Three Beautiful Things 02-10-2026: Marshalling Energy, Unexpectedly Superb Conversations, The Concert

 1. Today, for about eight hours, I fervently hoped that I would feel energetic and well enough to drive to Gonzaga University to attend this evening's Gonzaga Symphony. I ate a huge breakfast. I rested. I napped. I did all I could to charge my inward batteries.

I succeeded. 

By about 4:00 or so I felt a surge of confidence that I could make the drive, be awake enough to enjoy the concert, and return home safely. 

My confidence was warranted and I arrived plenty early to the Myrtle Woldson Performing Arts Center, purchased a snack, drank a bottle of water, and found the seat I had purchased for this concert. 

2. My good fortune increased when the woman whose seat was next to mine asked me if I was connected to anyone playing in the Gonzaga Symphony.

I replied, "No. I just love music. How about you?"

She replied, "No. I play violin in the Spokane Symphony."

It was about ten or fifteen minutes before the concert began, and we had a superb conversation about the Spokane Symphony's program on Jan 31, books, theater, Shakespeare, music, movies, Slings and Arrows, and other stimulating and fascinating topics until the conductor strode to the podium. 

We visited more at the intermission, making this a most unexpectedly satisfying evening. I thoroughly enjoyed these two conversations completely focused on the arts and nothing else. 

We didn't learn a single thing about each other on a personal level, aside from learning about books we'd read, music we'd listened to, movies we'd seen, and a little bit about our professional lives -- mine as an instructor, hers as a musician. 

So rare. 

3. I loved the concert. 

The orchestra was, at least to me, huge, and most of the musicians were students, joined by some professional musicians to help fill out sections that needed them. 

I enjoyed the youth of this orchestra and enjoyed their verve and spiritedness as they played Mozart, Mussorgsky, and Saint-Saens. All three compositions, The Overture to Don Giovanni, Night on Bald Mountain, and Danse Bachanale, were energetic, fun to listen to (and must have been fun to play), and made the first half of the concert full of vitality and energy. 

The second half of the concert delivered not only profound vitality, but exquisite virtuosity. 

It featured one of the world's very finest violinists, Gil Shaham, as the violin soloist in Brahms' gorgeous Violin Concerto in D Major. 

I'd love to be able to describe Gil Shaham's command of the violin and his enthusiastic playing of Brahms' masterpiece, but I don't have words. 

All I can really say is this: over the week or so preceding this concert, I listened repeatedly to this concerto on Spotify. I wanted to gain some familiarity with it -- I'd never listened to it before -- and those many listenings paid off as I was able to follow the concerto fairly well and anticipate a bit of what lay ahead as the piece progressed. 

I felt especially profound job being in a concert hall, hearing this concerto live. 

I shook inside hearing Brahms' concerto filling the concert hall. The live orchestra in support of Gil Shaham's masterful performance made the whole experience rich, full, and gorgeous and I simply did not want this concerto to end.