And this thought is somehow tied to my recent reading of Beethoven’s letters and conversations.

I think, I have a probable answer (though of course this is not the only one) to why musicians (and artists) can be blatantly gay in a good number. That is, a man has two choices in the course of his life: one, pursue his dream and passion; another, be the “realistic and practical”, make a good living and support his family (wife, children, etc). Of course, it would the “ideal” if he could do both successfully and whole-heartedly, but sometimes they collide – not only that, to settled for the latter would be a shame and betrayal on the former. And so, we have some great musicians/artists who have chosen the pursuit of their art, without the ability to support (financially) a family.  And perhaps this is their destiny, a great challenge and gift God has bestowed upon these men. At the same time, when a man and a woman gets involved in a relationship, it is not easy to let it not lead anywhere serious (afterall, a man and a woman are to marry). And perhaps, homosexuality becomes an unconscious choice and one of the natural inclinations.

And this concludes my thought.

On a somewhat disjointed note..

Dear Marie, dear Bigot,

With the deepest regret I observe that the purest, most innocent of feelings can often be misinterpreted. Affectionately as you have received me in the past, it never occurred to me to assume anything other than that you were honouring me with your friendship. You must think me very vain and very petty if you suppose that the favourable disposition of even so excellent a person as you are would cause me to conclude at once that I have won her love. Besides, it is one of my first principles never to maintain a relationship other than one of friendship with another man’s wife.

…

Ludwig van Beethoven

When a German says it, I tend to believe.

“Where other people keep diaries in which they record their momentary feelings, etc, Schubert simply kept sheets of music by him and confided his changing moods to them; and his soul being steeped in music, he put down notes when another man would resort to words.”

– Robert Schumann, letter to to Friedrich Wieck, 1829

For the first time in a long time, I felt excited about the day ahead of me. (not that there’s anything special going on today.) I am so thankful for being where I am, with whoever I met, doing what I love. So thankful for being alive, healthy, loved.

All because of this enormous force, being, God who lives, and lives with me every day of my life.

——————–

God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
Many a burden, many a care.

God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain, rocky and steep,
Never a river, turbid and deep.

But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labor, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

For beauty, Phaedrus, mark me, beauty alone is both divine and visible at once; and thus it is the road of the sensuous; it is, little Phaedrus, the road of the artist to the spiritual. But do you now believe, my dear, that they can ever attain wisdom and true human dignity for whom the road tot he spiritual leads through the senses? Or do you believe rather (I leave the choice to you) that this s a pleasant but perilous road, a really wrong and sinful road, which necessarily leads astray? For you must know that we poets cannot take the road of beauty without having Eros join us and set himself up as our leader. Indeed, we may even be heroes after our fashion, and hardened warriors, through we be like women, for passion is our exaltation, and our desire must remain love – that is our pleasure and our disgrace. You now see, do you not, that we poets cannot be wise and dignified? That we necessarily go astray, necessarily remain lascivious, and adventurers in emotion? The mastery of our style is all lies and foolishness, our renown and honor the training of the public and of youth through art is a precarious undertaking which should be forbidden. For how, indeed, could he be a fit instructor who is born with a natural leaning towards the precipice? We might well disavow it and reach after dignity, but wherever we turn it attracts us. Let us, say, renounce the dissolvent of knowledge, since knowledge, Phaedrus, has no dignity or strength. It is aware, it understands and pardons, but without reserve and form. It feels sympathy with the precipice, it IS the precipice. This then, we abandon with firmness, and from now on our efforts matter only by their yield of beauty, or, in other words, simplicity, greatness, and new rigor, form, and a second type of openness. But form and openness, Phaedrus, lead to intoxication and to desire, lead the noble perhaps into sinister revels of emotion which his own beautiful rigor rejects as infamous, lead to the precipice – yes, they too lead to the precipice. They lead us pots there, I say, since we cannot force ourselves,since we can merely let ourselves out. And now I am going, Phaedrus. You stay here; and when you no longer see me, then you go too.

- from Death in Venice by Thomas Mann

Once in my teenage years I have experienced and agreed with this profoundly. It is a dangerous, exciting, sinful road, an it will consume one without a trace.

Perhaps this is what some embrace wholeheartedly- and live for.

In my twenties now, reading this, I am seeing myself. To fully comment and understand this passage I will need to read way more (ie Plato), but it is here to be recorded.

——–

There’s an urge inside everybody that wants to destroy beauty. To possess, to make impure and imperfect, and take delight and pride in the ownership of such actions.

It makes me shiver.

Yesterday Yo-yo Ma and his silk road ensemble came to our school and did a “masterclass” on out-reach programs. That is to say, to give advice and suggestion on groups of musicians who are planning to go to elementary schools to spread the knowledge and joy of music. Aside from the fact that Yo-yo reminds me so much of my dad, he had reminded me certain things I tend to forget.

First and foremost: the importance of how we communicate to our audience. While it does not mean that we should do anything in our ability to please the sole taste of our audience, he did draw attention on the details of our physical presence, aura, energy and the like, and how we can use these things also to contribute to the communication of our ideas. This, kind of reminds me of Claudio Arrau’s comment in contrary. To paraphrase, “You had what you need to say, and that’s it. If the audience likes it, that’s alright; if not, *mumbles*.” The older generation seems to be concerned in the message itself, a pure and robust nature of their idea, and nothing more. Whereas the new generation of musicians seem to have started paying attention to the audience more, in turn seem more humanistic.

I won’t comment further on how I think regarding this matter. Simply, everybody is their own artist.

Secondly, Yo-yo pointed at the edge of the stage and said: here is the line we should always try to cross.

——

I have finally cleaned up the bathroom. Not completely, but nearly is enough. I feel very accomplished!

After watching the movie “Les Choirstes”, and after reading some reviews of the movie on wikipedia, I suddenly realized something about movie criticism – or art criticism in general – that such criticism is on the manipulation of human emotions. And this is huge for me!

Human emotions are the most intimate, personal and precious things that is given to a single person. To imagine that something/somebody can purposely manipulate that, is almost devilish. – But who am I to say? Do I not learn also – in ways – to do the same thing?

At least I hope I am learning to sharpen the lens with which I use to convey my ideas, instead of for the sake of manipulating emotions. (Yet – yet! – I have on occasions enjoyed doing so…)

——

My very good friend Rose will be in New York with me for a week. I am very excited to have her here.

One very last remark: pianist Michelangeli reminds me of the God Father from the movie God Father.

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.

你們這些生在今日的人，你們這些年輕人 – 現在要輪到你們了！踏在我們的身体上面向前吧。但願你們比我們更偉大，更幸福。

我自己也和我過去的靈魂告別了；我把它當作空殼似的扔掉了。生命是連續不斷的死亡與復活。克裏斯朵夫，咱們一起死了預備再生吧！

——羅曼 羅蘭，一九一二年 十月