my own little world

Redeeming Wagner and the Musical Canon.

Sat, 05 Dec 2009 07:43:21 GMT

This is certainly not going to be the first time you read about Wagner here. This fall, when I was working readings for my comprehensive exams and reading a lot of Wagner, I definitely had some blogging material, but they never materialized. I'll be working closely with some of those sources in the future, so I'm sure that there will be future opportunities for me to reflect on his writings.

When did you first hear about Wagner? What do you remember hearing? How was he introduced to you?

On Wednesday I picked up the complete Ring Cycle on the Deutsche Grammophon with James Levine and the Met Opera. HMV $54 bucks. Too good of a deal to pass up, even if it means no groceries in April. So, today I decided to put it on while I worked. I'm currently on the fifth disk. And, y'know what?

I love Wagner.
I don't think I truly realized it until today, but I do. This man's music is gorgeous.

How did it take me this long to realize this? I did an entire degree at McGill and didn't know. I've attended entire lectures on the Tristan chord. I'm a brass player, I go to concerts, but I didn't know.

What's up with the way Wagner is taught in today's musical canon?

"Ok, class, now we're going to talk about Wagner. He's the one that wrote the operas that have the horned helmets we make fun of. And the singers who wear that helmets are fat. Other opera singers aren't these days, but the Wagnerian ones still are. Except for Ben Heppner, but he got his heart meds straightened out. And his operas are really really long. Only fanatics like them. And the real fanatics are so crazy that they'll go to four of them in a row. I'm sure you brass players have played some ridiculously hard excerpts. But, oh, we should spend a whole class on this funky chord he used in Tristan. It's kinda pretty, but we'll make you study it separate from the drama. Wagner would hate that, but we won't go there. In fact, we know you'll hate studying Wagner. That's 'cause not only are his operas long, but his melodies are endless. And he was crazy. He wrote a bunch of stuff that always changed depending on which wacky philosopher he was in to at the time, but you don't want to read those either; they're even more endless than his melodies! Oh yes, and did we mention that he was antisemitic? And the Nazi's used him. But y'know, we don't want to talk about that either. So, um. Tristan chord. And then some stuff about bathwater. Nevermind the baby."

Why has this become acceptable? Wagner has remained part of the musical educational canon because he must be studied, but he has become a stigmatized part of the musical canon. He's the bad boy of the history survey class and the scapegoat of musical Nationalism. And in concert programing, he is the prelude before the Bruckner symphony. Um, what? Other than the fact that you already have the extra brass on stage, how is that good programming? Seriously, cough up the money to pay for your utility brass for one extra night — I'm sure their kids won't mind the extra present under the tree.

I've had people ask me how I can reconcile studying Wagner when he was such a horrible person. My answer? We're all horrible people. And even if you believe that Wagner was more horrible than the rest of us, why should that affect whether or not I can enjoy his operas?

Now, I'm not condoning some of the things Wagner wrote (though I had some very Wagner-like thoughts during the performance of La Traviata that I attended this semester), and I've been careful to identify myself as a Wagnerian scholar but not a Wagnerite, but that doesn't preclude me from thinking that the man was brilliant. Or that his music is absolutely beautiful. So how do I reconcile it? Well, I believe that art is worthy of consideration apart from the artist. Just as I believe that an artist is worthy of consideration apart of his art. And I believe that art is reconcilable and redeemable apart from its artist. Part of this is because I believe in both the brokenness and the reconciliation or redemption of humanity.

I believe that man was created in God's image. In a similar manner, I believe that all representation of beauty is a reflection of the beauty of Christ. All beauty. Even if the artist was unaware, all beauty comes from God and at its root, all beauty is a reflection of and a testament to the beauty of Christ. And in that beauty, the art is redeemable by the Creator.

Yes, it's flawed, just as we're flawed. We struggle through in a poor attempt to daily reflect the image of God, but we are that image just the same. And we're beautiful. Ernest often quoted a line from a Leonard Cohen song; "There is a crack, a crack in everything, That's how the light gets in."

Why do I study Wagner? Because his music is beautiful and he had some deep, thought-provoking things to say.
How can I reconcile my study of Wagner? Because it's Beautiful.

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

~Leonard Cohen, Anthem

When having it all together just isn't enough...

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 08:41:14 GMT

My first year in Victoria, I thought it was just that I was new. Everything was new and I was building a new life... it takes time. It takes energy. What I was feeling was normal, right? November's rain came and I cried over photos of Montreal in the snow and then booked a trip for reading break. That would make me feel better, right?

Then last year, November came and the rains started in earnest. I admitted that I was near a breaking point... The stress was almost more than I could handle but I blamed the fact that I wasn't at the gym often enough, that I had quit taking my vitamins to save money... I blamed the fact that I was finally changing churches and that my thesis had hit a break wall. What I was feeling was normal, right? Then someone special blessed me with a gift of a plane ticket to Edmonton to see My Square. It was like a break to breathe... to be with people who really knew me without explanation. That would make me feel better, right?

Those things *did* make me feel better. A bit. It was enough to give me a chance to "reset" enough to make it through. Each time, just enough to make it through.

This fall, I decided that I would do "everything right." I made sure there was good food in the house right away. I became militant with my gym time. I ate supper at the same time (nearly) every evening and had oatmeal for breakfast every morning. I scheduled breaks when I could. I started using my study carrel at the library in an attempt to focus on my studies. I took my vitamins again.

And I was exhausted.

My mom would make little comments like "Are you sure you still want to do this? You don't seem like you're enjoy it anymore..." I would sleep through my alarm... want to eat nothing but bread and cheese... and want to cry an awful lot. Things were ok when I was around people, but I couldn't focus on my work. I didn't apply for a big source of funding for my PhD studies and I really didn't know how I'd get through my PhD applications, let alone finish my thesis this spring. When I couldn't work (which was all the time) I'd beat myself up for it.

I had it all together. I was doing everything "right." School's been good, my friends are great, and church is a blessing.
I am happy. I was happy.
But I still felt like the ceiling was pressing in on me... still felt like I needed to cry every second day... still just wanted to sleep all the time...

Two weekends ago I had a break down on the phone with my mom. It wasn't a "planned breakdown" - I had simply called home to touch base on Sunday afternoon and instead, I completely fell apart. I said that I was tired of feeling hollow. Tired of feeling dark. Tired of feeling that way. So, two weeks ago, I marched myself down to a walk in clinic and announced "I think I have SAD [Seasonal Affective Disorder] and I need help."

I should have done this two years ago.

I now have a special light and some "happy pills" and I simply cannot believe the difference.
I feel like myself again. I can work hard and play hard again. I can discuss ideas with my supervisor and I'm doing as much in a day as I had been getting done in a week. And at a better quality. I enjoy the sound of rain again. And I can lie in bed on a lazy morning like this morning and read a book again. I had even lost that. I find myself humming to myself as a putz around the kitchen and I'm laughing harder. People tell me "I'm sorry" when they hear the news... but the truth is, the time for being sorry is over. The truth is, I want to shake them and say "CELEBRATE WITH ME! This is the part where I'm getting better - this is the HAPPY PART!"

Candles - from an email to Prairie September 25, 2009

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 00:29:07 GMT

Every now and then my mom gets sappy about the fact that I really am on my own. She tells me that she knows I can take care of myself and that I'm capable and strong and beautiful. But then she looks at my siblings and sighs with the content of knowing that wherever Amanda goes, Jason has her best interest at heart. Sounds similar to how a parent feels when their children travel: it's always nice to know when they're with a friend - even if it's just to have someone there with a hug or to speak the same language when you need it.

"I know you can take care of yourself," she says, "but it would be nice to know that someone else was too."

The truth, of course, is that I can and I can't. And that's where my friends come in. I assure her that I have amazing friends, and that even though I haven't actually attended the same church for more than 13 months (including being gone in the summers!), I have a church body that loves me. I tell her that I'm lucky. That I have friends that will fight for me.

Prairie, when you first told me that you knew exactly what I meant when I said the ceiling was crushing in on me, I felt guilty at first. I didn't realize that it had been that hard for you. I knew it was hard, but I didn't know the exact spot you were in. But then I realized, I didn't have to know that the dark was bringing on the crazies so much as I needed to know how much you missed [Mr. Prairie] and how hard it was that he had gone back to being the boy in your computer screen. You didn't need me to buy you candles, 'cause you had someone finding you the biggest candle he could find.

But you in your I've-been-there-I-knowness and you're new found I'm-in-love-sappiness, knew that I needed candles more than I knew I did. You knew that I could go buy some myself (I did, and it's hilariously freaky how similar the two sets of candles are) but you knew that I needed someone to take care of me. The symbolic candles. That's what made me cry. It wasn't that Gutenberg was being temperamental, though that was frustrating, and it wasn't that I am a Sherk and a Stefan or that I was overtired, though we know that helped. It was because I realized how right I am when I tell my mom that I have someone -lots of someones- who DO take care of me on a regular basis. You guys sent the candles. Ela has been an on-line-cheerleader-extraordinaire, reminding me not only to breathe but also that I should "tell to Jesus" in addition to rallying my prayer troops when I needed it. Nick is distraught that I had to quit dance. Wen talked me into taking Vitamin D before committing myself. Trevor gave me an early morning wakeup call the morning of the due date when I simply could not stay up later to finish it. I am so blessed.

So, that's what the candles symbolize. I have friends who love me enough that they help me to take care of myself - even when they're far enough away that they have to find creative ways to do it.

So, now I have my own "witching-hour", only my soul is too liturgical to really call it that. The smell of pure, unscented (you're amazing, by the way) candles is intoxicating to me. It brings me to church. It calls me to prayer. I can't help but hear the benediction every time and it puts me at peace.

The Lord bless you, and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine on you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.

Just when you've begun to think that I've forgotten how to post

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 05:49:46 GMT

Life has been too busy lately - so busy that it's been a little lacking on the life part. There hasn't been much time for anything but school.

And reading blogs. It's the one mini-break that I'll let myself have when I'm chained to my computer, trying to write. (Unless I've disabled my internet, but that's another story.) That and making tea, but that doesn't count.

Tonight I read a gem.

Art for art’s sake does wonderful things to you. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. It makes you want to take naps and go places wearing funny pants. Doing something just for the hell of it is a wonderful antidote to all the chores and “must-dos” of daily life. Writing a novel in a month is both exhilarating and stupid, and we would all do well to invite a little more spontaneous stupidity into our lives.

It's from the FAQ section of this and was quoted by a friend-of-a-friend here, which I only saw because I linked on to her page from Ashley's blog. I only share the cyber-chain because it's so random and it brought me to something so randomly beautiful.

I don't think I need to explain the why and how this resonates with me. :o) I love art for art's sake. And spontaneity.

And funny pants.

me, myself, & I

Wed, 12 Nov 2008 07:40:09 GMT

I find it hard to believe that most people don't talk to themselves when other aren't around. Is this seriously the case? Even people who live alone?

Um, yes, to answer your question: It's been a while. I haven't seen anyone in person since church Sunday morning. . . . maybe it's a good thing I have a lesson tomorrow morning?

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 08:37:11 GMT

Why don't people see what is new in my works, how in them, as is found otherwise only in Beethoven, the human being visibly plays a part in the work...

~ Richard Strauss, 19 June 1949

I'm ok.

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 09:41:22 GMT

I think it's safe to venture that I wasn't so ok about a month ago... but right now I am.

A lot of things are changing. My thesis topic is changing completely, but surprisingly NOT my advisor. My church is changing... but it looks like I can keep my lecture recital topic after all. Right now the transition is starting to get tiring, but I know it was needed to get to this place of being ok.

All of a sudden I feel as though some of it is possible...
I'm making the time to spend some time with God in His Word...
And now and then I even make the effort to 'take a Sabbath' and to pretend that I don't have any work for a whole day. Today may not have been the best day to do so, but it took one today, and it feels so good. It's probably the first one that I've had this year where I didn't avoid work because I was crashing completely as a result of the week(s) preceding it.

I went to church, watched some Friends, played piano, baked muffins, read my Bible, journaled, wrote some postcards and letters, and now I'm even getting to write an LJ, brief though it may be. I also practised my horn, but I'm inclined to say that it didn't count as work today as I was practising while enjoying a glass of red wine. (The sweeter stuff, of course, which I'm sure was oh-so-much-nicer for my horn.) The practise felt good, and I dare say went well. Oh yes, and through it all, which ever I wasn't making music myself, I listened to the same song on loop. The same five minute song. On loop. I've never been able to fully explain my occasional urge to do this until today - it's my way of stopping time. If I'm still listening to the same song, not that much time must have passed. And so, an entire Sunday afternoon and evening has been reduced to a mere five minutes.

Beautiful words

Tue, 09 Sep 2008 07:05:53 GMT

I found this fascinating site that creates word clouds of any chunk of text you feed it. The more times each word shows up, the bigger it appears. Out of curiosity, I ran my LJ page (containing the most five most recent posts) through it and was rewarded with this aesthetically pleasing and endlessly intriguing result.

I find it interesting that the words Grandpa & God and Grandpa's and Jesus are approximately the same size. It doesn't surprise me that remember is a large as it, but the relative enormity of know is astounding considering how little it feels that I know as of late.

The next project that I forsee giving this site is that of song lyrics. Can't you see it now?

the city, public transit, and cute meets

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 19:09:30 GMT

"I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years. And then I realized, you just say "hi". They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And that possibility is worth that one word."
~ Augusten Burrough, Author*1

        Somedays I really hate my bus ride home. It can seem pretty long when it takes nearly 45 minutes door to door from downtown.*2    I usually forget, and so end up pleasantly surprised, that it's only half an hour to get to Ernest and Glenys'*3 place. And on nights that I'm heading home late, I find it almost amusing when I pull out my latest book*4 to read amongst what is often half drunken talk on the bus around me.

        But part of the beauty and magic of public transit is the people. I like to people watch, you know, but you also probably know that it doesn't take much to get me to talk to them either. Ben has pointed out that we first met on the bus where we discussed our prospective books, thinking that we were simply strangers passing. Kate and I met on the bus... not once, but twice maybe three times before we became insta-friends. (We refer to it fondly as our cute-meet.)*5 And tonight at the bus stop I met the girl that I'll likely share my office with next year. Entering masters student in music. She had a odd shaped thing (for lack of a better word) with her, and I just had to ask if it was an instrument.*6 Immediately we found out that we have three friends in common, one of whom I shared my office with this past year and one of whom I met in Italy. She's teaching the first year keyboard lab this fall, and I the second, so we'll likely share an office. *cue it's a small world music here*

The bus ride flew by. Sometimes (often) I really love my life. And lack of car.   *grin* *7

*1 From my Starbucks cup a few weeks back. Sorry, don't know anything about the author. At all.

*2 Or school for that matter.

*3 Glenys, coincidentally, is the flute player that I happen to remember from MusiCamrose ten years ago. Last night we laughed over how beautiful it's been to acquaint and reacquaint ourselves.

*4 Currently Ozma of Oz with original illustrations!

*5 Actually a 'technical' term, of sorts. At least according to The Holiday and Wiki.

*6 "Harp" she said. "Celtic harp?" I ventured, securing myself in her mind as someone who might actually know something about music. It was pretty sweet... shaped like the body of a mini-harpsichord and in a red and white checked quilted gingham.

*7 Yes, Prairie-dear, I am aware that I'm blogging. Notice how easily it takes over my thought process? This is why I avoided it for so long. But you see, I have oh-so-much school reading to be avoiding, so blogging wins. And these last two posts have been modified versions of emails that I've actually sent to people, so that somehow feels different. *grin*

Epistle-ing the Gospel

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 08:18:25 GMT

    I was struck by something that my friend Ernest pointed out tonight - he said that Paul had it all planned out in his head. That Romans wasn't written in little chunks, but was a letter that he felt he needed (was inspired by the Holy Spirit) to write to the dudes in Rome and so he sat down and wrote it. Have you ever done that? Have you ever had the opportunity to epistle the gospel?

    Picture a 16-year-old [eventhere]: Elbow length unruly redhair and big glasses. A tenth grader in eleventh grade Chemistry and Biology back-to-back. Actually physically unable to get through most Biology classes without (fairly loudly) exclaiming "WOW! Isn't God AMAZING!" to the poor shy girl with whom I shared my lab table. This is the quirky [eventhere] that ran off to the little town of Camrose for her third summer at the music camp that literally changed her life. *1

    As much as that camp shaped my future, there is one thing totally unrelated that stands out in my mind from that summer. The last day of that two week camp, a girl who had shared three of these two week experiences with me wrote something in my camp journal and then embraced me in tears. "[eventhere]. I want what you have. I know it's God... and I can see it's beautiful, but I just don't get it. Can you help me understand?" She hugged me tight and we ran off to our parents and our long drives home, both knowing that we'd never attend that camp again. Both very aware of the fact that we may never see each other again. *2

    I went home, partially elated, completely dumbfounded. Now what?
Y'know that verse in 1 Peter? The one about being prepared? Peter wasn't kidding.*3

    I remember sitting down at my desk at a loss, pulling out my Bible and a blank piece of paper, and staring at it. "Jesus loves me so I can't help but love Him" wasn't going to cut it. Yes, that's the heart of the matter... that's the soul of the matter... but this friend was a first year university scientist. She wanted answers. I gave one of those "aw man, Jesus, I sure don't know what to say, this is going to have to be You" sighs, and I started to write. Pages and pages.*4   All I really remember about the letter was that it was mostly scriptural quotations (all fully referenced, of course). I remember having scripture come to mind and hesitating thinking "this verse causes problems with people because of this, this, and this - why would I possibly think it's going to work to bring this issue up?" and then shrugging and copying it out anyways, knowing that it was a part of my faith and that it must have come to mind for a reason. I quoted the Paul that many people don't like. I threw in a little C. S. Lewis*5, bought a second hand Bible from my church's Bible peddler*6, and posted the package to my friend. I was convinced that I'd either never hear from her again, or she'd decided that Jesus was a lunatic and so was I by extension.

    That letter did something. It was nothing less than God using me in my obedience. I sometimes still get shivers that this friend that was once inclined to see Jesus as merely a moral teacher now has a glimpse of that '3rd dimension'*7 that is the Kingdom of Heaven, but that's not the part that stands out to me. To me, it was the 'be prepared', 'explain', and 'WRITE' commands. The fact that I know that what flowed from my pen that day may have been in my language, but it clearly wasn't from me. I am making no claims to being Paul or writing the next book of scripture, but there was something truly transforming about the opportunity to write all that my faith was to me. Yes, it might have given my friend clarity, but it gave me clarity too. And I can't help but wonder if it's things like this that Paul was referring to when he told the Philippians to work out their faith with fear and trembling.

    Have you epistled the Gospel?

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.
Philippians 2:12-13

*1 well, shaped her career path anyways

*2 We haven't. But we've managed to stay in touch. Even before the dawn of facebook. Take that, Mark Zuckerberg!

*3 I Peter 3:15 - But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect...

*4 I'm sort of known for writing long letters - didn't you know?

*5 "A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic - on the level with a man who says he is a poached egg - or he would be the devil of hell. You must take your choice. Either this was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us." C. S. Lewis ~ Mere Christianity

*6 I am sooo serious. This is the best way to describe her!

*7 You HAVE to watch this: It's such a big part of how I wrap my mind around God and the mystery of faith.

way to break my heart

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 01:46:57 GMT

*note: This is one of those blogs that you have to follow the links in order to 'get'. Starting with the linked word "recently" it is imperative that you follow the links. *grin*

        Lynn Johnston's For Better or For Worse has always been a favourite of mine. Maybe it was the fact that I remember my mom having one of her earliest collections, David We're Pregnant, around the house when I was little and adding to my collection of siblings. I'm sure that it didn't hurt that I would spend hours reading them at my piano teacher's house in Grande Prairie while I sat and watched her teach the book one Suzuki preschoolers, or that when I moved to Montreal this same piano teacher hooked me up with the online version of the strips. Perhaps it even goes a little deeper and more sentimental than that. For as long as I could remember my Grandpa would stride across the yard every Friday with the most recent "funny papers" for me to read. Grandpa got the Grande Prairie Daily Herald Tribune delivered to the farm and the Friday edition always had a pull out cartoon section - those must have been among my earliest reading material. Grandpa's and my own shared love of the comic was deep routed: noon of every week day at home found me on Grandpa's lap in front of the Flintstones *1 and every Friday brought me the funny papers.

        I guess it's not that much of a stretch, then, for this comic to turn around and break my heart. One of the charming features of Johnston's work is the reality of time in her strips. Unlike other popular strips*2 FBorFW's characters aged. Michael grew up, Elizabeth dealt with crazy growing-up girl stuff and then made career choices that moved her across the country*3, April was born, dogs died... Until now. Recently, they announced that time will stop - the characters will no longer age. I guess she has the characters in a position where there's endless storyline fodder: the original grandparents are aging, Elly & John are retiring, Deanna & Michael have kids of their own, Liz is finally not getting the short end of the stick in love, and April is dreaming the big dreams of a high school senior. This moved, coupled with frequent flashbacks*4, simplified things enough for Johnston that she decided to put off retiring for a bit. For this, I'm grateful - but does she have to keep breaking my heart?

        In September 2006 Grandpa Jim had a stroke. Somehow, Johnston has chronicled my Grandpa's story. From the first stroke, to how April deals with things, how she shows his thoughts that he can't express, and how Iris keeps him at home and has the lonely job of taking care of him, I re-live Grandpa's final years. I remember watching Grandpa, knowing that his thought process was still intact - watching him laugh at our jokes, and struggle to say the few words he could. ...watching Grandma do so much... thank goodness we were on the farm too. But I know it was hard. In short, they just all hit too close to home. Today's made me cry again... it doesn't matter that Grandpa's been gone for eight years now. I still think of him every time an elderly man walks by... whenever I'm on the farm and I pass my basketball hoop... whenever I laugh so hard milk comes up my nose*5... Flintstones, chicken bones on the side of my plate, prunes, even - I'm sad to say - the Toronto Maple Leafs.*6 I don't think that any of you reading this blog knew me before Grandpa died... but you've all heard stories. I was the redhead that he got on "special order." Playing at his funeral is still among the hardest things I've ever done and the week following his death taught me that's it's always a good idea to bring the grieving food. I remember holding my breath each time he quit breathing that last day... being so thankful that Grandma was there with him when he took his last breath. I know the peace of getting to really say goodbye... but some days it still hurts with the kind of pain that only comes with loving and being loved that incredibly much.

        Part of me loves how some of these memories are kept fresh in For Better of For Worse, but part of me fears the inevitable day when Iris will no longer have the lonesome job of caring for Jim... of the day that April can only bring him a song of goodbye and a poem the way I once did for Grandpa. As much as Johnston's magic was in the real passing of time... part of me hopes that a character that no longer ages will also never die.

            Goodbyes are not forever
            There's a place we'll be together
            Love goes on and on forever
            I'll be seeing you soon. *7

*1 Which was such a part of our life growing up with Grandpa that Manna recently bought ALL of them on DVD.

*2 Think Peanuts, Calvin & Hobbs etc. (Has anyone else ever noticed how the latter sounds like a couple of theologians?)

*3 Or province... that's Ontario for you. At least it was a Northern community...

*4 Which I love, by the way - they are eerily close to flashbacks into my own childhood.

*5 He probably would have found it hilarious that half of John's schoolmates thought that my brother had died when they heard the radio obituary.

*6 To be fair, Canada only had so many teams back in the day.

*7 Chorus of the poem I wrote for Grandpa... I had a chance to publish it once, but withdrew it once the offer was made. I thought that it would somehow make it less precious.

gotta love Paul Brandt

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 23:59:08 GMT

It's a repost... but, it's a good one and I needed the reminder and thought I'd share:

I heard it from a newborn baby
Loud and clear in that first breath of air
I heard it when grandpa was dying
It was faintly there

Live now
Live now
I guess it really is quite simple
Sometimes it's easier said than done
But all the cool rain does is fall down
And all the river does is run
(all we really have to do is)
Live now

Live now

We're not promised tomorrow
Like vapor, this these days here are fading away
Baby, this time I'm holding you is borrowed
But every second by God's grace, I'm gonna
Live Now

I've learned I can't control the future
I've learned I must forgive the past somehow
Cause we are here only a moment
And life's too short not to live now

Live now.

(Paul Brandt)

Regarding baby elephants...

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 05:37:47 GMT

So, the reason I'm looking for a name for a baby elephant.

See, I have this thesis that I'm beginning to toil away at. The other day (yes, the way I infamously usually mean 'the other day' to mean a time of variable distance in my past) I was chatting with someone about my thesis. He asked how long it takes. His response when I replied two years was "wow - that's a long gestation period." This was followed by a brief pause by both of us, and then simultaneous proclamation "just like a baby elephant!"

So, lame though it may be, I'm looking for a good name for a baby elephant. My thesis topic has already changed names a few times... and I'm only in the preliminary pre-proposal stage. It's going to be a subject of upheaval... and one that is referred to much too often to simply be called 'the thesis' [cue music here]. Before it becomes 'that which shall not be named'.

I'm dangerously close to referring to it as Dumbo from now until completion...
Elmo
Horton
Horace
Holberg
Stampy
Caesar Maximus
I Tutor Mengat
Sarah

I love that city.

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 17:44:44 GMT

My favourite Spacing Montreal blogger/journalist Christopher DeWolf recently posted on a commuter freeze at Berri-UQAM.
http://spacingmontreal.ca/?p=676

It's pretty awesome. The group who did it has a facebook group and might be doing another one, so if you're interested at all, I suppose facebook is the place to be (this I say with much chagrin). Even more interesting, it looks like they're going to associate themselves with Improv Everywhere http://improveverywhere.ning.com/. The Improv Everywhere tagline is "We cause scenes." What's not to love about that? (In fact... I wonder if random dancing on the chairs of Brutopia, a 24 hour food joint, and Second Cup all in one night would qualify. What can I say? We cause Scenes.)
I've looked... sadly, Victoria, BC does not have a chapter. Victoria, Australia does. Go figure.

Speaking of Metros and facebook - did any of you hear that there are groups like:

"Rename Lionel-Groulx Metro after Oscar Peterson"

Can you imagine? Prochain station: Os-karrr' Pet-ter'-son avec the metro lady's French accent!?
The group is actually kinda funny with statements like this:

Fact: Oscar Peterson was born and raised in Sud-Ouest Montreal, is jazz royalty, a symbol of triumph over adversity, a Grammy lifetime achievement award winner, a Companion of the Order of Canada, and a Chevalier of the Ordre national du Québec.
Fact: Lionel Groulx opposed all non-Catholic immigration to Canada, supported the Fascists during WWII and the Spanish Civil War, and acted to deny access to Canada to Jewish asylum-seekers during the Holocaust.

And quotations like these:

"The children of ethnically mixed marriages suffer from a form of schizophrenia because they are inhabited by two different souls." - Lionel Groulx
"The music field was the first to break down racial barriers, because in order to play together, you have to love the people you are playing with, and if you have any racial inhibitions, you wouldn't be able to do that." - Oscar Peterson

Humour aside, it is kind of interesting. I remember thinking that the "Save Parc Avenue" petitions were a lost cause... but apparently those weren't. Is facebook really a new tool to rally up young adults to make a noise about things they are passionate about? (or about things that they are only slightly more than indifferent about?) Or is is simply the next thing for angsty adolescents (and uni students, and now the rest of the world) to mindlessly vent?

Books

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 17:06:24 GMT

"A man's library is a sort of harem."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson - The Conduct of Life

Wanted:

Fri, 29 Feb 2008 07:16:17 GMT

One good name for a baby elephant.

I'm serious. Make suggestions. No further explanation until I have ideas and have selected one.

St. Ignatius of Loyola

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 09:42:31 GMT

No, this will not be a post pertaining to Four Saints in Three Acts, nor will I quote any lines from Thomson/Stein opera, but every time I hear poor St. Ignatius' name I get it stuck in my head.

St. Ignatius of Loyola was the founder of the Society of Jesus (ie, the Jesuits) and the compiler of Spiritual Exercises... the more I encounter of this man, the more I respect him and his teachings. One of these practises is a self awareness that involves asking yourself two questions - two questions that I pose to you today:

What gave you life today?

and

What drained life from you today?

more to come. Someday soon.

Soundtrack for a Transition (old school)

Sun, 20 Jan 2008 09:44:09 GMT

The wind is moving
But I am standing still
A life of pages
Waiting to be filled

A heart that's hopeful
A head that's full of dreams
But this becoming
Is harder than it seems

Feels like I'm
Looking for a reason
Roamin' through the night to find
My place in this world
My place in this world
Not a lot to lean on
I need your light to help me find
My place in this world
My place in this world

If there are millions
Down on their knees
Among the many
Can you still hear me

Hear me asking
Where do I belong?
Is there a vision
That I can call my own?

Show me, I'm
Looking for a reason
Roamin' through the night to find
My place in this world
My place in this world
Not a lot to lean on
I need your light to help me find
My place in this world
My place in this world

crazy intense '80s guitar solo

Lookin' for a reason
Roamin' through the night to find
My place in this world
My place in this world
Not a lot to lean on
I need your light to help me find
My place in this world
My place in this world

. . . be it ever so humble . . .

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 22:59:16 GMT

"When I speak of home, I speak of the place where -- in default of a better -- those I love are gathered together; and if that place were a gypsy's tent, or a barn, I should call it by the same good name notwithstanding."

~Charles Dickens in Nicholas Nickleby

I've been thinking about home lately.

I spent three weeks on the farm with my family. It was really great - I didn't really do much of anything aside from baking and visiting with people. It was slow and homey, and I started feeling like I was fully apart of my family again. And it's been a while. It did make me miss Montreal more though - it was as though I have a home with my family and a home with my friends. Things were good when I could live in one place and visit the other... Last semester I felt as though my place of dwelling was neither. Fortunately, I have a ticket to visit my Montreal home soon. I then followed my time on the farm by a full week with my people in Edmonton. I had four wonderful weeks of home.

When I booked the ticket out east, I remarked that I was going to get to visit ALL my homes in the space of three months. My new friend Ernest joked that one day when I do settle, it would have to be one of the four places I've already lived - 'cause I already have too many homes. *grin*

Today was my first Sunday back in Victoria in the new year. And, because of my bout with bronchitis it was my first time at St. Philip's since November. I walked in the door and didn't even make it up the stairs when the church secretary exclaimed "[Eventhere's] back!" I can't even begin to explain. *grin* One of the biggest lies that I tend to believe about myself is that I'm forgettable. Of my biggest fears is that when I leave a place, my absence goes unnoticed. And one of the things that makes me feel the most loved is to hear and know that I've been thought of and even loved in my absence. It sounds stupid when it's written down, I know, but irrational fears rarely are rational now, are they?

Then I got to be in the service, singing the liturgy to the melodies that I've had stuck in my head since the last time I was there. The words have always been familiar to me, but now the melodies are familiar and comforting too. I sat alone, which I often do here, but after the service I got to chat with people that I haven't seen in a while. People who are getting to know and understand me - who noticed that I had been gone. People who rejoiced with me at the news that I'm accepted into my new program (though I haven't received the official email) and who are helping me brainstorm on a thesis topic.

I spent the last month living out of a suitcase or duffel bag, unsure of where mom keeps some of the things that I always knew where to find, and without a spot to practise. I returned to a place where I can leave my horn sit on the floor if I wish to and my clothes hang in a closet. I left a chain of coffee dates and late night talks in Edmonton, and I came back to joyful greetings and a whole 'nother set of coffee dates, late nights, and hugs.

My family has never moved, but I have many homes. *grin*

“Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.”

Christian Morganstern (German author and poet)

"A community needs a soul if it is to become a true home for human beings. You, the people must give it this soul.”

Pope John Paul II (Polish Pope. 1920-2005)

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 20:40:50 GMT

overheard at McGill is back - after two months of no new posts, I now have one of my favourite dailyreads back. *grin*
And they came back with this stellar one...

http://www.overheardatmcgill.com/archives/2008/01/10/luckily-there-was-only-one-christ-family-in-the-phone-book/

Enjoy!

sigh

Fri, 07 Dec 2007 09:41:10 GMT

On Monday my seminar of two presented our papers. My paper is something appropriately Eventhere-like. That is, it involved reading up on a Florentine family who 'made it big' in Rome because one of them became Pope, Galileo and his trials, and Church history (think Counter-Reformation, 30 years war, and the Spanish Inquisition*1). Oh yes, and an opera from the 1630s. The first religious opera ever written, in fact. But I didn't really read much on the opera aside from the libretto. Someone has written tons on the music and invented new terms to discuss the music. Instead I've decided to skim her writings, state that she has the music part under control and then ignore it and talk about the text.

My classmate's topic was a 17th century castrato*2, Faranelli, and movie that Hollywood has recently made about him.

Nothing spectacular to note as far as my presentation, other than the fact that I have a day to reorganize everything and pretty much abandon the eight pages that I've written to write 20 more. No big deal, right?*3 However, my teacher asked my classmate a question that blew my mind. Not blow your mind in a life altering way. Just in an 'I've been pondering it ever since' way.*4

The question was this:
Why does History need Hollywood? and Why does Hollywood need History?

My classmate had no problem with the second part of the question. My mind is having a ton of fun with the first part. Thoughts? I'll post some of mine later.*5

*1 Yes, the Spanish Inquisition. 'Cept at this point everyone was expecting the Spanish Inquisition. Apparently the Flying Circus missed the boat - Italy knew what the Spanish were up to. Sorta. *grin*

*2 Yes, for those who are not familiar with this term. It means what you think it might mean when you say it aloud. ;o)

*3 Yes, this is of course the day I decide to do my first real LJ post. Go figure.

*4 Incidentally, I've recently had something else blow my mind. I'm reading a book on the history of Statistics (Salsburg, David. The Lady Tasting Tea: How Statistics Revolutionized Science in the Twentieth Century. Yes, I'm reading it for fun.) Get this: This Russian dude (Kolmogorov b. 1903) made his first Mathematical discovery at age five. "[T]he sum of the first k odd number was equal to the square of k." Chew on that one. (My mom pointed out that perhaps the most spectacular thing about that was that five year old knew what square roots were. - or odd numbers, if you want to think about it that hard.)

*5 As in, maybe after I've re-written and re-re-written this paper. *grin*

Balderdash!

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 06:45:25 GMT

I had people over for tea and Balderdash tonight (and recruited people for the Monster Game!!!)...
There's this one movie that I want to hear what you guys come up with...

Last of the Clintons

Here's mine:
(I've been told that it sounds like a porn... opps! lol)

The American public thought that they had heard the last of dear ol' Bill's shenanigans... but that was before Donald came on the scene...

God painted the sky for me today. I love when he sends me love notes, just to remind me he's there.

Tue, 26 Jun 2007 05:07:53 GMT

You dance over me,
While I am unaware.
You sing all around,
But I never hear the sound.

Lord, I’m amazed by you
Lord, I’m amazed by you
Lord, I’m amazed by you
How you love me.

You paint the morning sky
With miracles in mind
My hope will always stand
For you hold me in your hand

Lord I’m amazed by you
Lord I’m amazed by you
Lord I’m amazed by you
How you love me.

How wide, how deep, how great, is your love for me.
How wide, how deep, how great, is your love for me.

Lord I’m amazed by you
Lord I’m amazed by you
Lord I’m amazed by you
How you love me.

Sing, O Daughter of Zion; shout aloud, O Isreal!
Be glad and rejoice with all your heart, O Daughter of Jerusalem!
...
The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.
Zephaniah 3:14, 17

Eerily appropriate flashback....

Wed, 16 May 2007 04:15:12 GMT

from first episode of Gilmore Girls season seven ~ aired September 26, 2006

"There's nothing good about a goodbye. It's a poorly named ritual. It was a bad-bye."
~Rori

I love you guys.

O Sacred Head Now Wounded

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 18:59:55 GMT

"It matters not if the world has see, or approves, or understands. The only applause we're meant to seek is that of nail-scarred hands."

~BJ Hoff

O Sacred Head Now Wounded
by Paul Gerhardt, 1607-1676
Isaiah 50:6

1. O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown.
O sacred Head, what glory,
What bliss, till now was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory,
I joy to call Thee mine.

4. My burden in Thy Passion,
Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression
Which brought this woe on thee.
I cast me down before Thee,
Wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee;
Redeemer, spurn me not!

8. What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this, Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Oh, make me thine forever!
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never,
Outlive my love for Thee.

10. Be Thou my Consolation,
My Shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy Passion
When my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee,
Upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfold Thee.
Who dieth thus dies well!

O Dearest Jesus, What Law Hast Thou Broken
By Johann Heermann, 1585-1647
Luke 23: 20-24

1. O dearest Jesus, what law hast thou broken
That such sharp sentence should on Thee be spoken?
Of what great crime hast Thou to make confession, --
What dark transgression?

2. They crown Thy head with thorns, they smite, they scourge Thee;
With cruel mockings to the cross they urge Thee;
They give Thee gall to drink, they still decry Thee;
They crucify Thee.

3. Whence come these sorrows, whence this mortal anguish?
It is my sins for which Thou, Lord, must languish;
Yea, all the wrath, the woe, Thou dost inherit,
This I do merit.

7. O wondrous love, whose depth no heart hath sounded,
That brought Thee here, by foes and thieves surrounded!
All worldly pleasures, heedless, I was trying
While Thou wert dying.

11. But since my strength will nevermore suffice me
To crucify desires that still entice me,
To all good deeds, oh, let Thy Spirit win me
And reign within me!

14. But worthless is my sacrifice, I own it;
Yet, Lord, for love's sake Thou wilt not disown it;
Thou wilt accept my gift in Thy great meekness
Nor shame my weakness.

15. And when, dear Lord, before Thy throne in heaven
To me the crown of joy at last is given,
Where sweetest hymns Thy saints forever raise Thee,
I, too, shall praise Thee.

http://www.lutheran-hymnal.com/online/aTLH_Hymns8.htm