Everything in your life should be active except your ego: tips from The Bhagavad Gita

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). 

The Gita'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 The Gita with that of Kant. Or maybe she prefers to combine The Gita 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.

My entry for the NYC Contemporary Music Symposium

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.

Leaving the City, and Alone in the High Desert

Leaving the City
Alone in the High Desert

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.

Personal Goals 2021

Goals

  1. Become a better chess player

Steps Taken

-Played every day of 2021 on chess.com

-Brought my Chess.com rating up from 628 in Feb. 2021 to 1280 by Jan. 1, 2022

-Read Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess by Bobby Fischer

-Joined a tournament

-Taught Jack to play chess

-Read Discovering Chess Openings by John Emms.

VERDICT: Success! (though much more to learn)


2. Gain deeper knowledge of physics and mathematics

-Read half of Mathematics for the Nonmathematician by Morris Kline (left off at invention of calculus, may pick it up again).

-Read Einstein: His Life and Universe by Walter Isaacson

-Listened to The Great Courses: Great Ideas of Classical Physics

-Listened to The Great Courses: Redefining Reality: The Intellectual Implications of Modern Science

VERDICT: Good start. I need to revisit this and dive deeper.


3. Learn the basics of strength training, and the science behind it, and implement a strength training routine

VERDICT: No steps taken.


4. Learn the basics of sailing

VERDICT: No steps taken.


5. Record a complete EP of original music

-Worked with Aisling O’Dea to get recordings of violin music

Edward Cohen recorded “Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter“.

VERDICT: Good start.


-Made contact with Austrian embassy, but did not assemble documentation.

VERDICT: Barely started.


7. Complete an orchestral piece

-1st movement nearly done (finish orchestration, prepare final score)

-2nd movement done

-3rd movement sketched (need to orchestrate)

VERDICT: Good start.


8. Complete new chamber music piece

-Completed first movement of “Burning,” and entered it into a competition (see below).

VERDICT: Good start.


9. Complete all 3 partitas for solo violin

-Partita #1 is fully composed.

-Worked on Partita #3 – still needs lots of work.

VERDICT: Good start.


10. Enter two composition competitions

-Entered 1st movement of “Burning” into NY Contemporary Music Symposium competition: https://www.nyccms.com/.

VERDICT: Half done!


11. Gain deeper knowledge of philosophy and economics

-Read Introduction to Political Philosophy by Jonathan Wolff

-Read The Great Courses: Meaning of Life: Perspectives from the World’s Great Intellectual Traditions by Jay L. Garfield

-Read The Bhagavad Gita (translated by Eknath Easwaran) and wrote about it.

-Listened to The Great Courses: Quest for Meaning: Values, Ethics, and the Modern Experience by Robert H. Kane

-Read Philosophy 101 by Paul Kleinman

-Listened to The Great Courses: Moral Decision Making – How to Approach Everyday Ethics by Clancy Martin.

-Read On Violence by Hannah Arendt

-Read The Future of Freedom: Illiberal Democracy at Home and Abroad by Fareed Zakaria

-Read Debating Democracy by Bruce Miroff, Raymond Seidelman, and Todd Swanstrom

-Listened to Great Courses: The Big Questions of Philosophy by David Kyle Johnson

-Read After Virtue by Alasdair MacIntyre

VERDICT: Success! (though much more to learn)

Jackdaw String Quartet (Complete)

1. Memories of the Ghetto – Read about this movement here.
2. The Metamorphosis Read about this movement here.
3. A Letter to my Father Read about this movement here.
4. Milena Read about this movement here.
5. The Hunger Artist Read about this movement here.

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.

The Metamorphosis

“The Metamorphosis” from Jackdaw

When I was a young man of 22, I developed a bit of an obsession with Franz Kafka. In retrospect this feels like a natural thing to have happened, since Franz Kafka’s stories are basically angst incarnate, and I was certainly feeling a whole lot of angst at age 22. At the time, I was a recent college graduate working at Borders, resisting my parents’ urgings to go get a teaching credential and start my career. I was broke, uncertain whether I was a kid or a grown-up, terrified of the future, maladjusted to the world around me, and dissatisfied with who I was. So yeah, Kafka spoke to me.

In Kafka’s world, nameless police break into your home in the middle of the night and drag you to your trial, where none of the evidence makes any sense to you but the judge sentences you to death anyhow. Kafka’s characters react to things differently than we would expect normal humans to react, which creates a disorienting feeling that something is off, or that we just don’t understand the rules. These vibes made me feel right at home in my early 20s, when I felt the profound sensation that I did not understand the world, that I did not know all the rules, that something was a bit off.

The Metamorphosis is the ultimate story for this brand of angst. The main character (who is pretty much Kafka himself) awakes to find he has become an enormous insect, a disgusting vermin, a horror so hideous his family can’t even look upon him. Like his family, he doesn’t understand why this has happened to him, or why, or even what kind of food he is supposed to eat to stay alive. When his family leaves plates of food inside his door, the food just makes him sick. He can’t communicate with anyone. Nothing makes sense. He spends his time frantically scuttling up and down the walls trying to make sense of the world, staring out the window longingly, and listening to his sister play heartbreaking melodies on her violin from the other room. His family tries to live normal lives, but clearly everyone has been shattered by the transformation. In the end, the bug dies. The family sweeps the corpse out of the house, and go out together to buy new clothes. Now that the horrible freak is gone, they feel alive again.

I think this story is really about feeling misunderstood. For anyone who has ever felt directionless, or lacking in strong relationships, or “apart” from the world, this story creates a perfect little metaphor for how that feels. You feel like a disgusting bug that can’t communicate, doesn’t understand how the world works, and just weirds people out. For all the sci-fi/horror components of the story, it’s really about the author himself feeling hurt and alone. Kafka, though brilliant, was a pretty misunderstood guy in his time. His low self esteem was reinforced by his brutish father, who never gave a kind word or loving gesture to his only son. Young Franz, a sickly but gifted kid, seemed unable to relate to most of the people around him, as if he came from a different culture (or planet). Easy to imagine him picturing himself as that bug. I know I did the same back when I felt so lost.

The music itself is a rondo, which looks like this:

What makes a piece a bagatelle? - Music: Practice & Theory Stack Exchange

The curtain raises on the reflective and somber “A” theme, music that comes back again and again throughout the piece. It’s a theme song (if you will) for the giant hideous bug monster pondering his own fate. The “B” section is the bug coming to terms with his new reality. He grieves and questions and rages and hopes and longs for things to be different. But inevitably that “A” section returns, confirming that this horror show truly is his reality, and resignation sets in. In the “C” section, the bug realizes that, though he is a monster unloved by the world and locked forever in his room, when he sets his humanity aside and embraces his bug-ness, he can do some cool stuff. He scurries up and down the walls, forgetting himself in the joy of stretching his segmented, hairy bug legs. It isn’t so tragic, at least for the moment, that he is no longer a man. He explores his bug senses, listening and smelling and experiencing his new reality, feeling what could even be described as happiness. He isn’t trying to be human or trying to be loved, but just being whatever he is.

In this music, there is a moment in the middle, while the bug is happily scurrying all over the walls, when suddenly you can hear his sister’s violin ringing through, her gentle tune rising above everything else, nostalgic and sad as the memory of a lost love. He may be separated from her, unable to communicate, horrifying to look upon, but they both understand that melody for what it is: a love song. Even in the midst of pain and uncertainty and fear, there are still things that tie us all together. One of those is love. Another is music.

Memories of the Ghetto

“Memories of the Ghetto” from Jackdaw

“This is not a city. It is a fissure in the ocean bed of time, covered with the stony rubble of burned-out dreams…”

Franz Kafka, writing about Prague

Franz Kafka grew up in the Jewish ghetto of Prague, one of the most ancient Jewish communities in Europe. My own Jewish ancestors also lived in the Jewish quarters of various European cities. The ghetto can mean so many things to the person who grows up there. It can mean a prison. It can mean the memory of one’s grandmother making soup on a Sunday afternoon. It can mean the cold, emotionless face of a police officer, or it can mean freshly baked bread, or a baby’s first breath. It can mean poverty. It can mean the language and hopes and stories and memories everyone shares there, and how those same hopes and memories have been shared by generation upon generation, leading backward into the endless abyss of time. The ghetto can house one’s cultural identity, one’s ancestors, one’s fondest and darkest memories. It can shape one’s sense of self and fears and hopes for the future. It can be detested and longed for all in the same moment.

I wanted this music to convey a sense of wistful nostalgia. The movement is a series of vignettes, or memories, that come and go as the music progresses. Memories of one’s own childhood, faces of people we’ve loved, a deep longing to return to a place and time that perhaps only ever existed in our memory. We smooth over the real details of our upbringing, of the culture that shaped us, until all that remains is a blurry recollection that is more feeling than memory.

Havelska Street Market circa 1900

I’m Jewish too, so of course the music is also about that. My own ancestors lived in the Jewish quarters of various European cities. For hundreds and hundreds of years they lived and worked and loved and laughed and built their communities. I stand on top of the rubble of those countless generations, and one day will become part of it. Yet despite that, I’ve never felt very connected to my ancestors, to their culture and memories and lives, to their religion and beliefs, to their struggle fleeing persecution, to what they left behind, to a way of life that is gone forever. I’ve always wanted to feel that connection, but it’s not something that can be forced. I grew up here in California in a secular family, far from the trials and rituals and religious teaching that my ancestors knew well.

This music is about longing: a longing to feel connected to something ancient, about a nostalgia for a world I’ve never seen, for a family I’ve never known, for a culture that isn’t my own. I can reach back in time and try to remember the Jewish quarter as it existed once, remember my ancestors as they lived and loved and prayed and raised children and died, remember my own heritage.

Freshly baked bread, a baby’s first breaths, a lover’s embrace, a tattered prayer book, my grandmother’s soup.

Milena

“Milena” from Jackdaw

“I see you more clearly, the movements of your body, your hands, so quick, so resolute, it’s almost like a meeting; even so, when I then want to raise my eyes to your face, in the middle of the letter… fire breaks out and I see nothing but fire.”

Franz Kafka in a letter to Milena Jesenska

Franz Kafka began writing letters to Milena Jesenska when he was on holiday recovering from Tuberculosis in 1920. It began as a business correspondence; she was a translator of his short stories, and in addition to that, a married woman living in far away Vienna. However what began as a professional relationship soon warped into an obsessive kind of long-distance romance. The letters from Kafka are infused with desperate passion and lust, a sleepless, jagged, stream of consciousness urgency to every sentence he wrote. He wanted to worship her, to kiss her feet. He wanted to hold her from all sides, to steal her in the night and make love to her in the dark forests outside Vienna. He was guilt-ridden and embarrassed one moment, triumphantly confident of his love for her the next moment. He wanted her to take away his pain and disease, to see him for who he was and accept him, to want him. His love was insistent and oppressive and private.

Of course, this affair was doomed. She was a married woman living far away. Kafka was dying and desperate for love. Over the course of their entire affair, they only met in person twice. So really, the letters weren’t just a part of their relationship; the letters were their relationship. Kafka clearly obsessed over every word she wrote. He poured his very soul onto every page. He kindled the flame for as long as he could, but eventually he couldn’t stop Milena from breaking off the affair.

Milena preserved Kafka’s letters, and understood him as a genius. When Kafka died she wrote a loving obituary in the Vienna press, and promoted his works. Later, when the Nazis came, she joined the resistance and helped many Jews escape Austria, though the work was dangerous and she was not Jewish. Eventually the Nazis arrested Milena for consorting with Jews, and sent her to Ravensbruck Concentration Camp where she died in 1944.


“By the way, why am I a human being, with all the torments this extremely vague and horribly responsible condition entails? Why am I not, for example, the happy wardrobe in your room, which has you in full view whenever you’re sitting in your chair or at your desk or when you’re lying down or sleeping… Why am I not that?”

Franz Kafka in a letter to Milena Jesenska

“Yesterday I dreamt about you. I hardly remember the de­tails, just that we kept on merging into one another, I was you, you were me. Finally you somehow caught fire; I remembered that fire can be smothered with cloth, took an old coat and beat you with it. But then the metamorphoses resumed and went so far that you were no longer even there; instead I was the one on fire and I was also the one who was beating the fire with the coat. The beating didn’t help, however, and only confirmed my old fear that things like that can’t hurt a fire. Meanwhile the firemen had arrived and you were somehow saved after all. But you were different than before, ghostlike, drawn against the dark with chalk, and you fell lifeless into my arms, or perhaps you merely fainted with joy at being saved. But here the transmutability came into play: maybe I was the one falling into someone’s arms.”

Franz Kafka in a letter to Milena Jesenska

“I must confess I once envied someone very much because he was loved, well cared-for, guarded by reason and strength, and because he lay peacefully under flowers. I’m always quick to envy.”

Franz Kafka in a letter to Milena Jesenska

“His knowledge of the world was extraordinary and deep; he was himself an extraordinary and deep world.”

Milena Jesenska writing about Kafka in his obituary

Piano Sonata No. 2 (Complete)

1. Lovejail Read about this movement here.
2. Looking for a Sunset Bird in Winter Read about this movement here.
3. Gavotte Read about this movement here.
4. A Joyful Adventure Read about this movement here.

Today I completed a new piano sonata. What a relief to be finished. I can’t believe it’s over. I feel that I’ve completed something epic. I’ve climbed a mountain.

I started this music in Spring of 2016, during a difficult time in my life, and continued working on it until today, February 20, 2020. In fact, a good chunk of the second movement was written back in 2008, as a completely different piece which has now been dismantled. So this music’s been with me a while.

This music guided me through many life experiences, and was in turn inspired by those life experiences. As a result the sonata takes the listener on a real journey through my wants and hopes and dreams and emotions. It’s a tour of my psyche.

As I’ve noted in other posts about this sonata, this music is riddled with hope. It’s everywhere you turn in this sonata. It’s the main theme of the whole damn piece. Turns out my psyche must have a lot of hope in it.

Oh there’s other themes too: love and healing and time and growth. They all wind around each other, they are all intertwined.

This sonata is also really dang long. I started to say something, then had more to say, then more and more and more. The story takes its time to unfold. If you listen to this whole piece, you will drink deeply from my well of creativity.

I hope this music inspires and touches you.