Shoshin-Zazen

Just the other day i mentioned something about praise in the post About.

Since i have the time now, heres a story that i would like to share. The credits go to Reader Digest December 1988’s issue. (heh now that’s old.)

Beethoven’s Kiss
By Andor Foldes

As i was giving a master class for young pianists in Saarbrucken, West Germany, in September 1985, I felt that one student would do even better if given a pat on the back. I praised him before the whole class for what distinguished his playing. He immediately outdid himself, to his amazement and that of the group. A few words brought out the best in him.

How happy and proud the first praise I remember receiving made me feel! I was seven, and my father asked for help in the garden. I wroked as hard as i could and was richly rewarded when he kissed me and said, “Thanks, son, you did very well.” His words still ring in my ears more than 6 decades later.

At 16, I was in the midst of a personal crisis arising from differences with my music teacher. THen the renowned pianist Emil von Sauer, Liszt’s last surviving pupil, came to Budapest and asked me to play for him. He listened intently to Bach’s Toccata in C major and requested more. I put all my heart into playing Beethoven’s “Pathetique” sonata and continued with Schumann’s “Papillons.” Finally, von Sauer rose and kissed me on the forehead. “My son,” he said, “when I was your age I became a student of Liszt. He kissed me on the forehead after the first lesson, saying, “Take good care of this kiss - it comes from Beethoven, who gave it to me after hearing me play.” I waited for years to plass on this sacred heritage, but now I feel you deserve it.”

Nothing in my life has meant much to me as von Sauer’s praise. Beethoven’s kiss miraculously lifted me out of my crisis and helped me become the pianist I am today. Soon, I in turn will pass it on to the one who most deserves it.

Praise is a potent force, a candel in a dark room. It is magic, and I marvel that it always work.

Footnote: Andor Foldes, 75, a renowned concert pianist, lives in Switzerland and performs worldwide. Hungarain-born, he made his debut at the age of 8 with the Budapest Philharmonic.

—-

Who would have thought that great musicians are great kisses? And a kiss that transends time? Now that is what i call amazing.

Praise is like ambergris;
a little whiff of it, by snatches, is very agreeable;
but when a man holds a whole lump of it to his nose;
it is a stink and strikes you down.

� Alexander Pope c.1720

In case you don’t know, Ambergris is whale’s vomit. Curious? Catch it here.

As a young child, thinking as big as big can be and getting absolutely nowhere for the effort, i would often lie awake at night, pondering the mysteries of infinity and eternity - and feeling pure awe (in an inchoate, but intense, boyish way) at my utter inability to comprehend. How could time begin? For even if a God created matter at a definite moment, then who made God? An eternity of spirit seemed just as incomprehensible as a temporal sequence of matter with no beginning. And how could space end? For even if a group of intrepid astronauts encountered a brick wall at the end of the universe, what lay beyond the wall? An infinity of wall seemed just as inconceivable as a never-ending extension of stars and galaxy.

-Stephen Jay Gould, (I Have Landed, I Para.1)

Ah. Question marks ? Ad-infinitium.

I have to admit that these hithero feelings of amazement and wonder still exist in my mind. Inherently, my description of these fleeting but strong feelings will draw a blank on paper. (Just like any other manifestations of a conscious mind are.) And yet, they mysteriously cling on, lingering in the nexus of our neurones. Only when triggered by our senses do they explode feverently, with such afine vigor, that our mind seem to be lost in our dreams and thoughts. The stunning view of scenery, the thought of the befuddling quantum universe and the view of a clear night-time sky filled with aurorae all are stimuli to our senses. Individually, most of the time, inspirations due to such stimuli happens because of what i see.

Here, the keen sense of human inquitsitiveness takes over. The thought of knowing the unknown, the mind searches for answers. The key to the riddle somehow lost. Yet, it hungers for such answers to satify its insatiable thirst for knowledge, so that it can maybe salvage its ego-self - the act to know more than other people; to be the wisest of the erudite.

Ahem.

Of course, all these are just mere speculation. If there is any greatest enigma in the world, it is the human mind. And yet again, why is not the mind of a dog? a bird? or an ant? Why is it always about the ever mutually destructive and condescending human species? Perhaps its the ego-self. Perhaps its just me. Oh pardon me, i really don’t know.

There are many things i do not know (a severe understatement). For example, i don’t know what it is like to be a Muslim living in Iran. And obviously, i wouldn’t know how would i react if i see those blasphemous danish cartoons and i don’t know if i would eat another dannish butter cookie even though i like them. So, as the world gets estranged over a bunch of cartoons (hey issn’t mickey mouse supposed to be gay?), i would just like some coffee and with Buddhist equanimity, envisage a peaceful and loving world. Nevetheless, this cartoon boo-boo is a no-nonsense topic perfect for another time, another day.

Now that i have caused certain entropy in your mind, i would like to culminate with a smoothing picture.

Credits: (bushd@albanymo.net) Dan Bush of McFall, Missouri

The bright inner rainbow is the primary bow, caused by sunbeams reflecting once inside falling raindrops. It’s the bow you usually see. The less-bright outer rainbow is the secondary bow, caused by sunbeams reflecting twice inside raindrops. Secondary bows often go unnoticed, because they are usually very faint, but they are always there.

And so there you have it: No rainbow is ever alone.