Observations from a Classical Orchestra concert

Over the last month, while living alone in Munich because Jaya is in India, I’ve been trying to do a few things differently. Just to not fall into the same routine every day.

Yesterday, I went to a winter classical concert at the Hercules Hall in the Residenz. Mel had invited me. I don’t usually go for classical music, so I didn’t know what to expect. But I’m really glad I went.

1) While listening, I noticed something interesting. The music started very smooth and comforting. It was beautiful. But after a while, it became almost too smooth. I could feel my mind relaxing so much that I thought I might fall asleep. And then suddenly the tempo changed. There was tension. Drama. A bit of unpredictability. Something slightly uncomfortable. And that’s when it became even more engaging.

It made me think about life. When everything is smooth and easy, we say we want that. But if it stays that way for too long, it becomes boring. It’s the problems, the uncertainty, the tension, the parts where something feels off — those are the moments that actually make the whole thing more meaningful. Without them, it would just be flat. The orchestra showed that very clearly. The beauty was not in constant calmness. It was in the shifts.

2) The second thing that struck me was watching the orchestra itself. Around 60 people on stage. Violins, cellos, harp, piano, percussion. The music felt like one flow, but it was actually being shaped by so many individuals playing their parts. Sometimes softly supporting. Sometimes taking the lead. Sometimes creating tension.

It felt like a reminder of life again. We think our life is “ours”, and in many ways it is. But the direction, the intensity, even the rhythm is influenced by the people around us. Family, friends, colleagues, partners. They are like the orchestra around us. Sometimes they push us forward. Sometimes they slow us down. Sometimes they create harmony. Sometimes friction. And yet all of it becomes part of the final piece.

3) What also stayed with me was how different this experience felt compared to the way we usually consume content today. Instagram, TikTok, short videos — everything is designed to grab you in the first five seconds. If it doesn’t, you scroll. There’s a science behind it. Quick dopamine hits. Constant refresh. Always something new.

But this concert was the opposite. In the first few minutes, you might even think, what is this? It doesn’t try to impress you immediately. It builds slowly. Your mind adjusts. You start noticing smaller details. After 10, 15, 20 minutes, something changes. It grows on you. And the feeling you get is much deeper. More fulfilling. More creative. It’s not loud. It just stays with you.

I don’t think there’s one big conclusion here. It’s more about observing what you feel while you’re experiencing something. Some things can be explained scientifically. You can analyze why they work. But with art, you can describe it as much as you want — unless you sit there and experience it, you won’t really get it.

And maybe that’s the point. Not everything meaningful in life needs to be optimized for attention. Some things need time. Some things need patience. And sometimes, you only understand their beauty when you allow them to unfold slowly.