Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (27 January 1756 – 5 December 1791)
For A Birthday
There is so much to say about Mozart’s brief life – it is an incomplete story, ended unexpectedly by the mortality of the age. But not everyone acknowledges the enigma along with the strange miracle. Although he is almost universally beloved, he is rarely fully understood. From Salzburg emerged that rare type of genius From Russia came his spiritual double – Pushkin. Both born prodigal geniuses. To our credit, and sometimes in spite of it, we stand ready to broadcast anything that exhibits this most rare form of beauty.
But when deciding which of the myriad refined offerings these brilliant minds created (one through literature, the other – music), there is one problem – what to disseminate ? Both are so prolific in their youth. It is understandable. Their “rocket engines” are ready to carry any load anywhere. But sometimes the product of such youthful endeavor suffers the very lack of philosophical substance suffered by a mind deprived of the insight born only by the wisdom of age. Yet the glitter and charm, the sheer novelty of the ingenuity carries us aloft. But the flight is undirected. Where does it take us ? It matters not because of the joy we experience on the journey. Therefore, so often with both — we open the book / score — we fly, the blood boils, gold champagne foams. There is Fun, boldness, elegance, humor, rhythm, melodies, a feast by the mountain, a fairy tale! Then after the book or score closes, we are left in sudden stillness.
With only the reverberant Gilden echo vibrating with the words or the music. While the portal was open, we glimpsed a fairy tale. Then at its conclusion, the “heavenly gate” closed, and returned us “from there” back to our world – it was all over. The Same as in a fairy tale. The magic of genius left abandoned, leaving us with an empty craving. The magical space of their brilliant world, spun by genius from a world without worries, and full of perfection and animation without the backstory of a fully lived life – perfect shape without content. The magic of a fairy tale, unrelated to our world, and filled with completely novel content, worries, sorrows, joys and problems.
Both Mozart and Pushkin did grow up, and became enriched by age, although briefly, which filled them with the weight of wisdom that experience brings to the soul’s content. Both, as befits people, experienced through sorrow, loss, awareness of the human world, and they became of all that age beings to the table – not simply the fabulousness of fiery youth, where they began their journey.
Mozart began to evolve into his “adult” life shortly before his death. Pushkin was silent, obviously preparing for a new “adult” life, imbued with wisdom. He too never entered fully into the adult world. Both went into that long good night without ever gifting us with their best final measure or poetic stanza. They were deprived of the great blessing of long life, thus depriving them – and us – of the amazing possibilities the such a long creative life might portend. The Almighty did not grant them- or unfortunately, us, the miracle such people in their older age might bring to the world – the perfection of technique and spirit. God left us only the golden rays of the spectacular spectral and spiritual insights of both of them, brought briefly about by their impeccable technical geniuses for future generations to hear, to marvel, and to wonder about what might have been.