When you have true love, cherish it with all your heart; when you don’t have true love, do not abuse it by wasting it on those who are not your true love.
Because when the day comes that your true love appears in your life, you will hurt both you and your true love.
When the golden hue is splashed onto the leaves of the trees, the monuments silently stands in the witness of history. There is nothing more calming to see perhaps nature dissipating, in all of its glory.
There are images I wanted to upload, however the format seems to be having a problem.
So, then, this it is.
(“At sunset”) (Text: Joseph von Eichendorff)
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Wir sind durch Not und Freude Rings sich die Täler neigen, Tritt her und laß sie schwirren, O weiter, stiller Friede! |
We have gone through sorrow and joy Around us, the valleys bow; Come close to me, and let them flutter. Let us not lose our way O vast, tranquil peace, |
A poem Strauss set as one of his last four songs.
New York has been so windy and chilly, I inevitably caught the sickness that’s been flying around. Throat hurts a lot, but otherwise my mind seems to be still clear.
There had been a lot of refection on music-making, since Rui dropped by almost unannouncedly. I am very excited to apply these changes of attitude and practise the trick of the mind – afterall, when we reach a certain point of accomplishments, the only way that can push us further still is by means of mental power, much more so than any physical effort (or course that is not to say I will practise less everyday and spend more of my time on thinking about it… obviously.)
—–
I wonder, what is more painful and conflicting- to commit things that we detest so much ourselves, or to embrace those you love who have committed things we detest the most.
—–
I am starting to abhor the nasty weather of New York. So much.
I just finished reading “Siddhartha” by Hermann Hesse.
It is a book that speaks of Buddhist spirituality, but in a very representative German kind of existential way – to me at least.
It speaks of the teaching of benevolence, kindness, sympathy, etc., but of no love; for love binds everything and does not lead one to be free. But how can that be? How can humans live without love? Even though it can hurt us so much, it can agonize us so much, it can break us into piece, but shouldn’t we have the courage to fight through for love instead of drifting away into the loftiness of places without any human contact?
Many things I agree, yet I disagree.
Then again, I thought and wondered, if I hadn’t come out from China at the age of 13, what would I think about the world?
—-
Everything that is thought and expressed in words is one-sided, only half the truth; it all lacks totality, completeness, unity.
It was a drizzling early morning. The cab was waiting for me on the quiet lane, I got on the cab, it was 3:40AM.
The cab flew on the nearly empty roads in New York City, a sight I had never seen before. The window was slightly open, in the night, I breathed in the soft air coated by the darkness and tenderness of the night. It took me many many places.
My childhood came by. And that night stroll by the sea in complete darkness, only its gentle roar from afar. Of the night I, in the company of another, in a house in the forest, nothing else but the rain and hearts of many colours.
It was lovely. All the recollections only choose the best time to revisit you.
My flight took me to Vancouver first. The city in which I always seem to find some deeper understanding of my life.
It was beautiful as usual; sunny, cloudless and extremely welcoming. In its complete beauty, I thought to myself, what if I just end up living here and … what would my life be? What would I do and how would I feel? Sometimes you think you know what you are doing with your life, but then, when you are taken out of its continuous flow, you suddenly feel dubious.
Played a concert when I hadn’t touched a bed in 24 hours was a first. To say that my physical condition didn’t lend me any strength, I’d rather think that my mental state had simply given up.
I got sick the (very early) morning before the flight to Calgary. When we reached Calgary, the scene had not made me feel any better. Calgary had been the transfer point for some of my trips before, but I had never really gotten into the city. It was a vast, empty and very spread-out place. So very similar to Edmonton – where we went next.
I saw stars, quietly smiling back at me in the sky. The last time I had seen that must have been the night before I moved to New York in the suburban area of Buffalo. The wind was strong, the cities hardly had any trees or even shrubs. It almost reminded me of Tibet.
In the heart of all this solitude, my heart was burning for You. The people who came to the concert were very warm and had given me so much more confidence. In all this vastness and quietness, I hear Your voice and pined for you; I knew You have always been there.
———–
Raindrops are cold, teardrops are warm.
In the swaying trees and the dim lights, my head was flying and I had no thoughts.
You asked what I was thinking.
How can I explain my emotions? They cannot be understood by words or gestures. If only I could pour all this into the music at the moment, and play you in the soft rain of all the things that pushed my tears out of my eyes and mingled them with the autumn rain.
I have only one heart – an ardent, fragile, burning heart. Protected by your love, I only want to give all of it to you; to sing to you endlessly despite its unworthiness.
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