Well. I don't know how it came to be that you 'get-it', but you certainly do 'get-it'.
It is most delicious to know that, other than myself and my wife, there is someone, somewhere, that does.

I moved my archery target, a few days ago, from the garden, out into the woods, to gain more range and tidy up the garden. I can stand off up to seventy yards now.
That's a good long way, for a longbow, and still be able to hit reasonably accurately, although it would be nothing special for a compound bow. But I only have a recurve and a longbow, being the traditionalist I am.

Straw bales are a great arrow-stopper, although it remains to be seen if the deer will eat them.
Over the bales I have a two-foot-square hessian bag full of synthetic roofing paper, all screwed up into a fairly solid medium, inside the bag. And a nine-inch roundel marked on the front for an aiming point.

I hadn't shot an arrow in many months, but, astonishingly, my first arrow hit the bull, at about sixty yards.
This is astonishing for a number of reasons, but it is a phenomenon I have seen several times. That first arrow is, more often than not, the most accurate one of all. And why would that be?

I can only surmise that the first shot is concerned only with finding the range, elevation-wise, and by not caring where it hits, it unintentionally gets to be the best shot. I couldn't believe my eyes. The second shot was almost as accurate, about two inches right. And all following shots fell into the predictable groove of reasonably accurate, in a loose group, with one or two low misses.

Zen, at work. Dispense with desire, and unlikely results occur.

I have often noted a similar phenomenon while fly fishing.  My casts upon hitting the water are often things of beauty, tight loops unfurling just so the fly kisses the water within inches of the opposite bank.  My casting stroke then usually deteriorates as my mind enters the equation.  I become concerned with a thousand little peripheral things—line manipulation, where I want to bring the fly to life, where oh where are the goddamn fish, watch out for that overhanging laurel.  Casting becomes work, and I try to compensate by carefully aiming my casts, trying to impose my will upon both my body and the surrounding environment.  This rarely works, and usually results in lost tackle and missed strikes. 

My stroke usually returns just about the moment that my mind, numbed by failure, retreats to a less willful and more contemplative state.  I find myself mesmerized by a particularly lovely swirl of current, or a bird I've never seen before.  Is that a mink?  A brown trout rushes from a dark undercut to grab the fly, but most of my mind is elsewhere, conveniently out of the way as my body does all the right things that it couldn't do just minutes before. 

They're really quite lovely.

I will always say that the best music, metal and classical, does not usually elicit much of an emotional response in me.  I would describe it as more of a mathematical satisfaction.  I get a sense of being beyond myself with little if any introspection.  When pop music attempts "profundity" it feels like I'm being manipulated like in a 'starving kids in Africa' sense, the only emotion I feel is justified contempt.

Maybe it's because there are essentially no charismatic leaders that are really getting out there in public and owning it.  It would help if you could identify one single leader only if just symbolically.  Like MLK Jr.  They would have to be good looking and exceptional orators.  A leader with the right look and the right sound would go a long way.

I'm not a fan, but I just got hold of a pile of cds featuring his work, including all symphonies, concertos, string quartets, and a lot more. I've always 'liked' the 10th symphony, as it has its moments. 5th symphony and the Violin Concerto seem ok. What more is worth checking out from a metal perspective? I can upload anything of course.