sucked higher and lower by buoyancy and darkness, moving as notes across the octaves. For as Pythagoras stated; there is geometry in the humming of the strings. There is music in the spacing of the spheres.

For a young couple seeking purity in Saratoga Springs as they embark on new careers, the height of the racing season becomes a clash between the poetry of dance and galloping horses versus the vile forces of greed, drug addiction and animal abuse. The only solution for a woman and a city on the verge of destruction is the merging of the golden geometry that spans all ages and the magic of the music of the spheres.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Cascino
• Release date: Aug 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370235711

Nick Cascino

Mr. Cascino is a media theorist attempting to make the connections between Einstein's theory of relativity, Mcluhan's media evolution tetrad and the appeal of inane celebrities. He gets closer by the day.

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The Dance of the Springs

Nick Cascino

Copyright ©2016 by Nick Cascino

Smashwords Edition

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Those of us inclined to seek the forbidden fruit are defined by the thrills we seek; the arousal of love, the exhilaration of sport, the stimulation of risk, the seduction of high speeds, and many more exhilarations that combine in endless ratios. They spiral us in the shape of a vortex, from the quantum center of our brain to the infinity of the universe, and back again. Along that spiral, that bending ladder, that uncoiling snake, we are sucked higher and lower by buoyancy and darkness, moving as notes across the octaves. For as Pythagoras stated; there is geometry in the humming of the strings. There is music in the spacing of the spheres.

CHAPTER 1

Athletes of the Gods

Curving east and west as it progresses north, a car and its two occupants hug a slippery, icy highway. Against the full onslaught of the elements, the windshield begins to vibrate as the speedometer pushed 75 miles per hour. Aren’t you going a bit too fast? asks Isa.

The speed limit just went up to 65 when we crossed the bridge, Thomas responds. As long as you go under 80, they don’t bother you. The rules are different up here.

Early spring in the northeastern sector of the United States can often be a more challenging time of year than even the most frigid and icy white days of winter. Surely the change of season is approaching, but each passing day seems to go unfulfilled. When will that change occur?

This twenty-first day of March, the spring equinox, is especially discouraging from the perspective of renewal. A stinging wind combined with a wet snow beats against a fragile windshield. These elements are defeating the dubious comfort extended by the BMW convertible’s unexceptional heating system. Yet renewal is what this trip is all about. Isabelle and Thomas were highly successful New Yorkers; she a Juilliard graduate, full time choreographer and still performing ballet dancer. Thomas was a successful publisher of magazines and websites for a large media company. As dawn breaks on this Monday morning, they are on a journey to new careers, winding north on the Thruway from Manhattan.

Just a few months ago, this journey wouldn’t have seemed likely to either of them. But for all their success, ten years of marriage had yet to fulfill their wish to have a child. Fertility doctors attributed their problem to several factors and advised many treatments, but Isa and Thomas believed it was the stress and toxicity of the city that was the root of their problem. And suddenly a solution emerged about 180 miles north in the city of Saratoga Springs. Isa applied and gained the position of Executive Director at the National Museum of Dance. Reluctantly but in the spirit of putting their lives in a new direction, Thomas accepted the position of Publisher at the city's local newspaper, magazine and media company, The Saratoga Chronicle.

As his lips recoil from the cold coffee that will remain unconsumed for the remainder of the trip, a certain melancholy overcomes Thomas. Having transversed the long bridge spanning the Hudson River, he is reminded that he is following the winding snake of a river into the interior of a continent, similar to Marlow, the protagonist in a great English novel. Like Marlow, he senses apprehensively that this will be a journey into the hidden essence of his soul and that of his beloved wife. He turns to Isabelle. I guess it’s too late for second thoughts, but I probably won’t lose this anxiety until we get there and really see the situation. I love Saratoga, but this won’t feel the same. Nothing travels as fast as New York.

Let’s not be so stuck-up, she replies. Saratoga is a wonderful place with a fascinating past. I grew up twenty miles away and it was always the place I aspired to, long before I ever saw New York. We can bring our own unique urban dynamism to it. We'll make Saratoga resonate like it's never done before.

Indeed, Saratoga Springs holds a long history of pulsation and stimulation. The city was founded on the flows of natural mineral waters that reach the surface through unique schisms in the earth. The mineral content of the waters was believed to have curative powers by both the native population who thrived in the region for centuries and the Europeans who would drive them away. Crowds seeking healthy recreation fostered the development of thrill-seeking and permissiveness. By 1863 the city became synonymous with horse-racing and gambling, where the attractive scenery and Victorian sensibility in dress and architecture enabled legitimate wealth to flow freely alongside profits from gambling and prostitution. Down to the current day, the city plays host to the highest forms of culture and in many ways decadence during the peak weeks of summer.

And there are few small communities in the world with such inspirational architecture. Buildings and their landscapes create the settings for great human endeavors and often drive the success of the events that take place within them. The Museum of Dance is set in an old bath house where thousands of people over the decades had soaked in the fresh mineral waters. That spirit of flowing water still resonates through the building as if to limber the limbs of those dancing within its walls. Arriving a little later than expected, a dance class is in progress when Isa enters the building. There are twenty young girls, ages eight to ten, pirouetting around an inoperative fountain. Lisa, her new assistant, greets her. The class just started. I’ll introduce you.

No, Lisa. Don’t interrupt them. They’ve got a certain rhythm going. It reminds me of when what happens in the building of ant hills. You observe thousands of ants moving about throwing signals out at each other. Not one has a brain larger than a speck of dust, yet working together they possess a super intelligence that creates marvelous structures out of sand.

Lisa listens intently. Yes, you wrote about ant hills in your study on dance movements. I’m a great admirer of your work and I hope to learn a great deal from you. I’m very honored to have this opportunity.

It’s really not so complex. Dancers know better than most people that the brain extends across the entire body, from head to toe. I’m hoping we can create a place where this can be perfected. This will be a great summer for the museum. How long will the New York Ballet be here this year?

"Their season was shortened to ten days. But a French company will be in town after them this year, Ballet Elysees."

What ballet are they doing?

Scheherezade.

Yes, from the Arabian Nights. That was one of the last ballets I did before my accident. But no use harping on that. My mission now is less about dancing myself and more about getting everyone to dance, to make it part of their everyday lives. Isa now focuses on the fountain in the middle of the dance hall. Does the fountain work?

Yes. They just turned on the water system this weekend.

Let’s see if they can get it working.

She notices a caption against the wall with the phrase,

Dancers are the athletes of the gods. Albert Einstein

That’s wrong. Einstein said dancers are the athletes of God, not the gods. Not that he was a religious man.

Oh, but one god can be very mundane, responds Lisa. I tend to lean towards a world of many gods. Einstein also said God doesn’t roll dice. I often wondered what that meant as well.

My understanding is that a lot of gambling goes on in this town. Perhaps God does roll dice here.

In a few minutes, the music is complemented by the melodic if uneven flow of water from rusty pipes as young dancers now prance around a flowing fountain.

The offices of the Saratoga Chronicle are housed in a hearty 19th century building in the historical center of the city. Walking up the stairs to the door facing Lake Avenue, Thomas gets the sensation of entering a frontier city saloon rather than a newspaper. He looks for the doorknob but notices none exists. Piercing through the window, he now realizes that this is no longer an entrance and walks around the block to the rear of the building. He is greeted at the entrance by a man in his sixties. James Walton, editor. Please to meet you, Mr. Intervista.

Thomas now reflects on the great film Citizen Kane and how a young publisher grandly entered the newspaper offices he felt destined to transform into his own image. This place will look a lot different soon, he says to the editor.

Let’s hope you bring more cash than the last guy. We’ve been cut to pieces in the last few years.

So I’ve heard, Thomas responds as