No Oscars for us on Sunday night.
Instead, Adrian and Belle and I went to the rescheduled Simone Dinnerstein concert at the Montalvo Arts Center, an easy hour drive from San Francisco into bucolic countryside.
It’s your basic Italianate villa on 175 acres that a Senator built in the 20s and left to the state as a cultural arts center. (Apparently an episode of The Bachelor was also shot there in 2010 but they don’t make that big a deal about it.)
Since Susan is in Hawaii teaching and uplifting, of course I brought Adrian with me –– how perfect that this is the week he’s visiting.
I have often written about my passion for Dinnerstein in this blog, and although I own all the albums, I have never seen her perform live. In case you haven’t heard or seen her, this video featuring one of the Schubert Impromptus from her new album is stunning on every level:
(Her intro included the fact that she was the best-selling classical instrumentalist last year and that her new album is #2 or something on the classical charts.)
I love her recordings — as did the standing ovation audience last night — but it’s amusing to me that in the seemingly staid world of classical music she has her critics, especially two queeny old men who sat directly in front of us.
For the first half of the concert they were silent. After the intermission, during the Schubert they began to have small reactions. But in the last section –– the 1st Bach Partita –– they were somehow horrified and outraged at her interpretation, needing to whisper between themselves over a dozen times.
Now, I’ve been to dozens if not hundreds of classical concerts and while I know that some insane things happen in the opera world, usually people just sit there and listen, rather than feeling compelled to give running commentary.
Although they reluctantly participated in the standing ovation, when they started again during the encore, I actually had to lean forward and say, “Please stop talking!”
I’m mentioning these two dudes who seemed to literally have their corsets in a knot over the tempo of the Partita’s opening Praeludium because it was the Universe reflecting back to me the funny facebook drama of the last few days with the Miracle of Money group.
Having listened to the David Neagle audio CD #4 on the way to Coppola’s vineyard on Saturday, I re-heard the entire section where he talked about people giving unsolicited and inappropriate advice, particularly on our group’s private facebook page. I composed a lengthy and thoughtful response saying I believed my facebook responder’s Seven Point Action Plan may have been well-meant, but that it also fit into that category, using the framework of the teachings of the course we’re in.
And of course, the person reacted badly, accused me of being ungrateful and unappreciative [Again, I’d just posted about the recent New York Times photo of my art and — in a day filled with a few hundred congratulations and reconnections and good wishes — also got facebook comments and suggestions from people in the Miracle of Money Group who’d neither read the article and certainly never visited my website but felt qualified to advise my career, nonetheless.]
I countered his comment but then after a moment of reflection, realized receiving his unwanted, unsolicited (and uninformed) advice was the Universe reflecting back to me a few situations where I’ve been chaffing at the bit to offer unwanted, unsolicited (yet brilliant and well-informed!) advice to a few people who … just don’t want it.
For example, I have offered to share some business insights with my beloved Laughing Lotus more than once, but there’s been no response. I have so many strategic ideas that could improve things, but they honesty don’t want to hear them and this helped me realize that’s totally cool. I’ve been silent, but if I started offering suggestions, they’d definitely turn to me and say, “Please stop talking!”
[By the way, the classes are still totally excellent –– I just have some marketing expansion ideas that would bring them to more people.]
I also have a friend who posted a blog about relationship stuff that’s completely in contrast and totally misses the life lesson of every story I’ve been told about said relationship. That person is also not asking at all for advice. And that’s cool, too.
Granted, I’m sensitive and insightful, but having two curmudgeonly critics seated directly in front of me, giving unwanted commentary on the performance as its happening, reminded me so much of those annoying two muppet hecklers in the balcony (their names are actually Statler and Waldorf).
While it’s remotely possible the two outraged, whispering critics in front of me may have been major classical pianists I didn’t recognize still … COME ON!
Dinnerstein’s playing is stunning. She’s the one up on the stage, not you. And it’s just so hilariously ridiculous to be all riled up about the tempo of a piece of music written in 1726, and for the harpsichord, actually!
Susan speaks often and brilliantly in her work about INNER CRITICS, but what a day full of OUTER CRITICS.
Having received unwanted advice, I’m now re-aware of how unpleasant it is and I’m willing to let go of undesired sharings of my vast wisdom.
As of this moment, I’ve been able to let go of my deep desire to fix various friends’ business and their love lives — even though I know I could — and just sit and enjoy the music. It’s out of my official jurisdiction.
I don’t want to be one of those guys on the balcony.
I’d really rather just enjoy the concert.
I’m off the hook (and to use a little urban slang), so is Dinnerstein’s playing.
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