I had been thinking about the Nutcracker for about a week without actually doing anything about it. But then I was feeling so out of sorts the other day — just really having a hard time getting myself going — and I realized that an infusion of Tchaikovsky’s glorious music was what I needed to shift my energy.
Of course, I then stayed up way too late binge-watching Nutcracker videos, so it kind of backfired on me. But I think it was ultimately worth it to stumble on this wonderful video of the Waltz of the Flowers. The dancing is astral but I also want to applaud the costume designer(s): I don’t know that I’ve ever seen dresses that enhance the movements of the dance as well as these do. They’re absolutely magical!
First came this video. A tribute by dancers from the Paris Opera, it’s touching because of what they’re going through and the beauty of their art and the fact that it’s their expression of gratitude to medical professionals. But it also immediately transported me back to when I was studying in San Francisco and first developed a passion for Prokofiev… especially the music of his Romeo and Juliet ballet, which was an absolute revelation to me when I saw it (repeatedly) at SF Ballet all those many years ago.
But that got me thinking about another piece by Prokofiev that I absolutely loved and performed many times: the Flute Sonata (the video below is just the first movement; there are four total). Prokofiev had a real gift for melody and I loved playing the soaring lines of this sonata. Of course, it was also extremely demanding technically, but that’s par for the course when you’re a professional flutist.
Which got me pondering the fact that: “Oh my goodness, I used to be able to play that stuff! And play it well.” It hardly seems real any more, it’s so in my distant past.
But actually, I realized that playing flute well wasn’t entirely relegated to my past. There was a little (a very little!) part of me holding on to the fantasy that “if I were just to start practicing again” I could once again be that flutist. But you know what?
She’s long gone!
Not just because I haven’t really practiced in twenty years. And not just because I wouldn’t have the physical stamina to get back into full flute form. But because — thanks to who I am now and what my current priorities are — it doesn’t motivate me. I no longer match that reality.
And a part of me felt a little sad, because this realization meant also acknowledging that I will never in this lifetime play the Prokofiev Sonata absolutely flawlessly, without a single mistake…
Whoa! Who knew that thought/feeling/desire was even in there!
But it was. And I remembered a quote from some self-help workshop or other; something along the lines of: “You don’t want to die with your potential intact.” Which was connected in my mind with never having had an absolutely perfect performance of the Prokofiev Sonata.
Which is crazy!
I had many excellent performances of the Prokofiev; not to mention of tons of other wonderful pieces of music as well, with lots of fabulous musicians, over the years and decades. Yes, there was always the possibility of more and better. Why? Because life is infinite…and we are infinite. There’s always more; we never run out of potential. Until we merge back into God, at which point we actually once again know the truth that we’re one with infinity.
Which is an exceptionally freeing point to have reached at the conclusion of this long progression of thoughts. 😊
After my positive lyrics, raise-the-energy-through-dance phase, I managed to get myself back on track enough to return to SF State University and finish my undergraduate degree in flute performance. Thus began the intensely classical music period of my personal music history.
Three specific instances capture what I now believe was the true significance of this phase of my life…
The first was when I went to the library at SF State to complete a homework assignment for a music theory class. This was waaayyyy back when you had to go into the library, check out the vinyl LP, then take it into a little room in order to listen. I had been procrastinating for some weeks, but finally forced myself to go do the assignment.
Well, I dropped the needle and started listening to the first movement of the Brahms violin sonata #1 in G major…and promptly burst into tears. I had noidea what was causing such an deeply felt response, but I sat there and played that first movement over and over again. It was as if all the beauty in the world was coming through the opening measures of that sublime melody and my heart simply couldn’t contain it.
I finished my undergrad degree that year and went on to get my Master degree in flute performance from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. I played in orchestra and chamber music ensembles, did recitals, and played lots and lots of weddings and other “gigs”. I especially loved playing the music of Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, Tschaichovsky, Dvorak, Prokofiev, and other favorites too numerous to list!
Living in San Francisco as I did, I also spent a fair amount of time attending concerts at Davies Symphony Hall and seeing the ballet and opera in the War Memorial Opera House just up the street.
The second powerful memory from that time was a San Francisco Ballet performance of Stravinsky’s Firebird, in which the choreographer depicted the Firebird as a revolutionary male figure rallying his partisan comrades. It was downright stark, with a bare stage, drab partisan costumes, and a simple red unitard for the Firebird. But it captured the essence of Stravinsky’s score and amplified it in a way that was absolutely thrilling to me. I still remember it all these decades later (the video contains only the last five minutes or so of the ballet, but you might be able to get an idea of the power of it all).
The final memory I want to relate took place in Davies Symphony Hall at the end of the London Symphony’s performance of Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. I haven’t said much here about Mahler, but his music really spoke to me in those years. And the Fifth Symphony…!
Well, suffice it to say that at the end of the performance I sat in my seat unable to move, I was sobbing so hard. It was actually embarrassing because that’s just not the typical behavior of symphony patrons! But I couldn’t do anything different because I felt like the music had turned me completely inside out — mind, heart, and soul.
In retrospect, I believe this is the significance of this period of my personal music history. Music had helped me raise my energy; now it was helping me crack open my heart and ignite the deep yearnings of my soul.
