First and foremost are the highly toxic chemotherapy drugs that target and destroy cells that reproduce quickly. Since Leukemia cells are very rapid dividers, these chemo drugs are very effective at making Leukemia cells explode all over the body. When these Leukemia cells explode they release their contents into the bloodstream, which can wreak havoc on the liver and kidneys, so Charlie has to take medicine to flush all this stuff out of his body quickly. Blowing up all the naughty cancer cells and flushing them out is the primary way the doctors plan to put Charlie into remission. Of course it is a bit strange to see my toddler taking cocktails of medicine that is so toxic the nurses wear full body protective clothing any time they handle the stuff. But really what choice do we have?
Charlie also has to receive a lot of fresh blood and platelets just to stay alive. This is because Leukemia cells crowd out the hemoglobin (and other helpful things) in the blood, which essentially renders one’s blood unable to process oxygen or fight against bacteria. When we brought Charlie into the Emergency Room last week, he was in the process of dying from this. The constant infusions do not fight the underlying problem (too many Leukemia cells), but instead they stabilize Charlie so he can stay alive long enough to receive the chemo (which does fight the underlying problem). At first all this blood was more liquid than Charlie’s little body was used to (his heart had grown accustomed to working with scarce resources), so some of the liquid backed up into his lungs and gave him a wet cough that kept him up all night. But more recently the blood has clearly recharged Char and brought back a lot of his former strength. He’s been joking and acting silly these past couple days, wiggling around the bed and getting up to come sit by the window. Seeing the smiles, watching his personality bloom again, seeing him have the energy to eat and chat and laugh… it’s been so very precious. Gotta live in the moment these days.
And then there’s the steroids. Steroids are a big part of the treatment because they help the chemo more effectively destroy leukemia cells, and they reduce the allergic reaction the body has to toxic chemotherapy drugs. Char is getting roided up, so of course he periodically experiences roid rage (roid rage + moody toddler = ridiculous behavior). Even without the steroids, who wouldn’t be mad at being trapped in a hospital bed for days, feeling depleted and yucky and weak, pumped full of strange meds that make you feel weird, poked and prodded by strangers all day and night? From my perspective, it’s very tough to see my little baby suffering with these weighty problems. He’s being given a course in resilience right now, but he’s still so little that I’m not sure he’s ready for such a lesson. But ready or not, here it is.
Tomorrow Charlie will get his second of many spinal taps, where the doctors will check his spinal fluid for Leukemia and inject chemo into his spine. When I type it out it all sounds so wrong, so cruel, so backward. But if we don’t do this thing, the leukemia cells will continue to overwhelm his body (no matter how much fresh blood he gets), and he will die from it. So he’ll take all the chemo drugs, and fluid flushing drugs, and anti-nausea meds, and steroids, and spinal taps, and fresh blood, and other things too, because that seems to be the only road to a cure. The American Cancer Society says that with the new drugs and treatments available today, “the 5-year survival rate for children with [Charlie’s sub-type of leukemia] has greatly increased over time and is now about 90% overall.” In a strange way, that makes Charlie lucky to have gotten this cancer instead of another one, because the doctors at Stanford know how to kill this disease. It can be done by giving my baby a whole big bunch of poison for a long long while. So that’s what we will do.
Side note: Erica and I have been rotating in and out of the hospital each day, so that one person stays with Char at Stanford and the other person stays home with Jack (who is not allowed at the hospital due to Covid). A massive rain storm pummeled the whole Bay Area all day, knocking out the power in our home from 7am all the way until 8pm or so. It’s my night at home, so Jack and I sat there this afternoon watching our house grow colder and darker as the hours passed, sat there in the gloomy and quiet house, listening to the violent storm, thinking about Char and the strange, eerie quiet, and how not too long ago it was summer and we were all out on the open road camping and exploring and being noisy and living life. I know that summer will return again in the future, and that Charlie may in fact heal and go on to live a long and happy life, that there are real reasons for hope, and that we are so blessed in so many ways…. but tonight, when the rain is pounding and the house is so cold and Charlie is so far away, and I know that tomorrow Char won’t be able to eat all day because of his procedure, and that he’s going to be so miserable and confused, and that he will face so many hard days coming up… when I think about that stuff, well, I just get pissed off.
My son Charlie (age 3) has leukemia. We found out three days ago. He was lying in his bed all day long, not wanting to move, not eating, just looking weak and miserable. We video conferenced the doctor, and she said go to the ER. We got to skip the waiting room and go straight to a doctor, as if every medical professional that set eyes on him could tell something was seriously wrong. They drew blood and came to tell us, with absolute certainty, after one look at his blood, that he for sure 100% had leukemia. They could see the leukemia cells right there in the microscope.
Charlie has been exceptionally brave and stoic throughout this ordeal. He’s already been poked and prodded and examined and checked at all hours of the night, tied to tubes and wires, stuck in a bed in a strange place far from home, surrounded by strangers, feeling sick and exhausted and confused. Yet he’s still his goofy self, especially as the treatment starts to give him some energy back.
The first step was to stabilize him by giving him multiple blood transfusions. Those aggressive leukemia cells have been crowding out the other cells in this body – like the ones that carry oxygen to the brain or fight against bacteria – leaving him weak and sick. So the doctors started by giving him blood and platelets to bring him back up to baseline so that he would be well enough to begin chemotherapy. And it really did work; he really did have his energy back today! He was cracking jokes and making silly faces and pretending to be a doctor. Watching him play and be silly reminded me that he has been pretty lethargic for the last month. Now it makes sense why our energetic boy was suddenly so tired and fragile all the time, why he had stopped running or riding his bike, why he just wanted to be held all day.
Today he also took his first dose of chemo. If I am not mistaken, he will now continue to take chemotherapy medication for the next three years. The doctors (here at Stanford) seem to be preeminent experts in treating this very illness, so it appears we are in the best possible hands. They are kind and confident and experienced. I am attempting to find hope in their confidence.
When Charlie is frustrated or confused or in pain, I find it very challenging to stay strong. When I have to wake him up at 4am so a nurse can poke him with a needle, or when he can’t leave the bed for days on end, can’t cuddle the same way or see his brother, when his confusion and pain turns into rage…. that’s when I feel my facade slipping. Charlie needs us to be strong and confident like the doctors are, but sometimes the fear is overwhelming. Fear that we will lose him. Fear that the way of life that we loved so much (before he got sick) is gone forever. Fear that he will be in pain every day for a long long while. Fear that he will never get to live a life, that it will be taken from him, that he won’t understand why, that he will suffer for a time and then be gone forever.
But dwelling on this fear does not seem to carry any benefit. Yes I need to plan for these contingencies, but already I can sense that the fear and sadness are not beneficial emotions, as natural as they might be, They do not clarify my thoughts, nor do they help me navigate difficult moments better. I do not necessarily believe that suppressing the fear and sadness is beneficial (and I am not a trained therapist); I am only observing that I do not find those emotions particularly helpful while I’m down here in the trenches. If they could be gotten rid of, this process might be much more manageable. Charlie is clearly feeling a lot of fear, and wouldn’t it be nice if I was confident like those doctors, so that I could absorb his fear and help him feel secure and supported. Is this possible, is this wise? I don’t know, everything is still so new. It has not yet sunk in that this is our new life, our permanent life. Once that sinks in, once Charlie survives this first month, this first year, maybe the fear will go away on its own.
How can I live my best life? What are some strategies that will help me reach for fulfillment in life? Here are some of the lessons I picked up from reading one of the world’s oldest self help books: The Bhagavad Gita.
Strive to do your best in all things you attempt, but do not attach yourself emotionally to the consequences of the actions you take. In other words, you can control an arrow only up to the point you release it from the bow. From there, it is beyond your control what happens to it. So put all your focus into aiming true. Release that arrow as perfectly as you can, but once it’s been released do not be attached to what happens next, because it is out of your hands. Feel free to observe how it lands and adjust your next shot accordingly, but do not become emotionally invested in the results. You goal is to improve, and therefore you must practice and hone your craft. But see if you can do this without letting your ego get involved in the process. As you prepare to release that next arrow, remember that your self-worth does not hang in the balance.
This is useful in so many ways. In the business world, you should try your best to be a productive part of your team or organization. However once you’ve finished that business presentation and sent it out, you no longer have control over what happens to it. It may be judged harshly, it may be ignored, or perhaps unforeseen forces outside of your control will cause your presentation to fail. These things can and do happen; when they do happen, gather whatever data helps you grow from the experience, and move forward. Likewise, in a family you should be a generous and caring participant in your loved ones’ lives: do your very best to guide them and love them, and teach them important life lessons, and give gifts, and give them your time, and make as many things special for them as you can. But once you’ve done all that you can’t control how they will respond, or the people they will ultimately become. Do not invest yourself emotionally in the result, but do your best and focus on continuing to improve your own performance.
This may seem like an impossible or even a distasteful goal (“Why on earth would I want to become emotionally detached from the outcomes of my parenting?!?”). Remember: this sort of “detachment” does NOT mean withdrawing from the world, nor does it mean acting in a callous, distant, aggressive, loveless, or harsh manner, or refusing to care about the consequences of your actions. Be active, be a participant, show love, give gifts, build something, engage! Just don’t let your pride (or even worse your sense of self worth) hinge on the results, on the consequences, because the consequences are beyond your control! Be your best self and you WILL make a better world, but understand that there are so many things you simply cannot control. If you try your very best, and learn from your mistakes, and make active improvements in yourself and how you treat others, you’ve done all you can do. You must then be at peace with whatever outcomes may come (while still learning from them, so that you can continue to grow and improve).
While it is wise to be at peace with outcomes, this does not mean that one should live a “passive” life, where we simply let the waves of life crash over us while we feel neither joy nor sadness, while we sit motionless and inactive, detaching ourselves from all warmth and love and connection, seeking some inner knowledge while the world passes us by. In fact, a good life is a life of action! There are countless paths that lead to enlightenment and fulfillment, but most require some form of action. One can seek deep knowledge in her field or expertise in her craft, or focus on taking selfless action for the benefit of others to build a better and more peaceful world (Gandhi followed this path, among others), or one can dive into meditation and self reflection, or build a life that is centered on love and family and empathy. A person can venture down all of these paths at once if she likes, but note that all of these paths require action! Don’t hide in a cave like a hermit, and don’t renounce all earthly joys like an ascetic, and don’t shut out the world or detach from loving other human beings. Go be active in the world and do good work, love people, build connections, get out there and do something. The message here is this: yes live a life of action, while also working to become emotionally detached from outcomes beyond your control. Another way to say it is this: everything in your life should be active, except your ego.
This is easy to talk about but very difficult to put into practice every day. Even as I write this, I picture in the back of my head a day far in the future, when my (adult) sons discover that their father created music and wrote articles about interesting ideas, and how proud they will be, how they will think I was so cool, how they will then be inspired to expand their own minds, etc. etc.! You see? It is my pride and desire and need for affirmation that drives this fantasy, and it’s a clear example of my emotional investment in other people’s future opinions of my life’s work, an example of my ego at work, an example of how much I really do invest my self worth in the outcomes that I cannot control.
Instead, I should write this just because I feel compelled to write it, because it brings me joy, because writing this is me playing my part in the greater whole of humanity; I should not write it just to get future praise and admiration from my sons. Even as I write about detachment from these sorts of desires, I am so very very attached.
This is really about suspending one’s ego, and resisting the urge to expect a quid pro quo in all things. I should not parent well BECAUSE I expect future praise from my children. I should not strive to be a good teacher BECAUSE I hope students will tell everyone what a great teacher I am. I should not write beautiful music BECAUSE I need everyone to know what a gifted musician I am. I should do these things well because it is right to do them to the best of my ability. That is how I play my part, how I contribute to the great human story. I parent, I teach, I write music, and I strive to do those things well, because that is what brings me joy. But once I complete a task, I must detach myself from the consequences. As long as I am doing everything to the best of my ability, and learning from my mistakes, then I have played my part well.
This is also about not caring what people think of you. As long as you are doing your best in everything you attempt, and living virtuously by trying to do good (because emotionally detaching oneself from consequences is not a free pass to be a jerk to everyone), then you can ignore other peoples’ opinions about you. Again, I don’t teach well because I need the other teachers to think I’m great. If I teach well, a likely byproduct will be that other teachers respect me, but that is not guaranteed, and also that is not the purpose of teaching. If I indeed teach well, then I really don’t need to care what the other teachers think, because I genuinely give it my all and do my best to bring quality to my classroom. Beyond that, I actually have no control. All I can do is my best. I need to be at peace with whatever comes after that.
Of course if another teacher or a student offers me constructive criticism, I should not ignore it (“Sorry I don’t listen to feedback because I am so detached from the outcomes of my actions”). Quite the opposite: I should listen and use it as a growth opportunity, a way to improve. But I should not let my self worth crumble because somebody saw things in a different way than I did, or because I made an error and didn’t realize it until a peer pointed it out. Take the feedback and grow, but don’t obsess over the mistake itself (which is in the past); instead focus on doing better next time, and remove the ego or the stung pride from the equation. Nobody lives a mistake-free life, and nobody can ever please everyone all of the time.
Even more importantly: if life ever throws you a real curve ball, and places you in a lose-lose situation, a situation completely out of your control, a situation that tests you and puts you under pressure, these same lessons apply triple fold. Pull back your arrow, aim it as best you can, and fire. Then, pull another. In other words, do your best. And once you’ve done your best, don’t rake yourself over the coals because your best didn’t match up to some unreachable standard. Sometimes you might get battered by the waves, and face challenges far beyond your control. Sometimes no matter which path you choose you will wind up paying a high cost.
A typical example: an elderly parent suffers a debilitating long-term illness that requires many hours of your care and attention every day for many months, but at the same time your new position at work requires extra time for meetings, managing teams, due diligence on new topics, and long-term planning. Meanwhile you have two young children who need your love and attention, and a house that is in need of some repairs. If you sacrifice time with your parent in favor of work, you neglect someone who needs you, someone who is suffering a profound personal crisis, someone who cared for you when you were so small and weak, who loves you dearly, who wants nothing more than to spend as many precious few moments with you as possible. But if you neglect work, you will lose your chance to build your team, squander the opportunity to build on what you’ve already worked so hard to achieve, maybe even lose your position. Not to mention that this schedule leaves no time whatsoever for self care. In these moments it’s so crucial to be kind to yourself: emotionally detach from outcomes beyond your control and just do your best. When life gets real there are so very few things that you actually can control. Focus on doing whatever you must do to survive, to get by. Keep paddling, keep shoveling, keep trying. As long as you do as much good as possible with the limited resources you have at your disposal, you are free to accept the outcomes without self-judgement, even if they are not optimal.
This focus on intentions rather than consequences aligns well with philosopher Immanuel Kant's deontological approach to ethics, which emphasizes the importance of acting ethically and following the rules of morality at all costs, consequences be damned. In other words, pay no heed to outcomes, and instead be sure to obey your moral compass (or your moral duties) regardless of the context of the situation. Personally I find Kant's expression of this ethical principle too forceful and one-sided, since it seems to completely discount the idea that ethical action can ever properly be defined by the consequences of one's actions. Consequences do matter in the real world; in fact they matter very much, and they must be taken into account when determining which course of action is most ethical (or which ethical duty we must follow).
TheGita's expression of this principle is more subtle than Kant's, perhaps because its focus is less on finding the optimal moral behavior, and more on achieving fulfillment in life. In essence, one should strive to become emotionally detached from consequences not because this is the key to the most moral possible behavior, but because this behavior will allow a person to live a happier and less-burdened life. Simultaneously, the person should also try to do as much good as possible. Perhaps then the person could combine the message of TheGita with that of Kant. Or maybe she prefers to combine TheGita with a moral system that aims to maximize a particular outcome, such as happiness (this is called utilitarianism). Either way might work just fine for her purposes: live a happy life and do good. If it is possible to follow a strong moral code, while disallowing one's sense of self-worth to hinge on the uncontrollable outcomes of one's actions, we may just hit on the ultimate combination of fulfillment and moral action. See Kant's Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals for Kant's take.
Another facet of The Gita‘s message about personal fulfillment is the argument that freedom comes from discipline. By discipline I do not mean disciplining others, but instead “self discipline”. For example, if you want to become so talented at playing a musical instrument that you can improvise with complete freedom, perform music that leaves listeners breathless and fills their hearts with emotion, experience a sense of total control over your craft, and create timeless art with your own hands, the only way to achieve this is through years of disciplined practice. Without self discipline, one will not sit still long enough to learn anything, and will not practice when practicing becomes hard. Whether learning a craft, parenting, reflecting on one’s own actions, building a professional skill set, or building a love-based relationship with someone, discipline leads to focus and improvement and growth and a better life.
We are sometimes taught (especially in the USA) that freedom is the opposite of discipline. If only we had no rules to follow, then we would be truly free! One can easily imagine a Libertarian fantasy where we all enjoy perfect freedom, total liberty to live exactly how we please, and everyone lives a fulfilled life. This premise that real freedom comes from a lack of discipline is most likely wrong (dare I say utopian) when applied to society as a whole (after all, wouldn’t the local warlord with the most guns and money simply take advantage of this lack of structure and seize power?), but it is especially wrong when applied to self-discipline. Without some kind of self-discipline in place, freedom can never be achieved. One could even go so far as to claim that a total lack of discipline leads to slavery, because a person with no hard-won skills or knowledge will be at the utter mercy of those with skills and know-how.
It is worth noting that this particular take ignores the materialist notion that what truly makes people into slaves or pawns or oppressed peons is not lack of inner discipline, but instead the material forces one faces from birth (i.e. one's class). Those in poverty do not have the time or resources or capital to focus on self-cultivation and skill-building, while those in higher classes do, and that is what determines whether someone will end up a leader/owner/master or a peon/proletarian/slave. It has almost nothing to do with one's own work ethic, since hard work and self-discipline will only get you so far when one starts out in poverty (i.e. if work ethic mattered more than one's original class position, there would be a lot more millionaire fruit pickers out there). See Marx's and Engels' The German Ideology for a classic exposition of this materialist position. I find this position highly convincing, and therefore I need to make clear that this Gita message about the power of self-discipline should be applied solely to personal growth, and not warped into an argument that claims those who are in poverty are there because they lack self-discipline. This is a conservative distortion of The Gita's message that destroys its meaning, and turns it into a tool to distract us from the problems caused by capitalism. This warped message blames the poor for their poverty, rather than addressing the systemic causes of poverty. The Gita's message is certainly not "the poor are only poor because of their own choices".
Ok back to self-discipline. Lets picture a classroom metaphor. If a teacher is a disciplinarian, the students may crave the freedom of having no rules. But abolishing all rules and discipline creates not freedom but chaos. Imagine a classroom that lacks all discipline. Some students ransack the classroom, others casually chat, others attempt to teach themselves something, and others simply leave. The majority of the students will not learn anything nor gain any wisdom from the experience. It seems that when everyone just does whatever he or she wishes to do, the classroom stops being a classroom and becomes something else (a hang-out spot, perhaps). In the end all the students will just wander away from the school, leaving only an empty building. The school is thereby rendered useless. It has failed to fulfill its purpose, and the students who expected to gain knowledge there only wasted their time. Chaos, not freedom, was created in that place.
Imagine that your mind itself is the school. Do you want this kind of chaos (this kind of “freedom”) in your mind? Is this the proper way to cultivate skills and learn long-term lessons? In this metaphor you are the teacher and also the student. You must possess the discipline to teach yourself, to practice, to stay focused, to learn lessons, to grow. When one does not possess the control to do these things, no skills are gained, and our base desires rule us while we live in ignorance. When one exerts discipline over oneself, specifically when aimed toward perfecting a skill or craft, and when we combine it with a certain detachment from the consequences of the good work we do, the results are a kind of freedom that can only come with mastery, can only come with detachment from the opinions of others. It is the freedom to create, to innovate, to improvise, to push boundaries, to rise to ever higher levels. Picture a performer who appears to play piano effortlessly, but that “lack of effort” is actually the result of years of diligent practice, and a mind that is willing to work hard.
Also picture the struggling student who keeps at it, despite the obstacles in her path. Sometimes a voice in her head tells her that she will never achieve her goals, that she will never be good enough. She must let that voice off at the nearest dock, and sail away down the river. She is already good enough today, as she was yesterday and will be tomorrow. Whether she does achieve her goal, or whether she changes it completely, she is good enough. We are free to climb as high as we wish, but there’s no requirement we climb to the top. Whether we wish to doggedly pursue a long-held goal, or set new goals and disregard old ones, the world is our oyster. So do not judge or berate yourself, nor let the imaginary viewpoints of others scare you from pursing happiness. Let your ego off at the next dock, and sail away. Then go work hard at something, anything, and joy will come.
It is so easy in our modern world to let the chaos take over, to jump from one task to another, to let ourselves be constantly distracted by texts, emails, videos, Tiktok, and so much else. To cultivate a skill, you must possess the discipline to shut those distractions out, and set your mind on a single track for a nice stretch of time, to sink slowly into practice, and explore/probe/investigate one single topic, even as the whole wide world tries endlessly to crash down the doors of your concentration and destroy your focus. You are the gatekeeper to your own mind, you are the teacher of your mind’s classroom, you are the master of your own focus.
All things of quality require time and discipline and hard work. This is true of art, it’s true for those who seek knowledge, it’s true of fidelity and maintaining open communication in a marriage, it’s true of cultivating a skill or talent, it’s true of building strong friendships, it’s true of raising children, and it’s true in business.
Ideally, I strive to make my life and my art and my relationships the best that they can be, and all of this takes much practice. Of course simple repetition is not “practice”. To practice, one must reflect on one’s actions and adapt one’s technique over time in order to overcome barriers and gain new skills, and stick to the cause of self-improvement even when it becomes challenging to forge ahead. One must be present and engaged, not zoned out (the difference between practicing piano versus simply noodling, or the difference between being truly present with one’s children versus staring at the iphone while the children play at one’s feet). Being present takes focus and energy; life moves quickly and it’s easy to just coast or tune-out or “get through it” without reflection, especially when one has children and work and so many other things to juggle. So many times my wife Erica and I have commented how we feel sometimes like we have become parenting robots, delivering love and care to the children but completely hollow inside. This is not healthy or ideal. Striving to be the best I can possibly be (as a parent, etc.) is a daily challenge, and I easily get burned out.
Therefore, don’t overdo it with self-discipline. A lack of discipline may create less freedom, but that does not mean too much discipline creates maximum freedom. Go easy on yourself when you’re feeling burned out. A burned out parent should go (if she can) away from the children and grab some time for him/herself. Even a few hours can make a big difference. This is also true of practicing piano or any other skill. Take breaks, but stay conscious of the goal and always return to it when you are ready. Remember: rest is just as important as discipline, and in fact it may require some discipline to make yourself rest. The body and mind must recharge if you plan to stay healthy in this challenging and difficult world. Therefore making time for rest is in itself a form of personal growth.
So stay disciplined and focus on personal growth, and strive to do your best in all things, and to do good. But do not concern yourself with what happens once you complete a task and send it out into the world. Don’t let your pride hinge on the praise/condemnation you receive from your loved ones and contacts. When life becomes difficult and times get tough, just do your very best; that’s all anyone could ever ask of you. Aim your arrow as well as you can and let it fly, then focus on the next arrow, content that each time you fired you aimed it as well as you could. And if you do watch the arrows fall, it is only to gather data so you can make your next shot even better.
Recently I’ve been writing this music for piano, clarinet, and cello, with the intention of entering it into the composition contest held by the NYC Contemporary Music Symposium. Today I officially entered the competition. If I win, this music will be performed at a concert in New York, and I’ll get a professional recording too.
The first draft of this music came about in 2007, after reading the dark and mysterious novel The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox, which filled my head with strange colors. I sketched out the basic shape of the piece, but then discarded it as I got swept up in writing Jackdaw.
I revisited the music after returning from my honeymoon in 2012, and built it into a more sturdy shape. Because of the energy and emotion I was feeling during that incredible time in my life – when I had just returned from Europe newly married, when I was so obsessed with creating art and so hungry for life, and in many ways mixed up – this music (which was a by-product of that creative energy and emotion) will forever remind me of that time. To be specific, this music reminds me of the city of Prague, where I drank absinthe and played piano at a pub, and felt myself sink into the Great Human Experience. Read more about that here.
Even after all that, I still couldn’t be bothered to actually finish the music, so again it was discarded and left for dead. Then nine years later, in April 2021, when I decided to enter the NYC Symposium contest, I chose the Bowery Trio as the ensemble I would write for, and resurrected this music that has always meant so much to me. First I changed the instrumentation. The original instrumentation was piano, oboe, and bassoon, which certainly gave it a funky flavor (as I mentioned earlier, I was trying to express some strange color)! But once I switched over to the much more standard piano, clarinet, and cello, the music took on that rich and loving sound that it always wanted to have. While the original instrumentation was unique, it didn’t fit with the sections of the music that were more tender, the love themes. The new instrumentation brought those themes to life, and welcomed more diversity of color into the music as a whole. Oboe and bassoon can become a bit monochromatic after a time, but cello can sing forever.
This music bends genre a bit. It’s classical for sure, but also infused with blues. I also wanted certain rhythms to sound metal, but not metal in the sense of Metallica meets the symphony. I wanted the metal-esque pieces to be fully baked, or interwoven, into the framework and form of the classical music (as opposed to simply taking a metal song and performing it with a classical ensemble). Therefore this music doesn’t really sound like authentic metal in any sense, but certain sections were inspired by the genre, and these moments make an impact on the ear as they pass.
This music has followed me through multiple stages in my life. First as a student striving to expand my creative palate, trying to understand the world but falling far short; then as a young husband, traveling in a haze from country to country, stateless but full of love and optimism, bursting with creative energy; and lastly as I find myself today: a father, trying desperately to prioritize art creation during a very busy year of a very busy life, still nurturing that spark. This music somehow reflects all of that. Or at least that’s what it means to me.
I set myself a goal in January to enter two music competitions this year. One down, one to go.
Considering how massive Jupiter is, and how strong the gravity must be, how come Jupiter is so gaseous? In other words, why doesn’t Jupiter solidify? Seems like that would happen with all that gravity. For that matter, why doesn’t that happen with the sun? Is it that high gravity creates so much heat in the core that even though the gas is highly condensed it still can’t solidify? Or is it something to do with the freezing point of hydrogen?
If there was a steel beam 6 inches thick but a million miles long, and it was floating in space with nothing nearby to exert gravity on it, what would gravity generated by that beam do to the beam itself? Would it collapse in on itself and become a sphere? Since this beam would be so massive, would it have massive gravity? Or would it have very little gravity due to its thinness, the fact that all of its mass is spread so thin?
Considering the positive charge that protons carry, and the negative charge that electrons carry, how come atoms don’t just collapse in on themselves? What prevents this?
If you put an object that has no water whatsoever in the microwave, would it heat up?
If we travel toward a light source (such as the sun) at very fast speeds, will the increased frequency of the electromagnetic waves change the light from visible light to gamma radiation, and therefore become deadly? Does this put a physical limit on how fast humans could ever travel toward a star (go too fast toward the light and we get cooked)?
If the universe is always expanding, and therefore everything in the universe is always moving further away from everything else at all times, why have the stars that we can see from earth always remained in a fixed position since the time of the Ancient Greeks? Or have they not?
I’m writing a road trip-themed partita for solo violin. Here are the first two movements, which portray leaving the city for a long trip into the country, and the sense of otherworldly tranquility that settles in once you hit the high desert and find yourself truly alone.
Many more movements to follow, each one a short vignette from my road trippin’ days. My goal for this project is to write music that will appeal to anyone who has ever enjoyed exploring one’s own country, and bring out the sense of wonder that comes from getting out into the wide open spaces.
I like to picture a violinist performing this second movement outside in the high desert, with the wind and the sun and the single violin voice singing a solitary song.
“Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter” performed by Edward Cohen, November 2020.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
I just love Ed’s attention to articulation in this recording. He used the accents and dynamic changes to tell a story here, and that takes a tremendous amount of artistry and skill.
I have long been fascinated by the connection between music and literature. My favorite pieces are the ones that tell real stories, or convey a timeless message to which we can all relate. For example, in Schubert’s “Der Erlkonig” and Liszt’s “Mephisto Waltz,” the listener hears the devil’s laughter and knows the human characters will not survive. These scenes are profoundly tragic in ways that all humans can understand and relate to, yet all we hear are the musical notes. This is the power of art.
When I began this string quartet, I was working at a book store. Everyday I would sneak into the stacks of literature and read as much as I could without getting caught. It was during this time that I was introduced to the works of Franz Kafka. Immediately upon reading his words, I knew I wanted to set them to music. The dream-like quality of his stories and the constant sense of anxiety in his prose put me on edge, and filled me with difficult emotions. I began researching his life, and found his real story to be almost as painful as his characters’ stories.
Born in a Prague ghetto in 1883 to an emotionally abusive father and bewildered mother, Kafka developed into a nervous, death-obsessed adolescent. He never married, and some of his most substantial female relationships were through innuendo-filled letters with married women. He eventually took a job at an insurance bureau, but began writing short stories on the side. Though rarely published, his stories were startling and unique. Dark, haunting, and non-sensical, each one feels more like a drug-induced nightmare than a short story. Kafka wrote hundreds of letters and diary entries as well, detailing his vague escape fantasies; possibly to Palestine where his Jewish brethren would welcome him, or to far-away America where he could reinvent himself, or anywhere that he could finally find a community that accepted him for who he was. Franz was brilliant, but neither his father nor turn-of-the-century Prague appear to have noticed. Regardless of his desires, he never left Prague, and died at the age of 40 from tuberculosis.
I related to Kafka in a number of ways, back when I was obsessed with him, back when I was writing this music. I was about 22, in between school and whatever future career I hoped to build. I was working a part-time job, delaying the inevitable. I drank too much, stayed up all night, slept til noon, accomplished very little. I felt isolated and scared and indecisive and twitchy… not a great time. I was obsessed with my own impending death, with time ticking by, with the ever-present fear that I was wasting my life. Upon reflection, I realize now that this was just a transitional time for me, when my childhood had ended but adulthood had not yet begun. I did not have a community, I wanted to be someone else, I wanted to be better than I was, to have more skills and experience, I wanted to flee. At that moment in my life, Kafka’s strange voice reached out to me across the expanse of time and made me feel like maybe I wasn’t so alone.
Like Kafka, I’m also Jewish. Kafka seemed to vacillate between indifference to the religion of his birth, and the intense interest of one who tries over and over (in vain perhaps) to feel connected to his culture, his ancestors, his local community. In Kafka’s entire written works, there is only one, single mention of Jews or Jewishness. Yet Judaism permeated the culture of Kafka’s upbringing, and most definitely influenced his style of story-telling: his gallows humor, his affinity toward demonstrating the absurd nature of human existence, and of course the sense of “otherness” that all his main characters share. I have always felt similarly conflicted about Judaism. I have never been a true believer, nor have I felt much in common with those who take the dogmatic parts of the religion seriously, which made it difficult for me to find a home in the Jewish community of my birth. However despite this lack of faith or religious devotion, I am absolutely a byproduct of Jewish culture and upbringing. Jewishness is in my blood, as well as my way of speaking, my sense of humor, my cynicism, who I am and how I see the world. I may read about the history of Judaism as a way to feel connected to my ancestors, to understand all the ways the religion and history and culture shaped me, but (like Kafka) I have no community in the temple.
Kafka took this sense of “otherness”, this cynicism and love for the absurd, this desperation and loneliness, and rolled it all together into an alternate universe that flowed endlessly from his pen. In his dream world, everything is almost exactly as it is in reality, except nobody seems to act the way a sane person would act. Social cues mean something altogether different, and we the reader are lost in what appears to be a culture both foreign to us and recognizable as our own. People are cruel and stupid, rules that make no sense are enforced without empathy, the world appears to be a labyrinth of faceless bureaucracy, and we the reader are lost in it without a guide or a map. So in other words, it’s pretty much like the real world.
This music is about Kafka’s life and my own. It’s about feeling lost and alone and desperate and scared. It’s about reaching for love and hope and joy in a world full to the brim with unthinking cruelty. It’s about striving for connections to our own culture, which though it’s our own can sometimes feel so foreign and nonsensical. It’s about making art in a cold and indifferent world, art that attempts to tell a story that is timeless and tragic and messy and uplifting all at the same time, a story about what it’s like to be human, a story we all know.
Fun fact: the keys of the five movements are C, A, F, C, A.