While running errands this evening, I stopped by the Godiva store to pick up a few things in preparation for my upcoming business trip. Apart from the gifts I stocked up on, I purchased a bar of dark chocolate, filled with a fine raspberry sauce. I adore the pairing of raspberries and chocolate; I simply couldn’t wait to finish my other errands so I could get home, relax after weeks of intense work, and eat.

    I got home around 11:00PM, got into my pajamas, and wandered downstairs to the cool darkness of the basement. I turned on the television and tried to find something to watch. There was nothing on. Eventually I surfed my way to a repeat of Saturday Night Live and saw No Doubt perform ‘Hey Baby, Hey’. I rather like No Doubt, I have for quite some time. But there was something odd about it, watching Gwen Stefani gesticulate across the stage to a song that I don’t particularly like. It made even the scent of the chocolate seem bitter, hard, and unapproachable.

    I didn’t want to waste my chocolate on No Doubt, but what else was there to watch? I eventually wound up watching an old mainstay of my Tivo. Over a year ago I was lucky enough to find a retro musical special from the 1960’s airing on PBS. It featured Frank Sinatra and a variety of guests, including Ella Fitzgerald and Antonio Carlos Jobim. While no one can ever say enough beautiful things to describe Ella Fitzgerald, Antonio Carlos Jobim has a much firmer hold on my heart. His music is revolutionary, smooth, enticing, and rich. The lyrics – either in the original Portugese or translated into English – envelope you and as they are sung, they seem to they blend right into the music as if they were nothing more than another instrument in a vast orchestra. Jobim’s music is a quiet, rolling, seductive stream of exquisite depth, echoing a humble recognition of the beautiful things of this world, tinged with a hint of pain. His songs of love seduce you with their subtle vulnerabilities, winning you over with their truth in longing.

    It was perfect. I turned up the volume, listening happily as Sinatra and Jobim crooned back and forth. I put the first piece of dark chocolate in my mouth, savoring every sense of the experience. As the chocolate shell broke and it began to bleed onto my tongue, the coolness of the music was juxtaposed against the sharp, stinging flavor of the raspberry. Any harsh ugliness that had embittered my senses melted away as quickly as the chocolate had dissolved in my mouth. In a few short moments I was left alone with the delicious simple sensitivity of chocolate, two men, a guitar, and bossa nova. Life should always be so delectably serene.