Friday, July 19,
2013:
I
awoke the other night and, because of so many worries, I couldn’t go back to
sleep. A foreign movie in subtitles was on the tube and, thinking that this ought
to lull me back to dreamland, I watched it. The story line was of a promising violinist
in training who had fallen in love with a beautiful girl. He asked her father
for her hand in marriage and her father’s response was that of scorn… "you have
a lot of nerve asking for her hand in marriage. You are a musician and
musicians are always poor. How do you expect me to give my daughter away to a
life of such deprivation?"
The violinist told his mentor about the sadness of this rejection and that he was ready to quit everything because of his despair. The
master passed on to the student the violin his master had passed on to him saying, now you are no longer a student, for you know great sorrow. Now you are a master, every note you play will resonate with
that sorrow bringing great beauty and joy into the world. Of course, the violinist
went on to achieve fame while the woman of his desire married a man of substance
and raised a family with grandchildren. The story continues…they meet each
other on the street at an older age; she didn’t acknowledge him and pretended to not recognize him. They pass on into the night tearfully… still longing… still
in love.
I’m not sure how the movie ended
because I went back to sleep. However, I got something of value from it. Maybe
the lovers got together in old age or maybe they didn’t. It doesn’t matter to
me because the point I got was that, even when I desire something so very strongly ... God, or the Heart of Compassion, doesn’t always grant my heart’s desires. This admonition comes with a warning
that I ought to be careful what I pray for... it might be granted. When I first
arrived in San Francisco to be an artist, I declared to myself that I would
live on Nob Hill or the squalor South of Market Street. But I sometimes wonder,
how many of my heart’s desires have delayed, waylaid, thwarted or otherwise
distracted from my true calling? How much has striving for greatness denied me
the comforts of a normal life? And how has great sorrow compelled every brush
stroke or note I play?
My life has met failure many times
at both love and art; but, I am satisfied that I have been able to find love at
a late age in my life. If I were to
weigh one against the other I have no doubt which I would choose. It seems to me that some have been
blessed to have had both love, grandchildren and fortune. When I think of that I get depressed
but, in the end, I live with what I have and call that fortunate enough.
geo 5,409
No comments:
Post a Comment