I bet I can get you to like classical music by the end of this post.

I didn’t care for it either until I visited Vienna. Vienna’s got a lot going on, between being the capital of a former empire and the birthplace of everything from weird Freudian ideas to the sweetest chocolate cake you ever tasted.

But everyone in Vienna knows the big game in town is music. This was the cultural epicenter of the world for a while. Walking through the historic center, I quickly realized almost every street corner has had a brush with musical talent. Here’s the building Mozart lived in. Here’s one of twenty apartments Beethoven got thrown out of for being a hot mess.

You’ve heard of big names like Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, and Schubert. But when you come to Vienna and map their lives onto the city’s timeline, you learn something else: they all lived here within a 30-year span, and knew each other.

That’s what interests me, because it transforms these Old Dead Guys into real people. Haydn was the granddaddy of them all, basically inventing what we think of as classical music. Boy-genius Mozart came along and impressed everyone’s pantaloons off, and Haydn became his mentor. Mozart died tragically early and it’s hard not to imagine his mentor being profoundly impacted by that loss. A few years later Haydn became teacher to a young Beethoven but they didn’t get along, and Beethoven would later claim he learned nothing from him.

All of this shows up in the music. Mozart moves with nimbleness that almost feels inhuman, because you’re hearing the product of a freakishly prodigal mind that runs so fast it barely touches the ground. Everyone knows Beethoven was the classic tortured artist, but his tormented stuff hits differently when you wonder if you’re hearing the anguish of someone failing to live up to his teacher’s beloved first disciple.

And Schubert? When Beethoven died, 10,000 people came to his funeral and Schubert was there. He idolized Beethoven and lived in his giant shadow, giving just one public performance in his life. Schubert only played at private parties hosted by his friends, and there’s an understated quality to his music. Almost like he didn’t think he deserved to fill the void Beethoven left behind.

The music came alive once I knew the life these guys had. With every note, I hear them trying to tell me their story from 200 years ago. I admire how honestly their inner world was expressed in their external output. That’s why no one but Beethoven could have been Beethoven.

Something tells me this internal/external harmony might be the key to fulfilling work. When there’s a mismatch, people get the “cog in the machine” feeling. Because you are a cog in the machine. You’re creating formulaic work that has nothing to do with you and when you’re gone, they find someone else to replicate what you were doing. Of course the work isn’t true to you when it’s meant to be a generic fit for everyone.

Is a real piece of you going into your work? Is it being done in a way that only you, with your unique life experiences, could do?

While pondering whether I’ve been a cog in the machine, it just so happened I stumbled upon The Matrix after many many years. Like a lot of you, I first saw this movie at a particularly formative point in my childhood. And holy shit was it awesome. Everything you’ve been told is a lie! Rise up against the powers that be! Waaaaaaake uuuuuuup!!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s still awesome. It’s one of Hollywood’s most original ideas and it looks cool as hell, even with its late 90’s CGI.

But let me tell you, this storyline lands very differently as someone in the middle third of his life. What resonates is not the possibility of a global conspiracy controlling human beings. What resonates is a guy with an adequate life and a stable white collar job who takes a look around one day and wonders, is this how things are supposed to be? Because it’s that question that leads Neo to the edge of society in the first place. When he gets there and is told “you’ve felt it your entire life, that there’s something wrong,” he feels heard for the first time.

Maybe in my own non-dramatic, non-trenchcoat sort of way, I’ve subconsciously sought to replicate the journey our hero takes. Because what Neo is ultimately in search for is the truth, and for meaning in his life. He’s given the opportunity to construct that meaning, but it’s an ugly road. Do you remember that goop they have to eat every day in the real world? And how one of the characters betrays the cause because he misses the safe, programmed world with its juicy steaks?

Don’t worry, I’m not eating goop over here, at least not yet. But deconstructing the life you had turns out to be confusing and scary. Reconstructing a new life is even scarier, because what if you go through all this and the end result isn’t what you wanted? What would it all have been for?

Man, life sometimes. But what are you going to do, it’s the only game in town. Let me ponder my next step over a nice warm bowl of goop.

Regards,

Bryan