Photos by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, September 23 and October 2
No sooner had I firmly shut the door on more things not for me in the back half of September than some of my harvest came in, and six great new doors of opportunity opened for me -- and there was no one to say I could not go through them because the One Who has called me has already said:
I open, and no man shuts; I shut, and no man opens.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous!
No wonder in the last few weeks, there has been a big, loud basso profondo echo of courage and strength and victory on YouTube and here in Q-Inspired, singing with fiery joy (molten, metallic accord, per Heliopolis II from Schubert) over me!
That also means I had ZERO excuses.
In 2022, I gave up access to 12,000 people because called away from them, and consoled myself with remembering how I also read in Scripture about a king named Amaziah that had a victory and spoil in hand, only to be told by a prophet: "Let all of those people go, and let them take all that they have with them." King Amaziah of course asked what in the world he was supposed to do after that, whereby the prophet answered, "The Lord is able to give you much more than this."
Some 2,924 years later, I truly understood what the prophet was saying.
Not only that: in recent weeks I have truly felt what an orphan I am in music where I live and work -- to the point of insult in September that I cast off in doubling down -- and that sixth opportunity before me represents me going up exponentially on that. I remember how I reacted to that one when it came to me -- Mein Herz! Mein Herz! -- in Schubert's terms in Winterreise, but not for loss and grief and love denied as it is in "Die Post" -- no, that was heart's wish, literally made to order, my prayer answered in clear detail before my face, no longer in the category of "someday," but, at least in opportunity form, now. So too the other five!
As it was in the previous autumn, I was shook, if for entirely different reasons ... it is a blessing for me that I have not yet outgrown a particular voice as deep and dark as it is lovely, and that I found him in the midst of a call for divine assistance that fit my case as I decided to get through all six doors, casting aside all but the faith that they had not been opened before me in vain, and calling on Him Who had called me, for mercy and strength!
I happened to notice during these recent listens that Bruckner has resolved the F minor/G flat quarrel I observed in Beethoven's "Appassionata" Sonata. Bruckner simply embraces the extra light instead of ever casting it out: no mercy of major keys is refused anywhere in it, for E major and B major just shine as well! No matter what caused that home key to be that deeply grim F minor, there is so much light all around it that one cannot help but feel it is worth still calling, and still going ... and inside that glorious paradox, of course the basso profondo whose voice is all the best of dark and bright at once just excels in calling and going even though the press of that whole choir and orchestra challenges his note at the climax of the Kyrie, while soprano Karita Mattila sounds like an angel floated just a little way down from Heaven to encourage everyone: "Keep calling, and keep going -- you are nearer than you think, and Heaven is nearer you, too!"
Everything everywhere all at once -- Bruckner is a much, much greater composer than he gets credit for being, because his ability to manage all this seamlessly was frankly shocking, and thus provided me the calm I needed in the middle of all that was going on. Bruckner touches me where Bach and the Negro Spiritual do ... and that is an Akkord of three ... calling higher and going forth, in spite of what the world says is possible.
Thus reinforced, I am getting through all six doors. No outcome is yet assured; it takes time for all crops to come up, and some may fail ... but I honored every opportunity the best I could!
But now after all this ... I am human ... that wonderful accord of three ... the harmony of two soloists and that whole choir in that Kyrie ... that gap was never vocally so wide with my grand old soldier and I because I am a contralto, his analog in female voice, but we called and went for almost 20 years, blessing all around ... he does not sing now as often, but on a blessed autumn Sunday, I was present to hear him sing a hymn solo, and on the refrain, I joined in ... and after that, we walked for a while. "Old age," said he, "has caught up with me" -- but his voice is still beautiful, and he is still tall and handsome though thinning out now ... it is autumn indeed for him, and winter is near ... but as he also said, we know to Whom we look, and where we are going.
But now, even past him, going through these six doors, and out into an early autumn like none I had experienced before ... so many things in play even further past all those I had left behind ... of Who I was going with, I had no doubts, but where was I, and where was I going?
Wo bin ich? Wo gehe ich hin?
I also have discovered the shocking piano music of Nikolai Medtner, and there is nothing for a new journey but his G minor piano sonata -- so familiar, for I can hear Beethoven's third movement from the Appassionata in Medtner's first movement, but like me, going forth to realms never known before (and there are THREE different recordings to compare here)!
Thus I went by steps I did not intend, finding spring hiding in the clefts of the rocks --
-- finding burning bushes contained by golden-green that could have been either spring or fall -- I hardly knew --
-- for jade framed every meadow --
-- and bejeweled trees met me by the side of the road --
-- and other bushes rose, cast in burning golden-green as they fell into place, out of the light --
-- as other paths came to light that I had never seen before --
-- but there, my forward motion was gently arrested, for there was a deep-voiced echo of an instruction given once to a prophet on the run, not knowing where he was going but just having to go --
"Eat ... the journey is too great for you ... ."
I turned around, and realized I was not far from where I had sat last week ... it was a short walk back to that place ...
... and I drank the water I had brought, for it was quite hot and I knew I was in one of those quasi-psychedelic states of mind and could not on top of that afford to be dehydrated. That day I had been going down the southern side of Lone Mountain into Golden Gate Park, and the new path would have begun to take me back up ... it was too far, especially considering how far I was from home ... so I had been recalled, and the voice of love dispatched to do so sounded once again ...
"Sonderlieferung des Mittagessens, meine liebe Dame! Meine liebe Dame, Frohe Oktoberfest!"
Special delivery of lunch for Oktoberfest had never sounded so special, caroled from E flat 4 down to his well-known B flat 1, and back up to E flat 4 ...
"Showoff!" I cried as I cracked up laughing.
"Natürlich, Frau Mathews! How do you young people say it -- there is no shame in my game!"
Since the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past was on a 2.5 octave roll, he just kept rolling me, laughing!
"This is your first German food in Berlin's style, so remember the accidental foible of President John F. Kennedy, and do not feel the need to rise and declare: 'Ich bin ein Berliner'! This is San Francisco's homage to a Berliner Döner, but it is not and you are not a doughnut -- döner, not doughnut!"
Sometime after I had caught my breath and my ribs had stopped hurting, he purred, "Although I just said to you 'Happy Oktoberfest,' I can think of no one on earth at the moment who would enjoy the traditional Bavarian greeting for Oktoberfest more than you ... so, on behalf of myself, Father Bach, and Father Bruckner, Grüß Gott, Frau Mathews."
Now while in modern times that meant less than it would, my early German lessons had impressed upon me that the phrase had very deep meaning originally. Grüß Gott is short for "[I] greet [you in the name of] God," which is also very close how we get "Bless you" in English: "[I] bless you [in the name of God]" ... and both come from the old idea of benediction ... to speak a blessing upon meeting another person.
Now of course, the rub is what my grandmother taught me as a wee child through the Negro Spiritual: "ev'rybody talking 'bout Heaven ain't going there," and everyone who back in the day spoke such greetings did not mean well! But when in the company of those who did ... we met and fellowshipped and were blessed and went forth to bless all around ... that portion of my life flashed before my eyes because of the sweet earnestness of his voice ... he had never sung such words and not been utterly believed by anyone who had known him ... and also the echo of my grand old soldier's voice, blessing all around, seemed to sound ... and both of them making an accord of three, for I knew Who they both echoed in my life, in spite of how hard the climb had been ...
... and having arrived where I had been going all along, I returned his greeting and then burst into tears, overwhelmed by realizing how far I had come from the brink of despair last October.
As I was composing myself, I also "settled down" ... there is nothing like the gravitas of a patient, immense basso profundo to help with that ... but also he represented, through his legacy of love, the solidity of a man who practiced love as life. That was why he stood out to me, as Bach and Bruckner did, in the annals of classical music -- and so too every man I had permitted to remain in my life. All that had happened since 2022 was that I had climbed away from everything and everyone else, and-- to reverse Schubert's "Der Wanderer,* where love was not found, neither was I!
"We shall have to write you a new version of that, Frau Mathews -- the Climber Woman -- die Kletterin!"
He was right. That was who I had become, fixing ropes behind me as he had! Yet I felt there was more in the matter because of my questions for the day.
"Eat first, Frau Mathews. You are more tired than you know, and since I cannot allow you to be done up, you must now eat your Döner!"
I was gone laughing again ... he had broken up the depth of my thoughts long enough to settle me down even more into my body, and its needs ... and let me tell you: a Berliner Döner is the thing to eat when you are hungry!
"Das Essen schmeckt mir sehr gut -- danke schön!" I said when I finished.
"Bitte schön," he purred, greatly pleased by my grasping the idiomatic way in German to express enjoyment of one's meal ... "schmecken" is taste, and in that construction, "The food tastes very good to me -- thank you!" I also patted my belly and closed my eyes while slowly shaking my head ... .
"Oh, you want all those extra credit points, don't you, Frau Mathews!" he said with an uproarious laugh.
"Now, Professor, you know I am your A student!"
"Very well -- behold, your extra credit assignment!"
Now of course he had gone up the street from Berliner Berliner on Haight Street and around a few corners on his way to me and gone by Hahdough, the local German bakery ...
"Das ist -- nicht 'ich bin' -- das ist ein Berliner!" he said, and harmonized my laughter with his own after a few moments.
"In Germany, love, laughter, and good food -- not unlike your own traditional African American culture and all that goes into its 'soul food' -- very much go together. It used to be, well into my lifetime, that everyone would come home for das Mittagessen so the family could eat together. It is the most important meal of the day, although you can eat the Berliner a bit later."
"Oh, we will be going by a coffee shop then, for having my Kuchen, I must also have my Kaffee -- ich muss meinen Kaffee mit meinem Kuchen trinken."
"You remembered Kaffee und Kuchen, the fourth German meal, and you are learning your German grammar with its gender and cases! Go on and get all your extra credit points, Frau Mathews -- go right on!"
"Well, I'm out here swinging at every fence, so why not?" I said.
"Why not! That is the spirit, Frau Mathews!"
I had the feeling that before the day was over, the structural integrity of the city might be challenged, because he was already in his fiery rejoicing mood ... but he caught himself with a smile.
"I am just a little excited about what you are doing in this past week, Frau Mathews -- just a little," he said. "But we must rest a while, for you have just eaten after a long walk, and there is no need to rush on."
The great bass was calming himself down, vocalizing subtly from the high ranges of his voice down into his double-deep range, and carrying me toward sleep like a downward Shepard's Tone tuned for extreme beauty ... I would be in dreamland before any bottom could be known ...
"It sounds like Bruckner's "Kyrie" from his F minor Mass out here ... he was given something that even Beethoven could not write ... it is autumn and the days grow short and winter must come, but it is also so beautiful and so full of light no other season has ... like F minor and G flat living in beautiful communion, and opening the doors and welcoming D flat, E, and B as well ... ."
He closed his eyes and suddenly the music played around us ... for he remembered every note, and in his mind he not only sang his parts, but acted as the German analog of an oktavist to that great orchestra and choir, further illuminating the amazing key relationships the composer had built up by reinforcing a bass line or point of a line, or doubling the line an octave down ... thus he revealed through a few well-placed double-low B flats at the beginning that Bruckner had worked G flat in by way of lightening the heaviness of B flat minor, and then, having established that, quietly sat B flat minor down and let G flat and its major-key friends pretty much have the run of the place until the end! Chord substitution is well known in jazz ... but Anton Bruckner did not know he was born in Austria too early for that, so he went on and did it! My kind of man!
Of course this was a dream to me as well ... the voice of my favorite musician, highlighting harmonic progressions with all his richly resonant double-deep notes ... talk about a pleasant rest, though not too long of one! It was such a beautiful day to rest, yet it was moving right along ... it was autumn, and the days no longer so endless ...
... and I still had a question that needed answering, while going.
"Wo bin ich? Wo gehe ich hin? -- where am I? Where go I hence? Good questions, Frau Mathews. You are at least somewhere safe enough to take stock."
"That's a deep thought by itself," I answered.
"Deep and high, both, for it cost you quite a climb to get there, mein geliebte Kletterin," he said, applying yet another affectionate and meaningful nickname to me: "my beloved climber," in the feminine. Again, he was gently teaching me here ... the aspects in which one is loved ... as daughter, as Blumenkind ... an expansion of child into beautiful, cherished blossom, and now in my strength as the Climber ... brought up, cherished, protected, respected ... the master communicator was quietly doing a long-term master class, and thus put in another piece to the scaffolding for the day's lesson.
"Tell me this, mein geliebte Kletterin: how high is up? Your father, an actual theologian, taught you as a very little child."
My mind went all the way back ... the first heaven was the sky, in which the birds fly and into which the trees and mountains stretched. That, thought of as Earth's atmosphere, verged on the second heaven: the observable universe with the sun and moon and the stars in it. The third heaven, higher still, was where God dwelt, and where the faithful hoped to go.
But then I remembered: the German poets and thus the songs had argued about this matter!
"Shall we say for the purposes of discussion that the border of the second and the third, in the setting forth of many German lieder, is about as fluid as the border of the first and the second?"
"That works," I said, but then stopped short, stunned at the brightness of a ray of sunlight illumining the scene as we passed out of deep shade.
"There is a good reason when people become famous we do not call them 'suns,'" he said, "for there is but one light in this physical universe like that!"
"Indeed ... although we know the Sun is a star," I said, "but only this star was given to us for light and warmth and light. It also makes sense that for those who see no third heaven, the analogy would be mistaken for the reality of deity!"
"And in German lieder, we see that line glided too by Schubert in Heliopolis 1 and 2, although one can just as easily glide them back across the line of analogy -- and we will, for today. Tell me this about the stars: is there one close enough to compete with the Sun for our attention?"
"Not even close -- the next nearest star is so far that if we could travel at the speed of light, it would take four years to trace a ray of its light back to its source."
"Generally speaking, are stars set close together or far apart?"
"Far apart -- measured in light-years only!"
"Hmmmmmm ... as your ancestors might have said it in the Negro Spiritual ... 'Plenty Good Room'!"
He was right -- for the lights of heaven do not compete, but each shines in their place in space.
We stopped again at the above view, and there my companion turned to me and said, with the utmost gentleness, "Mein geliebte Kletterin, wo gehst du hin? Warum gehst du hin?"
"My beloved climber" ... not only "where go you hence?" but "Why go you hence?" Then I remembered analogies that we also made of the sun by day and the moon and stars by night, climbing in the sky.
"In the winter, Frau Mathews, I gave you another nickname: mein kleiner Stern. I also set you a riddle: even if you think of yourself as just a little star, may you hide your light?"
"I may not, for I am commanded: 'Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father in Heaven."
"And is it not written that all the stars are known by name, and called to their place?"
"It is," I said.
"So then, Frau Mathews ... my little star ... you also have been called by name, to a place with plenty good room, where you are called to shine and reflect the glory of the One Who called you. That is where you are going."
We stopped before this great meadow, and then headed into it ... he was of a mind to sing, soon.
"When you were a wee little one, there may or may not have been a few people who thought that a particular bass might be in need of a bit of mental health treatment, taking four songs out of a collection of just ten songs of Brahms -- Brahms, mind you, who already left us Four Serious Songs about life in the face of death -- to put together four more serious songs of Brahms! And of all things, singing 'Todessehnen' -- Death Wish! Of all things!"
"Oh, but he sings it so well, though," I said, "and I can also see why that in itself might be worrisome."
"In 'Mit vierzig Jahren,' it is spelled all the way out ... the climb necessary to be on the plain one must be on ... but then in taking one's staff and going across that high plain, it is a long and lonely walk to port, alone ... and in the second song, we do acknowledge the fact that 'it is not good for the man to be alone.' That cannot be gainsaid."
"That is what his soul is crying out for -- his sister-soul," I said. "He needs his mate, for he cannot live without love, and would prefer to go home to Heaven than to be down here alone."
"Yet by the third song, he is talking to someone about his adventures in the storm and rain, and we presume, kindly, that he has found the need of his soul ... or has he?"
I thought about this, and chuckled grimly.
"When you get what you thought you want, but find out your first conclusion was still correct -- I see what you did there to set up 'Der Tod, das ist die kuehle Nacht,' I said, "because even with someone to talk to in 'In Dem Kirchhofe,' it still dawns on the character that it is still better to be in the fellowship of the love above, past the storms of life -- and off he goes, in the next song!"
"You are a very attentive student, Frau Mathews, so then I expect you will know the answer to this: in 'Todessehnen,' in the anguish of his soul, what does the character ask for at the end of his prayer?"
"To be placed among the stars, where life and love have one name," I said. "Heaven, the second of those for the moment standing in for the third."
"Is there any sadness left in him, as he simply considers the possibility of the answer?"
"No ... it almost is as if just connecting in prayer has lifted him already beyond where he was, as if he already is receiving the breath of life that he actually needs."
"Keep that in mind as I sing, Frau Mathews -- you are on to something important. He actually does not wish to die, but to pass through death, to life."
(The timestamp is 14:55)
This opened a new perspective for me ... a character in despair asks for his space and time where life and love have one name ... but I was even ahead of that, knowing Light, Life, and Love have one name and walking in it ... so I had missed being in such despair as to wish to die, but, nonetheless, was getting the back half answered ... and that had been the plan all along! Space and time had indeed been made around me, and I was still climbing ... so this was the deeper meaning of "Todessehnen," a prayer that could be answered!
"Not for everyone," he said. "Long has it been in my heart to say what I will now to you ... long have I waited ... you who were willing to die to the world you knew, and risked dying of grief to climb to here ... you, willing to pass through death, to life ... you of a heritage in which people were willing to literally die for freedom, and you, who honored that in refusing to be bound to the service of evil!"
Now I hadn't thought about all that consciously ... too much pain to manage that ... but yes, my foundation in the courage of my ancestors, and also the commands of my faith ('Come out from among them, and be ye separate, and I will receive you as sons and daughters, saith the Lord') had been enough to spur me to move!
"It is my honor that you heard in my voice, and in my singing, and in my songs, a brother-soul, Frau Mathews, though far off," he said, his voice soft because he was near me, but with a shimmer like moonlight on midnight seas. "It is my honor to have been the echo ... what you learned in the collective in the Negro Spiritual, you hear as the individual echoed in German. Not many make the journey into that space and time of freedom. It is ever new, little known in this world, and never of the familiarity that can breed contempt, so you indeed will need time to orient yourself, but it is where you are, where you are going, and where you will shine!"
I had a moment of deep anguish, wishing ... but I had already had those lessons. There was no bridge. Yet as I was going, the light that I reflected might help another called to look up to see how to begin or continue their climb. The rest I had surrendered, and I would not pick it back up. I refused. The pain was still shocking, for I had never hardened my heart. Yet as I had not allowed that pain to prevent me from climbing out, I would not permit it to cause me to turn back.
As ever, my pain management specialist, the instant he was permitted, wrapped his arms and and that black velvet voice around me --
"Ach, mein starke kletternde Tochter ... my strong, climbing daughter, long have I waited to embrace you in the comfort of the strong and the free, and it is worth the wait!"
In the warmth of that sunshine and sweetness of that peace, in such a long-awaited embrace, I wanted to reciprocate something he had done earlier.
"I appreciate the view on Bruckner you shared with me from memory earlier, and that you sang 'Todessehnen," I said. "I desire to share with you songs of cherished memory to me, which have helped me in my climb."
The look of gratitude that instantly covered his face translated the German he forgot how to say in English -- "Ich bin gerne bereit, Frau Mathews; vielen Dank." He was both willing and grateful, and instantly was overjoyed with hearing, from my memory, the voice of contralto Marian Anderson once ...
... and then again ...
... and then was utterly stunned by his fellow true deep bass, Eric Hollaway ...
After all that, his voice was soft ... he was near tears.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for sharing those precious songs in memory with me, and also for even seeing me in the sky when you have such stars as that, of your own people, to look upon -- that you hear the music of those spheres, singing of your own things, and still desire to also hear me -- thank you. You have my eternal gratitude -- du hast meine ewige Dankbarkeit."
"You were chosen for me as much as they were," I said gently. "You know that up home, there is no discrimination in such matters as there sometimes is here!"
"I know," he said, "and because I know how far my nation had fallen by the time of my birth, and how only grace --."
His life -- *three-quarters of a century of conscious memories, beginning during World War II -- flashed before his eyes, in terms of all that grace ... and I graced him by gently releasing him to go back above. The lesson here was simple, but there is none deeper: love always acts in the best interest of the beloved. So, he had to go because it was not in my best interest to be instantly atomized with my whole city, and I had to let him go because even if, with 75-plus years of things to be grateful for suddenly top of mind, he could hold his emotions back enough to control his immortal voice inside a safe range, it would be too cruel to ask that of him at such a moment. Put another way: love is also learning and respecting and meeting the beloved's need for not only closeness, but also, space and time -- and thus, the two lessons of the day had come together!
Of space and time: I also now had all of that, being once again alone with no further urgent call upon my time that day. I was on my way home and could shortly be there ... but in the back of my mind, I knew better. It was very warm with no chill breeze, and the sky was already giving hints that the sunset would be remarkable. So I decided to head toward the lower heights of Buena Vista Hill and delay my walk home.
It became Kaffee and Kuchen time as I approached Haight Street, and I remembered my Berliner and that there was a good coffee shop ahead and around the corner. I chose to do honor to the gift in the proper way and get a coffee -- ich muss meinen Kaffee mit meinem Kuchen trinken, after all -- and so rounded the corner with a bit of momentum going, just to run smack into someone walking down, equally intent upon that same door, and a bit too large to stop on a dime. I am a large woman, and fortunately he was a large and strong man -- I figured a foot taller and in the shoulder just as broad, a flash of rosy alabaster and salt-and-pepper hair above red-brown summer suit -- reflexes like a cat, and immensely strong, because I was instantly suspended in gravity with no chance of hitting the ground. I looked up to offer an apology and thanks and stopped short, stunned by his immense, beautiful smile as that unmistakable voice gently rolled down.
"Meine Dame, darf ich Ihnen einen Kaffee ausgeben?"
I had known he would honor his commitment to get me home safely, and he knew I would honor the full intent of his gift by not missing Kaffee and Kuchen ... we literally thus had "materialized" adjacent to each other in time and space as the two honors became one! Then we both started laughing, because those in the shop were already misreading the entire situation, not knowing this was not how we met, but we rolled with it because situational comedy is hilarious! He had come all that way before even recovering his English to buy me that coffee, so of course I was grateful and willing, and my contralto was the analog to his bass ... so people had to interpret our huge purring voices as they would.
"Ich bin gerne bereit, mein Herr, und vielen Dank."
The owner of the shop, assuming we were two foreign tourists fallen in love at first meeting, was quick to turn on George Cory and Douglass Cross's 1940s masterpiece, made famous by Tony Bennett...
... and went on and cleared the best outside table there was, for he knew that on such an enchantingly beautiful afternoon becoming evening, we would draw a crowd of sentimental mind to help him sell out before he closed ... and wouldn't you know, golden hour decided to play along with this staging of events?
My German was not all that good, and his English had not recovered that much more, so we were trying to do the barely possible and enjoying ourselves so much in the effort that neither of us could stop laughing!
"Fine mess we've gotten ourselves into, Herr Altesrouge!"
"Ich weiss, Frau Blumenkind!"
As Shakespeare said, 'all the world's a stage.' Our loving interaction despite our ethnic and linguistic differences indeed did draw others to that space and time, because they felt they had found a safe place to be themselves ... and this was wonderful. Despite the common idea of "stardom," in reality, every star is there to simply shine in its space and time, and, in its abundance of light and warmth, reflect the glory and generosity of its Maker. I realized that this little object lesson was making conscious something I had learned with my grand old soldier, for we indeed blessed all around when together. I was content in the general solitude and freedom my life had come to when not handling my responsibilities, but I could now see a picture of the blessedness of two again.
Meanwhile, above this sweet comedy of errors, at the proper time, we saw the birds enjoying the sunset even more highly, because they were fitted to their place, and when Earth completely turned from the view of the sun in the second heaven, we found the moon and the stars fitted to their place. In understanding this, a great hush of awe and joy settled down around us that stilled all need for words as we walked to my home. It seemed but a very short step up for him, up home, after he had walked me up my stairs ... and indeed it was not far because in my dreams, I could still hear him, singing and singing and singing for gratitude, joy, and love.
Thank you to @ewkaw and @qurator for the curation!