Emantable

The picture doesn’t really do it justice, but it was quite the beautiful drive this afternoon. A few clouds were tinted pink, and the mountains a slight bluish-purple with beautiful white peaks.

This was the most uneventful birthday I’ve ever had, but it’s not that bad since I tend I treasure the quiet moments. My mother told me how excited my dad was 37 years ago when I was born, and it reminded me of how he was always very proud of the fact that he was the first to hold me after I was delivered via C-section. This was the first year without a birthday hug from him.

During my lunch break at work I went to the nearby golf course. He used to love golf and I remember playing on this particular course when he was a little younger. I’ve been thinking about taking up the sport again.

Later that evening, I had a little birthday dinner at Din Tai Fung with my Mom and Chase.

I wanted to keep today’s post short and light, but as an afterthought I also wanted to mention that something else I’ve been meaning to start doing again is photography. It may seem as if I’m trying to take on too much, but the thing is that you have so much more time when you’re not wasting it on too much TV or social media.

8 years ago, on the eve of my birthday, I somehow managed to get a large group of friends together and arranged for us to have a private tour of the museum gardens at the Getty Center. It was a beautiful day–lightly raining and a little chilly. We were all attentively listening to the docent give the tour of the gardens all the while the raindrops were pattering on all of our umbrellas. The garden plants and features were muted in a beautiful gray, but my favorite view was of the dark naked trees towering over passersby reflected on the wet floors as they held their umbrellas. In the background were the light-colored stone walls and floors of the museum against a stormy sky.

Understandably, when the tour was over everyone ended up leaving having had enough of the rain. I stayed for several hours after taking in as much art as I could and loving every time I walked past a window where the wooden floors basked in warm incandescent light contrasted with the bluish-grey cool scene outside. Eventually it came time for me to leave as well since the museum would be closing soon.

As I made my way down the hillside aboard the museum train that would take me back to the parking structure, I felt a little lonely and didn’t want to end my day back at my apartment alone. As I was driving back home the radio started playing When You Wish Upon a Star performed by Steve Tyrell with Chris Botti. At the time, there was one person I wanted to show up to the museum but ended up not going and this song made me think of that person. I wanted to go home even less and this being a Disney song got me thinking about heading to Disneyland, but they I had a better idea. How about Walt Disney Concert Hall? My favorite place in the whole world!

I made it to the concert hall and down and down I went until I parked on the seventh level beneath the hall. I went to the ticket counter looking for the cheapest seat I could find and as I was about to hand over my credit card for some seats way in the back, a woman interrupted me and offered me a spare ticket she had. I asked her if she was sure and I eventually took the ticket. It was at the very front of the orchestra section. I had no plans to be at Disney Hall about an hour ago, and here I was now on the eve of my birthday with a front row seat to see Michael Tilson Thomas conduct the LA Phil in a performance of Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis.

I find it impossible to concentrate with Classical Music. More specifically, I am unable to use Classical Music to concentrate on any task because I become hyper-focused on the music itself and lose track of everything else.

I tried putting on some music on YouTube while I wrote something, but I lost track of time listening to Yuja Wang play Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 1 in E-flat major. While I found it challenging to write with the music on, it brought me some nostalgia and inspiration.

The nostalgia, of course, took me to memories of my dad. Particularly when I had the piano at my parents’ house tuned in October. When the tuner left, I asked my dad if he wanted to come with me to the living room to give the piano a try. I meant for him to sit on the couch, but instead, he grabbed a wooden chair and sat right next to me and the piano. Having someone sit this close to me while playing usually makes me uncomfortable. However, I felt completely fine with it and played several pieces for him. I would have never imagined it would be the last time he would watch me play. After the hospital and he was back home, I had the piano tuned again, and I would open up the piano completely and play with abandon, hoping it would lift his spirits hearing me play even though he could no longer make the trek from his bed to the living room. On Christmas Eve–less than twenty-four hours after he passed away–I played again at my parents’ house. This time…for myself. I needed an escape from the conversations, from my thoughts…from Christmas itself. I played to lose myself in the music.

The inspiration is to practice, play, explore, and discover more of this music world. I’ve told many people that the more you’ve lived, the more you’ll appreciate Classical Music. It’s hard to appreciate and identify the emotions behind the music if you haven’t experienced them yourself.

I’ve always enjoyed playing Chopin’s Prelude in E minor. It’s always struck me as beautiful and sad. I’ve been doing some more research on this piece and discovered that when Chopin composed it, he already knew that he was dying. I watched Seymour Bernstein’s lecture on how the piece is meant to be played. In particular, there’s a repeating C-B set of notes that I can now only hear as weeping. When I played it with this in mind, it was quite heavy for me emotionally. Prelude in E minor has forever changed for me. It will always remind me of my Dad, and will always be my lament of not being able to do more.

Some might dismiss “signs” as mere coincidences or that we see things because we want to see them. I’m not here to prove things one way or the other, but I wanted to share something that happened to me. I was praying the rosary (something my dad did daily), and I got a little emotional remembering his voice as he led it. I was a little teary-eyed when the Alexa screen next to me suddenly displayed a photo of my dad. It was a photo my nephew took when he was very young, and my dad was making a funny face trying to get him to stop. This image took me from teary-eyed to sobbing in no time, and I was simultaneously laughing and couldn’t stop. The thing about seeing it on my Alexa is that I don’t keep my photos on Amazon, and of all the pictures of my dad it had to be precisely that one.

A lot of things had to line up for that moment to happen, and they very well may have done so spontaneously, but I’d like to think it was some form of sign letting me know that dad will always be with me.

There are days like today when I just don’t know what to write. I sometimes wonder if I could have done things differently? Could I have done more? I had some nice moments today, but then I feel guilty for having them.

I’d like to sleep and then wake up to find that it was all just a bad dream.

Today is the Epiphany, and it concludes Christmas. It celebrates the coming of the three wise men to the newborn Jesus. In our family we have a tradition of eating a rosca where a few baby Jesus are hidden and baked in the bread. Everyone takes a slice, and we see who got one of the babies. It’s a well-known tradition. The mood was a little different this year, but it is essential to hold on to our traditions because they tie us to our past and are part of who we are.

I routinely watch videos and read up on astronomy, so rereading the story of the three wise men today made me wonder what they saw in the sky that guided them to that manger. Was it a shooting star? A comet? A supernova?

I wonder…

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.

1 John 3:16

This particular passage called out to me today. I interpret it as also referring beyond the life of our physical bodies. I think that “lives” here also refers to who we are and what we have going on. I think it calls us to not put ourselves first and instead offer ourselves wholly to helping others–regardless of what else we may have going. We just show our love for others by setting aside our priorities to tend to theirs.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were warmer than average, but since then, there has been some form of precipitation every day, and it’s been cold. Now they’re talking about even heavier rain due to an atmospheric river and bomb cyclone. They were talking about another dry winter a few months ago, but it’s not looking that way.

I’ve always loved the rain even though it seems more somber given the circumstances. But I guess it is fitting and appropriate and gives me the space to reflect, read, and pray.

Below are a couple of time-lapse videos of the clouds that I took from my office window.

I had previously mentioned my growing interest in getting reacquainted with my Faith in recent years, and I’ve been even more inclined to do so after my father’s passing. He had a profound Faith that he incorporated into all aspects of his life and was always mindful of being in the presence of Christ at all times. He prayed as soon as he woke up, prayed throughout the day, and prayed just before bed. He prayed the Rosary almost daily. He’d do the sign of the cross every time he left the house, every time he got in his car, and for every other activity where he wanted God’s protection and guidance. Even his hobbies revolved around religion: he read almost exclusively on topics regarding Catholicism, the lives of Saints, and the writing and teachings of important figures of the Church; his wood carving was statues of Saints, Christ, or the Virgin Mary. He loved carpentry because the was his father’s occupation, and that was Jesus’ and Joseph’s occupation.

I find my father’s Faith incredibly inspiring and comforting in this time of grief. I prayed the Rosary daily and read the daily scriptures during lent last year, and I’ve felt the urge to do so again–I started on January 1st. Perhaps it may be more accurate to describe it as a calling.

For the first time in my life, I don’t feel ashamed to say that I want to be closer to Christ.