Please Note: this first chapter sets the scene. Sidney story starts in the next chapter
The rain is driving against the window in blasts. The slaps of water and wind hitting rhythmically makes me think of Thor, Odin or Loki. I am sitting in the waiting room of a sports psychologist in Denmark who wants to pick my brains while I am here to ‘see’ if what I have heard through our many phone conversations is real. The gods are playing with us. Puppets and a puppetmaster. The grey weather outside announces the opening of this scene.
“Miss Kassiopeia von Karajan, to see you sir” the receptionist ushered me into the office. It was kind of as I had imagined it would be. A room with a window, many stacks of books and papers, a laptop on the desk, an empty cup of something, a pair of chairs in one corner which faced the window. It’s like a god looking down on the world that he had created. I had actually thought about the 14 floors which the elevator had ascended to get here but looking out over the harbor below now.
“ February in Copenhagen can be stormy Kassiopeia. Sorry, Peeka.” Ture Mikkelsen was as his name and voice suggested. Thor incarnate. He is a tall man. Yes, broad shouldered but not thick in his stature. Face weathered. Older than I had thought maybe mid thirties. Blondish long hair hung limp around his face. His hair needs trim rather than a cut. No one looking after him.
“ I love weather. It gives one scope to feel.” I smile at him and extend my hand. “ My pleasure to meet you at long last, Dr Mikkelsen.”
“Really the pleasure is mine that you came here at this time of year. Can I offer you refreshment? Tea? Kaffe?” His voice is deep. A baritone rather than a basso I suspect. Hmmm.
“Herb tea if you have any would be lovely. I have time in my schedule to sing an afternoon of Mozart at the national theatre and tomorrow the university a master class in vocalization of jazz riffs. I like to fit a bit of distraction from the performances. Sopranos are notorious for being high maintenance and I need to burn off some steam.”
“ Please sit. Our conversations up to now on the techniques of inspiration to high performance athletes have been very interesting to me. I know that you maintain your cox position with the rowing team by finding individual and group visualizations to help push your teams to seemingly breaking limits. The crew in your boats listen to you, follow your commands and believe in you. It is remarkable.
Every time a record is set your crew comes up with another big push and down it goes. What goes on it that boat? Why do they trust you? ” He picks a pen fiddles with it.
“That’s the question of the day isn’t. I get them to believe in themselves. My father is, as you know is a conductor, a director of music. He has taught me from a young age that to be successful I needed to orchestrate the world around me. To take my advantages yes but to take my disadvantages make them my successes. That’s what I do in the boat. I find the weakness and turn it into a positive. Fix the problem or change from a problem to an advantage. Look at me. I am 5’2”, thin to the point of skinny; I have inherited a voice and a musical intuition which have made me.
What the next diva? But that’s not what I want to do. I love to direct. I love to orchestrate. People don’t want to see me as my father. They want to see my mother with her pure mesmerizing voice. It is in the boat where I have built my world where people don’t see the package of my parents love story and ultimate operatic demise but rather the things I can control. Stroke, pace, angles, timing and heart. It comes down to heart.” I don’t liking talking about my family but this warrants genuine feeling. My family is a tabloid fodder.
