Walking As a Gift of Love on Highways from Moonlight Nights to Mountain Valleys and National Parks (Brahms, Rachmaninoff, Schumann, Schubert, Strauss)

Recently there have been several beautiful clear nights in San Francisco with a waxing moon, and YouTube somehow managed to get all my favorite European operatic basses and bass-centered choir pieces into one mix ... so many of my favorites were just there to be enjoyed on successive bass evenings and midnights.

Theo Adam was the first in the list ... how I have missed my bass nightingale in Brahms, although there are good reasons I don't listen to "Death is the Cool Night" too often ... but when you need Brahms and Theo Adam to remind you of the viewpoint of those who have lived a long time and are suffering while they know they are going to the love above and they look forward to it -- when you need them, they do deliver!

I know that whole collection made for me on YouTube was the gift of God to me, when I really needed it.

It is a strange thing to look over one's past from truly beyond it and realize that had one not made it out, one would not have made it out. I could have died three times between 2022 and 2025 -- the difference was that I left the burden of the foolery of 2022 and got away from all of it and those that wanted it.

Now, at this point, I see to a deeper level, because natural grief really is more than enough. Watching one's elders age, when the corner turns to seeing problems you will not be able to head off for them, is very difficult.

And then there is reaching the day when one has to pray for the love of one's life: "Lord, give him peace ... he is suffering so much right now ... if there is no other way, please spare him from lingering long like this ... let Your servant depart in peace."

My grand old soldier knew I would be overburdened by now between him and my own parents and close relatives ... so he closed the door on the possibility of marriage so that I would not suffer more than I am able to withstand. Now, I consider my requests on high for him ... for him to stay here a long time and suffer just because I do not want to face a world without him ... I cannot pray for that, any more than I could for my own parents when the days come ... and those days are coming. I wish for them all what is written in Brahms: they have lived a long day in this world, and for them, death has no terrors. I would prefer they be at rest, in the presence of Love Himself, than to suffer here when there is nothing left for them to do but suffer.

On the other hand, my grand old soldier is a tough man -- he may get through this and recover here, too. It is not certain yet, and he does appear to be improving a little ... but even the uncertainty is a thing to be endured.

My relatively near future shall have many, many days like this ... but I am called to them, called to be a light and a joy in the midst of them to those I am called to serve, as much as I can. Of course, I go and cry silently to keep the burden off of them ... Martti Talvela of course explains all that in Schumann's "Silent Tears" ... the beloved enjoys the blue sky and lush meadows, and knows nothing of the storm that watered the grass or the tears shed in the deepest part of the night so the lover can handle what is necessary in life to make that relief possible for the beloved ...

... but if you are called to it, there is joy also to go with the silent tears ... I can do what I am called to!

It is also enough. I need not one lick of unnecessary drama in my life. *I simply would not have been able to survive 2022's conditions going on any longer -- every month climbing from there was necessary. Every day healing from then was necessary -- there is no way I could have carried those levels of grief along with what I am experiencing now. And to what purpose would it have been had I tried? The same people are going in the same circles in their pursuit of their choice of will-o'-the-wisp -- that erring light or Irrlicht, in terms of Schubert's ninth song in Winterreise --

-- and even though some of them are getting between a rock and a hard place, they still think that since they can always find a way out, it's really no problem and makes no difference ... as Kurt Moll sings it in German with such bitter irony, 'All our joys and sorrows -- just a game of erring lights!"
It's all just a game ... meanwhile, I continue on the climb ... and that climb has its own heady joys!

On Sunday, my young assistant choir director stepped right up and started teaching her first song ... someone else walked up to me that day and said "Ms. Dee! I did what you said in Seizing the Crypto Bull Run for Financial Freedom and I doubled my investment!" In the week before that, returned to the studio and began my first project in ten years ... and noted, yet again, that it does seem to be the German and German-American contingency that seems to come naturally to my support wherever I find it!

I also returned to Presidio National Park on a fine evening and got together with the local Bitcoiners and established myself among them as a force to be reckoned with at their monthly meeting at the little Bitcoin hub I found there.

So, I am settling myself in upon the new grounds ... yet it is a strange place to be, between the two extremes ... the agony and the ecstasy, both in such dizzying degrees ... it has been such a set of weeks for that.

I suppose this is why, in Brahms's "Mit vierzig Jahren," the end of the climb is a high plateau that goes gradually down the other side at length -- a high place that is level, but high. High joys ... high, keen sorrows ... I thought of this on my most recent walk to Alamo Square Park...

"It is indeed a different world up here, Frau Mathews."

The Ghost of Musical Greatness Past materialized with a smile, appearing in age as an elder brother ... 50-ish, quietly handsome in a hunter green summer suit.

"I love your colleagues, but you know I still love you best of all," I said, and went to the embrace of his arms and that sweet, deep voice.

"Ich weiss, Frau Mathews. I know. Fear not, for I have things to teach you here as I did when you were climbing to this place, and also now I can summarize many things that I have said before."

He did not let me go, but pulled a little back and looked down at me, his face full of tenderness and love.

"I am telling you from the beginning, Frau Mathews, that I have brought you a remarkable lunch in an humble package, because it illustrates an important point. I know that you will not despise its packaging or the humility of its ingredients, because you know me and my love for you, but also because you are not in the habit of despising humble things and therefore are blessed in ways others would overlook."

"Now that is a tuna salad sandwich with some distinction," I said. "I see lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, sweet pickles -- on sourdough -- no, the way it is wrapped wouldn't let you know, but I'm sure it's delicious!"

"Go ahead and find out, Frau Mathews," he said, and I did ... that first bite was amazing -- it was indeed delicious!

"Danke für die tolle Essen!" I said. "Thank you for the great food!"

"My pleasure -- gern geschehen," he purred, and waited with great satisfaction as I deeply enjoyed that entire sandwich.

"There are people who would have despised that sandwich and the humble shop I found it in, but not you, Frau Mathews. You do not put on airs in the world. You demand no recognition. You seek no bright lights. Thirty years ago, you decided you did not want the life of the stage, although you have since learned that as pianist, composer, singer, and speaker, you can command any stage you want, but it is enough for you to create daily on a platform still seeking greater significance but still quite humble, and bless your fellow Hivers without regard to the price of Hive. You have found a humble studio, run by a young German-American man as humble and as devoted to community music as you are. You have found the humble, hidden hub of Bitcoin in your city, and a community that meets there when it wants to build. And every day, you humbly serve your family and community.

"That is your way, Frau Mathews, and in your way, you are a gift of love receiving love from the One Who made and called you, to the entire world around you. You have found out who you are called to be, and you are living it. Very few people ever find out, and very few people ever choose what they are chosen for even when they know. You are blessed to have found out, and blessed to have responded to the call and climbed away from all else.

"Now you are here ... well, a change to your newest explorations will be a good dramatic touch!"

He snapped his fingers, and again we were in the enchanted evening at Presidio National Park, with no hurry because on the fictional side of the fourth wall, there was no Bitcoin meeting to get to this day!

"The sorrow of old age and death is given to every human being," he said gently, "first to see, then to experience. If one chooses not to become calloused, one will have all of that in full. Indeed, you need no other grief that does not come with a compensating weight of love."

"I have never thought of it that way," I said, "but indeed, that is the balance ... I can't say I would ever go so far as Isolde for Tristan, or Juliet for Romeo, but I can see why."

"Actually, no, Frau Mathews, on two counts," he said, his face growing stern. "Twice over you are called higher. To live in love with the beloved to the end, and then accept the love gift of life beyond that, is a much harder and higher path. Remember that King Marke still loved Isolde, and had forgiven her -- even if they could not have been together, he would not have been unkind to her. Juliet might have had a much harder time, but remember: the Montagues and Capulets found peace afterward, and perhaps she might have lived into that. But also you are called higher because those were written by people who saw no use of women after their men were gone."

He paused.

"I know that the grave illness of your grand old soldier is weighing heavily upon your heart, Frau Mathews. Remember what he sacrificed to grant you many, many years of life past him: he gave you up, so you would not be trying to manage his decline as well as that of your parents either successively, or roughly at the same time. His decision helped to spare your life, as we know now you could not have taken on any more than what you have taken on in this past decade. His love for you transcends his death, already, and it is not for you to despise that."

"I had not thought about that either," I said, "but indeed I will cherish the thought, and put it with the thought that what he poured into me in love, I will live to pour out to others. He literally showed me how to walk in love ... so I will keep walking."

"As you should, Frau Mathews. As you should."

He paused, and handed me his ethereal handkerchief to dry my tears, and for a time we let the beauty of the silver-clad evening speak to us.

He waited until I was composed, and then continued.

"Have you ever thought about why, in Strauss, 'Das Tal' and 'Der Einsame' are a pair? And before that, why both are such an alternation of light and shade?"

"'Das Tal' does begin in a minor key," I said, "but presages its entire journey from that opening ... the man called home to that valley must take all that goes with his journey, but indeed he ends in the heights of joy even in making his death an act of love for the world around him, and spring blooms right on."

"Suppose, my dear, that he is home after the climb from 'Mit vierzig Jahren' in Brahms -- suppose the high plain in Brahms is a mountain valley in Strauss, and then you will know where you are in your life right now -- yes, the sorrows are keen, but the joy also as high."

"You know ... that is the piece that ... ."

"I will sing the pair for you in a few moments," he said. "You know my recording of the pair with Friedrich Halder, but I will reprise my earlier recordings that you have not heard yet."

"Oooooooh!" I said.

"So easily you are made happy, meine liebe Dame," he said with a chuckle. "

"You're right," I said. "The sound of your voice, that of a kind man with a gentle soul who made his glorious voice an instrument of love -- yes, that always will make me happy!"

He smiled, and then blushed, and then glowed up in the evening light.

"Tell me about 'Der Einsame,'" he said. "What do you note about it?"

"It also begins in deep darkness, but remains there, even though it ends in a major key -- but the wrong key," I said.

"So, one goes from darkness to light, and ends in the height of that light though the journey is at times painful, and the other starts in darkness and ends in deeper darkness because there is no resolve into the light of the right major key. Why?"

I considered that, and then it came to me.

"In Strauss's 'Das Tal,' there is so much love and light for that man coming home to where he belongs that it transcends death to every spring beyond it -- he has given himself so wholly to grateful love that there cannot be an end to the light and joy of it. But in 'Der Einsame,' the light and joy is already gone ... the only moments of light are the memory of a lost love, and it has not occurred to that character that there can be any other love ahead of him -- just the darkness of the abyss awaits, where the song ends."

"Before you hear me sing, Frau Mathews, hear this: 'Das Tal' and 'Der Einsame' represent a choice. How you love is how you live, and how you die, and how you leave your legacy. Taken as a pair, the choice should be clear -- but remember: all are not given to hear what you hear, and your responsibility is therefore greater than most. You have done well to walk in the gravity of that knowledge, Frau Mathews, and you will continue to do well."

He paused ... and then glowed up even more ...

"But past the gravity, Frau Mathews ... it was for ears and hearts like yours for whom I poured so much into every interpretation, to make the internal external, to make of every precious lied an opera sized for the chamber ... there is so much to experience and learn in every one of them ... du hast meine ewige Dankbarkeit ... you have my eternal gratitude for listening with your heart as well as your ears ... what a delight it is to sing when this is the situation!"

I sat down in one of two chairs, in between which sat a mountain ...

... and, he set himself and sang first 'Das Tal,' and since there was no hurry, he took his time, and there is nothing like him taking his time and sharing the riches of his beautiful voice, caressing every word with love ...

... and then 'Der Einsame' ... and the same held true in terms of timing ... one would not think he could increase the dire warning of this song choosing despair like putting light in the event horizon around a black hole to keep folks from flying right off into it, but he forever retains the privilege of surprising me ... and just about taking me out on some of those longer notes ... that heart-cry to the beloved -- "Liebste!" -- I almost jumped out of my chair, talking about, "Ma'am -- fix this thing up -- you have no idea how much this man loves you!"

Meanwhile, someone pulled out their cell phone and was all, "Get down here -- K.M. Altesrouge has discovered the Presidio and has gotten so carried away with this evening he has just burst into song!"

The crowd got big, QUICK ... and as ever, I let him handle all that as the evening went on ... he was always kind and loving to the crowd, and left them when he was ready, with a smile... and walked back around to where I was in due time.

"Bravo," I said, and he blushed and bowed.

"A little object lesson even in that, Frau Mathews," he said as he sat down on the other side of the mountain. "Broad generosity is a fine practice for many reasons, and among them is that one may still give great gifts to one's intended while blessing all around and keeping jealousy at bay."

I smiled.

"Provided one's intended is intelligent and secure and patient enough -- that is quite a lesson, because in my world, I hold your place, and although I do not know anyone who is truly unintelligent, I have had to climb away from many that do not have the security or patience to understand that broad generosity is not a robbery of them in favor of everyone else. In fact, broad generosity in an abundant world actually increases blessing to everyone who understands -- but one cannot be with those who do not understand. There is no bridge."

"Well ... we need to update that lesson a little, Frau Mathews... since there is clearly a bridge, right there ... ."

"... so we shall say that there are some to whom no bridge can be purposefully built," he finished as I laughed.

"I suppose we will have to adjust that today!" I said.

We walked on in the evening a good while longer ... there was a breeze but it was not unpleasant. As sunset neared, there were a few gusts, but he positioned himself to block the worst of those.

"Yet I must still get you home soon, meine liebe Dame," he said. "It will be cold enough here in a little while. However, as I once sang as Pimen, one last tale -- one last piece of this lesson.

"I spoke to you earlier about who you are and have likewise chosen to be: a gift of love from the One Who called you, to express His goodness and mercy and love in the world. Your fingers on both kinds of keyboards, your lovely contralto voice, your vast capacity to be lovingly present with the elders and children around you, and your ability to not only invest successfully but help others who are willing to do so also ... indeed you are blessing all around. So then -- ."

There was at last a real blast of wind, but I knew little about it ... the deep, dark velvet of his voice had already wrapped around me, and what he was not simply blocking with his immense size instantly was denied access to me by his arms' embrace.

"So then, Frau Mathews, since we suppose for the day that the high plain in Brahms is the mountain valley of Strauss's 'Das Tal,' and we suppose that you are doing what you do in that mountain valley, how should those that wish to be in your circle of blessing treat you -- how should a precious gift be treated, after all?"

"Oh," I said. "I see what you are saying."

"Do you?" he said. "For more than a year, I have called you my Flower Child, and added 'beloved' and 'golden' to it -- mein geliebtes, goldenes Blumenkind. It would seem incomprehensible to the world that you should also be Die Einsame Frau, the Solitary Woman, as you move through the workaday world and the parks and the watersides -- but you do well to remain so unless and until you can cultivate companions who can be with you in the way that who you are requires.

"Broad generosity does not change the fact that no gift of love can be given to those who refuse love. You have suffered enough in the past for not knowing this; you have grief enough that is coming naturally for you to not need to add any more for people interested in everything else but learning how to treat a gift of love in their lives. Should you be drawn away from your great joys to no purpose?"

"No," I said. "My life is full of both joy and sorrow. Senseless drama and trauma and the people who love it need not apply."

I followed his gaze to some golden flowers, flaming in the evening light, framed by suitable and lovely companions ...

... and looked back at him, and up into a pair of eyes burning with intense emotion.

"I am subject to no temptation that afflicted me on Earth, but if I were, I know what it would be toward you," he said. "In Schubert's 'Aus Heliopolis II' I sang of finally climbing to that place of those who have done the climb to the best light in the world, and will find the molten accord of all those in fellowship, but there is no thought of delicacy there. I would so desire to take you higher than even that! There is no danger of you going to the eternal night, but the warmth and sweet accord that awaits you in the eternal light -- you are living to suit yourself for that, and I would be tempted not to leave you in this cold world even now!

"But because you are living to suit yourself for there, it is not cold anywhere around you, Frau Mathews ... you are reflecting as you are called, all around. There is nothing better for you to do. Sorrow is inevitable as part of the journey -- it is a high way and the sorrows are high as well -- but stay up here, Frau Mathews, for up here also are the high joys reserved for you!"

"I will," I said. "Would you please sing to me about my surroundings, again?"

"Now, I just dismissed that crowd, Frau Mathews," he said, and then sighed, and smiled. "It is a good thing this is fiction, because --."

He snapped his fingers, and it was midnight.

The park was closed and quiet, and there was no one down by its watersides. Now, in the morning, there would be some conversation -- "He must have resumed his walk down there and broke out again -- there are reports they heard Herr Altesrouge clear into the Marin Headlands!" -- and that may well be. Broad generosity is a powerful thing.

But as for me, him singing slowly and stretching out that voice on a warm summer night was a dream come true... and so thus I was returned to my home on that beautiful bass midnight by way of the Knockout Zone, wrapped up and tucked in by that black velvet voice.