I did a totally bizarre thing at the concert last evening featuring Schubert’s Symphony No. 8 and Mozart Requiem – I was tearing from the audience seat, right from beginning to the very end, with intermittent yawning, possibly from the exhaustion of crying.
I wasn't feeling crumpy when the first movement of Schubert’s Symphony No. 8 was playing across the stage, yet tears just fell uncontrollably; I recalled similar emotional entanglement on my first close encounter with this movement - alternating my mood between strolling on the cloud and walking in the thunderstorm had, for some reasons, touched me so much that i eventually have to break down into tears, as I was totally unprepared for that repeated back and forth journey between the cheerful melody and the melancholic notes. I remembered feeling so annoyed with this movement and with Schubert; yet at the same time, feeling speechlessly beautiful and utterly complete.
My beloved Mozart Requiem came in right after the intermission. Being my third live encounter yet hearing it for the first time in Singapore, I was filled with much anticipation. I knew I am at my weakest, from the past two experiences, whenever this piece performs right before my eyes. As expected, I was sobbing and frowning at the same time, and was making a conscious effort to sniff silently so as not to produce any disturbing noise to my neighbouring audiences.
Both Schubert and Mozart had unintentionally sealed the fate of their unfinished masterpieces. And in our era, unfinished matters don’t seem uncommon too, for many people.
Unfinished matters, acting like a connector, as well as a junction, seem to be putting together what will happen in the future and what had happened in the past. And this could well appear to be so interestingly moving – it, on one hand, behaves like an answer; yet on the other hand, leading to more answers.
What happens at this moment could well be the bearing of what had once happened; it could also be the clues of the many future possible happenings…
Timing, a crucially critical element in that whole string of happenings, as well as not happenings. What should have happened 10 years ago chose its perfect timing to happen just 10 minutes before, simply illustrates how things, always happen for a reason, would fall into places on their own when timing turns right.
A fine example would be the creation of this blog and the birth of QuarterNotez.
Thank you Timing. :)
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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