Happy Halloween

Hallowe'en .... ever wonder if there is some connection between this word and that phrase in the Lord's Prayer, "Hallowed be thy name"? There is.

Hallowe'en is a contraction for Hallow's Even(ing), and is another way of saying "the Eve of All Hallows". All Hallows is November 1, All Saints Day.

You see, "Hallow" is an Old English word meaning 'Holy". On November 1, we remember all the Holy people of our history — from Moses to Francis to Teresa of Avila. When we praise the Lord's Prayer, we acknowledge that G–d's name is sacred, set apart, holy.

The word "saint", in turn, is related to the Greek word, "martyr", which means witness. The earliest saints of the church bore witness to their faith by risking torture and death. Later saints bore witness through their actions and words.

And yes, I know Halloween is a borrowing of an older ritual from the Celts. And some people object to it because it's a "pagan" holiday. What these people forget is that "pagan" just means "country-dweller".

So far as first century (C.E.) Romans were concerned, the early Chrisitians were some kind of country bumpkin. Only uneducated rural folk could believe something contrary to the "true religion" of Imperial Rome.

I imagine some modern atheists would agree with the view that a Christian is a type of bumpkin who is willing to accept an infinite number of impossible things before breakfast. Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins seem to subscribe to this view.

I heard a grand story last night that points to a 20th Century witness. I was stuffing envelopes for a local campaign, and was joined by two young girls; one was in fifth grade, the other in ninth. I asked the older girl if she was going to dress for Halloween.

She said, yes; she was dressing as Gandhi, and would give people candy rather than accept it. With the candy, she would hand out cards with quotes from Gandhi's life, such as "Be the change you seek in the world."

Within that quote lies the secret of being a saint.

Idée d’jour

People are pretty much alike. It's only that our differences are more susceptible to definition than our similarities.
— Linda Ellerbee

Ghoulish Friday Five

As suggested by Reverend Mother:

1. Do you enjoy a good fright?
   Only at a safe distance, at the movies or in some other fictional representation. I've been scared a couple of times in real life, and I decidedly did not enjoy it.


2. Scariest movie you've ever seen
   The original version of Thirteen Ghosts kinda weirded me out the first time I saw it. And I didn't even see it in 3-D! I saw it again just a few years ago, and it wasn't nearly as scary or weird.


3. Bobbing for apples: :
   I have no meaningful recollection of bobbing for apples, so I don't feel qualified to respond to this question. I'm not opposed to it, as a concept.


4. Real-life phobia
   Heights. Two years ago, Mary T— and I walked to the top of the grandstands at Winfield, which were (maybe) two stories tall. I was OK going up, but I was frozen walking down. In fact, I was so frozen, I had to ootch my way down in a sitting position. I later discerned the problem was that I could see the ground (two stories below) throught the stair's slats.


5. Favorite "ghost story"
   Henry James was probably the master of the literary ghost story. "Turn of the Screw" is his best known, but there is another I liked even better. I've tried to find the title, and have failed; I think it's something like "In the Corner." Robertson Davies' collection, High Spirits runs a close second. Robert Lewis Stevenson also wrote some fine ghost stories.
      Mark Twain includes the Tale of the Golden Arm in his essay on how to tell a story. It's more amusing than it is spooky.
      Late Ad:I almost forgot Big Joe & Phantom 409. It's a song made famous by Red Sovine (country singer of the 40s), but I'm more familiar with Tom Waits' cover version (on Nighthawks at the Diner)

Cat Friday

In which the Lady discerns whether a capo or the tin in which I store my picks might be edible.

The case is empty because the 12-string was getting its picture taken:

Where I've Been

Despite potential evidence to the contrary (lack of blog posts), I'm still here. I am currently facilitating a writer's group at church. Part of my function is to make assignments (we're writing devotionals in response to the readings assigned in the RCL for Advent), and I feel duty-bound to write as well. So, my creative energy seems to be spent there.

I do plan to post my essays/devotionals here, come Advent. So, this may be something for you to look forward to, if you don't mind my religious reflections.

I'm also rehearsing, at least once a week, for a performance at a local coffee shop. Friend Ben and I have been practicing for about a month and a half, and I think we're pretty tight. Details are forth-coming, soon.

I do have some fresh shots of Dame Julian. I'll post one later today, time permitting.

New to the Blogroll

I recently added a new blog to that list of regular reads you see there at the left. I think this addition deserves to be highlighted.

Beauty Dish was once part of the Salon blog community, but defected earlier this year because of frustrations with the "LoserLand" software. The author, Birdie Jaworksi, is struggling to make a living as an "Avon lady" and free-lance writer.

Her blog includes multi-part adventures in Avon marketing and sales (including the current series on pursuing clients in Area 51); reports on her sons; and other slices of life. She has a gift for the particular that I envy. Her writing appeals to all the senses, especially the heart.

Her blog also includes occasional reviews of Avon products, including a recent investigation into which (if any) Avon mascara was best for a certain type of show dog.

I've thought for a long time that I should add Birdie to the blogroll. Hers is definitely a blog I read on a regular basis, and I frequently check whether it has been up-dated.

Three recent events finally convinced me that I had waited too long:

1. She recently won a contest for this autobiographical essay. She's going to Bermuda for a week. After you've read the memoir, I think you'll agree she deserves all that and a bag of chips.
2. This entry, titled "The Pennies You Hold You Can't See." It took my breath away. I shook my head in amazement at how effortless it seemed to be. Without question, I think this is one of the most profoundly spiritual essays I've read in a long time – and it never mentions G–d (or any other deity).
3. A recent review of Avon Instant Manicure mentioned that the product seemed to strengthen the existing nails. Being a person who plays a steel-string dreadnaught guitar, and who prefers playing with fingernails rather than any type of pick, the nails of my right hand get a pretty good work-out. They are constantly chipping and breaking. The way I play, the strings seem to act like multiple high-grain emery boards.
      Several years ago, I attended a finger-style guitar workshop with Ed Gerhard, and he mentioned that he regularly gets manicures (for his right hand only), sometimes using applied nails, and has used products such as "Tough As Nails." In fact, I've been using "Tough As Nails" (and a similar Avon product) for a couple of years now. The point being, of course, that my masculinity is not threatened by the use of nail-care products.
      So, I e-mailed Birdie for ordering information. See, if I order from her, she earns some money; it's an easy way for me to support what I perceive to be a worthy cause. She responded by saying she would send free samples. I felt that was an extremely generous offer, and was very touched by it (especially when you consider the Instant Manicure Kit is relatively inexpensive).
      Later that same day, she sent the following e-mail:

   I've been reading through your archive this morning. You have such a gentle presence. The language you choose has a deep integrity. I'm going to add you to my list of friends, if that's OK with you.

   "Gentle presence"! "Deep integrity"! Clearly, this is a woman of discerning tastes.

What are you waiting for? Go visit her now. Say "Hello," and tell her Jonah sent you.

Friday Five: Word Association

Five words from Job 38 selected by Songbird:
whirlwind, foundation, lightning, den, prey.

---

Who speaks from the whirlwind?
Who laid the earth's foundation?
Whose voice is lightning?
The mysterious shadows in the den.
The devotion of the hunter, the prey's fear.

The cave has its own voice. A fearful
whisper at the back, the wind
at the ear. The shadows find motion
in the den's soft echoes,
in the soft warm earth.

We were born from our mother clay
before prey learned to fear.
Our eyes were ignited by lightning.
Our lives are longer than our shadows
and shorter than our breath.

This mouth could not breath forth the whirlwind.
These hands only found the clay,
they did not form it. The thunder
is not our voice. We live in the den
lest we, in our turn, become prey.

More on today's devotional

In my previous entry, I gave a brief description of the series of devotionals I wrote which are currently being featured at Ordinary Time. Here, I will write more about the devotional which was "published" this morning.

The meditation is written in response to Mark 10:17-31, in which the rich man approaches Jesus and asks how to obtain eternal life. This meditation is one of several I wrote as a fill-in, with a deadline looming, and it's one of the few I think shows the stress.

There is a great deal of "thinking out loud" which occurs in the essay. I frequently use the word "Perhaps" and similar modifiers. I first suggest that the rich man is observing the first five of the Ten Commandments, which have to do with our relationship with God; then I suggest that he isn't.

Perhaps most radical is the end of the essay, in which I suggest the consequences of taking Jesus' words seriously: we'd reduce the military budget. I suggest we falsely assume that our affluence reflects God's favor for our nation.

Mother Sarah Dylan draws similar political conclusions from the same passage. But, her essay is more straight-forward and seems to me to be better written.

My essay may not be the worst thing written, or even the worst essay included in the Ordinary Time collection. I'm still too close to judge that question. It is mildly embarassing to have the essay "out there" with its stays and braces showing.

Devotionals at Ordinary Time

Beginning today (Sat, Oct 14), I have meditations in the Ordinary Time collection of devotionals. These are availabe on-line at http://ordinarytimebook.blogspot.com, which is updated daily.
{I know, because I'm generally the one who insures the site is updated}

Today's (Oct 14), is a reflection on Psalm 22 ("My God, my God, why have you forsaken me"), with some discussion of different prophetic interpretations of the psalm.

Sunday's (Oct 15) is a brief poetic interpretation of Psalm 23.

On Monday, Oct 16, I examine some different postures for prayer, and consider what they might mean.

On Tuesday, Oct 17, I work my way toward an interpretation of the story told in Mk10:17-31 (rich man asks Jesus what he must do for eternal life).

Finally, on Wednesday, Oct 18, I consider the story of Jonah.

Friday Five: Creature Comforts

Courtesy of Reverend Mother

1. Comfort beverage
   Tea. I drink "Gun Powder" green tea almost every morning. Now that the weather is getting chilly, I tend to follow that with Celestial Seasonings' Red Zinger. I tend to collect teas like some people collect trading cards.


2. Comfort chair
   My recliner at home. I've lost count of the number of times I've fallen asleep in this chair. Of course, it is carefully arranged for optimal viewing of the opium box. So, that helps.
      My former wife and I bought this recliner at a second-hand shop in Norman. So, although it was reconditioned, it had lived a full life before it came to us. It's quite comfortable.


3. Comfort read
   There was a time when I read Mr. God, This Is Anna every year over Easter weekend. Padre introduced me to the book when I was a junior or senior in high school. I still remember the sound of his baritone voice as he read passages he found especially meaningful.
      The book has good points and bad points. It has some sentimental elements. Some of the theology can seem mushy, which the reader may forgive since it is presented through the character of a little girl.
      I don't worry about these flaws when I pick it up. I sit in my recliner, open the book, and imagine I hear Padre's voice reading those passages one more time.


4. Comfort television/DVD/music
   Some things provide comfort through familiarity. Several old TV shows serve this function, such as the original Dick Van Dyke Show or Perry Mason. Certain DVDs are standard reliables when I'm feeling under the weather or a little blue, such as Field of Dreams or Love, Actually. I'm a fan of a broad variety of musical genres, and often any piece of music will lift my spirits.
      I'll mention just a couple of examples – the blues as sung by Billie Holliday, or Górecki's Third Symphony (Dawn Upshaw, soprano).


5. Comfort companion(s)
   There is no question that her royal catness has become a comfort companion. Cooler weather has encouraged her to spend more time in my lap, and to sleep with me.
      Companions from church, such as Pam, provide comfort. Another long-time comfort companion is Dr. Omed, who I haven't seen since his 2005 Winter Solstice event. Happily, the miracle of the internet makes it possible to keep tabs on his doings and creations. And the innovations of G'YuTube make it possible to hear his voice without driving to Tulsa.
     However, I do have hopes to visit the Right Rev. sometime before this year's solstice celebration. Perhaps the day after Thanksgiving?

Post #1690

Idée d’jour

The more intelligent and cultured a man is, the more subtly he can humbug himself.
— Carl Jung, psychiatrist (1875-1961)

Cursive

One of my daily reads is Josh Marshall's Talking Points Memo. His liberal bias seems obvious, but he is not as screeching as many of the posters at Daily Kos. The "diaries" on this site may be what Bull Moose has in mind when he talks about the "nutroots".

I digress. I consider "TPM" a reliable news source, especially for "Washington Insider" stories. For example, I first heard about the Foley scandal on NPR, as I was driving to work. I've able to follow the scandal, and it's fall-out, through Talking Points Memo and its sister sites.

So, I was thrown off-guard yesterday afternoon when – amidst sound political reporting – Josh commented on an article on the decline of cursive writing. Toward the end of this entry - which seems one of the longer entries on his page - Josh asks, "How do you write when you put pen to paper? And how old are you?"

This topic is of some interest to me, particularly the research the Washington Post article points to that links a type of neurological development with cursive writing. I've long been curious about the what parts of the brain are involved in different modes of recording are thoughts. As recently as last year (or thereabouts), I wondered whether it made a difference if I created a poem while writing, or while typing.

To return to Josh's questions, I'm a bit over 50 years old. My memory is that we studied cursive writing for significant blocks of time through sixth grade. By high school, my cursive writing was neat, but extremely small (for some reason, I was obsessed with saving paper).

I broke my right thumb following my freshman year of college. Since I am right-handed, this adversely affected my writing, and my cursive has never recovered. When I review things I wrote as recently a year ago, I often feel like I'm trying to crack a code.

Let's take a recent example, written shortly after lunch yesterday. I had some potential poetic fragments floating in my consciousness, and I wanted to record them. From those fragments, I then free-associated with a number of nouns:

Harvest moon
yellow veil
red horizon

Spica and Pollox
brackish barrens
blue twilight

Spectrum shift
reflection indistinct
sketched outlines

Lost tales
stolen hiway 
Fomalhaut
Mugo Pine

The last two entries were printed in block letters, because I wanted to remember how to spell them correctly ("Fomalhaut" is especially tricky, because it's pronounced "foamalow").

You may have been able to make out most of the letters prior to seeing the typescript version. But I think it's fair to describe my writing as "scrawl" rather than as "cursive".

Playing God

Most of us like to play God. Even people who don't believe in God like to play God.

Naturally, we don't normally phrase it that way. A phrase I commonly use - with my tongue only slightly placed in my cheek - is, "If I were king of the world." Common variations on this are "If I were president" or "Congress really ought to" or "There oughta be a law."

It's not just that we want someone whose word is Law, or can institute change at will; we want to be that someone. Often, we don't want the responsibility or accountability that comes with being in charge. So, if we are really honest with ourselves, what we really want is to be puppet masters. We would directly control a figure head who would enact our wishes, and accept the responsibility for the consequences.

I suspect this view of an omnipotent God has its origins in childhood. Child development psychologists have suggested that infants perceive themselves as the "center of the universe", which is to say, as a type of god; their needs are met upon demand - and often before demand.

Another theory is that infants and young children perceive their parents (especially the mother) as gods, because the basic needs of life are provided by these large creatures. Parents also serve a God-like function as they correct and praise the child.

So the average child faces a couple of disappointments early in life: first, that the child is not god. At some point, the child will be expected to become increasingly self-sufficient. Secondly, the child learns that his/her parents are not god, either. The parent will inevitably fail in some way.

It seems to me the vision of God as an omnipotent being is also a product of childhood. We want to believe in a God that is as powerful as we thought we were as infants. Often, we want to believe in a God who acts as we would act, and defines "good" and "bad" the same way we do.

I agree with St. Benedict, who said that the most we can know about God is what we don't know. These labels we like to use for God - omnipotent, omnipresent, good, kind, and so on - are means of limiting God to human terms. God may be all these things, but not necessarily in a way we can fully comprehend.

So, when someone says they don't believe in God because "God wouldn't allow x to happen", I understand that they are saying they don't believe in a particular definition of God. It's almost like the classic straw-man argument: they get to define God, then shoot down that definition.

This definition of God is essentially how that person would act if they were God. I'm not sure I could believe in that god, either.

I believe in a God whose nature can only be hinted at. I still might use those age-old labels, but I understand those labels to be (at best) faded sign-posts. I can make some educated guesses about God based on my understanding of creation; but those guesses will only be as sound as my rudimentary understanding.

Idée d’jour

No man is justified in doing evil on the ground of expediency.
— Franklin D. Roosevelt, 32nd US President (1882-1945)

Idée d’jour

A friend is someone who sees through you and still enjoys the view.
— Wilma Askinas

Friday Five: Civic Duty

As suggested by Songbird.

1. How old were you when you voted for the first time?
   20


2. What was the contest at the top of the ballot?
   Presidential - I voted for Jimmy Carter


3. Can you walk to your polling place?
   It's within the range of possibility, as it is between 1/8 – 1/4 mile away. However, I normally vote on the way to work; therefore, I drive.


4. Have you ever run for public office?
   No.


5. Have you run for office in a club or school or on a board?
   I have run for vestry (church board) at two different churches, and won. In fact, I'm currently serving the second year of a three-year term at the second church.
   
      I also ran for Diocesan Council (state-level church board), and served two successive terms of three years each.

Jack Frost Is Dead

Jack Frost is dead.
Just when the time was right
Just when the blanket was blinded
just when the coffee overturned the butter
just when day was traded for night.

The report is in from the foreign precincts:
Jack Frost is dead.
What was he looking for in the barrens.
Where was his shadow at two o'clock.
Who saw the body and lost the pulse.

The miser clock has wilted.
The clouds have worn to shreds.
Jack Frost is dead.
He spoke his last backwards.
Memory tore its collar.

In the tallons of the forest;
in the crystals of the moon;
out of weary understanding:
Jack Frost is dead.
Childless rests the head.

The limber lumber rests
after hearing the ancient news.
The patricians count the sounds.
Sunset carries the banner.
Jack Frost is dead.

Foleygate

The big news this week is the fall-out surrounding questionable e-mails sent by former Florida representative Mark Foley (R), and a series of salacious IMs he conducted with under-age boys, all of whom were former Congressional Pages. Depending on the poll or commentator, this issue is either very important to voters, or ranks well below the growing mire in Iraq.

There's no question that Rep. Foley crossed a moral line, if not a legal one. There's every possibility that he broke a law against on-line predators that he helped move through the House. At the very least, his communication was inappropriate because of the age of the boys (around 16), and because – even after the young men had left the Congressional page program – he had a position of authority over them.

All this is pretty clear, and "icky" – as the former page who broke the initial e-mail put it.

What is more disturbing is the fact that the Republican leadership knew about these inappropriate communications as recently as last year, and possibly as far back as 2001.

In the business setting, this sort of inappropriate activity would be classed as a form of sexual harassment. Once the harassment had been reported, the accused would be cautioned to avoid contact with the person(s) making the accusation. If the accused did not break off contact with those person(s), or acted in a similar fashion with others, the accused would be fired.

Based on the press statements coming from the House Republican leadership to date, none of this happened. Not even a warning. Certainly no request to resign, until the most benign ("overly friendly") e-mail had been published last Friday by ABC News.

All of which suggests, to my mind, a cover-up. The House Repugnant leadership was more interested in preserving its power than in protecting these young men.

I think an analogy may be drawn to Iraq. The majority of the service people are young men, many as young as 18 or 19. The planning for this invasion was unrealistic and poor from the beginning. The budget was under funded, and funding in many significant areas (especially health care) has been slashed. The responsibility for much of this may be laid at the feet of Secy. of Defense Donald Rumsfeld.

Not a single member of the Repugnant leadership, from either house, has called for Secretary Rumsfeld's resignation. The argument has been they are supporting the leadership of the Commander in Chief during wartime. What they are doing is countenancing incompetence that is as morally repugnant as Rep. Foley's e-mails.

Bottom line: if the Republicans cannot protect the "Hallowed Halls" of Congress, why should we trust them to protect the U.S. for one more day?

Idée d’jour

We all have to learn how to negotiate our unconscious worlds. We have to go into the labyinth of our own selves and fight our own monsters.
— Karen Armstrong ("To Go Beyond Thought," Parabola, Fall 2006, 21)

Idée d’jour

He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.
— Friedrich Nietzsche, philosopher (1844-1900)

Using Secular Media

The title of the presentation was "Using Secular Media in Adult Formation: There's A Lot of Treasures Out There!" In my modest defense, I did not create the title; I didn't object to it either, because I couldn't think of anything better.

To a degree, using secular media in an Episcopal church seems non-controversial. Preachers quote TV shows and song lyrics frequently in their sermons. The Harry Potter books are considered appropriate for study for a number of age groups.

On the other hand, it is possible to limit oneself when considering mass media. It's easy to consider most mass media as purveyors of moral choices contrary to ones a typical Christian (if there is such a person) would support.

I began the session by challenging the group to define the term "secular" in relation to the common antonym, "sacred". This discussion seemed to engage the group, and some were challenged when I asked them to give examples, or go deeper in their examples.

Once the terms had been defined, and we agreed that both "secular" and "sacred" might both address ethical issues and deep, existential, questions (e.g., who am I, where have I been, where am I going).

I then listed examples of things that have been done, or could be done:

1. Books
1. Dante's Inferno and Purgatorio from the Divine Comedy
2. The Brothers Karamazov
3. The Canterbury Tales
4. Paradise Lost
5. Huckleberry Finn (to be studied during Lent 2007)
   The discussion of these five books were lead by a classically educated member of our congregation. Whether this could be replicated in another congregation depends on its members.
6. The Secret Life of Bees
   Which is a discussion group I lead in the summer of '05. The book may be best suited for a women's group, unless your community has a healthy proportion of "sensitive new-age men".
2. Movies
1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. The Mission
3. The Life of Brian
4. Field of Dreams
3. TV
   These are suggestions
1. Lost
   I noted that many people interpret this as a variation of Purgatory. Episodes reveal errors made in the past that the character may be atoning for on this island. The show also explicitly explores issues of faith through the characters of Locke and Mr. Eko.
2. My Name Is Earl
   Also addresses questions of seeking forgiveness and making amends. Could also talk about Earl's concept of "Karma" and how it compares to our concept(s) of God.
3. Night-time "soaps", such as One Tree Hill
   Couple of ideas here: cite Biblical laws that are broken in each program; discuss whether consequences suffered in the program match consequences that might be suffered in reality.
4. Guidelines
1. With books, set realistic assignments. Depending on the difficulty of the reading, 200-300 pages a week might be realistic.
2. With movies and TV shows, create time people can watch it together. Unless you are only showing brief segments, 40 minutes between services is not realistic.
3. With movies and other long presentations, take at least one intermission. During this time, have a brief conversation about themes noticed up to this point, and suggest things to watch for in the remainder.
4. Allow at least 30 minutes for discussion following the presentation.
5. Have several questions in mind, but don't restrict the discussion to those questions. You'll often find new ideas and questions arise from the discussion.
5. Resources
1. Entertainment Weekly often this somewhat edgy weekly will recognize a spiritual element to some presentation. When it does, I take note. I've agreed more often than not with their assesment in this regard; one example is "Lost".
2. Parabola explores world myth very much in the tradition of Joseph Campbell. This quarterly journal can be helpful to see the big universal questions in new ways and from new perspectives.

Meeting Emily

I met a fellow RevGal blogger this past Saturday. The occasion was a diocesan educational conference titled “A Call to Formation”, held at the Cathedral. I was there as the facilitator of two of the learning opportunities, and Emily was there as a participant.

Emily is the interim pastor of a local church, and writes the web-log Hazelnut Reflections. The primary image I've seen associated with Emily is a Yahoo avatar in the top portion of the right-hand column of her blog. There is a surprising resemblance, even though there are remarkably few avatars to choose from (last time I checked, there weren't any blonde males).

Another priest was visiting with Emily when I spotted her, so I waited at the periphery of the conversation. When he left, I stepped up, introduced myself, and said, "I read your blog."

She mentioned that she thought I looked familiar. There's a couple of places (aside from this blog) that she may have seen my picture. We had a pleasant, if brief, chat.

The conference was broken into three 45 minute blocks, with four or five learning opportunities in each block. I facilitated two learning ops in the last two blocks, following lunch: Using Secular Media in Adult Formation and Asset Mapping. I'll have a bit more to say about that first class in a later entry.

Emily had signed up for the Secular Media op, and contributed to the conversation. In preparing for this class, I had focused on movies, tv, and books. When I learned that Emily had registered for the conference, I remembered the internet. In addition to her blog, Emily was also involved in the Ordinary Time project, and wrote several meditations for that collection of devotionals (available on-line and as a paperback book).

Immediately proceeding the class, I asked Emily's permission to talk briefly about Ordinary Time and her blog as examples of how the internet might be used. She graciously granted that permission.

Later in the day, she said it was nice to meet a fellow blogger, and I replied that it at least gave us something to write about.

Idée d’jour

People who are born even-tempered, placid, and untroubled – secure from violent passions or temptations to evil – those who have never needed to struggle all night with the Angel to emerge lame but victorious at dawn, never become great saints.
— Eva Le Gallienne, theater founder [quoted in Wild Words from Wild Women]

Cat Friday

Her purr rumbles inside my knees;
we dream of clear October blue.

Idée d'jour

A mature person is one who does not think only in absolutes, who is able to be objective even when deeply stirred emotionally, who has learned that there is both good and bad in all people and in all things, and who walks humbly and deals charitably with the circumstances of life, knowing that in this world no one is all knowing and therefore all of us need both love and charity.
— Eleanor Roosevelt, diplomat and writer (1884-1962)

Feminist Idée d’jour

I'm dating a guy who's twenty-one. That's seven in boy years.
— Lisa Goich, author of The Breakup Diary

---

By this logic, I'm a little over 16.

New Meditation Available

The second devotional essay I wrote for the RevGalPal collection is now up at the Ordinary Time blog. I felt, at the time, that it was somewhat more orthodox than what I might normally write.

The devotional was a response to a selection from the Epistle of James, which does not rank as one of my favorites. James may be read (even in this pericope) as favoring works over faith. So perhaps my orthodoxy was a response to his.

On the other hand, if I really were all that "orthodox" (or conservative), I probably would not have referred to "our Buddhist friends".

Give it a read. If you have a comment, leave it on with the devotional.

Winfield: Ambience & Final Thoughts

I arrived in Winfield before lunch last Tuesday, Sept. 12. It might have been as early as 11:30. As I was unpacking, I told Mary that I had brought chili to share. She already had dinner plans, and suggested we warm it up for lunch.

My chili recipe is founded on Wick Fowler's mix, with additional seasonings. It was a hit.

It did not take long for me to set up my borrowed tent, though I did require help from Mary's friend Dianne. I didn't even need to ask.  And my male ego wasn't the least bit threatened.

This year was the 35th anniversary of the Walnut Valley Festival. Tents were already packed tight around our reserved camping spot. It was even more crowded by Saturday. I have always been amazed by how many people and tents can fit into such a relatively small area.

The camps are divided into two main parts – Pecan Grove and Walnut Grove. The former is comprised primarily of tents, and the latter is primarily RVs and trailers. I spent more time "picking & grinning" on the Walnut side, where Bill and friends have their trailers. They play the same time of music that I do, and I seem to fit in better with them.

They suggested I camp with them next year. They claimed things tended to be quieter on their side of the campgrounds.

My goal this year was to limit my expectations — neither positive or negative. Last year was kinda negative because it got off to a bad start. The year before was kinda lonely. Seemed to me the best course was to go without expectations, and let the experience be unique for this year (without comparison to past years).

Based on this criteria, the experience was positive. I didn't go to many concerts - around ten. But I did relax, and visit old friends. I played music and enjoyed music.

I went back to Bill's camp one last time on Saturday night. Brenda and Jane were the last two to ask if I sing professionally. Suppose the Holy Spirit is speaking through all these folks?

Idée d’jour

The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.
— James Russell Lowell, poet, editor, and diplomat (1819-1891)

Winfield: The Music

There is always a "pre-festival" concert on Wednesday evening.   Normally, this concert is sponsored by Taylor Guitar, and features guitarists who play that high-end instrument. This year, the Wednesday evening concert featured harp guitars.

One of the premiere advocates for harp guitar is Stephen Bennett , who served as host and MC for the concert.   He had inherited one of these instruments from his grandfather, and taught himself how to play it.   Early in his career, he performed with this guitar.   Eventually, he hired a luthier to build an exact replica.

The harp guitar was very popular in the 1920s.   The most common construction is to have 8-10 strings strung from a harp-like arch just above a standard guitar neck.   The skilled performer will play these strings as an additional bass line.   But even if one doesn't even touch these strings, they will resonate sympathetically as the player strikes the regular guitar strings.

The group I camp with ("Grenola") had a new member this year.   Dianne works for the same company as Mary, and they have been friends for some time.   This was Dianne's first year to attend the festival, making her a "Winfield Virgin" in the common parlance.

Mary encouraged Dianne to go with me to the harp guitar concert, and she did.   She had never seen or heard a harp guitar before.   It was nice to share the concert with a new friend.

For the finale, all four guitarists came on stage and played "The Water is Wide", one of my top five favorite songs.   Naturally, when we got back to camp, I just had to pull out my normal guitar and play my own version of this song.

Now one guy with one dreadnaught-style guitar is not very loud, especially in a space like the campgrounds.   Plus, I was trying to sing relatively softly.   But Dianne heard me, and came over to listen.   It didn't take much encouragement for me to perform most of my catalogue.

Dianne seemed to be quite pleased and flattered to receive what she referred to as a "private concert".   With her permission (nay, encouragement), I performed an original song, "I Get the Blues": "I get the blues / goin' home to empty rooms. / I get the blues, it's nothing new. / When I have to face that empty space / Oh, I get the blues."

As a recently divorced person living in a 1700 sq ft house, she definitely identified.

Dianne was the second person to ask if I perform professionally.

As I mentioned prior to leaving, I had set myself the goal of seeing musical groups I had not seen before.   As it turned out, I saw a mix of old and new.   New acts included Bluestem, a cowboy group similar to Sons of the Pioneers; Still on the Hill, a folky-type due (I was unimpressed); Nick Charles; and Chris Jones and the Night Drivers.   This last act I saw because Chris was the instructor for the Bluegrass Vocal workshop.

A highlight was Nick Charles.   The festival puts out a daily newsletter, WV News, on a two-sided legal-sized sheet.   In addition to a copy of that day's schedule and the previous day's contest winners, this newsletter has feature articles about sights and sounds in the campgrounds. The Wednesday edition of the WV News mentioned a campground which had created its own Internet radio station, Front Porch Radio.

A man and his wife set up this radio station. They both went through the campgrounds and invited camp pickers to come perform. They also invited professionals to perform. These performances - camp pickers and pros - were streamed live on the internet and will soon be archived and available at any time.

The only day Nick Charles was playing the festival was on Thursday. I had not planned to see him, due to guilt by association. Nick has been touring with fellow Aussie Tommy Emmanual, and I am not a Tommy fan.

I maintain that everyone should hear Tommy at least once, because he is an energetic and charismatic performer, plus he does things with the guitar most people wouldn't dream of. He's technically proficient (I picture him working on the scale every available minute), but he is not musical.

So - guilt by association - I assumed Nick Charles was the same type of player.

It just so happened that, when I found the location of the radio station, Nick Charles was the next scheduled performer. He proceeded to do a 30 minute set which I thoroughly enjoyed.

I almost made a point to catch old favorites, like Small Potatoes and John McCutcheon. A new favorite (from last year) is The Greencards, who play their own unique high-energy version of "New Grass".

A couple of final high points: Misty River performed before one of the acts I wanted to see, and since I came early, I got to hear their act as well. Misty River is comprised of four women who sing a mix of traditional, bluegrass, and folk tunes. The last time I saw them, I was not impressed; but this time they seemed much better.

For the final song of their set, they sang "God Bless America" a cappella. They mentioned they had sung it in 2001, a couple of days after 9/11, and someone had requested they sing it again.

The crowd stood up, as if this were the National Anthem. I normally avoid this sort of seeming jingoism, but I stood up as well.

The artist I had come for was John McCutcheon, who immediately followed Misty River. The last song of his set was "Not in My Name", which is an anti-war response to 9/11 and the events following. About 2/3 of the crowd stood up this time. And most sang the chorus (same as the title).

Next: ambience and final thoughts

Winfield: The Singing Workshop

I have returned from my annual visit to the Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, KS. Before I left, I made myself a promise to seek new things, in hopes this would make the experience more positive than it had been last year (see entry below).

I went to the Bluegrass Singing Vocal workshop as planned. The workshop was held in a Baptist Church near Winfield's downtown, about three blocks from the festival grounds.

Now, I don't own a single bluegrass album or CD (unless O Brother counts). The teacher, Chris Jones, used a number of "traditional" bluegrass songs as examples, but I had not heard a single one prior to the workshop.

The focus of the day was harmony singing. Bluegrass has its own unique approach to harmonies. It works more on a vocalists forming chords than on pure music theory. This worked out to be primarily ear training. Since I learn most music by ear, this was right up my alley.

Trivia alert — the names of the vocal parts in bluegrass singing are similar to the parts in choral singing - tenor, baritone, bass – but they don't mean the same thing. In the early days of bluegrass singing, only men sang, so only the names of male vocal parts are used. In modern bluegrass singing, a woman may sing the tenor part even if her voice is in the alto range.

The vocal parts are determined by the lead - that is, the melody. The tenor is a third from that, and the baritone is a fifth. But these two parts may either be above or below the lead - depending on the sound being sought.

The final exercise was to form groups and create our own harmonies. The teacher designated the groups in a somewhat hap-hazard manner, based on who was already sitting close together. I was grouped with high-school aged sisters, who are already performing semi-professionally.

Now, shortly before this exercise, someone asked how to achieve harmonies similar to the Lubin or Everly Brothers. The teacher allowed as how siblings had a certain advantage in harmonizing, both from nature and nurture (genetics would make their vocal chords very similar).

When the sisters and I grouped together, none of us could remember the melody of any of the songs the teacher had taught us during the day. I suggested we work with "Will the Circle Be Unbroken", thinking that would be a song we all knew.

Sure enough, it was. I immediately heard how well their voices combined, confirming what the teacher said about the sibling advantage. So, I suggested an arrangement where I would sing bass for the verse (so their harmony would be emphasized), then I would sing baritone for the chorus.

The teacher went around and checked on the groups. He gave us suggestions on our parts, and seemed to approve of my choice to sing bass on the verse.

After about 30 minutes of practice, the groups were given the opportunity to sing before the whole class. The sisters and I were the last ones to perform; we sang a cappella. The class applauded, so I guess we did alright.

I rode a shuttle back to the festival grounds. A woman who had sat next to me during the workshop happened to be on the same shuttle. She commented on the breadth of my singing range (on a good day, I can span 5-6 scales), and asked if I were a professional singer.

It would not be the last time the question would be posed during the week.

Next: the concerts

Out Of Town

I'm on my way to Winfield. I know this will be a surprise to those who have read my blog the past couple of years - considering my experience last year was less than positive. The main thing last year was a snafu with my ticket (I paid for one, but never received it). I have my ticket in hand this time.

The other thing has been a stultifying sameness. Mostly the same group of musicians playing primarily the same set. So, this year, I will focus on hearing sets from musicians I haven't heard before.

Another thing I'm doing is taking a workshop. For an extra fee, of course. I did this two years ago, and it did enrich the experience. The workshop I'm enrolled in this year is "Bluegrass Singing." Unquestionably different.

You may be sure I'll report on it all sometime next week.

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If you miss fresh verbiage from me, check out the Ordinary Time book blog this Saturday (9/16). The first of eleven essays I wrote for the book will appear on that day. The blog is free to read, plus you may comment on the meditation.

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I'll see you in about a week!

Five For Joy

A simple "Friday Five", courtesy of Songbird: five things I enjoyed this past week:

1. Three day weekend


2. Rain last Friday night


3. Rain Saturday morning, which gave me the excuse not to mow, and to take it easy


4. Playing music with a friend


5. Visit with new friend at church Sunday morning

Idée d’jour

War is so unjust and ugly that all who wage it must try to stifle the voice of conscience within themselves.
— Leo Tolstoy, novelist and philosopher (1828-1910)

The War in Iraq

The current debate on the war in Iraq has been predominantly framed as a simple either/or proposition: "cut and run" or "stay the course". Few, if any, have proposed a third alternative.

The administration argues in favor of "staying the course". Their argument is not so much that the current strategy has been successful, but that the alternative is too risky. According to this argument, immediate withdrawal will be tantamount to an admission of defeat, and will embolden our enemies. Similarly, a timetable for withdrawal will simply encourage the foe to wait until after the deadline. The only measure of when U.S. forces might withdraw from Iraq has been "we will stand up when they [the Iraqi military] are ready to stand up." Recent polls suggest that Americans have become increasingly impatient with this measure.

The administration has characterized those who have argued in favor of some form of withdrawal (either immediate or according to some timetable) as people who would "cut and run." The obvious implication is that these people are cowards – and few Americans care to be associated with cowards.

There seems to be little question that, if there were such a thing as a hind sight do-over, most Americans would not support the invasion of Iraq. The original justifications for the war – weapons programs and an al Queda relationship – have proven to be mistaken, if not false. It's difficult to say that the average American citizen is any safer (or less safe) as a direct result of the invasion of Iraq. One can certainly say that military personnel are less safe, as are Iraqi civilians.

It's clear, therefore, the current strategy is not working. One definition of insanity is performing the same action and expecting different results. The administration's current military strategy in Iraq is an excellent example of that definition.

If we must remain in Iraq, a new military strategy must be developed. A troop increase would seem to be the minimum needed, which would almost certainly require a draft. Any type of military draft is about as popular as a tax increase these days. But the fact is, if the goal is to repair the damage done in Iraq, both of these unpopular things are likely to be necessary.

Additionally, a broader international security force should be sought, with an emphasis on forces from Muslim countries. Granted, the administration burned some significant diplomatic bridges when it invaded Iraq. Granted, the international community – especially Muslim countries – have little motivation to trust the current administration. Granted, such a move would be more likely to happen once the U.S. has new leadership (preferably Democratic).

My fear is that none of the players – least of all the Iraqi people – have 2½ years to wait for a new administration. With Iran on the east, Syria on the west, and Turkey to the north, Iraq is in a very volatile region. Civil war in Iraq could well trigger involvement by these other players. There is already reason to believe weapons are entering Iraq from Iran.

If only there were someone in the administration able and willing to make an argument on the basis of mutual enlightened self-interest!

The only alternative I can think of is for U.S. forces to withdraw within a reasonable benchmark – say, for example, another 6 months to a year. The current administration will only be effectively in power for another year past that point. It's possible (though unlikely) the current Iraq government will maintain a semblance of order for a time. If civil war does become a reality, the international community could well be motivated to become involved – especially if the U.S. has new leadership by that point.

On the whole, all the options seem rather bleak. Whether the U.S. stays in Iraq or withdraws, we will seem less of a superpower, and more of a stumblebum.

Etude

Two a.m. sees the lightening
2:01 hears the thunder
Clouds were born
from the wonder

Bright April did the planting
and August reaps the harvest
the Lady gives
from her largesse.

The window echoes sun light
The rocker tastes the evening
Each word is honey
Giv'n before leaving.

The Broken Cross

This cross was broken the morning of Thursday, April 19, 1995.

It once stood at the top of the Cathedral’s high-peaked roof. It watched Oklahoma City grow in the 50s, then atrophy in the 60s and 70s.

The Cathedral is about two blocks northeast of the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial. Where the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building once stood.

On the morning of April 19, Timothy McVeigh parked a panel truck in front of the federal building, then detonated a home-made bomb. 168 people were killed.

The Cathedral was one of three downtown churches affected by the blast. Stained glass windows were broken. The tall walls of the sanctuary visibly moved back and forth.

And this old Celtic cross was broken.

It may seem like a scar. We try to hide scars. I try to hide my scars. I won’t stop to enumerate them all, but they each have a story.

I try to hide my scars. They expose my weakness. They whisper of old pain. I want to seem strong. I want to give the appearance that I can wander this world on my own, without anyone else’s help.

When the Cathedral rebuilt, all involved agreed the Broken Cross had to be integrated into the design. Some new property was bought, and a high wall and wrought-iron gate were built. This Broken Cross is in the brickwork above that gate.

The Broken Cross can represent many things. How people around the world responded to the tragedy of April 19 with profound generosity. How this generosity, and the vision of the Cathedral’s leaders, allowed the Cathedral to become more than it had been. Accepting such charity is not comfortable.

One must admit one needs help to accept such charity.

Jesus said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.” (Lk 5:31).

On the surface, it seems so simple. One must admit he has a problem before he can be healed. The first step in every recovery program is a variation on this: “We admitted we were powerless, and our lives were out of control.” Ironically, the only way we can be restored to any measure of health is by acknowledging our scars.

In other words, the moment we acknowledge our wounds, healing begins. If our life seems like a shattered stained glass window, it is possible to put the pieces back together.

This seems to me the message of the Broken Cross. The brokenness is not the final word. The brokenness is the chink in the armor of our ego, the chink that allows the light to come in. The brokenness is not to be forgotten, or hidden after a measure of healing. Part of the ongoing healing is integrating the brokenness.

Freedom comes when we recognize we are not alone, and don’t have to try to heal ourselves. Freedom comes when we expose our wounds to the light, so they may be healed. Freedom comes when we integrate our strength and weakness.

Idée d’jour

Just because you're miserable doesn't mean you can't enjoy your life.
— Annette Goodheart, PhD (quoted in Wild Words from Wild Women)

Idée d'jour

How often should you practice a song? Until you've lost count. And then a few more times after that.
— Jacques Bijou

Life in the Fast Lane

A "Friday Five," courtesy Reverend Mother, and with prayers to Will Smama.

1. Driving: an enjoyable way to clear the mind? a means to an end? a chance to be quiet with one's thoughts? a necessary evil? the downfall of our planet and its fossil fuels? Discuss.
   Mostly, a means to an end, a necessary evil, and the downfall of syphilization (Edward Abbey's term). I very rarely drive just to clear my mind. The last time I did was over a year ago; I took old Route 66 as far east as I could, to an old State Park.


2. Do you drive the speed limit? A little faster? Slower? Have you ever gotten a ticket?
   I generally drive no more than five miles over the speed limit on the highway. I drive exactly the speed limit in town.
      I did get a speeding ticket once, when I was still working part-time as a DJ in Norman. I think I may have been going about 5 mph over, in town. My insurance company forgave me for this infraction just last year.
      I did experience something highly unusual yesterday evening — a Firebird driving under the speed limit. The car was going 55 in a 60 mph zone.


3. Do you take public transportation? When? What's your opinion of the experience?
   Oklahoma City is just now getting a decent public transportation system. To the best of my knowledge, however, the schedules are still less than ideal.
      I did use public transporation in Seattle, WA, and Denver, CO. Both experiences were very positive.


4. Complete this sentence: _____________ has the worst drivers I've ever experienced.
   I haven't driven many places other than OKC. Most folk from northern American cities agree that we Okies are awful drivers in the winter (limited experience with snow & ice).


5. How does your personal commute rate?
   Fifteen to twenty minutes each way.

Bonus for the brutally honest: It has been said, and the MythBusters have confirmed, that cell phones can impede driving ability almost as much as drinking. Do you talk on a cell phone while driving?
I just recently got a TrakPhone, after being sans cell phone for 3-4 years. The last time I used it, I pulled over & stopped.
   When I previously had a cell phone, I may have talked on it while driving once or twice. It didn't get a lot of use in general, which is why I let the contract expire.

Idée d’jour

The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness.
— Christopher Morley, writer (1890-1957)

Cat Friday

A trio of images monkeyed with in Photoshop. The background is a library here at work. I don't think of shared the picture of the lady before. You probably recognize my "Miami Mice" pose from about a month ago.

Back to School Friday Five

Courtesy of Songbird

1. What is your earliest memory of school?
   I repeated first grade; as I recall the reason given was "emotional immaturity". Could be argued that I need to repeat life for this same reason. In my defense (assuming I need one), my parents got divorced during this period.
      President Kennedy was shot on my birthday when I was either 2nd or 3rd grade. This is an event that haunts me, off and on, even today.


2. Who was a favorite teacher in your early education?
   Understanding "early education" as meaning anytime before college, I have two nominees: the history teacher in Junior High (now called Middle School); and Mrs. Moore, who taught Drama in High School.
      I can't remember the history teacher's name, but he was a rare instance of a coach who could teach. He worshipped Douglas McArthur, and had the students give presentations. Mine was on The Communist Manifesto.
      We can blame Mrs. Moore for my attempts at poetry. She had our class maintain journals. I wrote something that looked like poetry in mine, and she encouraged me to write more like it.


3. What do you remember about school "back then" that is different from what you know about schools now?
   As I understand it from hear-say, high school is more violent than it was in '71-75. My friends and I were more worried about not conforming than being shot.
      However, one of my friends was beat up by the football team on a regular basis. As I recall, he rather enjoyed antagonizing certain macho players.


4. Did you have to memorize in school? If so, share a poem or song you learned.
   I appeared in a number of plays in high school, and naturally had to memorize my lines. These plays included Columbine Cum Laude, Mash (I played Fr Mulcahy), and The Night of January 16th.
      I memorized T.S. Eliot's "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" for a high school talent assembly.
      Padre bought me my first guitar - a 2nd-hand Silvertone - sometime before my freshman year of high school. I soon had significant portions of the Leondard Cohen and Bob Dylan songbooks memorized.


5. Did you ever get in trouble at school? Were there any embarrassing moments you can share?
   I went to a parochial school for fifth and sixth grades. Padre had to drop me off and pick me up every day, which meant I had about an hour of time on my hands after school.
      I did appropriately studious activities, like finishing my homework, and reading in the school's small library. But I also would get bored. There was a period, probably just a few days, where I would go to the side of the school and break pop bottles. Oddly, I was called on the carpet because the school was losing money on the deposit. I don't think anyone mentioned I might hurt myself.

Idée d’jour

We find comfort among those who agree with us, growth among those who don't.
— Frank A. Clark, writer (1911- )

The Darkness

Oddly enough, I don't remember when she went to Korea. All I recall for sure is that it was fall of 1995. It was near the beginning of the fall school term, that is, so it might have been August or September.

I wonder if the anniversary of her departure has something to do with the melancholy I've felt this time of year for the past several years.

I call it "melancholy" because it somehow does not seem severe enough to be depression. I've experienced severe depression - and this isn't quite that bad.

I'm aware that I can be melodramatic when I'm in the throes of this melancholy. Just last week, I was thinking to myself that my problem was that I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to live or not. See? Melodramatic.

So, calling this case of the blues "depression" seems as melodramatic as that ideation.

It's not quite "darkness". It may not even be like what Dr. Omed calls "crow time". I call it "the darkness" out of convenience, and because few people know what melancholy means anymore.

It's only dark in the sense that it takes a force of will to be aware of the light. Most of the day I can either distract myself from the darkness, or remind myself it will get better. At worst, I keep going out of simple curiosity of what might happen next.

The melancholy seems to be rooted in the awareness that I don't currently have a romantic partner, and a wish that the situation could be different. That's why I wonder whether this case of fall blues might be related to her departure during the fall.

I recognize the feeling. I give it a name, to help myself feel some control. I acknowledge the feeling is legitimate. I remind myself that feelings come and go. Feelings do not always require immediate action.

Feelings come and go. Not every moment is dark. Even this week, there have been moments of fun and laughter. I just keep walking.

I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Feminist Idée d’jour

Men love putting women on a pedestal because it's so much more satisfying when they knock them off. They fall farther.
— Clare Boothe Luce, playwright and politician

Idée d’jour

If you feed the poor, you're a saint. If you ask why they're poor, you're a Communist.
— Dorothy Day (1897–1980), founder of the Catholic Worker Movement

The Plague Church

aka: British Friday Five

My lame horse went at an Adverse Camber
down the Butts Wynd streets.
We passed the Free House
where liberal ale was served.
Come Sunday, we'd be in the Plague Church
of the indulgence of the night before.
"Mind the Gap," said the innkeeper
as the next round slid my way.

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The assignment, per Songbird & Kathryn, is to define the five British phrases shown in bold above. I decided it would be more fun to try to write a poem using those phrases — since I seem to be in a poetic mood this week.

Friday's Cat

My Avatar

I am not my avatar.
My hair is not dark.
My beard is full, and greying.

I'm not wearing a beret;
I wear my thinning hair,
a natural tonsure.

This orange cat
looks nothing like
my cat. She's
a grey tiger.

That's not my regular smile.
I smile askew, and
it's often hidden.

That's why
I don't have an avatar.

Here's to you, Henry Miller

I woke up early this morning, around 4:30. I was soon joined by my feline companion. Her purr seemed to fill the room; it rumbled from my knees up the single sheet. We stayed in bed until shortly before 5, when my bladder became especially insistent.

From that point on, I followed my regular routine. Restroom. Duck into study, to turn on the computer. Pad into kitchen, to start water boiling for green tea. Shower & shave. Dress. Feed the feline. Eat breakfast. Wash dishes. Carry cuppa tea back to my cave/study.

I dispensed with my e-mails, up-dated the Ordinary Time book blog, reviewed a few of my favorite blogs. That took, maybe 15 minutes. Thought I'd play with the Library Thing site for a bit.

This last is a service which allows a user to catalogue all the books in their library. One may record up to 200 books, for free. I've entered a small fraction of my physical library, and I'm already up to a little over 100 books.

I could be methodical about this process, and enter information beginning with the bookshelf closest to the door (the north wall of the cave). This shelf features my poetry collection.

But that's not the methodology I've chosen. Instead, I've entered titles associated with some of my favorite authors: Neil Gaiman, C.S. Lewis, Diane Wakoski, Philip K. Dick, and Henry Miller.

A glance at that final page suggests that I have the largest number of Henry Miller titles (19) of those who have entered their collection into this service.

This fixation on particular authors (and Twain will soon be added to that list) seems a variation of that old alcoholic dictum: if one is good, one hundred must be even better.

It felt good to simply handle the books by Henry Miller again. I was introduced to his writing the summer after I graduated from high school. Gary especially enjoyed the sexy bits of Tropic of Cancer.

I bought my copies of Cancer and Capricorn from a second-hand bookshop. Somehow that seems appropriate. The man who would become Dr. Omed gave me a hard-bound edition of Black Spring.

I set myself the goal of reading the Rosy Crucifixion in one summer. This was a trilogy, similar to the Obelisk Trilogy (the two Cancers and Black Spring); each book was over 300 pages. I was working full time for the Infernal Bookstore, so it was the perfect thing to read. Where I had the "Infernal Bookstore," he had the "Cosmogogic Telegraph Company".

Toward the end of his life, Miller wrote a small book titled My Bike and Other Friends. It's part of my collection. I suppose my equivalent of that would be My Books & Other Friends. Each author has his or her individual voice. Henry Miller's is a distinctive voice I return to again and again.

He's a good, if outsized, companion.

Idée d'jour

Ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.
— James Baldwin, writer (1924-1987)

Mattew 5:44

That the people of the world
may they see their Inner Light
and heed the intimate voice.

For the Bishop of Rome,
may he see his Inner Light,
and heed the intimate voice.
May he see Christ in the Buddha.

For the Archbishop of Cantebury,
may he see his Inner Light
and heed the intimate voice.

For Nigerian Bishops,
may they see their Inner Light
and heed the intimate voice.
May they seek Christ in the stranger.

For George Bush,
may his life be blessed and full.
May he see his Inner Light
reflected in the foreigner.

For Donald Rumsfeld,
may his Inner Light be inspired.
May his life be full and blessed.
May he never be torn by rockets,
mortar, or gun fire.

For Condeleeza Rice,
may she be inspired by her Inner Light.
May her life be rich and blessed.

For Dick Cheney,
may his Inner Light be ignited.
May he learn the way of spiritual poverty,
and walk the path of humility.

We also offer prayers for:
The mother who was shot,
the son who was arrested.
The mother's son who died on the border.
Grant them peace.
May their Inner Light
guide them into your presence.

Pray for us now, and in the hour of death:
that we be richly blessed with a full life,
walk the humble path of rightness,
see you in every person we meet,
and continually grow to full maturity.

How the Rose Got Its Thorns

Before the turtle was born;
Before the stars learned their names;
Before yes, before no;
Before the alphabet was formed;
Before lightening dreamed of the mason jar;
Before snow found its dance;
We were waiting for the rose.

When the moon was boiling;
When the sun was drowning;
When the whirlwind
built a ladder into the abyss;
When woman was formed
from the folds of the earth
And man was formed from woman;
We were waiting on the rose.

The Queen of Diamonds kissed the Alaskan sky.
The Jack of Clubs sailed the Cape of Good Hope.
The King of Spades walked through the Village.
The Ace of Hearts held its breath.
We were waiting for the rose.


And the meadows were formed
and the mountains were raised
and the trees learned their blossom
and bees sang their mornings
and the oceans washed the land
and the land fed the ocean.

The sheep met the meadows.
And the horses, and the pigs, the hens,
the immodest monkey, the shy elephant,
all did their part.
All, all, brought their gift for the rose.

Only then did the rose appear.

Where have you been, asked the great dome.
How long we have waited, said the dust.
How long I have sought you, said the sea.
Where have you been, asked the distant lights.
Where have been, said the leviathan.
The cattle, the sheep, the pigs, the horses,
the elephant, the tiger, the bison, the ostrich,
the mountain lion, all in unison cried:
Where have you been, we've waited so long.

Then the thunder spoke.
Then spoke the Holy Mountain.
Then spoke the Lord of All,
The Lover of the Heights and Depths,
Then spoke the Mother and Father,
Then spoke the infinite Yes and the intimate No.
Then spoke the High Holy One,
the First and Last, the Maker and Defender of All:
It was a whisper as loud as a thousand hurricanes;
a shout as soft as nightingales and whippoorwills:
"Where have you been?"

And there the rose stood.

"Why have you kept us waiting?"
came the voice.

And the rose
swallowed
its
teeth.

Fence Gossip

I had just finished mowing the back yard when my neighbor came to hang some things on his clothes line. As often happens, he called me over to chat.

Now, Edgar has lived in the neighborhood since 1959, so he knows a lot of its history. For example, he knows the creek which abuts the north side of our property has not flooded since sometime in the early 70s.

When he moved in, it was a natural creek, and even had some fish. Then, sometime in the early 60s, a carwash opened at the west end of the creek, and dumped its soapy water in. That was it for the fish.

The last significant flood was in 1955, before he and his wife (now deceased) moved in. The water came up to his back door steps.  In the 60s, the water only came half-way up the yard. After concrete was poured into the banks and the bed of the river in the 70s, it didn't flood anymore.

Ed often likes to talk about the house to the west of my house (he lives in the house immediately east of mine). The woman who lived there died two years ago, and her son-in-law has been remodeling it. Ed seems quite perturbed that he hasn't sold it or leased it out yet.  "Isn't that strange?" he says.

"Well, I don't know," I'll say, "I'm pretty sure he's remodeling it, and that can take a long time."

Then he started talking about the house directly across the creek from my house. "They're colored," he said, and his tone of voice conveyed a different
word altogether. "I don't ever see them in the back yard.  They don't mow
it, or maintain it. They keep their blinds drawn all the time.

"Isn't that strange?"

"Well, I don't know. Don't suppose it's any of my business." By which I also meant to say it wasn't any of his business, either. It was a lot to try to pack into a tone of voice. 

"They've lived there 8 or 10 years, but they keep those blinds drawn all the time.  Isn't that strange?"

I didn't point out that the windows he's seeing face south. If you want to keep your heating bill reasonable, you keep the blinds on the south side of your house closed, especially in summer.  In fact, most of the blinds in my house are drawn, for that reason. 

I didn't care for the tone of judgmentalism, but I knew I was unlikely to change his ways by saying something.

I have a standard thing I say to myself when I sense I'm about to pass judgment on how someone else does something: "Well, it's a choice.  It may not be the choice I would make, but that's ok.  It's their choice, not mine." Then I drop the matter from my mind.

I know I don't care to be judged in this fashion. That's why I keep this neighbor at arm's length. I've never let him collect my mail when I'm out of town, for example. I have no doubt he would be looking through it and wondering why I subscribe to this magazine, or (potentially) donate to that charity.

I can only imagine how he would respond if he picked up Shambhala Sun from my mailbox one day. "What's a good Christian doing, reading a Buddhist magazine?  Isn't that strange?"

Ms. Julian

Here's our favorite feline, just beginning her routine ablutions. Cute tongue, don't you think?

I've taken 22 pictures of my favorite model this week. Obsessed much? Well, you have to admit she's awfully cute. Plus, she's model thin.

I was worried about how thin she was, so I bought some Iams moist cat food. She chowed down, all right, but she didn't eat it all.

Clearly, she has a model's temperment and/or appetite.

---

In other news, you may have noticed I've removed a pair of posts from earlier this week. One was a poem, and the other was a detailed background on the poem, on the actual event which inspired the poem.

The poem, and event, concerned someone at church. A friend pointed out that I couldn't be absolutely sure this person, or an acquaintance of this person, wouldn't stumble on the entry. I still think it highly unlikely; I'm among a minority of cyber-savvy folk within my age group at church.

However, there was also a shade of meaning I was trying to convey, or a shade of feeling. And comments from other friends suggested I had not successfully conveyed that shade of feeling.

---

Meanwhile, Ms. Julian is marvelously tolerant of me. What they say about a cat's patience must be true.

Fruitful Friday Five

The assignment, per Reverend Mother, is to select five of the "fruits of the spirit" delineated in Galations 5:22-23, and "go wherever the Spirit leads you."

• Love
  I heard a story on Morning Edition today, from the Story Corps project. A granddaughter interviewed her grandmother, Nora Percival. Ms. Percival told the story of her happy marriage; her husband died when she was 24 (so I presume it was early in their marriage). She learned a few weeks later she was pregnant, but chose to keep the child. A little over 60 years later, Ms. Percival wrote a book based on "hundreds of letters" between her and her late husband.
     The granddaughter concluded the interview by asking her grandmother if she had any wishes for the granddaughter. Ms. Percival replied that she hoped the granddaughter would find a love like she had.
     Being the sentimental old soul I am, I teared up. The story was a powerful witness.


• Joy
  Billy Sunday once referred to the Episcopal Church as a sleeping giant. Others have called it "the frozen chosen." This latter appellation conveys the sense that people in the Episcopal Church do not exhibit joy.
     I think a lot depends on individual communities. The mission church I used to attend did seem to lack joy; I think it was because they were so worried about finances. The church I currently attend seems to have a great deal of positive energy, which seems to me an expression of joy. People are involved, and choose to come to church more than once a week.
     Another sign of joy in this particular community is the fact that people feel free to laugh and applaud during the service. There is still the liturgical decorum one expects in an Episcopal Church (even more so in the Cathedral), but people don't seem constricted by that decorum.


• Generosity
  I experienced outrageous generosity at my former church. Padre had just died, and my former wife and I lacked the means to drive to Texas. Our car was unreliable, and we didn't really have money for gas or a motel. The church had a special collection (without my prior knowledge) which helped cover the gas expense and motel. We may not have been able to go without this assistance.


• Patience
  People perceive me as being patient. I perceive myself as relatively impatient. If I don't see positive results for a project, I get discouraged and drop it. Sometimes I try again. Other times, I chose not to - supposing to do so would define insanity, "Doing the same thing and expecting different results".
     I suppose some perceive me as patient because I am willing to listen. If a child starts talking to me, I give that child my undivided attention. I strive to give everyone I met the same level of attention. I strive to believe people are sincere, until I have strong evidence otherwise. I strive to let my own yes mean "yes", and my no to mean "no", as the Gospel says.


• Self-control
  This is a gift I currently long for. There are many areas where I seem to lack self-control. No need to detail them here; I know what they are.

Sturgeon Moon

Picture taken 9.Aug.2006, ~9:55 p.m., CDT

Many thanks to Ms. Candide for reminding me of one of the names for this month's moon.

Recommended Reading

Brother Dave e-mailed the text of this poem, "Instructions Against War." Without a doubt, it qualifies as a poem I wish I had written.

Here's the first stanza, as a sample:

put down your flaming, burnished spear
unmask your vicious threats
reveal your white-hot rage for fear
cast off your harsh regrets

The poem, as you'll see, is by Maya Stein. I've skimmed the remainder of her page, and have found many more poems and quotes worth reading.

Idée d’jour

There is no coming to consciousness without pain.
— Carl Jung, psychiatrist (1875-1961)
See also the Merle Haggard quote cited on August 3^rd

Belated Cat Friday

I chased DJ with the camera Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday evenings. By Wednesday, she was saying, "Leave me alone, Paparazo!"

And yet, she paused long enough to strike this lovely pose. Immediately behind her, you see the guitar case for my nylon string guitar. It's the first guitar I bought with my own money, using wages earned at U-Totem the summer of 1976. The guitar was made in 1955, which makes it as old as I am. It's my baby, but the oldest guitar in the house is the one I inherited from Padre.

One day, I will tell you more.

Musical Friday Five

An edited version of the questions posed by NotShyChiRev. Interesting how these questions follow on the heels of Meg's musical quiz (see below).

1. Describe the last play or musical you saw. What was your opinion of it?
   Pretty sure it was a local production of A Chorus Line with my former supervisor. I enjoyed it - much better than the movie version. This production led me to believe the choreographer was based on Bob Fosse.
   1500 CORRECTION: The last musical I saw was with Elsie, just 2-3 years ago. I forget the name, but it had to do with a beauty pagent, and the women were played by men in drag.


2. All time favorite play? Musical?
   Padre's favorite musical was Man of La Mancha. I have the broadway cast recording, and listen to it occasionally. I only have two musicals on video: Newsies and Chicago. I have several soundtrack CDs, and trying to pick a favorite too challenging for this hour.


3. What non-musical movie do you think should next get the musical treatment?
   "Snakes on a Plane" (couldn't resissssssst)


4. Favorite song from a musical? Why?
   My choices are both sentimental and predictable: "Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha; "Maria" from West Side Story; "Send in the Clowns" from A Little Night Music (though it must be the Judy Collins version).


5. What great pop/rock singer/composer or super-group should be the next to be featured in a revue, and what might the story-line be for such a show?
   The songs of U2 arranged to tell a modern version of Job.

Bonus question for singer/actors. Favorite part you’ve ever played/sung.
Most of my acting was done in high school. The only musical I was involved with was in Jr High. There wasn't a band, and a tape the music was going to be played through the sound system. There was a technical glitch, and it was decided this plan wouldn't work. So we spoke the songs. I probably could have sung my part a capella, but probably was the only one there who could have.
Couple of high school roles stick in memory - the character who gets murdered in Zoo Story and the German in Ayn Rand's Night of January 16th.

Quick Quiz

Is Mel Gibson

1. An idiot
2. A bigot
3. A jerk
4. Who Cares?
5. All of the above

High scores may enjoy this cartoon.

Meg's Music Quiz

Courtesy Meg Fowler, one of my many on-line crushes

1. How many hours in a day are you either directly or indirectly listening to music?
   My mind has a near constant sound-track. A word or phrase will remind me of a song, and I'm off. I'm currently preparing for a perforance (this Saturday), and rehearsal includes singing a capella from the time I get out of bed to the time I sit down to breakfast. That's right, I sing in the shower.
      In the car, I'm either listening to NPR news, one of the classical stations, or my iPod (per below).
      I occasionally listen to music while in my cave (study) at home. It serves as background when I'm typing or manipulating images. As a rule, I don't listen to music with recognizable lyrics while writing because it's too distracting.


2. How often are you in charge of said music?
   99.99% of the time.


3. Do you need music as a part of your day?
   Yes.


4. What band and/or solo artist have you been a fan of for the longest period of time?
   A tough question. I've been a fan of Nat King Cole and Johnny Mathis since childhood, through my parents' influence. But I don't have a single one of their albums in my considerable collection.
      Restricting myself to albums I actually own, I'd say the Beatles. I still have the 45 (single) Lady Madonna, which is the first Beatles purchase I ever made.


5. What three albums could you not do without?
   • Common One, Van Morrison
   • Field Commander Cohen, Leonard Cohen
   • Goldberg Variations (original & re-recorded), Glenn Gould
   Note the response would be different next week, if not tomorrow.


6. What's the last concert you went to?
   Marcia Ball, with Alexandria, early this year, at the Sooner Theater in Norman, OK.


7. Name two songs your friends/family associate with you?
   Friends (i.e., Dr. Omed): "How Can I Keep From Singing", "Sisters of Mercy"
   
   Family (i.e., Brother Dave): "St James' Infirmary", "Little Old Brush Arbor." The latter is a song written by our paternal grandfather.
   
   I'm curious what they would actually respond, and each one is invited to agree or disagree in the comments.


8. It's Karaoke Night. Let's say you're the karaoke type. What do you sing?
   I've actually done karaoke — I sang "Born to Run".
      I'm performing this Saturday: Born to Run, Little Old Brush Arbor, Nights in White Satin, and I Stand at Every Door. That last song is a Japanese poem set to music by Pete Seeger. It is related to the bombing of Hiroshima — this Saturday is the anniversary.
      First verse: "I come and stand at every door / but none can hear my silent tread / I knock and yet remain unseen / For I am dead, for I am dead" (sung to the tune of "The Great Silkie").


9. If you could sing/play an instrument like anyone else on earth, who would it be?
   Well, of course I do play a few musical instruments — primarily guitar and harmonica. But the world is full of folk who play either better than me.
      Wish I could play guitar like a mix of Eric Clapton, John Fahey, and Ed Gerhard. I'm blocking on names of harmonica players (other than Dylan), but there are a number of blues harpists I wish I could play like.
      I'm pretty happy with my singing, though I'm aware there's always room for improvement. I currently have some sinus drainage, which is squeezing my upper range, and I'd prefer to be past that.


10. What musical format do you use most often (CDs, mp3s, vinyl, 8-tracks, live instruments, squeezed cats…)
    Either iPod or CD. For musical instruments, see above. DJ's meow is very musical, and there's no need to squeeze her to hear it.


11. Do you own an iPod or mp3 player of some sort?
    Yes. Paid for with income tax refund.


12. Do you listen to music when you exercise?
    What is this thing you call exercise? You may recall I listened to my iPod while distributing campaign literature.


13. And finally… dedicate a song to MegFowler.com!
    John Sebastian, "She's a Lady"

Idée d’jour

In order to go where it's interesting, you've got to go where it hurts.
— Merle Haggard, Acoustic Guitar, September 2006, 55

Summer Cut

No, I don't feel off-balance because of the world situation. Why do you ask?

---

Two modest proposals:
1. Legalize drug use in professional sports. If pro athletes want to risk impotence, cancer, and other health problems, why should we care? The contest will become not only physical ability and skill, but pharmacological knowledge. Record books will mark a clear distinction between "pre-drug" and "post-drug".

2. That the U.N. send an international force to the mideast, to disarm (primarily) Lebanon, Israel, and Syria. Leave the citizens of those countries nothing more deadly than a pea shooter.

One bottom-line issue in both cases is to create a level playing field.

Idée d’jour

If aggression and blame brought happiness, the world would be a very happy place.
— Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, "Good Mind", (15)1, Sept 06, 17.

Quote d'jour

Selections from "She Who Hears the Cries of the World" by Christina Feldman, Shambhala Sun, May 2006, 66-71.

A few years ago, an elderly monk arrived in India after fleeing from prison in Tibet. Meeting with the Dalai Lama, he recounted the years he had been imprisoned, the hardship and beatings he had endured, the hunger and loneliness he had lived with, and the torture he had faced.

At one point the Dalai Lama asked him, "Was there ever a time in which you felt your life was truly in danger?"

The old monk answered: "In truth, the only time I truly felt at risk was when I felt in danger of losing compassion for my jailers."

---

. . . Our compassion simply grows out of our willingness to meet pain rather than to flee from it.

---

. . . Our capacity to cause suffering as well as to heal suffering live side by side within us. If we choose to develop the capacity to heal, which is the challenge of every human life, we will find our hearts can encompass a great deal, and we can learn to heal — rather than increase — the schisms that divide us from one another.

Post #1630

Spiritual Experience

On Friday, I mentioned my time in a sweat lodge, and described it as a
"Spiritual Experience"; I first wrote about that experience here. Sue, writing at "Inner Dorothy," describes a negative experience of a sweat lodge among her responses here (see her answers to #4).

She says she had felt pressured to have a "deep spiritual experience," which would be a "life changing moment." When neither of these things happened, she felt manipulated.

I understand this feeling of being pressured to have a spiritual experience. I can still remember when I was a freshman in high school, and a pair of Baptists cornered me. It became clear the only way I was going to get rid of them was to say their prayer and claim to have had a spiritual experience. 

I wonder what we mean when we say "spiritual experience". I suppose most of us picture something similar to scenes described in the Bible — Moses at the burning bush; Jacob seeing the ladder to heaven; Jesus on the mountain top with Elijah and Moses. And if we don't experience something like one of these "mountain top" experiences, we suppose that our experience has not been spiritual.

I suspect what is at work here is a common, almost Manichean, duality: our daily life and perceptions are worldly; the spiritual is something other. Heaven is somewhere out there, somehow above and beyond us. Humans are crass physical beings who rarely experience the spiritual.

I don't think the Bible supports this view. Take the Yahwehist account of creation in Genesis 1 as an example. Yahweh speaks things into being, beginning with light. It seems as if Yahweh is making distinctions between darkness and light, earth from sky, and land from water. We normally consider these things opposites, yet Yahweh refers to each thing as good; and at the conclusion of the sixth day (at Gen 1:31), Yahweh proclaims the entire creation "very good."

One of the things I understand this passage to mean is that physical objects have a spiritual origin. With the proper vision, I would perceive the spiritual heart of the physical order – including myself.

I suggest that a spiritual experience is not something imposed from outside. It is, rather, an openness that begins within us. People take pilgrimages seeking spiritual experience. People go into sweat lodges seeking a spiritual experience. People climb sacred mountains.

In each case, people push themselves to an extreme. These extremes may wear down defenses, and exhaust expectations. Which may help one be more attuned to spiritual reality, rather than the dull surface we expect.

Pushing oneself to these extremes is, to borrow William Blake's image, a means of "cleansing the doors of perception" so we perceive the world "as it is, "Holy."

I don't know that it's necessary to push ourselves to extremes. It's certainly unreasonable to pressure, or expect, a person to have a "spiritual experience" under these circumstances.

I should think the goal is to remain receptive. We could expect each moment to be an opportunity to encounter spiritual reality. We could follow the example of this artist, who carefully details the ordinary events of her day as a search for enlightenment (scroll down her page, and begin reading at July 20).