call me after October 23rd

My sister sent me an email in what was the middle of the night in Wisconsin, and I woke up to it first thing this morning. A simple few sentences, with a link to a YouTube clip. With that, she changed the course of the month for me.

A little background here: we all have had transformative events in our adolescence. That's what happens when your faculties push you toward adulthood while your heart and soul cling to something purer, stirring within you emotions you were just barely aware of. Quite suddenly, you find yourself doing an about face, neglecting all reason, indulging in a fantasy-land of emotion: joy, sorrow, pain, love.  And it's powerful. And then it passes and you grow up and only the memories remain.

For me, one such pivotal moment came in October of 1970. I was in my second year of studies at the University of Warsaw. I knew I did not like my chosen field (Econometrics). At all. Not one bit. I don't know how things work now, but back then, once you enrolled in a program of study, you were stuck with it. I was accepted in the field of Econometrics. That's what I had to stay with. And maybe for this reason, or maybe for no reason at all, one fall day, on my walk home from the university, I paused at the Philharmonic Hall (it was on the way), and I noticed that the Chopin Competition had begun.

The Competition is an every-five-years event and it is hugely important to any Pole with even the slightest interest in classical music. As a student, I could attend many of the Competition's performances for free. These concerts filled my days. Sometimes I went alone, sometimes with my sister, sometimes with friends. Nothing else mattered that month. I barely made it to the compulsory university classes. I'm sure I skipped some. I lived in the world of Chopin's music. And I rooted for the person who was, in the end, the winner -- to this day, the only American to ever claim first place in the Chopin Competition -- the then 22 year old Garrick Ohlsson. 

It was a heady time of life for me! A year later I would leave Poland to work and go to school in New York, but I did not know any of that in the Fall of 1970. Chopin held my soul. I could not tear myself away.

So my sister wrote to remind me that a couple of days ago, the 19th Chopin Competition began. And by the way you can hear it online. And here's another thing -- the chair of the jury this time is Garrick Ohlsson (now 77 year old).

She writes that at this point, the favorite appears to be Polish -- Jan Widlarz. Take a look at his profile here. He has a face structure that has "I live to play Chopin" written all over it! If you want to listen to/watch  him play, you can go to the Competition's website here. They have videos of all contestants, playing all their chosen pieces here. But don't go there if you're Polish or a music lover. You'll lose the month to Chopin, I swear you will.

 

For this special (to me) morning, I forsake the mushy Bircher Muesli and open a bag of Hudson Granola and I take it all to the comfort of the couch. Such a satisfying crunch!

And I listen. And read about the contestants. We have had the first elimination round and are at the First Round of the competition. 84 remain! Out of those, 28 are from China, 13 from Poland, 13 from Japan, 5 from Canada,  5 from the U.S., the one or two each from a variety of other countries. But pinning nationalities onto the competitors is only a first step in understanding a talented musician's evolution. In the world of music, you find that a nation's borders are permeable and movement is constant. You chase musical depth, and the broader your reach, the finer your own musicianship. Just take a look at the Jury's bios from this year's Competition (found here). They have played, competed, taught, studied, performed the world over. A lesson to those who still think growth and development can take place within just one country's borders. It takes more than a village to nurture talent.

 

I go the farmhouse. The weather is fine. I seek out nature. It's so dry this month! I water the tubs.

And I  trim some of the spent stalks. A good winter garden requires a careful balance of some stuff left behind, and some removed for compost. I dont strive for a careful balance. I just take out the egregious stuff that seems really in the way. Garden clutter. Because I still walk this way and I still see what's happening in the flower fields.

 

 

 

 (the very happy front farmette meadow)

 

 

Ed has me try some of the tomato sauce he made this morning. 

 

 

 

You've become domesticated! Impressive. Well, I have to eat. I have to smile as I hand him the next batch of leftovers from yesterday's supper. Next time, leave out the butter. And add some fresh basil when you eat it. But, overall, well done!

He and I go for a walk. Just in the neighborhood of the new development. I tell Ed -- it may be boring there, but it's less boring than my current neighborhood.

 

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. Her brother is living it up in New York City (that boy has an urban streak in him for sure!) so it's just her today.

And she has evening Girl Scouts, so it's not even a long visit. 

There is a social event at the Edge tonight and I pop in just to say I did it. Not a recluse! I'm engaged! 

And then I return to my Chopin. And I think to myself -- I could not have come across this at a better time. It beats binge watching sitcoms. And of course, it is fitting that I should listen non-stop to Chopin in this period of greater solitude. I never thought of his music as joyful. Not even the polonaises or mazurkas. But I'm not searching for joy at the moment. More like mindful pensiveness or soulful processing or any other terms you may want to use to describe a time of sifting and sorting, of pausing, listening, watching. And waiting.

with so much love...