It happens that Beethoven's C Minor symphony is his fifth and his "Pastoral" is his sixth ... for Alexander Glasunov, his great C minor symphony is his sixth ...
... and his "Pastoral" is his seventh ...
Listening to them back to back left me in tears. First of all, they are worlds of wonders ... the pairing and the immensity are reminiscent, but they are completely unique ... the Sixth opens in a way that more recalls Bach and the great tradition of Russian church music than anything else, and that blend alone is stunning. It only became a world of greater wonders from there!
And then the Seventh -- the simplicity and charm combined with the power and immensity -- in that way it resembles Beethoven's "Pastoral," but it is the vast Russian countryside, with music from Europe to Asia seamlessly blended in that first movement ... and oh, that solemn second movement, with its moments of relief ... a grandeur worthy of the second movement of Beethoven's own Seventh, but a completely different world, and goal ... again, the influence of the Russian church and its faith that past here, there is a better world ... there is a lovely Scherzo, and then all the ideas of the first and second movement come together in the finale.
Afterwards, I wept. Mr. Glazunov died in the year my father was born ... for me, only one generation back, as Kurt Möll and Martti Talvela and my first music teachers were all peers or actually older of my father ... but my father is still alive and shockingly well as he approaches ninety, so there has never been much perceived distance between me and the past. One of my grandfathers was born in the 1890s ... Glazunov was a young man then, and Brahms and Bruckner had just passed away.
And so, this completely different voice from the recent past for me ... like Bruckner is to me the gentle heir to Beethoven, here we have a mighty Russian of the same immense symphonic gifts, recognizing the great Germans and Austrians in the field but completely and confidently in his own element, boldly putting forth his own wondrous sound -- who even saw him coming with all this?
Glasunov is the sound of hope ... even around every Web 2 corner, there are beauties above all I can ask or think, and surely they will not just be from the past ... the latest discovery in Lama House's ambient music tells me that ... the "Arc of Transcendence" is present here...
But how do you get ready to expect the completely unexpected in joy?
My discovery of Glasunov happened on a day that could have gone absolutely wrong ... as the seasons prepare to turn, I remember last year and how I was tried in the autumn, and tried also again for people who looked like they at last were going to come on the climb ... I was reminded of both. Since then I have learned that some things are perfectly predictable: people are going to try me, and they will eat up all the time and energy I allow them. Folks thought they were getting a total of twelve hours of free labor this week, and it could have been thirteen if I let the one who slid in an hour late have another hour... but in my head, I just put out my own booming contralto "Absolutely not!" in harmony with a particular basso profondo's once-upon-a-time interview-stopping "Nie."
Never. Never again.
I have been putting in a lot of time with my mother as she recovers from her acute challenges of the last month, and she shared some wisdom with me that stunned me:
"People don't think that you have a life."
I had to sit down and put some time into thinking about that. My mother and I keep up with what is going on with other people so we can love them better ... I learned that from her and her mother, my grandmother ... we remember the business people share with us not to gossip, but to pray for them and to treat them with compassion. I keep mental profiles on those I know, trying to understand where they are coming from and what they need -- even when they are messing up, I'm accounting for what they are going through. It just never occurred to me that to many people, my life not spent with them does not even exist. It's just a void they think they are entitled to fill with their own needs.
In other words, I, myself, do not exist to many. I do recall being warned about this in the spring: might as well upgrade from the Iron Flower Child to the Invisible Flower Child, because the latter was already true in a very real sense. Just how much took another season and the wisdom of my mother for me to truly understand.
So, I used my invisibility in these situations ... took care of my business and sat in the sun knowing that other people were somewhere saying, "Where's Deeann?" because they assumed I was just coming ... folks experienced me walking right out on them if they came late to what I did commit to. For at last, deep in my heart, I accepted that as much as I have love and concern for so many others, they will have to be treated as they are, which is as people who do not have the same love and concern for me, to whom I therefore am, and will from here on out remain, mostly invisible.
I cannot love anyone in those situations into the understanding that I needed time and energy to discover and listen to and cry over two Glasunov symphonies that same day. They need not be burdened with the explanation because it is enough that I understand, and am moving accordingly. I know that I have a life to which I am called. It is for me to live it, and not to live the lives of other people.
I was walking in the near meadows of Golden Gate Park again as I was having these thoughts, and was enjoying another golden morning, listening to birds singing sweetly as I walked along until a deeper sweetness reached my ears through the portal of imagination.
"And thus, Frau Mathews, mein Unsichtbareblumenkind, you begin to answer your own question about expecting the completely unexpected, on the side of joy."
The Ghost of Musical Greatness Past fell into step beside me from a crossing path, in a summer suit of hunter green trimmed with gold, appearing about 50ish, and with a smile that turned into a laugh as I said, "And you just got that German monstrosity out for Invisible Flower Child so smooth... pays to have a big bass voice and butter-smooth consonants and a smile!"
"Actually, Frau Mathews," he said, "that is so much harder in English, because English's habit of borrowing recklessly has added words that are already covered in English's loans from German, my dear un-sighted blooming child."
I thought about that for a long moment.
"Invisible Flower -- Latin meets Norman French -- I see your point," I said. "Maybe that is why, because I have such a deep grasp of older English, I mentally can slide over into German because of the loan words."
"That is the reason, Frau Mathews, and also is another reason why, in addition to Herr Mathews still being two years my senior, you do not consider the past as distant. Your mind probes toward eternity at both ends, all the time. That means you are also right in deducing that since the past has so many overwhelming joys to offer you around every corner, the future must as well, and although from on high, not just to be experienced on high."
He smiled.
"Since Jerome Hines made an appearance last week, there is another bass who wanted to greet you," he said. "I will give you a hint: before you knew a German basso profondo with the voice black as midnight, bright as the Milky Way, you were actually pulled that way by the gravity of a voice that is like a whole black hole, made of the richest black velvet -- but who also occasionally shows off a whole glorious high octave."
"Oh, it must be my darling Vladimir Pasjukov, without whom I never would have found your living student Vladimir Miller, or found and be working with oktavist Eric Hollaway!"
"Nor would you have wired YouTube for bass long enough to find Jerome Hines, Martti Talvela, or me," the ethereal German basso profondo said. "Have you read the poem for the Twelve Brigands, Frau Mathews?"
"No -- in those days, I was just listening around a bit more ... but because of Mr. Pasjukov's devoted and earnest singing of Scripture I know -- I love Chesnokov's setting of Psalm 71, and of course there's Simeon's Prayer set by Rachmaninoff, and "Tebe Poem" is the same as "Te Deum" -- so I never thought to do that."
"I bring it up to purpose, although unlike Jerome Hines and I, he was not known as a teacher. He was a woodcarver, and helped to restore many churches in Russia and Ukraine with his great skill in that direction."
"Well, I learn something from that ... he cared enough not just to perform, but to put his body and manual skill to what he believed in ... a total commitment," I said.
"Indeed, Frau Mathews ... though you were not as detail-oriented back then, your knack for finding the same type of people has persisted across decades, and more so than you think in Vladimir's case. You rejoiced in that glorious high octave when you were first stunned by it -- you felt his joy -- so, read along this time, and see where he puts that!"
Mr. Pasjukov came and made his cameo then -- and oh, how he sang, and sang out that last verse!
As it happens, "The Twelve Brigands" is the story of the leader of a band of twelve robbers who truly does some awful things as you would expect -- but one day, he is struck with remorse and the knowledge of his sin, and comes to repentance and salvation -- and THIS is where Vladimir Pasjukov jumps that octave! I was right -- I did feel his utter joy, as he echoed the joy there is on high in the presence of the angels when even one sinner comes to repentance! His version is unique, as there are few Russian oktavists with that wide and well-developed a range ... but also, because of that, his occasion to express his joy is uniquely his own and he takes full advantage, ending in that glorious high octave!
My ethereal old German bass just loved getting to be a fan along with me sometimes -- he just clapped and bravoed right along with me as Mr. Pasjukov bowed, picked up a toolbox, and disappeared.
"As you know, there is a building project on high going on -- Vladimir stays busy, though he has a bit more to work with than wood now! But you also see his life was of one integral piece, as yours is, and his joys and dedication were as well! In reality, he is your first experience of sheer basso joy echoing eternal joy on the high side -- I'm just the echo!"
That stopped me short -- he was right.
"You keep hearing the same thing everywhere, Frau Mathews, because it is what you are called to hear, out of eternity past, into eternity future. Eric Hollaway and Kevin Maynor: same voice range, same type of man. Marian Anderson and Kathleen Ferrier: same voice range as yours, same type of woman, with you standing in as the living contralto, called to walk upon a road of life that is humbler in the eyes of the world, but still going the same way."
"But tell me this, Frau Mathews: why do you do what you do in and around your communities of people, especially in light of a week like the past one?"
I had to think about this, and sighed.
"It's kind of like Mr. Pasjukov's high notes are there all the time, and for some things they just have to come on out -- it's the same thing in another way. I get tired in the work, but love absolutely constrains me not to leave it -- if just one more person can be blessed --!"
"And that is where you also 'jump the octave,' Frau Mathews -- every time!" he said with a gentle laugh. "So then, why this week's sadness, and the iron resolve to become invisible again to many things among those you do sincerely love?"
"Oh, so you want me to jump the octave the other way now," I said.
"Well, my dear contralto profondo, like Vladimir and me, you are more than capable of doing that," he purred.
"Your audacity definitely sets you apart from the other basses I like," I said.
"And I am your favorite," he purred in retort, "so there's something to that, Frau Mathews, given the excellency of basses you love!"
I just gave up and started laughing.
"Thank you for lightening the moment," I said. "Vielen Dank."
"Gern geschehen," he purred even more gently ... caressing me with his voice to bring my pain level down...
"I recognize that I am generally not loved the way I love others -- people want from me but do not express to me the power of love. They therefore will wear me out without knowledge or remorse, and I cannot allow that."
"Sehr gut, Frau Mathews. Very good. Long have I waited for this necessity to fully settle into your heart -- almost six seasons have gone by since I told you, 'There is no bridge.' Long have I waited for us to walk to right here."
He paused, and then took his voice into the utmost gentleness of its gravity ... the caress of his voice became a full, warm embrace as he paced himself quite slowly ... his voice was not as dark as that of Vladimir Pasjukov, but for lower range they were a match, so he could work his way down from his even higher high-middle range for a long, long, long time ... long enough to calm my nervous system down even as what he had to say might otherwise have sent me into a crisis.
"This is the deeper meaning of why: there is no equal connection possible when love in its power is not shared. There is no other detail of importance. All the things that have had you moving on from 2022, and really for a decade -- all the various circumstances -- boil down to that.
"And, a meaning yet deeper, Frau Mathews. You have had pain and grief where it would hurt the most, for it seems so unjust: there is nothing worse than being frustrated in sincere love. Now, and only now, is the purpose of all your grief of the past three years fulfilled, for just this year you have learned the humility of respecting your finite limits, including in the matter of your abundant but not infinite capacity for love. It is not only that there is no bridge and there never was. It is also that you cannot ever build it. You have learned that you are not the One Whose love can make something of nothing -- you are accepting that you are, in fact, not God."
When you are confronted with the futility of trying to do the impossible for the best of reasons, and why it is futile, and you have an ego as a human being, that's going to hurt. However, that pain had to get through all those layers of black velvet voice, and by that time he had wrapped me up expertly.
"Now that the lesson has been learned, it is complete and you may rest, Frau Mathews."
That and that part in Beethoven's Opus 111 variations when he does that transition to E flat ... so beautiful that to hear it is to stand on the verge of leaving this world ... however, the voice of my companion had actually interposed at the verge, its gravity on the side of my earthly life, its warm depth holding me there so my own mortality would not become such a burden to me that I would flee it at once.
"Rest from it, Frau Mathews .... nur ruhe."
"Langsam, Frau Mathews," came that gentle, deep voice. "Slowly... ."
He sat me up slowly in that golden light and pulled out a bottle of water for me and I took a long moment to drink that before even trying to figure out what had just happened.
"OK, I knew I had reached a milestone this week, but I didn't know it was that deep," I said.
"You love deep bass for a reason, Frau Mathews -- you require the depth ... but there is a corollary ... there is a deep gift to you in this lesson. In coming to terms with Who you are not, and what you cannot do, and setting boundaries for yourself accordingly, you unlock time and energy to grow in who you are, and to do all that you can do ... and that goes to our main question of the day: this is how you get ready to expect the completely unexpected in joy.
"There is another corollary, Frau Mathews. You keep picking the same kinds of basses -- masters of equally surprising highs and lows, who find their joy in love, and who found themselves constrained on the stage and off the stage to act in such a way. This tells you who your future companions will be as well, to whom the Blessed Hand will build bridges and lead you and them together."
He paused, and made his voice more grave, but the twinkle in his eye hinted ...
"Now, of course, life is not perfect, Frau Mathews. I would not have you to be ignorant. You are at some point going to need to accept that the Blessed Hand, in sovereign choice, may add some sopranos and tenors to you."
I laughed so hard ... his comic setups were irresistible even when you knew he was doing it ... but I received the lesson, too.
"If the Blessed Hand sends them, I'll gladly take them!" I said.
"And that, Frau Mathews, is the end of the answer to your question of how to prepare for unexpected joys. Be open and be willing as you keep walking in your calling, and you will find yourself ready just in time as fuller harmony is added to your life."
He smiled, and his eyes twinkled a little more.
"I can no more predict the future than you can," he said, "but I am taller and older than you, and I look now from a higher perspective. I think you are being given a foreshadowing of some nearer events than you think, because I have heard the music of your recent dreams ... and I hear sopranos and tenors being loved as much as the altos ... not as much as the basses, of course ... I see why Vladimir Pasyukov is back on your mind."
"I keep hearing a crossover that I don't think has been done before in choral music," I said. "It's kinda scaring me."
"And there would be cause to be afraid, except when you consider that if you are in the peace of the presence of the One Who made you and called you and loves you best of all, and thus you hear, you may know that it is for you to hear and do. This is why your time in solitude with Him is so important, so that when you resonate with different creative ideas, you are not doing so influenced by other people's desires for entertainment, advancement, enrichment.
"You instead will experience resonating creatively in how you are made, and for what you were made for, and so will find that what is difficult in the estimation of the world will flow for you in the proper time -- and at that time, you will find all those who you will need to move matters forward. Prepare to be surprised -- this will be another source of unexpected joys!"
Then he surprised me with a massive glow-up -- he had been pacing himself to this moment!
"Oh, my dear double-blessed Frau Mathews -- not yet having heard any significant portion of the music created by others that will move your heart, and not even having yet heard all the music you yourself will yet bring into the world from your heart! Even in this earth on this miniature sense, your eye has not yet seen nor your ear heard, nor can your mind conceive at this moment what is prepared for you!"
He laughed, completely overjoyed, rolling three octaves of delight as he did in such moments ... the herald of all that music without and within that I would hear and delight in ... the echo of that overjoyed high octave of Vladimir Pasyukov, all those years earlier ... to take joy in that which was given for one to take joy in ... I heard all that then, and I believed.
