Going 30

Life is just a chance to grow a soul. (A. Powell Davies)

I’m expanding.

In the most fundamental way, which is…, well, physically.

Every time I go to my dress-maker to have some piece of clothing made, he took my measurements. He once said that I’m one of those people who has a body of “water, it always changes.” And so he never bothers to keep a record of my sizes because it’s a pretty useless thing to do.

However, for the past couple of months, I (and he, much to my annoyance) realized that the water in me kept increasing in volume. Last month he took a measurement of my hip and looked somehow perplexed. Then he quickly turned back the pages of his tailoring book and showed me the measurement he took in July and said, with an expression of mixed concern and disbelief, “Wow, you’re getting really big.” I composedly replied the remarks by saying, “Yeah, I added about 7 kilos” although inside, I was seething and ashamed. Then he thought for a while before saying, “Well then, you better buy extra half-meter for the gown.”

I really couldn’t recall how or what made my body weight took off to a good 50+ kilos. And it happened very, very quickly: only in 3 months. I knew I wasn’t as stressed out as last year, but my workloads have remained the same and in fact, it’s increasing. I’m not a binge-eater and I don’t go eating out as much as I used to in the past. However, in just three months my old jeans refused to fit me in and now it’s hanging miserably on my wardrobe, waiting for me to go back in shape.

Another funny thing is, my shoe size also moved up, although not as rapid as my waist size, but which occurrence has made me give away some of my still lovely shoes because they started to bite my feet. I’m quite amazed with this phenomena, actually. I was wondering if some of the fat I managed to gain have made it’s way into may toes, but all this time in my history of weight gain, my legs and feet are among those who always succeeded in staying slim.

Also one weird things accompanying all this changes is my skin burst out. Just when I thought that things couldn’t get any worse, my hypersensitive, allergy-bound skin refused to take any form of make-up, from the basest one like moisturizer, not to mention the heavy one like liquid foundation or compact powder. It used to be very happy with a sun block with SPF 30, but at one point, it wanted more. I’m still finding out what it needs and how to stop it from being so cranky at this moment, and believe me, for such a skin like mine, it’s no walk in the park.

Anyway, fuelled by my curiosity, I began to Google things and found out that scientifically, a woman’s body changes every decade. I guess it’s not just gimmicks from cosmetics company when they say that they have products for every age group. When I turned 30 last May, a friend of mine already advised a good night cream to fight early signs of wrinkles. (At that time I brushed off and laughed at the idea, but now I’m beginning to consider that). Also, since woman at 30 is expected to carry babies, our bodies are enlarged and equipped (one of them with fat) to prepare the coming of mini versions of ourselves. In my case, since no babies are coming, I must put up with the equipments. Tough.

I consulted my mum who confirmed this. Then she said, “I know you’re not mentally 30, but you’re biologically 30, and you can’t fight that.”

Now come to think of it, I’ve decided that I’m not going to fight my biological change and enjoying it instead. Of course, it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to start finding a good night cream and enroll myself in the nearest gym. But I suppose life is somehow always fair in the end, in a way that when something is taken from you, you’ll get something else in return. So in exchange for a supple skin and slimmer thigh, I feel two strong and profound things by the time I’m turning 30. The first was a greater love for what I do and for people in my life, the second more gratitude towards everything, even to the most fundamental things like my mum’s cooking, which is heavenly, to loud knocks on my door every Saturday morning when my nephew and my niece try to wake me up for a card game. These two feelings are just unbeatable and they have radically changed the way I view things in life, made everything so much simpler and saved me a lot of waking hours (yes, I sleep better now, too). I also learned that it is scientifically proven that a woman’s intelligence (rated by IQ number) is increasing every decade (and after they have babies). So in the overall, I can say that I’m generally fatter now but I’m also happier, and maybe smarter. Yeah.

Dedicated to my best friends: Deananda Sudjiono & Mira Josephine who just turned 30 this year, and to Evirita Riauwati who will soon be following our steps, with the hope that they will enjoy their 30s as much I will.

Keeping Up Hope

Hope is like a thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

(Emily Dickinson)

Serving one’s true calling isn’t always easy, particularly if your environment isn’t the best place to do it. It’s like selling ice cream to the Eskimos. The process can be very tough although in the end, the emotional and moral rewards can beat the satisfaction of receiving money for another job done. (I think Baskin & Robbin’s employee of the century would be someone who manages to sell a scoop in North Pole).

When God struck me in the head one day and pointed out that this is what I have to do in life, I know it wouldn’t be easy. My parents already saw the very grim prospect of this and asked me to quit. So I keep my projects under the table and pretend that I lead an ordinary life as a piano teacher. Every year on my birthday, my college buddies never forget to wish me luck on my projects. They knew I’ve taken that solitary road when I decided not to join them as white-collar workers. Every once in a while my bestfriend gives me a long-distance phone call just to tell me to hang in there. No matter how bad.

But I’m hanging in here, still, though things can be so frustrated sometimes. That thread I’m hanging on to is this invisible things called hope. I just hope. That my camp would go every year. That there will be more piano teachers and string teachers participate in the programme, instead of child prodigies (who will still become prodigies even if they don’t go to my camp). I hope that more musicians would come and visit and share with us here. I hope that some sort of new trends will hit the society and people will start to listen more to classical music and stop watching those stupid serials and shows on telly. I hope people with money will donate more for classical music and stop producing those stupid serials and shows on telly. And there’s not a day pass that I don’t hope that a kind prince from Arabia will visit my city and decides that what it really needs is a proper concert hall.

Of course, it would be a lie if I said I always keep hope in the palm of my hand and close to my heart and thus living a life as a perky homo sapiens. Sometimes  it’s so easy to lose hope. Serving one’s calling is, in some ways, similar to falling in love. You can’t stop thinking about the object of your affection, and you keep on figuring out ways to get closer to it, but when you think it’s not reachable, you can sometimes lose it. And suddenly, or gradually, you’re falling out of love.

Two months ago I planned a concert to commemorate Haydn’s 200 years of birth. This should also be a project to help local talents perform in public. In any other case not much of them, especially string players, get a chance to play pure classical music, in which they’re actually trained. So I’ve asked some people who, I think, would commit to their moral urge in playing pieces by Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, even though they will not get some financial reward for this. Back then I got 15 people saying yes to this project, and after some time I felt it was time to meet and greet. Three weeks ago I texted everybody and asked them to come to the studio classes I arranged for them so we all can try out and get advice from fellow musicians.

Today was supposed to be our first meeting, and only 5 people showed up. Earlier today, I played for one of the singer who is scheduled to perform and he hasn’t even got the notes, moreover the text (it was in German), and the concert is in two weeks. I’ve heard all kinds of excuses, some were quite reasonable but more were pretty lame. It was quite an effort not to feel forlorn, especially with a throbbing headache because of a dinner forgone.

Sometimes I’m amazed how people can be so careless when they give their words but not their commitments. What empty barrels. And sometimes I thought I don’t need more of such things, yet still I put up with all of them.

However, in every bad situation, there’s always something that builds up hope even after something else has ruined it. Today, I could’ve gotten so angry but then I saw that the people who came are actually people who are extremely busy but still managed to squeeze this into their tight schedule. So, some people do care. Last July, when I thought that there’s no way I’m gonna get music teachers to come to my camp, a friend of mine, who is a piano teacher, enrolled even though she knew what she might face (yet bravely challenged herself!), and a 40+-year-old violin teacher also joined us and coolly shared lessons with a 14-year-old violin student. Recently, when I almost gave up working out ways to make an affordable educational projects for string players, some friends from Singapore and Malaysia wrote me and said they’d love to teach here for a very modest fee.

So one thing I promise myself not to do again in the future, near or far, is to lose hope. I’ve read in a lot of stories that human being can really stand all kind’s of life predicaments when they have hopes within, when they have something to look forward to each and every single day. It’s a crazy concept, but very well divine.

 

(Imported old blog, originally written on October 28, 2009)

Great Expectation

God,

grant me

the serenity

to accept things I cannot change

the courage

to change things I can

and the wisdom

to know the difference.

(Serenity Prayer)

Few years ago, one of my cousin gave this to me. At first I thought it was a poem, but years later I realized it was a familiar prayer among people who battle with drug and alcohol addictions. Anyway, for me it was something I chanted to myself over and over whenever I suffered from disappointment.

Last year I gave scholarship to 11 kids from the music faculty at one of the state university here in Bandung who wanted to joined my first music camp. They were so grateful and at the end of the camp they gave me a gold ring as a thank-you note for being so generous. The scholarship was paid from my personal account (which also resulted in my being in debt to my parents), but at that moment I was so happy to do it and they did me proud by giving their best at the camp. So, everybody's happy.

When I started planning for my second camp last year, I called back these kids and told them wholeheartedly that I wanted them back in my camp again. The catch was, I wouldn't be able to give them full scholarship, so they had to work on it. So we planned on doing fundraising concert to finance their own education. I set their chamber groups, found them music, made time to coach them, and then we started practising.

That was early October. By December nobody came to see me anymore and everybody apologized about being too busy and about how difficult it was to get together to rehearse.

And I never saw any of them again for rehearsal ever since.

It shouldn't be a suprising thing, actually. I very, very seldom found (Indonesian) string players who are keen learners, and a lot of them stop learning once they can make some cash. However, when my first camp ended, I somehow secretly hoped that the 11 kids would develop a different way of thinking and that they would be the troop that carries an air of improvement in the classical music scene in the city, simply by realizing that education is the only way to help your attain a better life.

Sadly, I learned that it is quite impossible to change people's way of thinking and living in 10 days. They would probably feel motivated and enthusiastic about being educated, but when it comes to paying for education, it's another matter altogether.

Last week, I sent a text messages to them saying that they could pay only 25% of the tuition fee for this year's camp. For a quartet, it means that each individuals will only have to pay 25 dollars for an 8-days intensive training programme with faculty members from overseas. It would be shallow to say: 'C'mon, what's a 25 bucks for you guys?' After all, money is all about relativity. But if you can afford to spend money to buy 3 mobile phones, go out to dinner every night and even buy second instrument, I think I am right to say that if you don't want to pay that much for your own education, then you don't deserve to be educated either.

What I learned is that not only every single person has the right to education, every one has also the right to refuse education.

Yesterday, I said my serenity prayer and moved on. 

(Imported old blog, originally written on May 11, 2009)

Serving Life

Have you ever wondered where life will take you and where will you be in the next five years?

For quite a long period of time, I have this strong conviction that life is going to take me out of my country. I don’t know why, but I was born with a dream that I will see the world and that dream hasn’t been taken or replaced by anything else until today. The older I get, the stronger this dream is planted in my brain, in fact in my every cells.

So when life deprived me of my childhood reverie and sent me back home from Berlin 5 years ago (and I can’t believe it’s already 5 years!), I was so broken-hearted. I think it took me about a year to start everything from scratch and move on with head held high and finally be able to function fully like a human being, with ambition and passion. (Funnily, I don’t think that I develop a new dream in life. I still want to travel and speak lots and lots of foreign lingos and live in a place where I have to think about some grammar to buy a cup of coffee.)

But here’s the irony. I was offered a chance to go back to Berlin recently and I didn’t take it.

I used to think that I will give up almost anything here if somebody said they would pay me so I can live abroad and have the life I always desired. Yet I turned down the proposition to just do that. For days I’ve been pondering if I made the right decision and whether I should have thought longer about it. I made my own justification, of course. The job is something I would hate. I’d be working with people I know I don’t like and perhaps would never like because they’re the kind that would make me pull my hair out. The worst thing, maybe, is the thought that I’d end up going to an Alcoholic Anonymous meeting if, after several years, I still couldn’t give up that job to do things I want to do in life.

My teacher/mentor, whom I always turn to everytime I need advise, said that I should stay and continue what I’m doing here, which is another vote for my decision.

Today I’ve found my answer.

I read Viktor Frankl’s book about his time in Ausschwitz, and in one page I found this line: “You shouldn’t expect something from life, because to find meaning in life is to let life expect something from you.”

I learned from the book that people who survived the concentration camp were those who, despite indescribable sufferings, still managed to find meanings in life. I think when life took me back to Bandung, I learned, in order to ease the pain, that everything happens for a reason and that my reason would be that I have something to do here. And if it’s only as sordid as developing classical music in my country, for me it carries a great weight. Maybe it’s not as noble as developing villages destroyed by Tsunami, but I believe God wants me to do things that I do best. And like people who has found their true calling, I’ve found myself feeling generally elated every day (except when my students come and said they haven’t practised anything throughout the week, or when a sponsor said that they unfortunately have no sponsorship scheme due to internal consolidation, whatever that means.) The great thing about finding the meaning in life and knowing what life requires from you is that you never runs out of hope. And hope, said Emily Dickinson, “is a thing with feathers.” It gives you wing so you can fly no matter how bad the weather is.

So I’ll stay, for the time being. Maybe life will take me somewhere else sometime, when there’s a greater cause to serve, like developing classical music for the Eskimo community in North Pole. Maybe someday I can leave this place feeling ever so content because I have finally built a proper concert hall for our fantastically-sounded chamber orchestra and their internationally-renowned professional members. Sure I’ll miss Berlin and all its concerts and its superb Philharmoniker and their wonderful conductor, but since life is more about making a difference and fulfilling that shitty-but-true sense of duty, I will do my best to remind myself from time to time that I’m here because life needs me to be here.

"Et moi, je prends la vie comme elle vient…" (from Le Divorce)

 (Imported old blog, originally written on April 7, 2009)

Too Much, Too Soon

You’ll never succeed in idealizing hard work. Before you can dig mother earth you’ve got to take off your ideal jacket. The harder a man works, at brute labour, the thinner becomes his idealism, the darker his mind. (D. H. Lawrence)

I have been entertaining ideas about building a chamber orchestra in Bandung.

After my first music camp, I got to know more string players and it seems to me that their talents (or no-talents) so far are used only to fill background music in an orchestrated pop/rock concerts. Many of them also played as regulars in hotels, accidentals like product launch or birthday parties, and weddings (too bad we’re not accustomed to making music at funerals, otherwise they would’ve got more gigs). Some better ones go to the nation-level orchestra, but as we’re not a nation of classical music fan, our so-called national orchestra played only a very few times a year. Some who got hired as permanents were given schedule to practise and a far-from-fat paycheck, some who don’t must be happy with a honorarium, paid per concert.

And  here’s the thing with many string players (and maybe with some brass or wind instruments as well) in this country: many of them come from not-so-well-off family, then they started taking their instruments around the age of 15-18, then after 3-4 years of classically-based training, they realize that they can start making money from the little skills they have. So they do one gig to pay their tuition fee. Two gigs to pay board and lodging. Basic needs thus fulfilled, they take three gigs for a little bit of entertainment in the weekend. Then it’s more entertainment, up to a ridiculous level of spending. For a new, posh mobile phone and a notebook to update their profile in Facebook, they’ll even skip classes in college. In the end, they play too many gigs that none of them maintain their identity as classical musicians. Nobody cares about learning classical pieces anymore, nor investing in their education, that many finally abandon their studies and end up visiting TV studios regularly.

I’m not saying it’s bad. I think it’s only natural that they do that, since no organization whatsoever can and want to take these people and give them decent salary. One ought to make a living, although in the end, there’s no limit to how good a living one can make.

So I thought, it would be awesome to have a chamber orchestra that could support its members. It should be like a corporation, where people go to work everyday except on weekends, get paid regularly and have some health benefits.

Now the last question is: should this ideal condition be offered to them, would they be committed? My one and only consideration is that some people, so accustomed they are to making money, see this opportunity only as a mean to get more cash. I don’t know if my mentality is ready to face people at the orchestra who show up doe-eyed for work from lack of sleep after doing a show on telly. I don’t know if God will grant me enough patience to deal with those who don’t have their notes in their fingers.

So I thought again, and decided that at this moment, it might be a bit too ambitious to start an orchestra. I should save this one later, when I’m geared-up to do mega fundraising, or when there are more people lining beside me, or perhaps when there rises a generation that knows the joy of being true to their profession. 

(Imported old blog, originally written on April 3, 2009)

Working the Talent

If you have great talents, industry will improve them: if you have but moderate abilities, industry will supply their deficiency.

(Sir Joshua Reynolds)

I was invited to dinner and a small concert by the prominent T’ang Quartet at the Singapore Embassy last week. When I first got the invitation, I felt quite elevated. The standard wordings at the invitation card was enough to make you feel important, and the fact that I would be meeting some important people made the occasion seemed even more prestigious, if not pretentious.

So I packed my lovely shirt and went to Jakarta to stay at my partner’s home, Dot. She was just as enthusiastic about the reception as I was, but simply for a different reason. She said the Ambassador’s wife will be inviting some important people that could be a potential sponsors for our next events, and that she looked forward to it because it would be a great opportunity for us to nail some more cash.

I broke in cold sweat. Was that what the reception was all about? I thought we were celebrating.

When the D-day arrived, I found myself losing appetite, feeling lousy and dreading every minute of the day. While dressing up for the party in the evening, my brain was busy finding reasons not to go, from a sudden attack of diarrhea to a headache, but they all sounded so lame that I, after a very long sigh, decided to go.

Long ago I discovered that God had planted in every cell of my body an alarm that sends a loud ring in my head everytime I was about to face appaling situation or people. This time it rang so loud. In normal situation I would’ve not gone, but I had no choice. And I got what I deserve for not listening to my instinct.

I felt miserable all night at the reception. Everything was wrong. The food was terrible (it was actually allright, but if you’re not a fan of Indian food, you’ll be feeling quite depressed when you can’t find anything to eat), I know only maybe 10 among the 70-ish people invited, and the 60 of them talked about things I didn’t understand or couldn’t care less about, the house was freezing because of the aircon and the fact that my body was kept warm only by cups tea and coffee which also initiated the production of gastritic acid in my belly, but the most dreadful thing is that I had to come to a face I didn’t know to introduce myself and find out if he or she is an important somebody whom we may ask favour later in life.

Meanwhile, my partner, Dot, was doing superbly well and seemed to make the right contacts. I think God might have planted some sort of important-people-scanner in her body. We were talking to this Canadian woman who was also a choir trainer, and I thought the talk went well when suddently Dot excused herself and flew to another group of people. At the end of the discussion, I learned that the lady was a reverend’s wife. I should’ve known that she won’t be much help to us by the time Dot left me with her!

But such thing is unthinkable for me. Between eating worms and doing bungee jumping, this is another thing in life I cannot do.

Much later in the evening, when everybody’s gone and those that’s left in the party were planning to do another party (much to my amazement), I talked to the boys in the quartet who were very sympathetic with my situation. (By that time I had developed real headaches and was ready to go naked for a pack of french fries). They were optimistic that I’ll learn how to do it, and I know as much that I will have to learn. I love this work so much and like all things that we love, we will develop the capacity of doing things we wouldn’t have imagined doing before, like give birth, breastfeed, and with me, it’s asking people for some name cards so I might contact them later so they can give us money to help develop classical music in the country. And if Sir Reynold’s speaking from experience, I hope this industry will supply whatever deficiency I have to get the job done.

In the meantime, I’ll be my gorgeous self who will find contentment in cheeseburger and fries and mayo. 

(Imported old blog, originally written on March 27, 2009)

The Right Thing

I had quite a trying time the last couple of weeks. This time the cause was something normally found and of high occurrence, especially in Indonesia, which is people who don’t understand what they’re doing, but are still doing things they’re not supposed to do.

When I started teaching again 2 years ago, I was amazed and abhorred by the fact that none of the children I taught have the proper basic skills to continue their lessons. Everyone was struggling with notes, and when I tried to make them count or listen, it would throw them off their chairs. I was pulling my hair out for about a year trying to fix things, resulting in a severe burn-out. At the point where I was about to give up teaching for good, a trainer came and told me that if I really can’t imagine myself not teaching, then I better make it fun.

So I did, and I felt much better now, although the fact remains that there are so many teachers out there who have no clue, and they will eventually produce students who are just as clueless as they are. My worst case was when I got a kid who just finish grade 4 ABRSM exam but never played Bach in her entire life except the one she played for the exam. Not even the famous Minuet in G. And with her shaky fingers, I wonder how she ever managed to pass!

I’ve been discussing this many times (and for hours) with my bestfriend over the phone, and with some other teacher-friends who have the same view, that the quality of music teaching at this period of time is seriously deterioriating. One friend even gave me this not-so-lovely picture: there are hundreds of people out there who have been learning piano since they were toddlers and they thought that it is time to gain profit from their previous investments, and so they decided to teach, solo. Not at a music school, but at their or their pupils' homes. Sounds normal, but here are the scary things: no one know their capabilites, they don't receive further trainings, and they don't have any comparison with other teachers, so no one will ever know how and what they’re teaching. It's like a latent, underground movement. I know that some of them may be good, but from the fact sheet it is obvious that these people are dangerous at times and must be captured before they’re spreading uncurable disease.

Now when this thing happens at the place where I work, I assumed the task of making a fuss in order to draw my colleague’s attention that we really have to understand. I don't think we can't afford not to take this seriously, because, there's no way you're going to tell some kids to eat veggies unless you've eaten that yourself and know damn sure that it's what made you grow. And if you understand this completely, you will do whatever it takes to make them eat.

So we had several teachers’ meetings, starting from 2 weeks ago, to discuss this problem, with no apparent result except that I can draw conclusion on 4 types of teachers who contribute greatly to the chaotic order in music-teaching industry: (1) those who understand but don’t bother to make other people understand; (2) those who don’t understand but are too shy or too scared or even too proud to be called stupid to ask and learn and seek and listen, (3) those who just don’t and won’t understand even though they had bigger-brain implant but claim that they do so they will not ask and learn and seek and listen, and (4) those who don’t understand but don’t know that they don’t understand so they will teach until the earth is blown away by a giant meteor and God creates new lives on a new planet.

Such is the situation.

I got home tonight after another meeting (hopefully the last), talked on the phone with my bestfriend and leashed out all my frustations. Then I watched a documentary about Al Gore and his save-the-earth campaign, where he said, “if you do the right thing, you’ll move forward.”

Upon hearing this, I made peace with myself.

(Imported old blog, originally written on January 18, 2009)

Another Thought, Another Tiring Day

This morning I got an invitation to the launching of the so-called "Bandung Orchestra". Some of the players are friends of mine, so I was eager to come though I anticipated this with a certain amount of skepticism. I had been invited to some orchestra performances in the city in the past and normally I got this excruciating pain in my stomach which resulted from not-so-well-tuned instruments, loud sound-system and a mix of silly stuffs on stage. Anyway, turned out that this one's just the same. But this was probably the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my entire life. 

It was stupid in every way. First of all, it started almost 90 minutes too late. I came at 6.45 because the invitation said it will start at 7 pm, but I saw that some of the players were still outside, smoking, so assured that it's going to be late as always, I decided to grab some quick dinner. When I got back at 7.15 and went straight inside the hall, the stage curtain was still down and there wasn't any sign that the show was going to start. 7.30 and the loud-speaker still played us some Sundanese music from a recording. People slowly filled some seats, but apparently not enough since we were asked by the organising committee to move from the balcony to the VIP area. That was at 8 pm. At 8.15 the VVIP guests arrived (may God have mercy on their souls) and by 8.30 they all finished talking and gave trees. (I really mean it. The director of the orchestra gave 1,000 trees to mark the launching of his orchestra. I love trees, but I hate anything out of context. It was amazingly absurd.)

So the music started at around 8.40 and this was where the second stupid thing happened. If somebody invites me to a beauty product lauch, I would expect that people are going to sell me boxes of anti-aging cream. If it's a book launch, it would be normal if the publisher introduce me to the author and tell me that the book is simply the best one ever written in the history of mankind. So, when I came to this orchestra launch, I was expecting that orchestral music will be the center of the universe that night. But the orchestra acted as a "music provider", in a way that they simply accompany singers on stage. It was like a variety show at the telly, very much in demand right now in Indonesia. Everything is orchestrated, everybody wants to be a conductor, but the orchestra is never the main subject. It's like coming to a peanut launch where the salesman tells you how tasty it is to put peanut in your ice cream or chocolate or butter or jellybean but he never mention how good the peanut tastes by itself. 

The third stupid thing which probably annoyed me the most is that how ignorant people can be about quality. I can't even begin to understand why people would bother spending so much to produce such base thing, as if we don't have enough of it here. I can't understand why somebody, and that is somebody with money, don't want to think a little bit harder and try to do something different, something good. And I can't think of what things can be achieved through such performance, except that the musicians are getting their paychecks. But to compare it with the time they spent for rehearsing and learning such idiotic pieces, I would say everything came to a zero sum. They'd probably better off practising scales unpaid!

It is all so frustrating to me and sometimes makes me wonder if this country is ever going to change. If people with money don't care about this, I can't think of how this whole situation is going to be any different in the future. And there are always people who will want to sweat for these simply because they need the money. And it's not even worth that much. How sad. In the end, idealism is always defeated by the need to put food in your mouth. 

(Imported old blog, originally written on December 22, 2008)

Once Upon a Concert

I just got back from a year-end concert at the school where I work. It was tiring. I stood by at the hall since 10 am this morning and got back home at 10 pm. Besides seeing my kids perform and wishing them well, I had to play a piece myself, the first movement of Beethoven sonata for violin and piano.

It was my first concert after years of not performing. I always loves being around a stage except to be ON it. (The best part of it I most love is, of course, the back of it. I find it to be an uncomparably comfortable work of place.) But I had trainings in classical piano for more than 20 years and sometimes this other occupation forced me to be on it, like it or not. I must say that most of the times, I dreaded being there.

Except tonight.

I was playing with a young violinist from out of town, named Shienny. She was very good, and very keen. This program we did started as an impromptu. Since she plans to move to Bandung, I asked her to open a class at the music school, and as an introductory step, she was invited to play at this students concert. The good thing was that she asked me to collaborate in this Beethoven “Spring” sonata, which I’m also doing with my violin teacher. What began as casual learning turned to be serious, and the next thing I knew was that we were rehearsing two days ago.

With some (Indonesian) musicians, there is sometime this restriction on “commenting” or “advising” our partners’ manner in music-making, thanks to our polite and reserve upbringing, but with Shienny and I, we are both very open with what we want and what we don’t want, and we can communicate that without annoying each other. And I think we discover great happiness in doing that which affects our playing.

Our performance tonight was probably the best one in my life (and that’s why my adrenaline level is still high and I still am writing this blog). Of course, mistakes happened, but they were something I didn’t regret nor cursed. And most strangely, there was this comfortable feeling when I walked to the center of stage and faced the audience. I could see their faces clearly, I felt my feet on the ground, my heart was beating about twice faster but my fingers were hot and my mind’s alert. The best thing that happened tonight was that when we started to play, I was able to fully concentrate on the music. And that’s the first time I ever had that feeling in years!

I think I might have found my partner in chamber music. Like a partner in life, this person is someone whose words you understand although they don’t speak it, whose act you anticipate that you know when to react, and the one that brings out the best in you.

(Imported old blog, originally written on December 20, 2008)

Believe, So You Shall Become

"Because there's no point of doing it unless you believe." (Adam Gyorgy)

 

I recently organised a lecture and a master class by an international young pianist (not to mention a Steinway artist) named Adam Gyorgy. Adam is a 26-year-old Hungarian who is on the way to his brilliant career. In addition to concerting around the world, Adam is also doing his DMA in the Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest, and so he gave a lecture last Friday to around 30 people in the city (most of them piano teacher) about Hungarian piano music and music education, some piano technique, some things about memory and his feelings about music in general. All in all it was a little bit of everything and I had to say that this kind of thing left me craving for some more, but the (quite) surprising thing was that many teachers who came to the lecture felt somehow enlightened, as if they have received much. It's strange how little so many people knows, and I was wondering what the children are receiving today. It made me realize how badly we need more seminars and lectures for (piano) teachers!

Anyway, although the lecture wasn't quite profound (because Adam had only 2 hours to cover all the aspects he wanted to discuss so it's only natural that he jumped to one theme to another so quickly), Adam did say something that is deeply rooted in my brain until today, and probably for the rest of my life.

On the Q/A session, I asked if the teachers in Hungary also have the same problem like we do in Indonesia, i.e. students' lack of interest and enthusiasm. He told me that teachers had to be very energetic because if you give energy to something it will not remain unmoved. Which is very true. Then he continues that, after you give all your best, you have to "believe. Believe that your students will be better. Believe that your students will do things you ask them to. Because there's no point of doing it unless you believe. I will not travel around the world if I don't believe that people are going to come to my recitals, that the halls are going to be packed."

It was very simple, yet meaningful. Sometimes I questioned myself why I do the things I do. Why I'd bother wanting my kids to practise more, to be more present in class, and why I'd care about people who are not the easiest to cope with, and spending so much energy feeling frustrated by their ignorance, but still I'm doing it. I guess somehow I believe that someday they will change. And when they change, they will also make the world change. And if you're on a mission like me, it's good to have someone to remind you about it.

(Imported old blog, originally written on December 15, 2008)

About Work

The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred with sweat and blood and dust; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions and spends himself in a worthy cause and who, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knows neither victory nor defeat. (Theodore Roosevelt)

It's Friday noon with cool air and blue sky. The rain has just stopped pouring outside and I can still hear thunder going away. There's a stillness that always comes after a big downpour. My kind of wheather. If only I can empty my mind and be more present to enjoy the whole thing.

I've just finished writing all project proposals for next season and I feel overwhelmed already. Business doesn't stop here, it's just the beginning. Afterward comes the toughest part of the job, fundraising, and the nicest part of the job (actually, of all things) only happens just before the end: meeting people and absorbing fabulous live music-making. Now with CMS being handed over to me, I feel somehow extra burdened. The planning was seriously fun, where I got to decide what will be the theme, who will be invited, requested some favorite works, scheduling concert agenda and so on, but here's the catch: the series has never failed to deliver since its first launch 8 years ago. So I better, I have to make it right, too. I've invited these wonderful people and some loyal fans have already asked when is the next concert, so it would be such a shame if we couldn't make it. And this year the team will have to do without the powerful Mr. van Hien, its founder. Pretty scary for a rookie like me.

My biggest ghoul to kill is this anxiety about whether we'll find adequate support. Sorry, it's still same old stories. The reasons are, (1) I'm simply not good at it - the fact that I hate doing it doesn't help either; (2) my company is a new player in the business, so I still haven't established that many contacts; and (3) I hate the idea that all your good deeds in the end will be determined solely by other people's willingness to donate. Sometimes for nights I spend hours thinking how not to be too sponsors-dependent. I even learn about Obama's strategy of collecting money through the internet, though I haven't really figure out how to apply that in my business, with the stingy rich people here who know not so much about classical music and thus prefer to spend their money on gasoline.

And so, after this period of project planning, comes the period of project executing, which includes sending letters, calling people, waiting, calling people again, waiting again, so forth until at one point somebody says "sorry" or "OK".  This is the most dreadful period for me (and I'm so in it right now!). I just feel like I can do tons of better things, even if only laying in bed and train my visualization skill or simply worshipping the beauty of doing nothing. I've been trying to hire people to do it, but it's not as easy as I thought. In fact, I pray each time that God would send someone who could help me out with this. I'd give all my paycheck if this person appears at my door. And in some cases (as in this year), planning the whole season alone takes a lot of energy that in the end there's so little left to do other things.

For the past two weeks I've been thinking of slowing the pace and go back to just do one or two self-financed events per year (with mediocre musicians) and waiting for clients like I used to when I just started this business. However, after doing a big project like the camp, it doesn't feel right (and good) to do that. It's not that I'm into things so big so soon, I do believe in process, but I feel awfully empty after those humongous work, so I guess I'm just gonna keep following my intuition and do what I think is possible. Anyway, the momentum is right. Obawa just won, I can always see that as a sign. Nothing is impossible.

Another thing is, a friend of mind just told me about his friend's experience who perseveres even after 14 business failures. And with me it's only a failure to put myself together when it comes to asking money from people. He's sure that in the end I'll master the ability to shamelessly beg for cash and be nice to people because I need their signatures on their fat checks. So I'll hang on (while advertising a position for fundraiser in the local newspaper).

Well, I guess I just have to get used to it. It's for good cause anyway. And Mae West once said, "if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing slowly." No need to rush, all in good time. I So in love am I with the goods that I sell, I still haven't make myself the best marketer for it. Maybe in time I will develop that talent in sales. Or, even better, some people will come and help me. People with great charisma and super ability to make friends for utility reason.

One good thing, in fact, the greatest thing about this whole process that makes me hold on is simply because I realize that this, with all its ups and downs, is my true calling. I can always go back to teaching 50 hours per week and enjoy a carefree, stress-free life and secure financial condition while starving my soul to death. I got to see God's intention now for not letting me into the Musikhochschule in Germany because God knew already by then that in the end my soul would definitely suffer after years of stage fright. Also money's not so important anymore now. My policy about work now is that I will primarily do what will bring me joy and hope that, as by-product, I will earn enough. Not more, not a lot, just enough. I've settled with enough and I realize that at all times, (1) God always provides, and as Socrates said, (2) there's so many things I can do without. Compared to 4 years ago, I really love my life now, which is a balance between working my bliss, teaching lazy students, making music, reading books at wee hours, learning new lingos and chatting regularly with people around the world. It's freedom, although there's a huge responsibility in it (and that's why not so many people want it). So now: patience, resilience, perseverence. 

 
Work is love made visible. (Kahlil Gibran)

(Imported old blog, originally written on November 7, 2008)

All in Good Time

Two days ago I had a special visitor from Jakarta. Dot is a Singaporean but now living in Jakarta and used to live in London for the past couple of years. She studied musicology and has been working in the same field as I am. In addition to that, she is a really nice woman with a smart, simple, sensible and organized mind and carries an air of professionalism. Talking to her yesterday, I find her also very amusing and funny, and I must say that when I first met her in Jakarta 2 months ago, I had this unexplained feeling of fondness, the one I have (immediately) everytime I feel I've found an ally.

Dot is also a passionate music organiser/maker/lover, and I can sense that her presence in Indonesia is really heaven-sent. For 2 years now I have been trying to find a partner and although so many people expressed their interest in doing concert/artists management, I always end up working alone. In classical music, I find that so many factors are just so important in finding an associate. He/she must be as passionate about the music, as care about the people, as good in the technical aspects and as tough when it comes to the stinkiest part of the job: fundraising. Moreover, it is great to have someone who share the same values toward the whole process, i.e optimism, perseverence, persistency, and (hard) labor.

So, Dot and I are going to work on the next season of Chamber Music Series, and she came yesterday to discuss the details of our work. The discussion was one of the most fruitful in my life where we covered a lot of grounds. The great thing about it was that with her, I feel so much at ease and from the outset we seemed to be talking the same language. I was very happy. She wrote to me yesterday saying that she enjoyed our discussion and conversation and was looking forward to working things out.

I must say that I am so grateful that God sent her to my life (in fact, I wrote that down in my gratitude journal). Although sadly she will only stay until next year, but from a narcistic point of view I would say that she's here to help me. And what I know for sure now is that all will come in good time. No need to rush things, because they ultimately come whenever we need them most.  


(Imported old blog, originally written on October 16, 2008)

Gratitude Journal

About two months ago I discovered a blog of an American singer/song-maker named Christine Kane (www.christinekane.com/blog). I think what made me found her was that we're both somehow spiritual pathfinder and like attracts like. As a senior in this soul-searching business, she has collected many experiences and afterward wrote them in her online diary to help improving people's (spiritual) lives. She also wrote many good advices, one of which I started to do after I read the explanation. 

This one piece of advice is to start a gratitude journal. This is basically a book that you write at the end of each day where you thank God (or the Universe or whatever) for the blessings you received that day. You can start with writing one thing you're grateful for each day (or maybe stay with one if you're not an advent writer such as I) and then add to five or maybe even 10. I myself started with 5 and am now doing 7. There is however one rule, i.e. you must write different thing(s) every single day.  

The best thing about this book is that it really makes me a better person by (1) making me go through a day in full-conciousness (exactly what Christine's experiencing) because I have to collect materials for my book; (2) making me do a review of my entire day and thus made me more analytical; (3) making me complain less (though hopefully someday I will stop eventully!) and accept more because at the end of each day, after thanking God even for the smallest detail of life which usually goes unnoticed (like 'having a pair of eyes that is capable of blinking'), I realized that despite all the troubles and miseries I've gone through my waking hours, there are still millions of things to be thankful for so there really is no reason to whine; (4) making me more appreciative of what people around me do or say thus making me more positive because I concentrate on the good side of everything; (5) making me feel closer to God and realize that I am seriously being taken care of; (6) making me more at ease with myself and the people I live with and see on daily basis; (7) making me take myself (far!) less seriously because even when nobody's perfect the world's still turning and life's still good and kind; (8) making me more at peace with myself and my surrounding; and (9) pulling good things to my life. 

Seriously, being a grateful has strangely improved my material life. I don't know how this happened but I sensed that ever since I started to write "Dear God, thank you so much today for ...." and started to put numbers below this sentence, everything I needed came slowly but surely in hand. Eckhart Tolle once explained that what happened actually was that by being grateful we changed our behavior from that of "wanting" to that of "having" and effectively waking our mind to things we already possesed. 

Anyway, I am really happy that I do this every night now. Through the ups and downs of everyday life, we often forget how lucky we are just to be able to walk, to talk (even the ugly form of it), to breathe, to shed a tear, to feel, or simply: to be alive. 

(Imported old blog, originally written on September 22, 2008)

Fellowship of the Ring

See the ring on the left? I just got it tonight from the music students I gave scholarship to the camp. It's gold. (That I gotta tell). And inside there's an engraving written "Music Department". The funny thing is the ring looks like an engagement ring. I guess that makes me engaged for life to music. 
 

It's not really the gift or the material that made my day. This is one of the thing that made everything I did worth doing. For a long time after years I feel connected to people again. And the fact that there's a fellowship behind that ring makes me feel that I belong to something. It's an indescribable feeling.

Thanks so much to Dewi, Lita, Shelly, Kiki, Jun, Fadli, Widi, Andri, Eka and Dani. Love you all!

(Imported old blog, originally written on August 27, 2008)

Phone's Off, Please.

Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, contemplation, meditation. . . . Tooting, howling, screeching, booming, crashing, whistling, grinding, and trilling bolster his ego. His anxiety subsides. His inhuman void spreads monstrously like a gray vegetation. (Jean Arp)

Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves. (Maurice Maeterlinck)

I just got back from a concert by Kammerchor Stuttgart. The ensemble came to Indonesia for the first time about 6 years ago, and the conductor, Frieder Bernius, wants to return. (I suppose he's the one who's keen on revisiting Bandung and Jakarta because the singers are all new).

One thing I develop after spending more time making concerts for the past 3 year is the so-called "audience insting". There were about 500 people when I walked into the concert hall (by the way it's Aula Barat ITB) but I had this not-so-nice gut feeling that they are going to be naughty. (It's the same with Sam's concert the other day.) To start with, a guy nearby seemed so bored that he kept on flipping the pages of the programme booklet (I don't know what he looked for since it was very dark) and created a perpetual pianissimo 'flap...flap...flap' sound that finally came to an end before the intermission. My best friend, who sat next to me and then moved, had worse luck. Her neighbors were three youngsters who kept on playing with their phones and texting devil. For a while I also heard an annoying 'clickclickclickcliclikclick' but then somehow it stopped. My friend said she threw them a killer look which probably stopped them from touching the buttons of their mobiles but apparently didn't stop them from talking during the first half of the performance. She was outraged as she missed a lot of ethereal moments.

During the intermission, she moved back to a chair next to me. She pointed out a lady who previously sat behind her.  

"That one, her. It's scary. She called someone and said that she's been trying to reach that person all night. Gosh, I'm not sitting next to her. She might try to reach someone else during the second half."

Afterward, we both moved to a better teritory where we thought the environment would be more conducive. Nothing bad happened in the second half, probably because the programme was lighter and more melodius for the common ears (Brahms and Schumann) so people finally were listening. Then end of programme. Applaus. Curtain calls. Mr. Bernius kindly consented to give an encore.

There was this period of complete silence prior to the extra piece when suddenly a phone, with a silly traditional ringtone, rang. (I don't hate traditional tunes, but I hate anything out of context.) To our horror, it came from just behind our back. The same lady my friend dreaded sat just behind us and it was her phone that destroyed all those holyness. Mr. Bernius even had to turn his back and begged for mercy. All singers at the stage looked at our direction. It was so stupid, insensitive, impolite and uncivilized. And it lasted for a good 10 seconds, out of total nothingness.

To this day I still wondered about people's reason to go to a classical concert. Don't they know that it is one of the places on earth where one must be still and at peace with oneself? If I were a writer of a book about living at the moment, enjoying the now, like Eckhart Tolle, I would tell my reader to go to a high-profile classical concert, because it's the place to train yourself to live inside the present. No past, no future, just now. Just the music, all those juxtaposing melodies and harmonies that form an art and show how good God is as to allow us to create and enjoy such beauty. Every second of it is worthwhile. Every beat is meaningful.

That's why I sometimes dreaded having a big audience. For so long I always prefer things in small portion, because it's much easier to control the quality. Like tonight, I'm sure one-third of the people who came asked themselves in the end why they landed there in the first place. Last year I organized a recital by a wonderful Indonesian pianist who now resides in the US, Aemilia Teguh. Everything was done in last minutes and so the promotion was not good. There were only 50 people at the hall, but they were amazing. They practically pricked their ears during the whole performance, they breathed with her, felt for her. Aemil was so contented and inspired, I remembered, as she told me afterward.   

But I have to say that I'm very happy to have developed a wonderful audience during the 2 seasons of Chamber Music Series in Bandung. There are familiar faces who greet me at the door and it's always a pleasure welcoming those people who I know will share the joy of listening to beautiful music. The most satisfying moment of the job is when I can hear overwhelming passages in complete silence, thus leaving me feeling so solemn and at one with God. It is, of course, not difficult to achieve that. The quality of performance is world-class. It's one the purest form of art, as pure as an oxygen that circulates around the body so that the brain has no problem recognizing this. Maybe CMS has changed the brain structure of their loyal fans in a way that they can come to just sit and listen. Other things can wait.

It's a pity that modern humans are so easily distracted and voluntarily choose to be so. So many people couldn't leave their phones off for just 2 hours in the day. And I think people must train their brain to not to obey the impulse to say something all the time, even though it's important (at least according to themselves).

Mother Teresa once said, "We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature—trees, flowers, grass—grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence. . . . We need silence to be able to touch souls." I think all valuable things need silence to reveal their value. Imagine looking at van Gogh's Starlit Sky at Rhone in the middle of a fish market in Beijing. Compare the feeling of embracing your lover in the middle of Love Parade in Berlin, and at a private beach in Lombok while watching sunrise. And all mothers always say that no matter how bad their kids are during the day, their love for them will always return as soon as they see them sleep. It is only through silence that we can appreciate the precious things in life, and be grateful for it.

Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us all without words? (Marcel Marceau)

(Imported old blog, originally written on August 1, 2008)

A Reflection

I went to Sam's recital yesterday at Erasmus Huis, Jakarta. It was amazing. First of all, he was so happy that I got him a Kawai grand piano which is so easy to play and has a deep, lovely bass and a clear top voice, so he was in a perfect mood to play. Then his programme consisted of pieces he really loved, ranging from Bach-Busoni to Beethoven to his own small-scale composition, and he ended the second-half of the recital with lots of work of Chopin, which is very much his element. I love how he plays; it was very poised and he kept his back straight the whole evening. His virtuosity was shown merely by how he handle every piece with so much ease. And his singing tone is incredible. The Nocturne was heart-rending. 

We said a warm goodbye with lots of hugs and kisses after dinner at Marriott and promised to write to each other. It was impossible not to like Sam. He's kind, compassionate, caring and witty. I can imagine talking to him all night. He's so easy to cope with. Thus was the closure of my camp. All's well that ends well.

However, I was thoughtful during the trip back home. I had before that a serious, though short, conversation with Mr. van Hien, my superior at Chamber Music Series. He was sadly considering not to continue CMS, as he is retiring and all the good people he knows have left Indonesia. It was disconcerting. Two months ago we still had high hopes about the new season, and with many blessings from guests-musicians, we saw the future of CMS in a rose-colored eyeglass. But he seems so down yesterday, like it was final.

Later that night I chatted with his wife, who very much hated the idea of continuing the series. She said she couldn't understand why we have to bust our ass and humiliate ourselves by being a beggar in order to make some musicians, who decided to be so by choice, receive their paycheck. She said the artists should get their fee only from ticket sales, and I had to suppress my laughter. (Sam's recital tickets are sold at 50,000 rups, while Alicia Keys, who, I'm sure, received less formal training and practised less longer than Sam, got ten times more for her concert. They simply couldn't survive from ticket sales alone!) She said it's not fair. We sweat and they spend thousands of dollars for a piece of instrument.

Well, she's got a point. Her reasoning makes perfect sense, actually, and many people think alike (just like my family who hates what I'm doing now). And I can fully understand and accept it. Fund raising isn't exactly a thrilling piece of work. You write to companies, talk to their contact person, try to convince them that it's important that they donate, and wait for replies. The dreadful thing about it is that during the whole process, you maintain this feeling of lowliness, especially if you're not born to be a beggar. In addition to that, you feel like falling off your chair every time you get a 'no'. And this happens quite often. And nobody cares for what cause. During the past 9 months I tried to explain the goods of the camp, and I still felt like shit doing it because they still treated me as a beggar. It's not a comforting feeling, and I don't think Mr. van Hien would like such experience.

But I find it difficult to conform to her logic. I really think that good musicians, like all artists, deserve that much money for their talents, hard work and perseverance. And I love to think that what I do is worthwhile, simply because we help people that deserve to be helped. I just can't think of a way to do this without the support of sponsors.

So I'm gonna keep on nagging. My best friend will come in September and I better start to raise fund for his recital. I have concert/workshop project for piano and trumpet in October, afterward maybe a Haydn festival in November. In the meantime, maybe, just maybe, I'll try to continue CMS. It's a big job because it involves 10-months programming, but what I know for sure is that the only impossible thing to do in this world is to eat your own head. I might have to start thinking about my second camp next year, too.

 

Well, there are so many things to think about, so much work to do, but I guess I won't quit.

(Imported old blog, originally written on July 15, 2008)