Amadeus Mozart
He was brilliant. Clearly a child prodigy, the pride of Salzburg, a performer par excellence.
At age 5, he wrote an advanced concerto for the harpsichord. Before he turned ten he had composed and published several violin sonatas and was playing from memory the best of Bach and Handel. Soon after his twelfth birthday he composed and conducted his own opera and was awarded an honorary appointment as concertmaster with the Salzburg Symphony Orchestra. Before his brief life ended, he had written numerous operettas, cantatas, hymns and oratorios, as well as forty-eight symphonies, forty-seven arias, duets and quartets with orchestral accompaniment and over a dozen operas. Some 600 works!
His official name was Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Amadeus Theophilus Mozart. With a handle like that, he had to be famous! He was only thirty-five when he passed on. He was living in poverty and died in obscurity. His sick widow seemed indifferent to his burial. A few friends went as far as the church for his funeral, but were deterred by the storm from going to the gravesite.
By the time anyone bothered to inquire, the location of his grave was impossible to identify. The unmarked grave of Mozart - perhaps the most gifted composer of all time, became lost forever.
Several years ago one of my children and I walked through a cemetery. We paused to read the stones. We knew none of the deceased. It was a nostalgic, gripping encounter. Hand in hand we walked and talked, softly, thoughtfully. It was as though we were on sacred soil. Time stopped at each marker. Quietness swept over us as we drove away. I shall not soon forget what I learned.
First, life is brief. Terribly brief. On every stone there is a little dash, a horizontal line, illustrating time. Mozart's stone (wherever it is) reads 1756-1791. That's it. But if only that "dash" could speak! It'd teach us the next lesson.
Second, opportunity is now, not later. Your contribution, small though it may seem, is unique and altogether yours. Whatever it may be - it becomes that timeless trophy you must invest daily. The ancient aphorism I heard as a boy occasionally haunts me: "Four things come not back: the spoken word, the sped arrow, time passed and the neglected opportunity."
Third, death is sure. You can't dodge it. It's coming. And at that time, like Mozart you may seem insignificant to others. Forgotten, even. The only things that will live on will be your personal contributions, your unique investments during your lifetime. Not your name or your grave but your timeless trophy.
Okay, so you're not brilliant, a prodigy, a composer of symphonies. What are you? An executive, a salesman, a retired military officer, a student, a nurse, a divorcee, minister, teacher, widow, farmer? A mother of two, three kiddos? Your trophy is your contribution, wherever, whatever. Known or unknown. It's your investment, your gifted "touch", that will live on far beyond the grave.
- Harry Pound, Manila -
Danks Street Festival 2007 - 21 October 2007, 11am - 5pm
