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January 28, 2007
Dancing About Architecture
“Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.”
– Frank Zappa
Nevertheless, despite the genius of Mr. Zappa, I intend to write about music--but what I have to say is less about music and more about true conservation.
Classical music has fallen on hard times. It's hard to make money with performances live or on album. There are any number of explanations for this; however, the reason matters little--we are in serious danger of losing a great heritage if we do not pay attention.
Many people seem to think that classical music is "for the few, the proud," . . . the snobs. Not so. One of the reasons people may come to this conclusion is that music may be the most underappreciated art. Most people don't know how to listen to music, or don't care. Erik Satie noted that the way in which most people listen to music turns it into wallpaper or furniture. When we see the number of people strolling around with iPods or glued to their headsets at work (I admit to being among them), we can see that there is considerable truth to the statement.
Even when people begin to listen to music rather than just hear it, the reactions tend to be on one plane--"I like it, I don't like it." Now our reaction to almost any form of art begins with this simple dichotomy; however, for most of us, we do not remain there. "I like The Violent Bear it Away because. . . " "I don't care for the paintings of Georgia O'Keefe because. . . " What follows the because begins to enter the realm of analysis if it consists of anything more than mere surface impressions. But most of our reaction to music come down to, "It's got a great bit, good, kicky melody, really danceable, I give it an 8 out of 10."
Music, classical or otherwise, requires attention. In fact, because its impressions are fast and fleeting, it can require more attention than any of the other arts. Unlike walking through an art gallery where you can choose to stand for as long as you wish in front a a painting, a live performance of a piece of music is a fleeting, ephemeral experience. If you are not trained to listen, the experience can be exhausting. And yet. . . to experience music it is necessary to really listen--and despite what many people think, you can listen even if you have no real idea of how the music gets to be the way it is.
So, you can't read a note and you've had no music appreciation courses. What's a person who wishes to listen to do? I suppose it might be wise to start small. Pick something you really like and listen to it. Observe how the notes go up and down, get faster and slower, louder and softer. If it's vocal music, listen to see how the voice interplays with the instruments. You may not have the words to describe this interplay, but you can hear and understand it.
All music has depth. Some pieces are deeper than others. You'd be surprised where you might find musical depth if you listen. Just listen of "Eleanor Rigby" or "Take me home, Country Roads." There is more to them than what most people ever know. They hear it, but they do not really understand or listen to it.
Music is great for creating a soundscape conducive to other activity; however, this is a secondary function, but like hanging a painting to "decorate" your house. Indeed, the painting does "decorate" but its primary function is to stimulate the mind and the heart. When we allow either music or art to become wallpaper, we've lost a source of contact with God. (You knew I'd get there sooner or later.)
Music and Art speak either directly or indirectly of the creator. Often they speak of the creator despite the express intentions of the artist. It cannot be otherwise because it is an act of co-creation. The creation of art is a participation in the divine life and so will always reflect the divine life.
What a tragedy then, when we deny ourselves some part of the good that has been laid out before us.
So today, before you do another thing, take a short break and begin the practice of really listening to music. Turn your musical lawnchair or William Morris into a piece of art again and begin to appreciate how it is turned and fashioned, what went into its making. If you've any musical ability at all, sit down at a piano and try to compose just six or eight bars of melody--forget harmony for the moment. Begin to understand that music, like art and writing, truly is an endeavor requiring an incredible talent and precision.
Then do yourself a favor and start to listen--really listen to the music that you love. Don't use it for a background for something else--or if you do get to know it first so that it can transport you, even as a background, out of the world as it is and into the world as it can be.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:24 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Support Your Local Orchestra
A logical followup to the post below.
Particularly with classical music it is important to make the effort to get out and hear the performance in person. No recording I have ever heard reproduces every nuance of a live performance. Each suffers from a curious deadening effect of dynamics. It's rather like looking at an art print that has been too long exposed to the sun. You can get a sense of what it was all about, but it is pallid, washed-out.
Linda and I took Samuel to hear Mozart's Symphony 41 and Holst's The Planets on Saturday evening. I had forgotten some of the tonalities and all of the dynamics of The Planets and was very happy to make their acquaintance again. It is remarkable how even in a mediocre performance, they overwhelm anything you've heard on CD or vinyl (despite the latter's reputed "warmth").
Symphony Orchestra's need care and feeding. They need the support of the local community. And they need an audience. Help do the truly conservative thing and preserve the great pieces of the past and do it in a progressive way--locally. Then you can boast to all your progressive friends about how progressive you are in your retrogressive fashion.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
January 29, 2007
A Word for the Day
From mid-morning prayer:
The unfolding of your word gives light
and teaches the simple
Indeed. And how does the word unfold? We call that event life. His word unfolds in what happens to us and in how we accept and incorporate that. Life is an expansion of His word--nothing new is added, but all that has been said before is cast in a different, hopefully clearer light.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Different Point from the Same Word
A little later in Psalm 119
Tears stream from my eyes
because your law is disobeyed.
Oh, how hard this one is. What streams from me because God's law is disobeyed? Indignation, anger, sorrow. . . no, I'm afraid that most of the time, unless I'm the one doing it, it is indifference. Yes, I can get outraged about this and that occurrence but on a day by day basis, I do not sorrow the way I would if I were in a better place. I do not see how we hack off our feet and our hands by our choices. I am mostly numb--perhaps because the outrages are paraded before me in a never-ending stream. There are no tears and there should be. When we see the one we love offended there should be, at the very least, sorrow. There should be the desire to make right what has been put crooked and disrupted.
How foolish I am. I rejoice in the temporary things of this world and do not see the pit so many dig for themselves by actions contrary to the law of love.
That in itself should move a heart of stone. One wonders what the heart could be made of that remains unmoved.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 10:16 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
January 30, 2007
Insight from Brian Moore
For a lapsed Catholic, Brian Moore has a good deal to tell those of us who remain staunchly within the confines of the Church:
from Cold Heaven
Brian Moore"I don't believe in God. I am your opposite," Marie said. "Happiness, for me, is knowing that I am in charge of my own life, that I can do as I choose. Don't you see that you're a victim, as I am a victim? What sort of love is it that's withdrawn from someone as good as you, sending you into despair? What sort of love could I possibly feel for a force which has done these things to me and to my husband?"
The room was still. The question hung in the air. Then Mother St. Jude said, "I know nothing of God's intentions. But I can tell you what St. John of the Cross has written. 'I am not made or unmade by the things which happen to me but by my reaction to them. That is all God cares about.' Do you understand, Marie?"
"No," Marie said. "No, I don't."
The old nun took Marie's hand in hers. "If Reverend Mother orders me to do something, I do it, not because I want to, or because I think it is right. I do it because she represents Christ in our community. It is Christ who commands me. St. John tells us that to do things because you want to do them or because you think they are right are simply human considerations. He tells us that obedience influenced by human considerations is almost worthless in the eyes of God. I obey--always--because God commands me." She smiled. "So I am not a victim, Marie. . . ."
In the matter of Church teaching is this our first thought? I have received a word from the Vicar of Christ on Earth--his word requires special consideration for me because it is God speaking through him. Now, it is always possible that in prudential matters a fallible human has misjudged and so might be wrong. However, I find it more likely that one who is truly seeking to follow God is more likely to be attuned to His Will even in prudential matters. That is, one who spends much time with God seems a more trustworthy guide than one who spends very little time.
However, I often see critiques of encyclicals and teachings that seem more designed to deconstruct them and make them a matter of personal preference rather than a matter for obedience. I will admit (again) that I rant and rave, but I take a certain amount of comfort from the parable in which Jesus asks which son has done the Father's will--the one who says yes and stays at home in comfort and leisure, or the one who says no, but goes out to work the fields as his Father requested. I may rant and rave, but by God's will, I am eventually able to say yes and enter those fields once again.
Accepting another's will is not easy, particularly when we've become overly used to "things as they are." But like that mysterious blue guitar of Wallace Stevens, "Things as they are are changed" when the vicar of Christ or those who wield legitimate authority over us in the spiritual realm promulgate a teaching. It is our duty and responsibility to understand a teaching from the magisterium and to the extent possible incorporate that understanding into our own way of living out the Christian vocation. And, there is a certain comfort in knowing that God has laid a special responsibility on the shoulders of those who watch over us:
Ezekiel 33:2-6, KJV
Son of man, speak to the children of thy people, and say unto them, When I bring the sword upon a land, if the people of the land take a man of their coasts, and set him for their watchman:
If when he seeth the sword come upon the land, he blow the trumpet, and warn the people;
Then whosoever heareth the sound of the trumpet, and taketh not warning; if the sword come, and take him away, his blood shall be upon his own head.
He heard the sound of the trumpet, and took not warning; his blood shall be upon him. But he that taketh warning shall deliver his soul.
But if the watchman see the sword come, and blow not the trumpet, and the people be not warned; if the sword come, and take any person from among them, he is taken away in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at the watchman's hand.
If the watchman sees evil and does not identify it and people fall because of it, they fall because of iniquity, but the fault lies with the watchman. However, if he does see and reports it and we choose to ignore what he has reported, then we fail of ourselves, and he is considered innocent.
The shepherds of souls have enormous responsibilities before God. And I have no doubt that this responsibility is always made manifest. Therefore, it is not in their best interest to issue ill-conceived, inappropriate, or miscalculated teachings in the matter of faith and morals. The teachings may be insufficient at times--perhaps unclear. But knowing the terrible responsibility of the shepherding of souls, and knowing that they will account for all those they have lost, I see that the teaching of the Church is to be trusted as a faithful guide. While I may not always understand why the truth is as it is, I know that I can trust it because my obedience is to those in legitimate authority. They speak with God's voice.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:31 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Quotation and a Comment
Stop, reverse that. I'll start with the comment.
For me, the way to explore another culture is from the inside. No matter how many books I read by renowned scholars on Japan, I first came to know and love Japan through Basho, later through Lady Murasaki, and most recently through Kawabata, Oe, Endo, Mishima, Tanagawa, and Soseki. No matter how much outsiders tell me the "facts" of a society, it is what happens inside--in the arts--writing and film in particular, that really allow me to begin to enter and understand the culture.
Even so, I often hesitate. I know that when I read a Japanese novel I often don't "get it." There are symbols, meanings, things that are commonplace within the culture that I have no access to. And so, I'm often afraid to pick up the literature of other lands for fear that I will find myself completely at sea, unmoored, unanchored, unaware.
So it was with some hesitation that I first picked up Naguib Mahfouz. I must admit that I am not certain that I "get it" most of the time. However, I found this passage delightful:
from Miramar
Naguib MahfouzA jet-age traveler. What would you know, you fat moronic puppet? Writing is for men who can think and feel, not mindless sensation seekers out of nightclubs and bars. But these are bad times. We are condemned to work with upstarts, clowns who no doubt got their training in a circus and then turned to journalism as the appropriate place to display their tricks.
Refreshing to note that the press is ever with us.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:05 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
January 31, 2007
Brian Moore, Monsignor Cassidy, and Richard Dawkins
Charlotte Hays points out that one of the great themes of Brian Moore's "catholic" books is loss of faith. This is true from the very earliest The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne, for Black Robe, and to some extent Cold Heaven, although the latter book has a much richer texture of the struggle with/against faith and the meaning of free will.
In that context, I offer the following observation from the book:
Monsignor looked into the stubborn face, into those almost colorless eyes. Faith is a form of stupidity. No wonder they call it blind faith.
The wisdom of the world will always call it foolish, while wallowing in the mire of real foolishness. The wisdom of the wise is foolishness to the rich and to those whose sole meaning is derived from self. And finally, a fool for Christ is a wise man indeed.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:08 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Ignorance Enlightened
Recently, I had a most wonderful opportunity to have some of my ignorance dispelled. A good friend at work, a devout Muslim (who pulls out his prayer mat five time a day in his cubicle--talk about an example*) came back from Lahore, Pakistan where he had gone to get married.
On his return, he shared with us the pictures from his wedding and I was astonished. The pictures showed a family looking very much like a family in one of those Bollywood films--the clothes, the settings, the surroundings, were all rich and sumptuous. His wedding clothes were like something out of the Arabian Nights--absolutely beautiful.
When I think of third world countries, my predominant thought is of mud, rutted roads, and buses with chicken cages on top or chickens running loose with the bus itself.
Naturally in a set of wedding pictures one would not see this aspect of Lahore. But what I did see suggested the same sense of civic pride one might find in a small Southern city, or even town like Waynesville or Bucyrus, Ohio. The outdoor spaces were well-kept and lovely and the indoor spaces were decorated for a celebration.
I don't know why I'm always surprised by pictures and experiences that suggest that the third world might have some of the amenities of the twenty-first century, but it is always nice to have that kind of parochialism knocked down a notch or two.
*While the prayer mat is not only tolerated but encouraged because of our sensitivity to diversity and the training that we received, I can't help but wonder what people would make of me taking out the Rosary twice a day. I already get funny looks at the prayer book open on my desk at all times. However, I must say that I am exceptionally fortunate in the place that I work at the amazing toleration of religious observance of all sorts.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:21 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
A Source for the Title
And a resource for thinking more about the book Cold Heaven.
THE COLD HEAVEN
William Butler YeatsSUDDENLY I saw the cold and rook-delighting Heaven
That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,
And thereupon imagination and heart were driven
So wild that every casual thought of that and this
Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season
With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;
And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,
Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,
Riddled with light. Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent
Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken
By the injustice of the skies for punishment?
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:34 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Ladies Against Feminism
Found via the very elegant Tea at Trianon, Ladies Against Feminism has so much of interest one hardly knows where to begin. Insightful reading for persons of both sexes. (NOT genders, if you please--a word that has only a linguistic meaning and subject of much abuse [if you think not, look into "gender studies" courses that give a minimum of seven mind-boggling genders--following the cultured example of the sites I have cited, I shall not assault your sensibilities.])
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:54 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Is There Any Place Better Than Florida to Work?
What can you say when you go down to the cafeteria and the feature is mojo pork, black beans and rice, and fried sweet plantains? Except, perhaps, yummy. That's just one of the reasons Florida is such a fantastic place to be.
Sometimes I'm almost willing to hug Fidel for sending us so many people to diversify our population and cuisine. We're definitely better for it.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 12:18 PM | Comments (8) | TrackBack
A Couple of Thoughts from Mahfouz
Two thoughts close in text space, but distant in relationship:
from Miramar
Naguib Mahfouz"Cut out the communist propaganda, you hypocrite! The Americans should have taken control of the whole world when they had the secret of the atom bomb all to themselves. Their pussyfooting was a terrible mistake. "
******
"What about you? Sometimes I think you must find it hard to believe in anything."
"How can I deny God," he asked angrily, "when I am deep in His hell?"
Posted by Steven Riddle at 1:27 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Traffic and Grace
Following on my recurrent theme of "you find God in anything," an odd notion occurred to me this evening of the drive home.
I've already explained that I bought a new car that has this neat little gadget that let's you see how your driving affects your gas mileage. This has been a sort of obsession over the past several weeks as I compete with myself in driving to increase the gas mileage. No reason, just want to. Well, my focus is entirely upon the road and making the trip smoother, no lead-foot starts, no screeching stops (pressing the brakes charges the motor battery, so it's good to glide to a stop). What I've discovered in the course of this single-minded pursuit is that things that really bugged me in traffic before don't bother me nearly so much. I don't care about the driver who just has to be ahead of everyone. I no longer have any impulse to race up the ramp just to get in front of someone who I think might go a mile or two too slow to suit me. It's the Nirvana of driving.
So it seems is the life of God. When your entire focus is on Him, the things other people do don't bother you so much. In fact, you may even find that there is more pity than anger as you realize the knots they twist themselves into. Things in the world fall away as you watch that needle climb knowing that you need only cooperate with grace and your "mileage" as it were would increase. There is no competition beyond that you make for yourself--to approach closer and closer to God.
If I get this much relief with the mere hassle of traffic, what must it be like when you off-load all of those extraneous cares and worries. Everything goes by the wayside other than that arrow-straight approach to God. All the other things fall into place and life is more pleasant and perfect. In short, we start to live our Heaven here on Earth.
Lord, let it be so for all those who love you.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 7:31 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 1, 2007
Preparing for Lent--The Nature of Prayer
I was reminded yesterday by Tom at Disputations that it is never too early to begin thinking about Lent. Since I've been thinking about Lent since the day after Easter last year, I would heartily concur with that opinion. I love Lent. I love the spirit of penitence that never seems like penitence because it is such a calm and peaceful sea in which to swim. So many things to give up and then never notice their absence because the faculties are ordered to paying attention to God. For me, the season is a small miracle each year.
I have not yet decided how I will be celebrating the season this year, however, I picked up a book of essays by Ruth Burrows, who must be one of my favorite spiritual writers of recent time.
from Essence of Prayer
Sr. Ruth Burrows, OCDPrayer. We take the word for granted but ought we to do so? What does the word mean in the Christian context? Almost always when we talk about prayer we are think of something we do and, from that standpoint, questions, problems, confusion, discouragement, illusions multiply. For me, it is of fundamental importance to correct this view. Our Christian knowledge assures us that prayers is essentially what God does, how God addresses us, looks at us. It is not primarily something we are doing to God, something we are giving to God, but what God is doing for us. And what God is doing for us is giving the divine self in love.
When I think of prayer in the common way, prayer itself becomes a form of work. As a form of work, its interest palls as we see no forward motion, feel no sense of accomplishment. But prayer is not a work, it is a relationship. People of our time tend to regard relationships in this same sense of accomplishment and moving forward--a strange malady of the times. "This relationship is going nowhere." Well, of course it isn't, that isn't the nature of relationships. So too with prayer--it is putting aside time so that God may bestow Himself upon us. It isn't a work, it is a way of being with All Being.
Why do we find this concept so difficult to grasp? I think there is something in the modern mindset that is always seeking to get "something out of" whatever is done. But this is a fundamentally flawed way of approaching God and prayer. We aren't looking to "get something out of God" (or at least, we shouldn't be), but rather to be transformed by His Love for us. Our effort is not entirely our own because it is not possible without grace. Moreover, if we look upon it as an effort, we expect a return. Prayer is a time and a place to be--it is no more effort than sitting on our back porch and looking at the sunset.
And yet, we make it a mountain of method and of style, a pound of words and a recipes of all kinds of things that must be done just so. Because Catholicism is so imbued with structured rite and ritual, we have come to ritualize, rubricize and methodize prayer. For example, we confuse the rhythms of the Rosary, the rhythms of a mother singing to a child, with our own feeble efforts at prayer. The Rosary is spoken by us, but it is prayer precisely because it brings us into His presence to receive the love endlessly revealed in each mystery.
Each prayer we say, each action we take, each motion, each method, all of this is about preparing ourselves for Love. We are such awkward creatures. Surely we do similar things for each other, going out of our way to deceive ourselves and the one we love, to make them think we are lovable. But that is something we do not need with God. We are lovable because He loves us. That is a fundamental truth we need to accept at the start and we have to put behind us all the awkwardness and difficulty of pretending to be something we are not. God knows. He knows already. Every fiber of our being is sustained by His Will at every moment. Do we really think we can hide from Him?
So all this effort at prayer is simply a play at telling ourselves that we are really more determined and better than we are. But we are little more than children dressing up in adult clothing and after a while the entertainment palls.
So what must I do? Attend to payer, be there, ready and waiting to receive love in whatever form it may appear. Spend time with His Word, spend time with Him. Don't allow method to intrude upon Being. Be aware of who He is who who I am not. As Saint Catherine of Siena so wisely tells us, "He is He who is, I am she who is not." We do well to remember that. Our reality is grounded in He who is and without Whom all is not.
There is no method to being. We are. We are because He is and in looking at Him we are looking at being. There may be things we can do that will dispose our minds, hearts, and souls to better receive this reality. However, the end is being. And that is also the beginning.
(interesting side note. I composed much of this in my palm and tried to synch it this morning to my computer. For some reason I couldn't get the blue-tooth connection to work. As a result, I had to retype it from the palm screen. Normally my palm is set to go off after a minute or so of inactivity. But in this case it did not go off during the entire typing episode. It suggests to me that the Holy Spirit, perhaps, really wanted this message to get out there. Or, I'm sure, there are other more mechanical explanations. But I'll go with the first.)
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:28 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack