The prophetic opera Die Zauberflote and what I am calling ‘Minnegeddon’…:-0

If you dare to look at Wolfgang Mozart’s last major opera, Die Zauberflote, as prophecy, instead of simply a sublime singspiel, you cannot help but begin to understand what Wolf was really all about and why he had to be silenced.  Here in the Midwest, in the 21st century, the entire opera has come to life.  Right now, we are at the equivalent of the last major fight scene between the Queen of the Night, Monostatos (and his orchestra) are coming up against Sarastro and his loyal brethren.  My husband, my longest best friend Brad (Papageno) and I (Pamina) are making our way through the last of the trials.  We are exhausted, and a bit worn around the edges, but alive and resilient.

The extraordinary lovely power of the flute has brought us through every difficulty and each seemingly impossible test.  My only regret, at this point, is that my three dear children (now grown) are not with me.  They have been spun out of the vortex and are, artistically speaking,  currently being held captive by the (second) Queen of the Night, who happens to be my sister.  Ironically, in the opera, there is no mention of what happens to the three children; simply that they are there to help Pamina survive the separation from Tamino.  The reality has been much more traumatic than I would have wished.  Just the same, they are the best people I know, and I have faith that all will work for good in the end…so bear with us…:-)


Minnegeddon, Revelation 18 and 9/11– odd coincidences?4B= :-0 M4B*

I recently came across an article about a devastating sandstorm taking place in Jerusalem this September:

Immediately, the aftermath of the collapse of the Twin Towers came to mind, as here, as at that time, everyone was covered with dust, so to speak.  That image brought back to me the anguish I experienced as I watched the events of Sept. 11, 2001 unfold.

For a few weeks prior to 9.11.2001 I felt a strong conviction to read and meditate on Revelation 18 in my daily Bible study.  Rev.18 describes the horror of the destruction of the worldly Babylon (it is my thinking at this time that Rev.17, “Mystery Babylon”, may refer to a religious, as opposed to an economic and political system, and therefore a different place, so is not necessarily a part of the Rev18 prophecy per se).

At that time I was teaching flute students at a private school.  As the school year began, and I was introduced to the new teachers, I continually unintentionally tripped up on one woman’s last name — instead of her actual name, I kept calling her “Mrs. Huffman”.  At the time I was puzzled, as I usually either remember a name correctly or completely forget it. As it later turned out, some of the hijackers were trained at a Florida company called “Huffman Aviation.”

My husband and I were at home on the morning of 9/11,  I was watching CNN when the report came in that a plane had hit the World Trade Center.  That did not, in itself, seem overly troubling, as these were tall buildings, built to withstand even that sort of impact.  As I had always been fascinated by the WTC and had researched their construction, I realized that the WTC had utilized an unusual architecture concept — load-bearing walls, as opposed to the typical construction that put pillars throughout the building.  That meant the elevators were all in the center of the building.  If the center of the building was blocked there would be no way for those on the floors involved in the crash, or those in the floors above, to be evacuated to safety.

It wasn’t until CNN began to zoom in on the gash in the exterior itself that the imperiling seriousness of the event began to sink in.  I was somewhat aware that it was, in effect, the walls that were holding the building up.  As the cameras panned to the first responders, it was quickly evident that there was much more going on here than we had been told, and that they were sensing the total terror that was starting to unfold.

My husband and I are both from New York — he grew up around the corner from the Guggenheim Museum; I was originally from Fairfield, CT, and lived in Manhattan for four years.  New York was and is our home, and the WTC towers, garish and oversized though they might have seemed early-on, had become to us part of the beauty of the city. Whenever I looked downtown while walking, I always looked for them.  They were part of the fabric of our lives when we were there.

In hindsight, I was somewhat foolish to leave for a dermatologist appointment not long after the second plane hit and at about the time the Pentagon was hit.  I drove a few miles away and entered into a completely silent zone where there was no radio or tv and noone was even talking about these events.  When I emerged, about an hour later, I turned on my car radio to hear the rest of the horrible news.  In fact, the reception was such that there seemed to be people from two different stations chattering at once.  It was almost too much to comprehend.  I just sat and listened to the descriptions of the WTC towers collapsing, the Pentagon in flames, and, strangely, a fourth plane down in the hills of Pennsylvania.  It seemed almost inevitable at the time that the US would have no choice but to go to war to avenge these events, as we had after Pearl Harbor, and that nothing might ever seem the same.

When I returned home I again followed the news coverage, and was stunned by the footage showing many of the people who had tragically jumped from WTC1, as well as the streets of the area with everyone and everything covered in the dust and debris of the collapsed buildings.  Then I watched footage taken from New Jersey, showing all of lower Manhattan — the smoke of the devastation billowing high into the sky.  It was at that time that I recalled the prophecies of Rev18, and heard for the first time of “Huffman Aviation”.  I sat, stunned, and wept.  How could this happen?  What did this mean?  Were these events connected to the End Times? And, if so, how?  I wanted to understand.

And I played the flute.  That always helps.  That is how I pray. It began to seem that, even as unimaginably terrible as these events were, they could have been even worse.  Did Gd stay His hand and, for some divine reason, keep the buildings standing as long as He could? Was this a warning to our generation to humble ourselves as a nation and repent? Are we being allowed every opportunity to do this?  But are we repenting, I began to wonder, or, as Rabbi Cahn demonstrates convincingly in “The Harbinger”, rebuilding in arrogance instead? What will happen if we do not repent?

As far as additional odd coincidences are concerned, let me share — AA11 and UA175 left from Logan Airport, Boston.  My husband went to school in Boston; I lived in Brookline for two years. AA77 left from Dulles Airport, Washington, D.C. My sibling was living there.  UA93 left from Newark Airport, NJ.  My Mother was living in Flemington, NJ.  UA93 crashed in Western Pennsylvania, not far from where I went to university at Bucknell University in Lewisburg.  It was bound for San Francisco, where I lived for two years. Did these odd coincidences have any significance at all? I didn’t know.

After days of prayer, I began to ask myself if Gd was telling us that we, and the extraordinary gift of die zauberflote, in some way, may have some sort of connection to these events. If there is, what could it possibly be?  Is there something we are being called to do as a result? Does this have anything to do with all the events that are unfolding at this time in Minnesota that I call “Minnegeddon”? At this point, I don’t know.  I humbly ask for your prayers for Gd’s guidance as we move forward at this complicated time…

*M4B=Mozart for Believers…

Mozart may have done the best he could…with a target on his back…:-0

Most of what everyone is told about Wolfgang Mozart is wrong.  Some of it is simply misinformation, but some of it is disinfo, designed to point everyone away from the truth of who he was and what he actually accomplished.  The tendency today (thanks to the truly vicious play/movie “Amadeus”) is to ‘love’ Mozart’s music while despising him as a person.  Unfortunately, when Wolf was alive, he had to deal with vicious lies and slander on a daily basis.  He was attacked because he was truly different from everyone.  His situation was complicated by the fact that nobody would confirm to him just how different he was.

Mozart became famous as a child.  In fact, we might say he was the first child super-star.  At a very early age he was enticed to perform for the crowned heads of Europe.  Everybody knew his name.  He never really had the opportunity to grow up in a normal and anonymous manner.  His fame put a sort of target on his back.  As he grew older, he himself began to feed into his image.  He had to do more, and better, than before.  He had to always create beauty, brilliance and excitement.  Pushing the limits was his second nature.

But there was a dark side to Mozart’s life.  Nobody wants to talk about it.  A vehicle such as “Amadeus” is intended to deliberately confuse us about it.  Mozart had an unusual gift that could not be defined, yet caused him to be not only different from his colleagues, but a threat.  This gift was not superior in degree, but in kind.  Those around him could sense it.  They wanted to control it.  It frightened them.  And so, while being on display from an early age, Wolf was also being vampirized, so to speak, by his birth family (perhaps some of it unintentionally) and the public.  He was the little goose that laid the golden egg.  He was paraded in front of the most worldly people in Europe, and everyone wanted what he had.  Left unchallenged, this gift would have given Wolf all the worldly substance he could ever possibly dream of.  It was this gift of shalom.  It is at the heart of every piece he wrote.  It is the ineffable gentleness, the baby’s breath that some have even called the “Mozart effect”. Everywhere he went, people were flattering him to his face and trying to steal this gift behind his back through slander.  Eventually, he succumbed to this vortex of darkness.  He did his best, though.  He worked as quickly as he could.  He knew his life was threatened by this conspiracy of darkness every day.

So when you perform Mozart’s music, perhaps consider putting yourself in his shoes for a moment, and allow yourself a sense of awe and even humility and how much exquisite beauty he managed to create while being surrounded by, in effect, those secretly plotting to silence him so that they could steal his music for themselves.

Minnegeddon — Where are those who really care about Mozart? :-0

What has astonished me most on my incredible journey is how distorted a view most people have of Wolfgang Mozart and his life.  Of course, that is not helped in any way by the bulk of material written about him, as much of it is either intentionally or through carelessness slanted away from the truth of what he was really like.  It is perfectly ok to slander Mozart as a person and yet treasure his music, for example.  Anyone with a reasoning mind should stop short at that idea, and ask, ‘Why does that not make sense?” I can tell you why — there is a lot of misinfo and even disinfo about Wolfgang Mozart and what happened to him in order to dehumanize him, so that nobody will care enough about him to ask the tough questions that might lead to real answers.

Will anyone take time from there busy days and even from their fabulous performances of Wolf’s music to ask what was at the heart of his music and his life? I can assure you it was not the cold, brash, technical perfection that we tend to equate with musical excellence in this day and age — it was a gift of gentleness, a gift of shalom.

Mozart was savagely criticized for being ‘obnoxious’ and ‘arrogant’, but from his standpoint he knew he had to share and demonstrate the extraordinary nature of his gifts and was butting up against furious and devious opposition wherever he went.  His gift was different.  His gift was superior.  So rather than allow him to be respected for his gift, a clique of wicked colleagues decided to take him down. Mozart sank into a vortex of night and fog, where the truth of what happened to him was supposed to be hidden forever.

Will you stop and think, and really listen with your ears, and not just with your head, when you listen to or play his music? You just might find the ineffable joy of shalom…:-)

On the possibility of my having been poisoned as a child…

When I was four I had a vision, of sorts, that probably helped to keep me alive.  The significance of it to me at that time was that I became convinced I had to protect a Gift I had been given from my mother whom, it seemed, had made some sort of a pact with a dark angel I came to call “Lermontov”,  as it resembled a movie character by that name. I had no doubt my mother was my adversary, but I did not at the time comprehend the extent of her antagonism.

Although a robustly healthy child, I regularly found myself becoming violently sick to my stomach and throwing up.  Ironically, at those time, my mother was conciliatory and sympathetic, bringing me ginger ale with shaved ice and saltines to calm my stomach.  This continued until shortly before I left home for college.  Once I had settled into dorm life, my first thought was how nice it was to be somewhat on my own. My second thought was relief that I was no longer throwing up.  It immediately occurred to me that my mother had probably been behind this, but my relief at having survived was my primary emotion.

Within a few months of this realization my father nearly died by his own hand.  All my attention switched to him.  I did not make the connection until recently, as, subsequent to that event, the rest of my birth family seemed to circle the wagons and lock me out, so to speak, that there could have been a connection. Other questions that I had about my birth family also began to fall into place when I looked at them from the perspective of my birth family trying to shield themselves from the consequences (not of their own actions, mind you) of my having survived this ordeal.  :-0

Minnegeddon and die zauberflote…M4B*

My perspective on the power of the Holy Spirit in the great gift I call die zauberflote is unique and eccentric, as I have lived with it all my life, so I am, so to speak, within it looking out.  When I was little I believed I had to protect this gift, especially from my Mother whom, it seemed, had made a pact with the dark angel I called “Lermontov”.  But, in truth, it was this gift that was protecting me — then and now.

Most everyone stumbles over die zauberflote at one point or another, myself included, so I am not speaking from a position of self-righteousness, but, instead, from an unshakeable understanding of my unworthiness to carry this great gift.

When I was a flute performance major at the UofM, as well as when I was being enticed to practice on the stage at Orchestra Hall by a group of players I have termed “Monostatos”, I witnessed daily the effect of die zauberflote on the ‘trained ear’.  One, who later died from cancer, ran around me, crying, “Mozart! Mozart!” At the time i found all this fuss with no actual help extremely frustrating.  Last summer a noted music critic from Chicago took aim at me on the popular music blog Slipped Disc.  A few months later he was dead. Now, I can say, in hindsight, that the aisles of Orchestra Hall are already full of the corpses of those who have tried to block die zauberflote, target my children, and silence me.  Why would I want there to be any more?

When I was at the UofM I said, almost jokingly, to a buddy, Greg W., that “someday there will be a Minnegeddon at Orchestra Hall.” Prophetic — yes, but also, in retrospect, painfully superficial.  In fact, in those days, I was myself painfully superficial.  I doubt that anyone who knew me at that time would contradict that statement! But now that that which I call Minnegeddon is playing out, it is far more profound and overwhelming than anything I could have imagined.  And that is saying something, because I do have quite a vivid imagination.

But amazingly, through all the tumult and angst, Gd is using everything for good, and all the struggles and trials are turning into solutions that work.  And I have learned that everyone who listens to die zauberflote with kindness and maintains a gentle heart is protected from harm.  Though it turns everything upside down, it also gets the poison of our relationships out and brings us closer to Him.  Die zauberflote helps with every issue of mental and physical health.  I have witnessed miracles of healing and deliverance that leave me breathless.  Of even greater importance than its connection to Mozart is the fact that die zauberflote is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and carries the attributes attributed to It.  PTL!

*M4B=Mozart for Believers

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