Why Wagner operas don't work

I recently attended the final installment of the Ring Cycle by Wagner. His Twilight of the gods...complete with Valhalla burning, Siegfreid being murdered, the Rhine maidens etc. It was 6 hours long.. and at the end I felt like survivor. I was exhausted...and I felt let down. Lest people attack me for being a musical misfit, I was trained as an opera singer so I am well aware of the immense vocal demands in Wagnerian operas.

Wagner was famous for his motifs. Each character has a theme attached to them, but unlike Rhinegold, the first one, one has no sympathy for any of the characters. When Siegfreid is killed, there are no tears...just great symphonic music with that wonderful brass section. He is carried off. Even when Brunhilde joins him on his funeral pyre which sets the world alight, there are no tears. It is not like Queen Dido with her stirring...Remember me aria.

Wagner fails in his operas to touch our souls. His operas are a mix of mumbo jumbo and myths that are not well done because unlike a good story they fail to capture our imaginations. When Butterfly commits suicide, there is not a dry eye in the house and you can hear the sobs...that is opera! When Don Pasquale is tricked and his new bride makes a shambles of his home...we all laugh at the miserly Don. When Don Carlos's lover sings of his fate and hopes the angels will be kind...you can imagine the angels welcoming the unhappy Carlos with them....and everytime Mimi, the fated lover in La Boheme dies, I cry with Rudolpho and dare I say the entire audience.

There is none of this in Wagner. Wagners opera are as sterile as a new petrie dish. The villans stare at you as if trying to show how evil they are. Hagen in the recent Met production had a great voice but 0 acting skills. The music is sometimes thrilling but not memorable apart from the orchestral score.

Wagner holds his audience captive for 6 hours and throws motifs at us, tubas that he invented for his music, rich brass tones, some wonderful staging by the Met and yet in the end, there is nothing that we can hold on to. In a way, the audience as in the same fate as the gods of Valhalla. The gods we are told gloomily await their doom in the great hall. There is no laughter, there is no music there is no life. They await the end, trust me we too were awaiting the end.

Wagner realized he was not an opera composer. Opera is about grand passion, love, hate, devotion, sympathy and to be good it has to resonate with the souls and hearts of the audience. We have to love, or hate the characters. We too must cry when Thais ascends to heaven...we must see ourselves in the characters. Even if it is mythology, we have to care. If something that is called opera fails to do that, it is not opera. 

Wagners orchestration is second to none...but for opera....no.

Motivation

I am a member of Cyclo Core, it is an internet based cycling club and for me is a font of information. Today there was a great podcast that spoke about many of us not fully committed to change. In this case, the change was doing the work, the drills etc necessary to become a really good cyclist.

I thought about my obstacles, my excuses and realize that all of my excuses are just that..lame and perhaps the reason I have not seen dramatic progress in this and indeed other area of my life, is that I hesitate.

1) My weight. I know all it takes to fix it, and yet at times I still sabotage. I could lose 15 lbs which would improve my cycling. Why do I keep that extra weight? What purpose does it serve, other than to reinforce my feelings that I am not up to it?

2) My fear of cracking. When I am really pumping and pushing, I will sometimes stop just short of pushing myself beyond what I think I can do. Deadly for making improvements

Biking is a good metaphor for life. I believe we keep problems alive because they serve as an excuse. "I could ride faster if I was lighter" or " I never pushed myself". Likewise in job situations, I have found excuses and not seriously tackled them.

The question I must ask myself is DO I WANT TO LIVE? Do I want to cycle or play at it, do I want to continue my work as a psychotherapist or dabble and dream.

Dabbling, and dreaming, and half training does not satisfy me and leaves me feeling anxious and waiting for 'more'. It is like a drug craving, you always want more but cannot have it. I always desire and yet at the same time and starting to realize that my very fears and excuses are what is hampering my progress,

Sort of Housetrained

Three weeks ago I adopted a little dog from a puppy mill. She had been fostered and was housetrained..or so I was told.

Luna is sort of housetrained...if you live in a barn. I have read numerous books on the subject and now take her out every two hours. She is a dear little soul who truly believes that one should not stop the progress of the call of nature and when nature calls...do not delay. This unfortunately means the livingroom carpet.

Housetrained in my mind is a dog that asks to go outside. It is a dog that associates the great outdoors as a litter box. I have seen pee pads for sale. What is that all about? The idea is to get them to pee outside not on a pad in the house...still I suppose if I had one I would have been spared my pre breakfast cleaning chore!

Luna learned the "come" command in a matter of minutes and I suspect will be equally quick in all of her obedience training, she walks nicely..is polite, gentle and charming..but has no concept of inside versus outside. Patience..patience.

Why I train in the basement

This is my bike on my Tacx trainer. My bike is a 30 year old Cambio Rino bike, a beauty that was used in the Montreal Olympics. It has 10 speeds with the changer on the frame. For many years it was hanging on a wall. No bike should retire like that! I knew it had life in it and bought it as my training bike where I set up a training studio of sorts.

In this space, I regularly do Cyclo Core workouts...pretty amazing and high intensity stuff with weights and yoga. I have seen my fitness level rise and for the most part my motivation is high.

I sometimes wish I had a fancy training studio that I have seen with some of my friends. One that would have room for my weights and stability ball and one where I need not worry about the hot air blasting down at me from the dryer vent...and yet there is something interesting and challenging about working out in a dungeon. It calls for the creative in me. Did you know a full gallon paint can can make a pretty decent medicine ball? Did you know that a full tool box when held overhead while doing crunches also can add intensity?

One advantage of my training dungeon,  is that I have no distractions. I can't really see outside and I can't hear the telephone,...oh it rings but with the fan, the furnace, my trainer whirring I just can't hear it.

Getting older has meant that I am more realistic. Many of my friends sign up for fancy spin classes, in shiny gyms lead by people with perfect teeth and names like Scotty. They drive to them in some ungodly hours...rush in and listen to the loud music and instructions. They like having workout partners!

I did that, the gym spin thing and found that the music was too loud! I also  found it stressful having to be there at a certain time. The lockers were always full and you had to rush to get changed. There was never enough room and I always worried about the cleanliness of the showers. For the spin classes it seems that the best bikes were always taken, reserved as it were by people who threw towels over them. When I arrived I always had a bike where a clip did not work that squeaked for the duration of the session. I always was beside some woman in menopause who wanted the fans turned directly on her so I endured an icy blast. My workout partners, never had much to say except grunt and pant and honestly, I never liked the music. We did not speak about technique, it was just mash and bash away.

My internet workout protocol has spin videos, I can play my own music, but often I chose not to, or listen to Graeme Street explain techniques etc.  There are times when I do my own sessions, with my own music. Scotty is no where to be seen! I learn techniques, practice skills all in the comfort of my home. I never get a bad bike and there is no rush to get changed, there is always room in my shower.

The only workout partner I have is my dog Bubba. He dutifully sits at the entrance to the basement room where I am and watches me, his eyes shining. I know he thinks I am insane. He endures the whirring, the spinning, and my complaining.

My Cambio Rino has only 10 speeds and therefore I suspect I am working at harder gears. The bike is steel so can handle when I ride standing up for drills, I am not worried about it cracking. It was once a velodome bike and is now working again, this time in my training dungeon!

Where aging Olympians go!

Yesterday I entered the 5k snowshoe race called the Mad Trapper series. I have never run that distance, never raced and have a passing acquaintance with snowshoes. Perfect! The Mad Trapper series is run out of Denholm near Wakefield Quebec on some 110 acres of paradise used for team building. The racers were all super fit and there were some former Olympians. This is what aging olympians do they race up mountains. Did I mention this was a hilly race? It was very inspiring to me to see people older than me with unbelievable fitness levels. All the racers were delightful people, relaxed, helpful and they were a joy to be with.

We all started wearing super little race snowshoes...up up up...my heart climbed as well as I sprinted up the hills...I found a man about my age who was having a hard time and I chatted and went with him for some distance. I wanted more of a challenge and sprinted and caught up with two young girls...paused took pictures and enjoyed the magnificent scenery. It was a race yes, but I was not competing...I was there to enjoy myself for 'comic relief' as I said. I have been doing high intensity bike training and my fitness level has never been higher. I had no problem climbing and running and while of course, the real runners and racers far outpaced me...I was very pleased that I came in at a respectable time! I had a wonderful time and loved it! This has really encouraged me to pursue my triathalon goals!

Writing..a lost art?

Last week I was in Starbucks, pausing to have a latte and just relaxing with a friend. I noticed a young man beside me with a computer and a journal and an ink pen. I was delighted..he had the laptop with earphones but also had an ink pen as he wrote in his journal with flowing script.

Who knows what he was writing, poetry, reflections, perhaps his Christmas list, but it did not matter. What matters is that he was writing.

Writing is unfortunately a lost or dying art. Although there are many beautiful journals that are sold in bookstores and stationary stores, I have never seen anyone actually write in them except for this one occasion in Starbucks. What do people do with the journals they purchase? Maybe they write secretly at home, or perhaps they don't write at all, choosing instead to display their lovely leather journals over their fireplace as momentos of the lost art known as writing.

What the Doctor said...

Bubba, my 15 year old dog had been limping and cutting short his walks. He would raise his right hand as if to say "call it a day!". I arranged an appointment with an orthopedic specialist for dogs.

The vet took one look and told Bubba he had great muscle tone, was in top shape and his limping was caused by a slight strain injury that aging athletes have. Bubba was thrilled! He pranced out of the examination room and resumed his walks with renewed vigour, pulling and running and generally showing the world he is indeed in top form.

His new attitude has nothing to do with medication and I am convinced it is a result of what the Doctor said....to all you medical professionals out there...choose your words carefully what you say has a direct impact on patient well being and recovery!