“Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.” Angela Monet
It's quite difficult to explain passion to other people. Each and every one of us is different in what makes us tick and what makes our hearts blossoms.
For the nth time I had an argument with my mum about my choice of career. But this time I didn't say anything much, I just sat there and listened to all she had to say. I didn't want to say anything, because I've explained myself time and time again and I don't think she would listen nor try to understand. So it's no use. I'm saving my breath and a lot of sin.
It's started when my mum knew that I was organising (yet) another workshop. It was a small project which could easily be done impromptu, and as usual, I was merely facilitating a friend who wished to share his knowledge and other friends who I think would benefit from this workshop. No harm done, and the expense was super small and easily reimbursed by participation fees. I knew I won't be getting a penny out of it, but I wasn't losing money either. No harm done. But I felt really, really happy doing this. Especially because my friend turned out to be really good at sharing and some people who came to the workshop really felt an impact. And that's my fee.
But my mum couldn't understand this. She always says that the best appreciation and acknowledgement you can get for all your hard work is in form of money. Otherwise, it's bullshit. In a way it can be right. But in some things, especially in things you care about the most in life, you would give all out and even if you don't get anything else in return, you would still be very, very content. And I don't understand why she can't get it. She's a mother. All the hard work she has ever done to raise me and my brother will not return to her in the form of cash. We will never be able to pay her back for everything she has ever done to us, even if we can collect all gold in this world.
I've tried to stop. It only worked for a month, two weeks of which I had to because I was ill. But I couldn't stop myself from thinking about projects, I kept hatching ideas about what I can do to improve the classical music community, a place where I live and breathe and get busy, and I can't stop dreaming that someday Bandung will be another important concert destination in the world. Why shouldn't it be? And why can't it be? It's got everything it needs to be good, and I just need to keep working on it.
This could be a long way, especially if I see that after 4 years of doing camp, the number of people in Bandung who are interested in educating themselves can be counted with my ten fingers. But then 4 years ago, there was no one. Those ten lived in their own shells, were comfortable with their own world view, not knowing that they can have better existence if only they get better in what they do. And now they know that they want to be good at something, and they can be. They do not rest their case and spend the next 40 years of their life making ends meet. So I am aware with the fact that my dream will come true only when I start to have an awful lot of grey hairs in my head, but that's fine by me. At least till then I will have things to look forward to, and I won't be living each and every day expecting nothing. It's good to hope, and it's giving me direction. I may have to drive a long way, but I'm on the right track, and I consider it a blessing, because I know that a lot of people out there just don't have any clue about what they want their lives to be.
But it's not easy to explain, I know. Especially since my mum is one of those people who thinks that the only track there is for a woman is to raise a family and have kids. Or at least if you don't do that, you should devote your time to domestic chores. And stop making debts each year or paying foreign artists so that local artists can become better musicians. She thinks I'm stupid and crazy because metaphorically, I'm one of those nuts who dance alone. She can't feel my music. And she won't be able to feel it, because we don't listen to the same music.
So instead of trying to make her hear, I will try to make her read. I hope she will someday be interested in what I do and what I write and come to an understanding, that I am not her. I will never be her, because we were not raised by the same people and we didn't grow up in the same circumstances. I was not a product of a broken marriage and thank God my parents were always with jobs so I don't have to quit school so I can contribute to the household. Maybe that made me spoiled. But I considered it a bliss. Because it gave me the chance to read a lot, to see the world, to know great many people, to discover my passion, and to live up to my calling. Unless I have to, I will never be one of those natural women who wakes up early and milks the cow for the whole family. But I know that I have another purpose in this world, and I'm serving it. And it's good enough for me, even with nothing in my bank account. Hopefully someday it will be good enough for her, too.
