on musical soulmates (and a life so wonderful there’s no time to write about it)
And really, in spite of my title (and its implicit promise of writing to come), I won’t write much now, either. Because life really is too full and too wonderful to describe and, more than that, to take a moment away, to myself, to write about it. It has been too packed with Schubert E-flat and my beloved Beethoven (70-2! Again at long last!); there has been so much cooking and so much eating (our own [Trio] Cleonice-style version of la viglia; an entire night devoted to experimenting with cacio e pepe!).
I have been too busy falling madly, crazily in love, which is maybe the most wonderful feeling in the whole world, other than just sharing moments together – waking up, drinking tea, cooking, smiling, watching movies, walking in this too-chilly Boston of ours. And I have been too busy with Ari and with Em, who are and have always been the other loves in my life. We have been rehearsing like crazy, practicing tons, sounding – I think! – better than ever before, and feel exhilarated and more ourselves and more in touch with all the reasons we love music than we ever have. Which, for us, I think, is a whole lot of reasons, a whole lot of love to feel for music, and a whole lot of incredible luck and blessedness to have found each other.
We played a house concert on Monday, for some wonderful friends of NEC‘s and, by extension, of ours. We have played at their beautiful home twice now, for them and for many of their extremely interesting, devotedly-music-loving friends. Last year, in a program of Op. 1, no. 2 and Brahms B major, I think we must have felt it was one of the truly great concert-playing experiences of our lives. And this year was no different. We were coming back to our newest love and infatuation of the season, the magical and heartbreaking Dvorak F minor trio; and, what more wonderful to pair it with than the Beethoven Op. 70, no. 2 that will open our Jordan Hall recital (!) in March?! What a night.
And something about this audience, with its intimate, attentive attitude, seemed like a place I could open up: I stood to talk a little about Op. 70, no. 2, and found myself telling this room – my eighty new closest confidantes – about how I came to stand in front of them. I started with the beginning: Greenwood, of course, and falling in love with music, and falling in love with everyone around me, and knowing that if I did nothing else in my life, I must, I must play chamber music. I told them that I didn’t know if I would ever find it, and that it was all I thought about: finding people I loved to play Beethoven with and to love and to rehearse with and laugh with and to play with for the rest of my life. And I told them, in as many words as you might imagine I would use (yes: I can see this post is a little longer than I thought, you’re right), about how Ari and Em and I began, not particularly ceremoniously, although with excitement, to play together, and fell suddenly, intensely in love, and realized that this was what we had all been waiting for our entire lives.
It still stuns me, every day, waking up and getting to be with these two – to be inspired and protected and overwhelmed and outwitted by them, to try to help them grow as they help me grow, to experiment in cooking with Ar and watch in awe as Em begins to learn about sugar sculpting, to laugh to the point of tears in every rehearsal, to know that I have found, in a gift that is beyond my wildest dreams, twopeople in this world whom I want to play with forever and ever. I feel lucky every day.
And here it is, that thing I wanted to share, and said would take no time at all (I’m always running late, whether it means getting to the point or making sure I pour my cup of tea into a travel mug before I need to leave my apartment and not after, at which point I can’t possibly bear to go without honey and milk, and then I am in the middle of a major dilemma because Ari is waiting outside for me in my minivan but he would never want me to drink tea without milk and honey, because he understands. Em doesn’t like tea):
At the end of the night, after we had played Beethoven and Dvorak on Monday for this crowd of incredibly appreciative, understanding, wonderful people, and after I had given a pre-concert talk that was really about how I came to find Ari and Em in my life, I talked to so many terrific people – it was touching and embarrassing and just wonderful. But one person, without coming up, introducing herself, or anything, waved as she left the room, said how much she loved it, and, in passing:
“Congratulations on finding your musical soulmates.” She slipped out of the room before I had a chance to thank her, or even begin to respond in a meaningful way. But I do keep thinking of it, and it makes me smile again and again. (And boy, ain’t that the truth? I don’t know how I ever came to find this in my life, but it is heaven, every day.)