Story No. 4 It's not Magic.

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Vasily liked american pop music; he liked american girls. He didn't really care whether or not his cyber worms would cause the downfall of America, much less the suffering. All that potential horror.  What did he care? It was a paycheck. A good one. Maybe if he brought down the troika: power grid, financial markets and transportation he would get a huge bonus. Everyone he knew was working on troika.

Vasily was getting close. Just then Simeon walked in. They had been working together, drinking together - for years. Both their fathers had been in KGB.

Vasily, whose reflexes were good from years of gymnastics and martial arts, was tired and a little high. It was understandable he was taken by surprise when Simeon hugged him and - at the same time - at point blank range used his silencer to mask his shooting him in the temple.

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Herr Doktor Bazarov, when are you returning to Russia? Interesting you ask now. I am taking the train this evening and should be back home in two weeks.

1879 Bazarov was a good physician. A scientist, a teacher. He believed he was an idealist. He observed correctly: when the body heals, the first step is a clearing out of damaged tissue. He believed this was a universal process. Before a better society could be built, the old had to be annihilated. He was known as a nihilist by some... By others as a man who connected with and loved people, especially serfs and peasants, children and students.

Not so much his children, but his grandchildren, were believers - leaders in 1917. Their great grandchildren were not idealists. They were cynical opportunists. The most cynical worked in 2014 on the cyber troika.

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Simeon

Never told a soul how he hated what his father stood for. He had a vision which he knew if he shared with anyone would be shattered and he would be summarily executed. At an early age Simeon learned to never trust anyone. Perhaps it was seeing a friend turn in his own father for anti soviet propaganda. 

His disillusionment was hardened when Tatiana told him about her beloved violin professor who knew she had great potential to be a soloist. He had to protect her. Professor prepared her to be section violinist in symphony orchestra. What are we going to do with all your creativity, Tanya? It is too much for job of playing in Leningrad Philharmonic. She practiced increasing amounts of technical work - until the soul was gone from her playing - the soul was gone from her. The soul was gone from her world.

Tanya thought she had lost the most valuable part of herself - until she met Simeon.

Perhaps because of her neediness which she endeavored to hide under permafrost- and her extraordinary ice blue eyes and blonde locks, framing an angelic but tortured face, Simeon fell desperately in love with Tanya the violinist from Novosibirsk. Her passion for him was equally profound - desparate... A love on fire.

Then Simeon remembered. His was not an ordinary lot. Grandiosity perhaps. Perhaps he was right. He acted crazy. It was though he had gone off antipsychotic medication suddenly. He told Tanya it was all him. She was better off without him. He acted so weird she had no choice but to run fast, as far as she could. If they were in America she would have tried to get him help. She did love Simeon.

A few prostitutes and a lot of vodka later, Simeon's mind began to clear.

His grandfather has been in Berlin when the Wall came down. He heard Bernstein, a Jew, conduct Beethoven's "Ninth" brotherhood of man... Ode to Joy. End of East West Cold War. Beginning of new era.

Grandfather and father fought- bitterly. They were afraid for each other. They couched their love in fear all rolled up in anger.

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1868 Bazarov's cousin was a doctor too. A young man in search of a way to make his mark. Traveling through Silesia, Pavel wanted to see and garner clues about Mendel's brilliance.

Pavel arrived in Austria to study with the great man. At that time few knew of Mendel's brilliance.

Pavel knew.

Gregor understood his new assistant. He too, when young was consumed with jealousy. Bitter rage only made him less productive.

He hoped he could find a way to get Pavel to obsess on his work not on the achievements of others. The priesthood transformed Mendel.

1883 Interesting Mendel thought, most of my published work concerns meteorology. Yet I feel my work on genetics is more important. He died the following year, about twenty years before the full importance of his work would be verified and celebrated.

Mendel was an Abbot. He went into the clergy because it was the best way he could think of to finance his education. His sister generously, lovingly, selflessly gave him her entire dowry- it covered only part of the cost. Mendel in appreciation funded the education of his nephews-  both of whom became doctors.

Mendel was a gentle, loving brother and uncle, a caring teacher. Yet his early life was marked by an intensity which made him experience himself as alternately desperate, inadequate and hostile. He was no more hostile in fact than most civilized people. He just had an unusual degree of self awareness. His life view became more balanced as he worked alone over the years. Paradoxically his comfort with and need for people grew as he fulfilled his intellectual curiosity, applying his energies productively.

Few people were aware Mendel grew up on a farm. His ancestors had been farmers for generations. There was an analogy to Johan Sebastian Bach having been the son, grandson, cousin of hundreds of musicians. Both were great and developed from the soil of their families' life's work, they developed by embracing their roots. In Mendel's case, literally

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Pavel was not cut out to be a scientist. He did however, thanks to the caring teaching of his instructor learn to not only not obsess about jealously but to also not obsess about anything. He learned to care in a balanced compassionate way. This started with compassion for himself, accepting he was not meant for greatness. That became OK. He was inspired by Mendel's generous spirit- the desire to help people was more important than self aggrandizement.

It was partly the journal Pavel kept and shared with his friend which caused Sigmund to become interested in how much people could change - improve their way of seeing themselves -and so bring about a profound change and improvement in how they relate to the world and ease their pain. More than that: how they could become more fulfilled, productive and happier. It even occurred to both scientists that their happiness made those around them happier.

Pavel told his friend that he kept another journal as well, one in which he recorded his dreams.

Pavel had a recurring dream which neither he nor Sigmund could analyze: two snakes embraced, twirling themselves gently around Mendel.

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Pavel as a young man was very good at many things: mathematics, natural sciences, violin, French. As soon as he got to an advanced level in one discipline he started over in another. This was not a zen attempt to have a beginner's mind. It was to insure on an unconscious level that he would never surpass his father... who was already deceased. Pavel's father lived on in his mind in a monstrified way.

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ATCG

The Double helix

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It's not in the genes.

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There is an old joke (no not me)...

Two women are on a beach, son of the younger one is about to go into the ocean: "put on your sunscreen. Boy comes back, does as told. "Put on your water shoes. Youngster complies. "You should really wear a T shirt. Boy puts it on. "Watch out for jellyfish. Boy is about to dive into a wave, but comes back and asks "Ma, did I forget anything?" The mother turns to her friend and says "Oy... such a nervous boy!"

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Was the elder Bernstein afraid of succeeding? Was he afraid he would not be able to do what was being asked of him? Or was he just happy to be alive in a new country of if not unlimited opportunity than a real lot more than in old country. He too was afraid for his son. He wanted Lenny to go into the family business, even if neither he nor his son were particularly proud of it.

Centuries of persecution had made many over-vigilant-- to the point of almost poisoning the interactions of everyday life. The Bernsteins had more curiosity than fear. Lenny had just enough of the right stuff to not get trapped. He didn't escape the self torture. It empowered his work but ultimately killed him - his addictions.

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Pavel was lucky. Lucky to have a teacher who was compassionate about the young man's pain. Mendel recognized the paranoia and jealousy and helped Pavel focus on the work.

It is easy for scientists and musicians to become paranoid because of the extraordinary amount of time they spend in isolation in the quest for the rarely obtainable.

Somewhere in the third year of his work with Mendel, Pavel realized he had to find more time to collect himself. Time not spent working or drinking beer.

He felt with a less busy life he could be more respectful of others and himself. It dawned on him that the compassion, his mentor showed him was the main thing. He considered becoming a priest.

When he thought about devoting his life to service of humanity with less about Pavel's needs, his frustration at having accomplished so little disappeared.

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Bad joke:

Did you hear about the German violin student whose teacher said he'd never amount to much? The young man went to study abroad, practicing from dawn to dusk. After achieving what he felt was a significant degree of mastery he returned to impress his old professor. The master listened carefully then said, you are no longer so out of tune that I would call you a monotone. The young man rejoiced, anticipating greater praise to be forthcoming. The professor continued: you are still a Twoton.

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I have a secret for you. Of course if I tell you, it won't be a secret. So never mind. OK.... You don't have to twist my arm. I'll tell you.

That bit about the German violin student isn't true... Except we all know the feeling of striving and being put down.

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I am a bassoonist. That sounds like a confession. Sounds like "I am an alcoholic." I am a Jew. Why does that feel defensive, angry? The same words could have been written without shame, resentment. I am guilty of having denied my heritage. The Judaism I have experienced feels superficial. It has been a watered down and for me meaninglessness experience. Well not quite. I have enjoyed Passover. And the High Holidays at my in laws'.

Better joke:

I was in Maryland, in an up and coming neighborhood. You could say that's a euphemism for a neighborhood which after dark scared the living daylights out of me.

I was at a party when I panicked, remembering I had left my bassoon in the car. I ran back. My heart sank when I saw the backseat window had been broken. I looked in and to my surprise, my bassoon was still there. Even more surprising was that someone has dumped a bunch of other bassoons in there as well.

OK. Its actually s Viola joke. The point  is the same. Groups put down other groups. That unfortunately is human nature - one side of it.

My pain - my association is what if a Nazi told the joke instead of about a bassoon, made it about a Jewish baby. On a profound level I, and many people of all religions feel like garbage to be dumped.

I overcompensate. That is a root cause of my being rude.

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Are jokes always in some way rooted in pain?

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Not only am I a Jew, and a bassoonist but also a theory teacher.

Why did the chicken cross the road? To get away from the theory class.

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Is it jealously? Is it about giving other people too much power? Not recognizing our own appropriate abilities and responsibilities, indulging in nonsense and distractions. Could our pain teach rather than disable us?

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Many days, many years Pavel allowed -even invited students and others to abuse him. This was true. Also true was the exact opposite. When he went with the flow, plan in mind - but flexible, in touch with his own judgement...

One cold, early spring morning, Pavel thought:  I have everything a person could want. Yet I am often despairing. I have a rubber band around myself. If I do too well, I seek to snap back to the amount of misery my father had. I have expanded my ability to tolerate happiness a little beyond dear old pater. He had to do more. He had to accept and welcome good feeling, connection to others - every day.

He went for a walk on the edge of the woods. Beethoven, he read, often solved his problems in nature. Pavel pondered: I often prefer to wallow in misery, or hurt myself so there is more misery rather than energy to either help people or move my life forward.

He could not answer the question of what he wanted outside of water, food, alcohol, sugar, sleep, time to think, intimacy, and it would be nice to have more energy. Yes energy, that word again. "I sometimes have all the energy I need. Then I fall into old well-worn ruts. If I stop with the alcohol and worked more, wouldn't I have more energy? When I focus on not being angry and not hurting people that makes me more angry- then guilty then resentful- " his studies of Hinduism led him to study Buddhism- Pavel felt he had condemned himself to be an eternal dilettante.

When he started the day with violin or study, his day went better. He had more room to be available for - and help others.

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Pavel may not have been much of a scientist, or philosopher or priest - he left the clergy to get married - but he did have a calling to teach. That was a surprise to him.

After thirty years of marriage, his children grown he found himself at twilight in that familiar spot on the edge of the woods.

Yesterday and more today, he thought, my students are my life. The more I give them, the more they give me. Even better: this morning my dear, beloved wife and I had a good, meaningful, to the point conversation. It's not magic.