People We Lost

"Friendship is a slow ripening fruit." (Aristotle)

It's hard to lose things. And it's hardest to lose people. But at some points in life it is unavoidable, either naturally or intentionally. 

I lost my dearest uncle when I was 22, after 5 years of fight with cancer. Although we all wanted to keep him alive as long as we (or he) could, we also knew that it was better for him to go. There was no more pain. For him, and for me, for all of us. I cried at every visit to the hospital, and when he's gone, I cried like there was no tomorrow, but then I knew I won't be crying again for him for the next 20 years. He's in a better place. 

I also realize that I am now in the verge of letting go some of my good friends because we have grown into someone different than we used to be and we also grow apart in the process. Our values, priorities, and experience change and that invisible thread that tied us together in the past slowly but surely unbinds. It's a sad thing, but it happens. At the end we only keep the very best of friends and the number would be a few, because this type of friendship is born, not made. It was written in our fate. With them, we are one soul dwelling in separate bodies.  

In any case, losing people is God's way to tell us that sometimes people are better off without each other. And God always has a way of replacing what we lose, and it's always with better things. 

Liabilities

A former colleague of mine, a guitar teacher, lost her husband yesterday afternoon. He had trouble breathing, she took him to the hospital, and by the time they got there he was already gone.

They were battling with his kidney failure for 7 years. I said they because she was there with him through every dialysis, months after months until it got to twice a week, fetched money from every resources available to keep her husband alive. She had to be the only breadwinner of the family, and as a guitar teacher, I can only imagine how frantic she must have felt when her husband's breath is as short as cash on hand. 

When I learned about his passing, I felt sad for her, but in a way, I also felt somewhat relieved, because I know that now my friend can build her life again. Now she is free of all worries and sadness, and most of all, from the constant pain of seeing your loved one suffers. Sometimes being alone is better than all these. Loneliness can sometime add beauty to life. For one thing it teaches you of not taking things for granted. 

Thinking of her situation, I came to think that of all the liabilities we put up with every day, human beings can be the greatest source. Debts can be paid, but when it comes to our fellow mankind, these liabilities can last for as long as they live. It can be in the form of an illness, old age, or children with special needs, or people whose biggest enemy are themselves. And I know some great women in my life who hang in there even though their loved ones let them down. Like my friend. And mum. And my granny and my aunts. It never fails to amaze me how their love endures all, and give them the strength to wake up every morning and face another day.     

Life on Stage

I've recently figured out why the so-called musicians or music teachers here don't go to concerts.

Being a classically-trained pianist, I was exposed to life on stage since I was a little. A year after I started my piano lessons my teachers started to enrol me to school concerts on regular basis, and that means go up on stage and perform for big audience approximately twice a year. In between there were performances for  peers which we called studio classes and home concerts. Although I hated it, I tried my best to survive and most of the time I managed quite all right. Later, of course, I found that I didn't hate it that much, but I'm just at my best when I'm behind the stage and if have to be on it, I prefer to share it with at least one other musician. Thus my love for chamber music playing.

Anyway, I found that many music teachers of today, to whom my resentment goes for not being more supportive towards classical music development, have not shared the same experience. Apparently they grew up as musicians in a different time period where their parents and teachers worship all things instant and stage performance is not part of their drill. Their thing is exam. Their aim is getting a piece of paper that states that they have passed a certain grade and so people (hopefully) believe that their abilities go in accordance with the result on paper. Every year they would take exam at higher level, and at a certain point, where there are no more available exams to be taken, they start teaching and stop learning because they've reached the pinnacle. Afterward, they stop performing and going to a performance. 

I see now that people who received the same trainings as mine are also people who love live concerts. Maybe because we're used to it, life on stage for us is always interesting. When we're not performing ourselves, we can relate to someone who goes out there and give his/her best shot. But then, for musicians who perform mostly for one person (called examiner) their whole life, a concert would probably be just another day in the music business.

I personally think it's a shame. There's so much one can learn by attending concerts, even if it is a bad one. (Of course, we must limit the intakes of bad concerts in our life.) For musicians, I think it's vital that every once in a while, we go and see and listen to a live performance. There are so many sensations which you couldn't get from recorded performance, no matter how perfect it is, and those will sharpen our senses and imaginations. Great performances can even be very inspiring and life-changing.  

But just like everything else, life on stage isn't for everybody, which makes me realize that as a teacher, I have to get my kids to love this kind of life because it's essential for their progress as musicians. Also as human beings, I believe. Their life will be richer, even if they don't choose music as their main profession.