When Hans Zimmer tours Europe, more than half of his orchestra comes from Odessa, Ukraine. This time, for a concert that should have happened more than two years ago, only nine out of 20 make it to Germany.
In his opening statement, Zimmer explains: “The women were able to escape the war and come to play here tonight. The men have stayed behind and are fighting for their country.” The room breaks out in applause.
“This first piece we’re playing, I would like to dedicate it to these women. It’s called ‘Wonder Woman.'”
The people in Ukraine fighting for their country will never take in the massive screen, tinted blue and yellow. They won’t know pictures of them are fading in and out as the orchestra plays. They’ll never hear the epic song swelling to its crescendo, and they won’t see the drummers, violinists, and cellist – all women – shining bright in the spotlight as they take center stage.
Fierce. That’s the only way to describe it all, but the people it’s for won’t see it. When the piece ends, once again, loud cheers and roaring applause. Some 10,000 Germans and Hans Zimmer, clapping for Ukraine.
There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who think their cheering won’t matter if the cheered on don’t witness it, and those who cheer anyway.
Cheer anyway, for you never know how the universe may choose to relay your message, and just because we can’t see something doesn’t mean we can’t feel it.