Reflections on Love, with Two Takes on the Lament of Wagner's Least-Known Hero, in the Halcyon of Winter (with Beethoven's Opus 109 Finale to Round Things Off)

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

San Francisco's Blue Heron Lake (known before Jan. 18 of this year as Stow Lake), in the middle of Golden Gate Park, is well worth its reputation, and utterly stunning on a halcyon day in winter ... memory caused me to determine I would go back to it just before my dear grand old soldier called me to tell me of the last mission of his life that, if it comes to pass, will take him in his last years far from me. This lake, where we walked at the beginning of our affair of the heart, was one of the places he introduced me to ... an early sign that he trusted me with his heart.

But it was summer then ... it is winter now. That same blackberry bush was still alive and still had berries, but the lake levels are up because of the rain, and my grand old soldier then and now is almost a foot taller -- so, although I ate blackberries and bananas before coming to the lake, there would be none here.

However, if the magic was all done, the reality, even in winter on a halcyon day, was still glorious ... I was glad I had pressed my way, even alone ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... for this time of reflection ... before I came to Blue Heron Lake, Beethoven and Bach ... but once there, Wagner's bleakest wonder again came to mind ... out of place, but somehow not ... after three or so months of Bach, Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms, and Wagner's dear knight Gurnemanz getting his cameo, I suppose I was ready for King Marke's monologue, a stunning excerpt of which is presented here by bass Morris Robinson, about whose voice I say that since Kurt Möll moved on up a little higher in 2017, the earth has not been left without proper consolation...

It takes a most beautiful voice and quite a bit of fine acting to deal with this bleakest and most difficult moment, bereft of all the beautiful music Wagner scores elsewhere in Tristan und Isolde ... King Marke, husband of Isolde, has just been told he has been betrayed -- his wife is in adultery with his nephew, Tristan ... Tristan who, in times past, became the king's friend and then found out he was the king's nephew ... but still, seeing his uncle as a lonely widower, insists on and even goes to find the best and most beautiful noble woman available for his uncle's new queen: Isolde. It is not that Tristan does not love his uncle ... there is great love between the two ... which is what makes Tristan's betrayal unthinkable to King Marke.

Come to find out, there was a love-potion swapped in for poison, and Tristan and Isolde did not mean to do all of that ... but we can't get there until we get there, and King Marke has to walk through the process. His maturity in the midst of a complete tragedy not of his making is stunning. He is absolutely staggered by this betrayal, but he seeks understanding, communicates, and does not lash out. This leaves room, later, for him to understand what has happened, and forgive, although he cannot change the fact that Tristan and Isolde chose death at the beginning. The king would have preferred to spare them both that ... he would have sacrificed his own right to Isolde, even ... but he cannot, and is the last main character standing at the end, grieving both.

But at least he is still standing ... and if one imagines that life went on in Cornwall, one might have even imagined him sometime later around one of its many lakes, reflecting ... exactly what do you do next, after that much loss? If you survived intact because you alone chose love, what can you do?

"Ah, Frau Mathews, now you are asking the right questions!"

Since I had extended King Mark's theoretical life beyond the end of Tristan und Isolde while reflecting on my own life -- since the portal of imagination was that open, I was not quite alone... the Ghost of Musical Greatness Past, who once had played King Marke in one of the most stunning performances of the role in the 20th century, reminded me of his presence.

He was in that other favorite Wagner mode: an elder but still solid Gurnemanz-on-the-hike knight costume adjusted for a hiking suit ... between him in the old Teutonic Knight colors of black and white and me in my flowing royal blue ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... you would think that some holy elder knight was escorting his queen around some lake in Cornwall once one got far enough from the boathouse and the crowd ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and nothing in costuming was a mistake when he came to teach a lesson. He was foreshadowing what he had to teach, but took his time ... there was so much beauty in the day...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

Upon reflection, now knowing who I would have been at 43, I realized at Blue Heron Lake a reason my grand old soldier and I had been called apart that was not obvious ten years ago ... I need much more time alone, and in quiet ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and it stunned me what I had missed seeing that first time around even as I remembered some of it from my time there in my late twenties. It was not just that I diverged from the main path -- my choice was to diverge for a reason, taking the Strawberry Hill trail instead of going around -- although, because of what had just happened with those other friends, I still hated the sight of a bridge ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

Yet I got on it, and got over it... although I was complaining a bit ...

"I can't even see over the top of this thing!" I cried, again remembering all those who had chosen not to be with me.

"Yes, you can, Frau Mathews."

In life, the old German bass had stood at about the same height as my grand old soldier, so he could taken my camera and gotten those pictures -- but instead did precisely what my grand old soldier had always chosen to do: encourage me to do what I could do. The bridge had stones, and spaces in the top of the stones -- and oh, what I could see!

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

Behind me was a different view -- I thought of the hymn, "He Hideth My Soul in the Cleft of the Rock" --

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

-- because there, that little tuft of grass, perfectly perched and protected from the storms to come in the following days, reminded me. So again, I recovered, and passed over.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

All that I saw and took to heart because I chose a quieter path, and, although my grand old soldier had also put in decades walking alone and in quiet, that had been in the years of his bereavement before me. Yet he also foresaw that although his troubles were over in terms of a companion intellectually and spiritually suited to him when I arrived, he knew my troubles would have been just beginning had he decided to move toward making me his wife. I was alone at Blue Heron Lake because he had let me go to find out that was what I needed to be.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

Though it seemed that in every scene of repose ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... there seemed to be a pair saying "Du bist die Ruh" to each other on such a lovely day ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... that could not have been my grand old soldier and I, in the end. We would have made it work, I am sure -- without infidelity, there is no divorce for observant Christians, and I like to think there was more than sufficient love there to make it work ... but instead, my beloved, because of his greater age and experience, foresaw that it could not be the best for me, and therefore decided it would not be. I caught up with seeing the utter completeness for which we had been called apart, and reaffirmed it, last week. Unselfish love, when it cannot rightly hold, lets go ... and keeps letting go.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

On the shores of Blue Heron Lake, at last, my heart healed from that wound that now I recognized had been re-opened to the purpose ... things had come full circle.

By that time I had passed a big waterfall ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and my quiet companion of the day had asked me: "Would you like to go up the falls, Frau Mathews? It is quite a climb, but, in my present state of existence I can carry you up if you become too tired."

"You are being extra knightly today, Herr Möll ... I know there's a point to it somewhere."

He chuckled.

"You put on your royal blue today, and you do not even know why you were moved to do that," he said. "But we will get there in due time, and it is impossible to hurry on such a day -- you, and sky, and lake, all covered in reflective royal hues!"

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

"It is so beautiful from ground level I think I would like to stay right down here," I said. "On another day, perhaps in the spring, I will go up Strawberry Hill and to the top of the falls -- and eat the strawberries in their proper season!"

"Just as you like, Frau Mathews."

So we approached the Chinese Pavilion --

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

-- and I spent some time at the reflecting pool just before the pavilion.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

I might have rested in the pavilion for longer than I did ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... but something within me was driving me on, so, I went on until I saw a little falls -- the backside, literally, of Huntington Falls, in the shade, and then observed the fantastical plume coming out from it because somewhere the flow had picked up ... a great fractal figure such as the ones I make in my art, but this one made by no human hand ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and then again, King Mark's lament came back to me, in that shade ... as he goes through all that was happening, endures the interruption from Tristan who has betrayed him and who curses the spirits of the day that have revealed it. King Marke endures without being moved to wrath ... and then reflects on the love he and Tristan and Isolde in their respective family ways once enjoyed, and then asks Tristan why he has betrayed all of that ... not in anger, but in a great, bleakly beautiful plume of love, grief, and pain.

But it was not there that I wept ... that required the bridge to get us off Strawberry Hill Island back onto the main path ... although what a view ... that bridge had become a magic portal to a golden realm, and when you think of yourself as a bridge, and you see this, it does change your perspective of your life!

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

What is a Christian, after all? Someone who, by sharing the message of Christ's redemption work on the cross and through a life spent adorning the doctrine by showing Christ's love and holiness in the world, is a bridge for others to learn of eternal life reconciled to God in Christ. A Christian is a little bridge to a much, much bigger One ... a little reflection.

What is a teacher, after all? A bridge between the knowledge of the past to the minds that will shape the future.

What is a friend, after all? A bridge of love in a cold world in which many people will sell out anything and anyone to get what they want... a bridge by which a better, nobler, richer life is opened to another friend.

So then how could I be angry, in that I had become what my grand old soldier and my own elders had been to me -- if it was that, not in death, not in foolishness, but to better lives people were passing from my life, then I had been the friend, the Christian, and the teacher to the younger friends that they had needed!

Then I remembered ... in my teen years the choice had come to me ... my musical and writing skill was so great that I might have sought stardom for myself with good hope ... but I also saw, because even in youth I was recognized as a budding great teacher, that I might bring light to many, many others ... I might be a bridge, a beacon, a sign of hope.

But also ... I am not given to desire the spotlight. I knew, even then, to choose the quieter path. I chose to be a bridge, and as I advanced in life, that allowed many, many others to cross over as well ... and if one might be a bridge in Blue Heron Lake, after all, one has done quite well for one's self as a bridge! If one might bring others from a place of deep shade and little hope to so much better -- if one might be such a bridge -- one has been blessed! Thus I have been!

And yet, I still had to get across that bridge, and the sights immediately before me whip-lashed me emotionally ... ah yes, all was in sunlight and in bloom, but someone had to bear that loss ...

Photos by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

The change was so sudden, and so dramatic, that all gave way ... my knees, my heart ... but just then, a familiar and beloved embrace held me up.

"Let it out, Frau Mathews -- for King Marke had his full lament, and you may also."

And he wrapped his deep, dark, utterly lovely voice around me, reprising the entire of King Marke's lament ... its questions, its memories of brighter times that had been, and its final, devastating questions for which the betrayer has no answer ... and yet from a man who sits firmly in the center of his own spirit, even devastated, even lamenting, still unwilling to lash out in revenge, to harm as he has been harmed ... still standing in love, though his love has been betrayed and cast to the ground ... and it is this stand that later will allow him to walk all the way to forgiveness, although too late for anyone but him and Brangäne ... but if there could be any consolation for a man so hurt, it would have to be that he, at least, never acted out of accord with love, even at the moment of his greatest anguish -- eleven minutes of it, in fact, and never more beautifully delivered than by Kurt Möll, in 1982 ... I have copied the link to begin with the bass clarinet line that heralds his entrance.

King Marke's lament is a hard piece of music on which to base even a bit of one's singing fame ... except perhaps for a man who was not concerned about anything but conveying the full weight and meaning of the role in a way that would reach the hearts of the hearers. He did something here for me that once was said of Beethoven, having found a friend in deep grief, and a piano at hand ... she wrote later that, "He told me everything, and brought me comfort." So also did Kurt Möll sing this and tell me everything about love, and grief, and pain, and loss ... and of refusing revenge ... and standing ... and letting go ... in that eleven minutes ... and then, because his voice is just so ridiculously beautiful, release me to a rest in the Knockout Zone, because I really was not trying to hear anything Tristan had to say, although that is no fault of the great baritone Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau in the role (who you can go on and listen to, if you like)!

When I came to myself, I observed yet again that the great, deep voice of my favorite bass had carried me beyond pain. Before me was a suitable vista for such a moment ... it could not be, after all, that pain could enter here, as I rested ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and behind me were another two downed trees a careful gardener had placed in such a way that one could see the shelter they provided from storm and rain had permitted spring to bloom out all around them, months in advance.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

I thought back then on the other fallen trees I had seen ... each of them had fallen in such a way that in their absence, they had made a way for more light to shine on others. Assuming a much greater Careful Gardener, that was what tended to happen when trees went down ... and then I remembered that in the Scripture, the cross was often referred to as "the tree" ... in all cases, a sacrifice of one leads to new life, springing up all around.

The voice that had famously voiced King Marke then sounded again, extending that questioning mode of the king toward understanding ... gentle, deep, calm, and wise, and continuing in that questioning mode toward understanding ... still so beautiful that pain could not get through to trouble me even as I answered ...

"A week has passed in Q-Inspired time ... since then, have you not seen all those in 2024 who have so brought you back into your grief?"

"I have."

"How are they?"

"They are flourishing ... I presented them no obstacle to doing so, and kept my sorrow to myself to that purpose."

"And how did you feel?"

"To see them happy, and not afraid of sharing their joy with me, consoled me. There are no hard feelings. Their burdens are heavy enough without my grief adding to it. Much of the joy of my life is seeing how others I have loved flourish, past me. It must even more be so, because I am getting old now."

"Yet, Frau Mathews, even when looking back on 2022 and 2023, and the way that you stood and walked away, in grief but also in love ... have you not been surprised to see some of those you left behind deciding to take up their courage and follow the path you blazed, after all?"

"I have been surprised, and pleasantly."

"How are they?"

"They are flourishing."

"And how do you feel?"

"There are no hard feelings ... I have been happy to receive those who are now doing right and coming back into my extended circle. I never locked the door on them. Deep down, I knew my stand then could not have been in vain, and so left some pathways open."

"But were there some exceptions to the rule?"

"There were a few so devoted to their wickedness that I had to cut them off entirely. God Himself will have to make a new access door to me for them, and if He does, He will have redeemed them first, because some people are just not safe as they are now, and I cannot have them around me or anything I am responsible for. When people become so bad that they threaten any portion of my stewardship, they have to go. I make no exception to the rule."

"You never have, in 43 years," he said gently. "That you chose my voice over that of Josef von Manowarda, and in order after Jerome Hines and Martti Talvela, and with Eric Hollaway and Morris Robinson still alive -- now I must decrease, and they must increase, Frau Mathews, but I will not insist today -- another example, for you chose by life lived, not by voice, all five times."

"I cannot have a man in my ears remotely," I said, "whom I would not have in my ears in daily life. I work hard to be consistent in that matter. I follow my Master on such things -- it is not my will that any should perish -- but if people insist on perishing I do not permit myself to be taken along, remotely or in person. I was not called to that."

"Indeed, Frau Mathews, you are meant to be taken along to far finer vistas than that."

So, he carried me to an even more stunning vista ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and then continued in the questioning vein.

"What do you think, Frau Mathews? Suppose at the beginning the ship to Cornwall had gotten there without incident, and Brangäne had done what was probably intended and put forth the love-potion between Marke and Isolde?"

I thought about this for quite some time, and then shook my head.

"I do not think it would have worked out even then," I said, "because they are not a match. First of all, the king has love within himself, on a level unmatched by any other character -- he loves both Tristan and Isolde, deeply, before and after their betrayal, and all the way to the end. He moves by love. Isolde moves by her fear, her despair, her passions. Left to herself, she would have killed both herself and Tristan in the first act with the death-potion she chose -- and even though Brangäne is the other character who understands love and life go together, and puts that love-potion in to try to save Isolde, she can't any more than the king can."

"So, it occurs that King Marke and Brangäne, who have loyal love within themselves, have life -- while those who do not, do not?"

"Tristan and Isolde are doomed from the beginning, for exactly that reason. They play with fire, they get it, they die -- and although they like to imagine death will bring them to a place of blissful love, everybody knows, deep down: that's not how it works for traitors and adulterers. Put all the pretty music and staging on it there is, but what happens to Tristan and Isolde is what always happens: sin has pleasure for a season, and then, disaster all around."

"Disaster all around ... but presuming that life goes on ... what happens to the survivors, provided they have love and love within themselves? They must grieve, and they must mourn, but if already they have chosen not to act in anger, and not to choose despair, if already they have chosen to forgive, eventually, if life goes on and they keep walking as they are walking ...?"

I gasped as I began to understand what he was driving at, and he pressed the point further.

"So often the question is phrased, 'What will they do?' after such a loss. Rarely is it asked, 'What can they do, if they just keep doing what they are called to do with the love and life within themselves?'"

Every vista opened up before my heart then as understanding came to me ... the glorious strangeness of the halcyon day had presaged it ... the refuge of Blue Heron Lake in the midst of the busy city had presaged it!

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

"You know full well what the Scripture has said, Frau Mathews ... you are in the world, but not of it ... you are to walk in the Spirit, not in the flesh ... inevitably, that requires your separation from the masses .. but you also know full well that it is also written: 'Come out from among them, and be separate, and I will receive you as sons and daughters, says the Lord.' Where and how else did you expect to be received, after the grief? Why is it that you are called here, and to Buena Vista Hill, and Alta Vista Park -- to beautiful peace? Why is it that YouTube keeps sending you the music you are sharing with Hive -- the greatest jazz of your own heritage on Tuesdays, three tunes at time, and of your adopted Germanic line on Thursdays?

"Hear me, Frau Mathews -- if you are called apart, yes, the way must pass through grief and loss -- but you and everyone called as you are is called apart through your sorrow, in love, to your joy! How can it otherwise be, since you need nothing externally if indeed love and life is within you?

"You noted well how instantly King Marke returns by forgiveness to joy when understanding comes to him -- of course he is limited as a mortal man and cannot redeem other human beings, and limited by the constraints of the plot he is in to end in grief and loss ... but yes, if we could extend his life beyond what Wagner gave him, and if he continued to refuse bitterness and despair and walk in love in his own kingdom, though it may well be that his grief for Tristan and Isolde would never fully go away, life and love would meet with consolation and light, for it cannot be otherwise! It cannot be that his stand for right, all the way around, would be fruitless! Even in theory, had we the ability to extend the plot, it cannot be otherwise, and be right!"

"Well, you know I could actually extend it," I said, and he laughed.

"I make a suggestion: simply continue to walk it out, day by day, for it is you I am actually speaking of. It is you who actually have life to do that, and the path is open before you because you chose unselfish love and forgiveness and refused fear and despair. Like King Marke, it is not given to you to redeem anyone -- there are some who love the ways of death, and they must be left on the path that they have chosen. But you -- walk in the light, Frau Mathews, in your Liebesleben that you are called to, and have likewise chosen."

We walked on to see a gem out of place: another tree retaining its autumn splendor ...

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

... and I thought of myself in the world at 43 ... out of step always with my peers, given vast responsibility far younger, and carrying it well ... always seeking the peace of parks from the time I was old enough to explore for myself and leaving others ... when very young I had a friendship ruined because I refused to be literally pushed into a romantic relationship I did not want, but because the people around me could not understand friendship between men and women based on unselfish love, there was no chance for that to truly have time to develop even if there was a chance. So, I fought my way up and out of any chance of marrying in that circle, not knowing I was doing that until I thought of that tree, quite alone and retaining what it felt it needed to retain to be thus, in the halcyon of winter.

"You have been on a long climb in these matters since age 16," my companion said. "It was then that an elder who did not push you said about you that you are a lady, and people who did push you overlooked that. You rejected all of them, and have been rejecting everyone of that mind since then.

He paused.

"I am certainly old enough, given that in 1938 no feminist conventions had changed the address of women in German, to call you Fraulein, still little lady, for you are still not married, and by the old convention, you cannot fully be a lady until you have a Herr, a lord. But I see what the beloved elder saw. You are Frau Mathews, of yourself... you have been since coming of age. If you notice, people have been calling you Maestro, Doctor, and at the least, Ms. Deeann or Ms. Dee, not just Deeann, for twenty years. You enjoy almost a German level of formal respect in a culture that knows almost nothing about that, especially toward an African American woman. Men have stopped what they are doing to photograph you in repose ... I had a good laugh on high on the day you became, at least in photography, queen of your favorite hill!"

"That was so crazy," I said, "but I permitted it, because he was respectful."

My companion chuckled gently.

"Reflect on how you said what you just said, Frau Mathews -- was it crazy? You did what now?"

I was momentarily confused, and then started chuckling.

"I permitted it," I said.

"That's right, meine Dame, you permitted it. You see now why I am forever in the role of the holy Teutonic knight on the hike in your public presence? You see now why a holy veteran who loves you -- essentially the same thing -- would become exactly the same thing, especially given that your father is also that type?"

"When you put it that way, Herr Möll, that gives a different perspective on the matter."

"And even King Marke -- did you notice he said in his lament that he loved and admired his wife so much that he did what was considered the most holy thing for a Christian man of that time to do, and renounced his great desire for her? He never touched her, which is why he later can also consent to her being married to Tristan!"

I had to process that for a long moment.

"The king's one mistake: he begins a childless widower, healed and content with his responsibilities and his friend, nephew, and heir, Tristan -- but his court and Tristan push him into seeking marriage, and he lets himself be pushed! But Frau Mathews, he ends a childless widower, with no heir, and again in mourning, because in the end, no one can be other than who he -- or she -- actually is!"

"Well," I said, "dub me Queen Marcia Elizabeth!"

"Nein, he said, gently but firmly, "for you are not the reflection of a man pushed into love, and Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen of England, played with fire on that regard quite a bit more than you do."

"That was such a knightly way of saying that!" I said, and laughed.

"I know in whose regal presence I stand," he said, and bowed while laughing before continuing in a more serious vein.

"You know that it is written: 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.' Here you are in the halcyon of winter, on a day when winter has literally yielded an early summer day and all seasons have cooperated. Here you are working out your thoughts and feelings, and glad to see me because as a proper knight, I will not allow anyone else to bother you -- and in real life, the Captain of the Hosts of the Lord has the best security detail, so you, trusting in Him, are not bothered! So: without anything that most of the world that you have shut out of your life thinks you need to be comforted, here you are, being comforted as you need to be comforted."

We turned a corner then, and there, far off, saw the boats of the boathouse coming into view.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

"And so we approach the end, and shall end where we began," my companion said. "You are one who has deeply mourned ... and you are someone who deeply desires righteousness ... and the halcyon of winter finds you comforted and content."

He paused, and then added, "I present to you the music of a bachelor, who decided in his early forties, when he completed his mourning for his Immortal Beloved whom he had to let go, to accept the journey alone. A decade later, this is part of his testimony about his life."

The finale of Beethoven's Opus 109, with all its features of light and shade, excitement and calm ... but beginning and ending comforted and content ... a whole life is there. It has been among my favorites since I heard Alfred Brendel perform it in concert, 28 years ago, even though it has been trying to burst my heart and kill me from sheer beauty, all that time. This time, thinking back over my own journey from the time I first heard Opus 109 to now, was an experience I cannot describe except to say that I'm glad I have a name for the Knockout Zone now so I can tell you where I was.

My companion, also greatly moved by this music, held me firmly in his embrace to make sure I would not go into the lake, and then spoke so softly with his deep voice that he did not bring me out of my raptures, but gave perspective to them.

"So, Frau Mathews, you have an Immortal Beloved story of your own, and you and he have recognized that you and he are called apart ... and you are 43. You have been tracking Beethoven a very long time, but with the faith of Bach -- and that is just on your adopted German side. The musicality and faith of your own ancestors is a world of power all its own -- and between those two, having both, there you are, Frau Mathews. It has been a long journey for you to get above and away from all the noise and demand for you to be everything but who you are, and to leave off trying to bring people along that cannot come with you.

"But now that it is done, let it be done, Frau Mathews, for as Beethoven himself said about his own decision, had you gone with the life of the people you had to leave behind, what would remain for the nobility of the life to which you have been called? Now, we know you are called as a teacher and minister of God's grace to your community -- you have been gifted for that. But if the solitude of peaceful art and calm nature is your true natural center, then hold your center. You have found your halcyon. Work where you are called, but live where you are called, also."

He let that thought work its way around my mind until I was ready to converse again.

"This is the sum of all our recent lessons, and you may read where it is written for yourself: Abide -- make yourself at home -- where you are called. Further down in the same book, if I remember the King James English correctly, it is written to be steadfast and unmovable."

"That is correct -- I Corinthians 7 and 15, and the end of that last quotation is, 'always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labor is not in vain in the Lord.'"

"I believe the address there," he said, "is to the beloved brethren."

"It is."

"But we also know the sisters are included, beloved," he said.

"Yes, we do," I said, with a smile.

"Abide, Frau Mathews. You have found your peace, after 26 years of climbing away from those who know nothing of it. Abide in it. Be steadfast, and unmoved -- abound in the work you are called to. Do not be moved from the rest you have found by anyone not worthy to enter it. Your heart said, 'Mein Gott, Sie sind die Ruh' -- and you ended up here, today. Abide. You may work and visit and minister anywhere, but abide where you are called.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

"Corollary: You also have seen in this place of rest how two may be called to rest together, but with close observation it is often two or more.

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024

"The migrating birds who do so as a unit have been given us as an object lesson. You have communities, Frau Mathews. You have Hive. You have the whole world of artists across two full heritages, and three full disciplines. You are a crypto investor and author -- you have a mind for money, so it will not be long before the presence of it increases as well. You are a Christian, and thus you have all your brothers and sisters in Christ forever. You are a wonderful teacher, and your students, even now going into adulthood, are never going to forget you.

"All those paths are open before you ... and while on them, you may find what your parents enjoy, and what you and your grand old soldier also still enjoy to a different degree ... an intensification of love between two in a beloved community. Already, you have made new friends while out walking and promoting your new book, so 'two or more' is already in effect. If you intend to remain single, under such circumstances, you are going to have to be quite intentional about it. Every tall, handsome, golden-voiced bass is not weak -- your grand old soldier surely has one more analog in the world, and so do I, though he may be a baritone or a tenor!"

I thought about this, and then smiled.

"If there is," I said, "then if he is called to me, he shall find himself welcome, for then we shall abide, and be blessed, and bless all those around us. There is room in my heart for that kind of harmony in my life, to be brought together in marriage with one with whom I can bless out of abiding in a community of blessing!"

My companion smiled.

"I knew that there was, Frau Mathews. I am glad that you also know, so that you will not fall as Isolde did, through fear. We end where we began: because you have chosen a lifestyle of unselfish love, what can you do, with all such paths open before you? It is for you, with courage, to go find out -- abide where you are called, and find out."

Photo by the author, Deeann D. Mathews, January 29, 2024