We begin this story, this narrative, with an adage of old, a tale of wisdom, passed down across generations, time and time again, repeating itself - a Jacob Two-Two.
We write here today, in reflection. Pondering at what history has displayed bare before our eyes. Tales of heroes, and tales of greats. Tales that inspire, and fill with a longing for hope. Deep dive into this well of genius. A look at life through the eyes of Beethoven, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Paganini, and Tchaikovsky trickling down to the martyrs of today, those that are on the path, and those that are yet to get there.
Be still and bear. These are men, who have defied the odds. Pushing through their madness. Dropping all care and submerging in their versions of unreasonable passion for things. Today, here and now, we stand in awe at their creation. His creation passed down to mankind through their hands. For it is, ad maiorem Dei gloriam, meaning, for the greater glory of God. And in whatever we do, we shall do it for His glory.
Here stands Beethoven, a maestro of his craft, ever so diligently seeking alchemy. A quest bringing him on and up to his peak with his final, if not greatest symphony, the great 9th. The perfectionist of both his time and ours. Weaving and building. An embodiment of true craftsmanship, soaked in the eternal childs’ wonder.
Here stands Mozart. Who be he that knowest not his art? Who be he that does not get submerged by his piece? Tremble at the requiem thy feeble heart. And Tchaikovsky. It is fucking Tchaikovsky, a template of romance. And we shall mention Shubert, lest we get into a hand-to-hand battle with his disciples, for a war they wage.
Take a step further back and look at the bigger picture. Peek into the lives of your mentors and watch the struggles of Beethoven. The struggle of a man losing his hearing, barely able to extend his thoughts and emotion in the best way he knows how. A man, desperate to hear that note one last time - stretching it, pushing it beyond what his body allows.
Keep it together as you glimpse at Paganini. A childhood that would have by far been a tale of Ted talks, a case study amongst psychologists, a legendary war for activists of children’s rights, and a policymaker of law we hold so dear. Wipe your tears as you watch a child starving, stricken food for the sake of mastery. ‘To the guillotine’, against the father, we would thrash. The cost paid in full.
And oh, dear Mozart, you warm me so. Stepping out of the shadows. Unapologetic, fierce, and with a child's spirit all but far. Write the opera one more time I beg of you. An alcoholic. Sadness, written behind his jolly. Death, death alone. Cast to the streets. Swallowed whole by its ravages. Desolate
The trophies of men. Trophies of warriors. Trophies of those who were willing to take the chance. Giving it their all for what they believed in, and brimstone they walked through. Brimstone we forget. We want to be like them. We want to be in the hall. Do not lie. Who does not? You want the hall, you want a seat at the table. You forget, however, the earning, the sleepless nights in search, the constant battle - the molding and most importantly, the time.
This wall, this hall we constantly look up to, this glass frame, has been molded. We are in the end, who we are, because of the things we have gone through. Our challenges, our contradictions, our battles, making us who we are, without which, like a chandelier, we shatter. Down on the floor. A million pieces of what once made us - imperfections and all. We shall not be masters without one. We conquer to be masters and circumstance makes us who we are.
Confutatis. Are we , therefore, doomed to repeat the sins of our fathers? Transcending generations? Are you, therefore, pegged to their downfalls? Are we tied to the laws of nature? Forever doomed to wander? Forever and always fruits so bare, like land left fallow? Far from it.
Sit by your maestro and quench your thirst with their wisdom. Drench yourself in his eureka, and carve onto the walls, his lifelong lessons of pain, stepping stones, that he be great again through you. That his life, once more bears soul, and be great, if not greater through your deeds.
Lay yourself bare and watch what you could not possibly fathom come to life. And oh, the things we could achieve if only we were not so afraid. Be naked with your thoughts. Dare to dream and dare to change. For this road we travel, we shall pass only once, and if we knew success was a certainty, what would we attempt to do?