When catching up with family and friends during the holiday season, the difficulties of the past year became a reoccurring theme. This past year, it seems, was an unusually rough one, for both myself and those whom I love.
In my mailbox this morning was a quote, sent to me by my friend Magda from Krakow.
"For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's
words await another voice. (...) And to make an end is to make a
beginning."
-- T.S. Eliot
Sometimes, we hear exactly what we need to hear, at the exact time that we need to hear it. Whether or not we actually listen to these words -- God's cleverly placed advice -- is a personal decision with obvious ramifications.
In the spirit of T.S Eliot's words, I would like to wish all of you a new year full of peace, joy, faith, prosperity, and love. May 2008 be a great year for us all.
Keep listening.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
A Real Silent Night
The candles burn low, their sweet smell mingling with the scent of baking fish, simmering cabbage, and baking sweets. As my family waits for the first star, the beginning of a real 'silent night' is taking place.
As a child, I was shocked to discover that most Americans, contrary to the suggestion of the Church and the traditions around the world, really didn't celebrate Christmas Eve. I think I've grown up -- and continue to have -- a Christmas Eve experience that would have made Jesus himself smile -- and so as a gift to my friends, I write about it here for you.
It begins with a lot of work -- my mother cooks and bakes for about two days. The Polish Christmas-Eve vigil includes twelve meatless dishes symbolizing the twelve disciples. Fish is served in various guises along with other traditional fare. Hay is placed beneath the tablecloth to symbolize the manger (a hangover from an older pagan tradition,) and an extra plate is set for the "wayward traveler."
Throughout the day and as preparations continue, the mood in our home is bittersweet. Looking up at the clock, my parents can't hide their melancholy when they see the clock strike the time of their vigil meals back home. We can't help but feel that we are participating in a global event, celebrating with our families overseas, as well as the souls of the departed. (In fact, every year we have strange occurrences which we have since chalked up to our late grandparents coming in to check up on us! ;)
When the first star is visible (on clear nights) we begin the vigil with a prayer, followed by the exchange of blessed wafers. Wafers arrive by mail from family and friends from around the world, with wishes attached. As each family member breaks off a piece of the other's wafers, heartfelt wishes are exchanged.
In our family, the meal begins with a red borsch, a tangy yet sparse dish which my mother makes exceedingly well. We partake of all of the dishes at the table, followed by traditional deserts -- poppy-seed pudding, Piernik cake, and a very healthy serving of wine. The meal is simple, delicate, yet very satisfying.
After the meal, carols are sung and presents exchanged. Simple time is spent with family, away from the television, until people drift off to sleep. Sometime around 10:30 or 11pm, everyone is roused and we go to attend a midnight mass together. In recent years, we've made the trek to St. John Cantius in downtown Chicago. It is a glorious old Church where the majesty of the body of Christ and his Ancient Church can be fully felt. Between the pomp and circumstance, the glorious music, the depth of the Latin Mass, and a full and devoted congregation, it is the perfect way to cap an already magical evening. Sitting in St. John's, it's easy to forget that you live in the 21st century.
For me, our Christmas "Wigilia" is a mercifully traditional and ancient exchange of tradition, as well as an event that I look forward to throughout the year. For most Poles, it is the evening on which the entire year turns. I can't help but think that such a tradition has all the mood and reverence that Christmas Eve -- the evening which commemorates the birth of Christ -- truly deserves.
I wish you all a blessed Christmas season, spent with those most important to you. Most of all, I wish you all a true, reverent, and SILENT night.
As a child, I was shocked to discover that most Americans, contrary to the suggestion of the Church and the traditions around the world, really didn't celebrate Christmas Eve. I think I've grown up -- and continue to have -- a Christmas Eve experience that would have made Jesus himself smile -- and so as a gift to my friends, I write about it here for you.
It begins with a lot of work -- my mother cooks and bakes for about two days. The Polish Christmas-Eve vigil includes twelve meatless dishes symbolizing the twelve disciples. Fish is served in various guises along with other traditional fare. Hay is placed beneath the tablecloth to symbolize the manger (a hangover from an older pagan tradition,) and an extra plate is set for the "wayward traveler."
Throughout the day and as preparations continue, the mood in our home is bittersweet. Looking up at the clock, my parents can't hide their melancholy when they see the clock strike the time of their vigil meals back home. We can't help but feel that we are participating in a global event, celebrating with our families overseas, as well as the souls of the departed. (In fact, every year we have strange occurrences which we have since chalked up to our late grandparents coming in to check up on us! ;)
When the first star is visible (on clear nights) we begin the vigil with a prayer, followed by the exchange of blessed wafers. Wafers arrive by mail from family and friends from around the world, with wishes attached. As each family member breaks off a piece of the other's wafers, heartfelt wishes are exchanged.
In our family, the meal begins with a red borsch, a tangy yet sparse dish which my mother makes exceedingly well. We partake of all of the dishes at the table, followed by traditional deserts -- poppy-seed pudding, Piernik cake, and a very healthy serving of wine. The meal is simple, delicate, yet very satisfying.
After the meal, carols are sung and presents exchanged. Simple time is spent with family, away from the television, until people drift off to sleep. Sometime around 10:30 or 11pm, everyone is roused and we go to attend a midnight mass together. In recent years, we've made the trek to St. John Cantius in downtown Chicago. It is a glorious old Church where the majesty of the body of Christ and his Ancient Church can be fully felt. Between the pomp and circumstance, the glorious music, the depth of the Latin Mass, and a full and devoted congregation, it is the perfect way to cap an already magical evening. Sitting in St. John's, it's easy to forget that you live in the 21st century.
For me, our Christmas "Wigilia" is a mercifully traditional and ancient exchange of tradition, as well as an event that I look forward to throughout the year. For most Poles, it is the evening on which the entire year turns. I can't help but think that such a tradition has all the mood and reverence that Christmas Eve -- the evening which commemorates the birth of Christ -- truly deserves.
I wish you all a blessed Christmas season, spent with those most important to you. Most of all, I wish you all a true, reverent, and SILENT night.
A Short Thought Sometime Past Midnight
Yesterday I stared into darkness. Yesterday a friend told me that perception of soul, inspiration, or prayer was merely all a chemical reaction. This friend told me that poetry and lyricism was not essential to life, that reading the classics was worthless, that philosophy was mostly useless, and that all human endeavor was merely an outgrowth of the instinct of survival. Science was the answer, and those who doubted what science could answer had merely to take a few courses and unhinge their ignorance.
I stared into the darkness of such a perspective, and despite my bewilderment, I found myself moved to doubt by the force of this friend's personality.
I prayed.
Today, I spoke to an English teacher who believed in his quest to teach poetic perception to his students. I met a mathematician with an unflinching faith in Christ. And in the small hours of the early morning, I set the words "lumen ad revelationum" to music, a poignant statement after days of fruitless creative work.
Yes, I doubt. Sometimes, it seems too fantastic to be possible. Other times, God seems far too silent to be real. Then, at 3:30 in the morning, he speaks to me in the lower registers of my thought, and my doubt melts.
I stared into the darkness of such a perspective, and despite my bewilderment, I found myself moved to doubt by the force of this friend's personality.
I prayed.
Today, I spoke to an English teacher who believed in his quest to teach poetic perception to his students. I met a mathematician with an unflinching faith in Christ. And in the small hours of the early morning, I set the words "lumen ad revelationum" to music, a poignant statement after days of fruitless creative work.
Yes, I doubt. Sometimes, it seems too fantastic to be possible. Other times, God seems far too silent to be real. Then, at 3:30 in the morning, he speaks to me in the lower registers of my thought, and my doubt melts.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Americans: The Final Consumer Product
I-Pods are not the hottest consumer item up for grabs in America this Christmas season. Neither are PS-3's, items from Victoria's Secret, or that Lexus you wish you could stick a giant red ribbon on. The single greatest and most fought-over product is...
you.
That's right. A culture based on consumption needs active consumers in order to survive and thrive.
Add to this a simple fact: a culture based on consumption is a culture fueled by greed. Those profiting from greed are also slaves to it: meaning that survival is not enough. Consumption must be increased, in order for the economic elements to continue to expand.
Some of you are thinking along the lines of: "So, Mark, you think America is run by greedy corporations who wish to enslave our minds in order to turn an ever-greater profit? Sounds like an overstated conspiracy."
That's exactly what I believe. Take a few blanket examples, for starters:
1.) I-Pods. A cultural revolution. There are other mp3 players, but self-respecting people -- those in the "know" and in the "cool" -- will only purchase the I-Pod brand.
2.) Gas Prices. The price of gas has been purposefully moved around for two reasons: first, to gauge the breaking-point in American response to price-gouging, as well as to desensitize us to high prices by temporarily posting even higher prices, telling us to be glad that things have gotten better when we fall closer to the 3-dollar mark once again.
3.) The complete refusal of large companies to invest in new forms of fuel while the older, more expensive variety is still available. If countries such as New Zealand and Brazil are becoming energy independent, why are we still slaves to Saudi oil barons?
4.) Our food supply. Take sources, toxins, price, and the prevalence of food-related diseases such as diabetes in America, and no more need be said.
5.) The entertainment industry. In the 1980's and early 90's, MTV showed us that Americans can be slowly but surely reprogrammed in their thought patterns by quasi-thought presented in glitzy-television style. What has happened since is tragic, predictable and transparent for anyone who has managed to maintain a detached perspective.
6.) The automotive industry, and marketing of unnecessarily large (and overpriced) vehicles to the American population. See also points 2 and 3.
7.) The medical industry, and how it has turned the care of human suffering into a lucrative business. Most Americans don't realize that embryonic stem-cell research was being pushed by private interests in the political arena, not because it is capable of miracle cures foreign to other research, but because the methods of utilizing it were patented and therefore of great potential profit to those corporations owning the patents. An entire nation was duped in this issue, also proving that most Americans have become sufficiently blind to research the issue on their own (see, point #5.)
8.) Cancer and diabetes "research." I cringe whenever I see a doctor or dietitian suggest snacks such as mass-produced candy and foods full of hydrogenated oils as part of a "well-balanced diet," or suggest that organic foods are no healthier than their Wal-Mart brand counterparts. After all, if the treatment of cancer and diabetes is a multi-billion dollar industry, why criticize the foods which help cause such diseases? Considering the money made from these forms of human misery, do you honestly think a cure will ever be released?
Think me paranoid or over-analyzing if you will, but I will propose the following: you are the greatest consumer product in America. You -- a human being -- are the item bought, sold, and manipulated by the pixels before your eyes.
If you disagree or doubt, then I pose the following challenge: tomorrow, leave your political beliefs and consumerist tastes at home. Step back from every situation you encounter, and view it through the lens I have proposed with this article. The experience will surely change you. (Unless, of course, you don't desire such an unpleasant change... which is exactly what the consumerist moguls are counting on.)
you.
That's right. A culture based on consumption needs active consumers in order to survive and thrive.
Add to this a simple fact: a culture based on consumption is a culture fueled by greed. Those profiting from greed are also slaves to it: meaning that survival is not enough. Consumption must be increased, in order for the economic elements to continue to expand.
Some of you are thinking along the lines of: "So, Mark, you think America is run by greedy corporations who wish to enslave our minds in order to turn an ever-greater profit? Sounds like an overstated conspiracy."
That's exactly what I believe. Take a few blanket examples, for starters:
1.) I-Pods. A cultural revolution. There are other mp3 players, but self-respecting people -- those in the "know" and in the "cool" -- will only purchase the I-Pod brand.
2.) Gas Prices. The price of gas has been purposefully moved around for two reasons: first, to gauge the breaking-point in American response to price-gouging, as well as to desensitize us to high prices by temporarily posting even higher prices, telling us to be glad that things have gotten better when we fall closer to the 3-dollar mark once again.
3.) The complete refusal of large companies to invest in new forms of fuel while the older, more expensive variety is still available. If countries such as New Zealand and Brazil are becoming energy independent, why are we still slaves to Saudi oil barons?
4.) Our food supply. Take sources, toxins, price, and the prevalence of food-related diseases such as diabetes in America, and no more need be said.
5.) The entertainment industry. In the 1980's and early 90's, MTV showed us that Americans can be slowly but surely reprogrammed in their thought patterns by quasi-thought presented in glitzy-television style. What has happened since is tragic, predictable and transparent for anyone who has managed to maintain a detached perspective.
6.) The automotive industry, and marketing of unnecessarily large (and overpriced) vehicles to the American population. See also points 2 and 3.
7.) The medical industry, and how it has turned the care of human suffering into a lucrative business. Most Americans don't realize that embryonic stem-cell research was being pushed by private interests in the political arena, not because it is capable of miracle cures foreign to other research, but because the methods of utilizing it were patented and therefore of great potential profit to those corporations owning the patents. An entire nation was duped in this issue, also proving that most Americans have become sufficiently blind to research the issue on their own (see, point #5.)
8.) Cancer and diabetes "research." I cringe whenever I see a doctor or dietitian suggest snacks such as mass-produced candy and foods full of hydrogenated oils as part of a "well-balanced diet," or suggest that organic foods are no healthier than their Wal-Mart brand counterparts. After all, if the treatment of cancer and diabetes is a multi-billion dollar industry, why criticize the foods which help cause such diseases? Considering the money made from these forms of human misery, do you honestly think a cure will ever be released?
Think me paranoid or over-analyzing if you will, but I will propose the following: you are the greatest consumer product in America. You -- a human being -- are the item bought, sold, and manipulated by the pixels before your eyes.
If you disagree or doubt, then I pose the following challenge: tomorrow, leave your political beliefs and consumerist tastes at home. Step back from every situation you encounter, and view it through the lens I have proposed with this article. The experience will surely change you. (Unless, of course, you don't desire such an unpleasant change... which is exactly what the consumerist moguls are counting on.)
My favorite musical discovery of the year
Following the bluesy yet abstract sounding rock-organ lick, the glorious voice entered somewhere between a pulsating baritone and a rollicking tenor:
"Strange is this world."
Only, he was singing in Polish: "Dziwny jest swiat..."
I'm embarrassed to say that I've only recently discovered the music of Czeslaw Niemen. Since then, I've listened to numerous works by him, and I've grown convinced that he is one of the greatest singer-songwriters of the 20th century.
Perhaps the term "singer-songwriter" is a bit weak, as he comes across as more of a warrior-poet with a mean blues-organ. His songs move effortlessly between the deep folk sentiments of the Slavs, to a more gritty American blues, to gestures and textures any Western Prog outfit would be quite happy to have written. His voice is sonorous, expansive, and bearing an expressive quality that few -- if any -- in any pop genre today could even hope to imitate.
I will hesitantly compare him to Prince... but only after you add expression, take away pop-pandering, increase the depth of lyrical meaning, and mercifully replace the asexual posturing with some genuinely manly musicianship.
Most importantly, Niemen's music and lyrics came from deep within the Polish poetic tradition, ensuring him an artistic immortality impossible for the average pop writer. Poetry is the language of God and truth, and Niemen spoke it well.
If this man had only spoken clean English, he would have gone down as one of the greatest popular musicians in history. Instead, American companies rejected his style and his accent, and his Canadian English-language effort fell predictably flat.
Thanks to the internet, you can now discover yet another bypassed musical talent, regardless of what the floundering labels might want you to think.
A youtube link follows, then, from which you can also access a live performance. The song, "Dziwny jest ten swiat," speaks of the strangeness of any world in which one man can work to harm another, claiming that the challenge of our times is to rid ourselves of hate.
Enjoy, my friends.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzACDJCfQvs&feature=related
"Strange is this world."
Only, he was singing in Polish: "Dziwny jest swiat..."
I'm embarrassed to say that I've only recently discovered the music of Czeslaw Niemen. Since then, I've listened to numerous works by him, and I've grown convinced that he is one of the greatest singer-songwriters of the 20th century.
Perhaps the term "singer-songwriter" is a bit weak, as he comes across as more of a warrior-poet with a mean blues-organ. His songs move effortlessly between the deep folk sentiments of the Slavs, to a more gritty American blues, to gestures and textures any Western Prog outfit would be quite happy to have written. His voice is sonorous, expansive, and bearing an expressive quality that few -- if any -- in any pop genre today could even hope to imitate.
I will hesitantly compare him to Prince... but only after you add expression, take away pop-pandering, increase the depth of lyrical meaning, and mercifully replace the asexual posturing with some genuinely manly musicianship.
Most importantly, Niemen's music and lyrics came from deep within the Polish poetic tradition, ensuring him an artistic immortality impossible for the average pop writer. Poetry is the language of God and truth, and Niemen spoke it well.
If this man had only spoken clean English, he would have gone down as one of the greatest popular musicians in history. Instead, American companies rejected his style and his accent, and his Canadian English-language effort fell predictably flat.
Thanks to the internet, you can now discover yet another bypassed musical talent, regardless of what the floundering labels might want you to think.
A youtube link follows, then, from which you can also access a live performance. The song, "Dziwny jest ten swiat," speaks of the strangeness of any world in which one man can work to harm another, claiming that the challenge of our times is to rid ourselves of hate.
Enjoy, my friends.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzACDJCfQvs&feature=related
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Losing your Mind in America
I've been reflecting on the latest string of shootings rocking America, thinking how to present my perspective on the issue. Then comes an interview with Colorado Archbishop Chaput -- one of the smartest men I've ever met -- and I hear my words spoken for me.
***
(From the CNA article)
When asked if the shootings are a reflection of anything in the larger American society, Archbishop Chaput said the events should teach Americans to be less self-centered. “We can't as a country stay on our course of self-absorption, callousness toward the poor and weak, and consumer excess, and then pretend to be shocked when people lose their balance and lash out violently. The farther away we get from our religious and moral identity, the fewer constraints we have on our choices and behaviors. Violence happens when we lack the interest and conscience to understand the damage we can do to others. That's the kind of society we're building.”
***
***
(From the CNA article)
When asked if the shootings are a reflection of anything in the larger American society, Archbishop Chaput said the events should teach Americans to be less self-centered. “We can't as a country stay on our course of self-absorption, callousness toward the poor and weak, and consumer excess, and then pretend to be shocked when people lose their balance and lash out violently. The farther away we get from our religious and moral identity, the fewer constraints we have on our choices and behaviors. Violence happens when we lack the interest and conscience to understand the damage we can do to others. That's the kind of society we're building.”
***
Monday, December 10, 2007
Oprah and the Golden Compass
I always knew there was something fishy about Oprah -- through all the charitable giving and heart-warming television programming, I couldn't help but think that she was a bit naive. Her recent actions have removed all doubt.
Thank you, Oprah, for supporting America's most clueless Presidential candidate. I've read your snippets about his "vision" and leadership potential, but have yet to hear anything about experience, public policy, and his stand on the issues that matter.
I believe that Oprah will be the litmus test for modern democracy -- are voters really stupid enough to listen to her? Every speech this woman gives, every vote she earns, is only further proof that our national elections have degenerated into nothing more than a shallow popularity contest. This twit is on the road promoting the worst that democrats have to offer, and meanwhile Americans continue to ignore the best candidates we've seen in many years.
Educated democrats need to ask themselves if they are really willing to support the same candidate that Oprah is supporting.
It could be worse, however: at least she is not RUNNING for President herself.
And now on to "His Dark Materials."
I've been disturbed to see the Hollywood spin on this trilogy, describing it as a story about religion and a good fantasy film. A facebook group has even sprung up, called "Boycott the Boycotting of The Golden Compass." They claim that if you google the film, you will "see the ignorance," and that "atheists can write could fantasy as well."
Well, I googled it. What I found were major Secular/Atheist organizations griping that the book's "important anti-religious text and imagery" was largely absent from the film. I found quotes from the book which can only qualify as blatantly anti-Christian and anti-religious in general. I found an eloquent argument by Catholic league President Donohue, who more than justifies the need for a boycott on these films.
"Have you read it, Mark?"
Nope. I don't read every piece of crap churned out by quasi-intellectuals trying to damage the Church.
I will take another perspective on this issue. I first read "The Lord of the Rings" in the 8th grade, and the effect it had on me was profound. At the time, I had no idea I was being inculcated with virtues of manliness, faith, friendship, and courage, and idealism. All I knew is that the books spoke to the little man in me, and gave me permission to become a better version of myself. They also fired my imagination in a new way, and opened the door wide to a life of creativity.
We should not underestimate the power of stories -- they have the potential to shape and change lives. Hopefully, these changes are for the better. When they weren't writing them, both Lewis and Tolkien spoke and wrote extensively on the power of "faerie" stories. Lewis believed that stories could speak in a way that moved beyond philosophy and reason, expressing truth at the soul-level.
With the reams and reams of quality fantasy available to young readers, the atheist ravings of Pullman have no space on the bookshelf in any child's room. Bravo to the boycott, I say.
Just remember this: it is NEVER "just" a story, "just" a movie, or "just" a song. Meanings carry more deeply, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.
I just hope that Oprah doesn't add Pullman to her book club. Her Dark Materials, indeed.
Thank you, Oprah, for supporting America's most clueless Presidential candidate. I've read your snippets about his "vision" and leadership potential, but have yet to hear anything about experience, public policy, and his stand on the issues that matter.
I believe that Oprah will be the litmus test for modern democracy -- are voters really stupid enough to listen to her? Every speech this woman gives, every vote she earns, is only further proof that our national elections have degenerated into nothing more than a shallow popularity contest. This twit is on the road promoting the worst that democrats have to offer, and meanwhile Americans continue to ignore the best candidates we've seen in many years.
Educated democrats need to ask themselves if they are really willing to support the same candidate that Oprah is supporting.
It could be worse, however: at least she is not RUNNING for President herself.
And now on to "His Dark Materials."
I've been disturbed to see the Hollywood spin on this trilogy, describing it as a story about religion and a good fantasy film. A facebook group has even sprung up, called "Boycott the Boycotting of The Golden Compass." They claim that if you google the film, you will "see the ignorance," and that "atheists can write could fantasy as well."
Well, I googled it. What I found were major Secular/Atheist organizations griping that the book's "important anti-religious text and imagery" was largely absent from the film. I found quotes from the book which can only qualify as blatantly anti-Christian and anti-religious in general. I found an eloquent argument by Catholic league President Donohue, who more than justifies the need for a boycott on these films.
"Have you read it, Mark?"
Nope. I don't read every piece of crap churned out by quasi-intellectuals trying to damage the Church.
I will take another perspective on this issue. I first read "The Lord of the Rings" in the 8th grade, and the effect it had on me was profound. At the time, I had no idea I was being inculcated with virtues of manliness, faith, friendship, and courage, and idealism. All I knew is that the books spoke to the little man in me, and gave me permission to become a better version of myself. They also fired my imagination in a new way, and opened the door wide to a life of creativity.
We should not underestimate the power of stories -- they have the potential to shape and change lives. Hopefully, these changes are for the better. When they weren't writing them, both Lewis and Tolkien spoke and wrote extensively on the power of "faerie" stories. Lewis believed that stories could speak in a way that moved beyond philosophy and reason, expressing truth at the soul-level.
With the reams and reams of quality fantasy available to young readers, the atheist ravings of Pullman have no space on the bookshelf in any child's room. Bravo to the boycott, I say.
Just remember this: it is NEVER "just" a story, "just" a movie, or "just" a song. Meanings carry more deeply, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.
I just hope that Oprah doesn't add Pullman to her book club. Her Dark Materials, indeed.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
The Fear in our Lives
We are all affected by fear.
Little wonder, then, that people pick the easy major, the easy career, the easy spouse, the timely marriage/investment/retirement package/golf-course membership. Waiting for the right moment is hard. Sticking to your ideals is harder.
I consider myself to be a person of action, of energy, of enthusiasm, and often of courage. I have been called idealistic, stubborn, and kind. Therefore, one of the most difficult realizations I have come to about myself in the past year is that I am a person full of fear. I make many more decisions based on fear than I would care to admit to.
To help matters further, I am surrounded by folks of all different stripes, equally as fearful as I am.
On the surface, of course, it is not so. On the surface, I am the person I described in the first full paragraph of this article, and I make my decisions accordingly.
There is something to be said for self-examination, however, and my deepest self-analysis has shown me things I would rather not have encountered. I fear rejection, I fear failure, and I feel being alone.
Those I know best all seem to share similar deep-set fears, and it is shocking when we realize where the deepest currents of our conscience lie. It is shocking when we realize how deeply these dark currents move and affect us.
A very wise friend of mine once said that "we are children of God, and therefore we cannot be children of fear. Fear does not come from God -- it comes from the other."
How absolutely true.
While it has been painful, I'm exploring these fears now, because I know that it is the only way I can be truly faithful and brave in my life.
I'm not sure entirely why I wrote this blog, aside from my desire to vent my own frustrations while encouraging others to conquer their own deep-set existential fears.
I do not want to be motivated by fear: I want to live in hope.
"Be not afraid," the wise-men have echoed through the ages.
I'm trying.
Little wonder, then, that people pick the easy major, the easy career, the easy spouse, the timely marriage/investment/retirement package/golf-course membership. Waiting for the right moment is hard. Sticking to your ideals is harder.
I consider myself to be a person of action, of energy, of enthusiasm, and often of courage. I have been called idealistic, stubborn, and kind. Therefore, one of the most difficult realizations I have come to about myself in the past year is that I am a person full of fear. I make many more decisions based on fear than I would care to admit to.
To help matters further, I am surrounded by folks of all different stripes, equally as fearful as I am.
On the surface, of course, it is not so. On the surface, I am the person I described in the first full paragraph of this article, and I make my decisions accordingly.
There is something to be said for self-examination, however, and my deepest self-analysis has shown me things I would rather not have encountered. I fear rejection, I fear failure, and I feel being alone.
Those I know best all seem to share similar deep-set fears, and it is shocking when we realize where the deepest currents of our conscience lie. It is shocking when we realize how deeply these dark currents move and affect us.
A very wise friend of mine once said that "we are children of God, and therefore we cannot be children of fear. Fear does not come from God -- it comes from the other."
How absolutely true.
While it has been painful, I'm exploring these fears now, because I know that it is the only way I can be truly faithful and brave in my life.
I'm not sure entirely why I wrote this blog, aside from my desire to vent my own frustrations while encouraging others to conquer their own deep-set existential fears.
I do not want to be motivated by fear: I want to live in hope.
"Be not afraid," the wise-men have echoed through the ages.
I'm trying.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Fox Corp. Apology
"Come on, man, it's in your African blood, like eatin' chitlins and selling your own people into slavery."
Imagine, for a moment, that the previous statement were aired, in the form of an underhanded joke, by an ignorant character, on a major Fox sitcom.
Imagine now if "emperor" Murdoch of Fox corp. released a short statement about the incident, half apologizing yet half passing the incident off as a misunderstanding of the people of the script. What if he said that the joke was relatively transparent as ignorant, because it was uttered by an ignorant character?
Would any of that matter? Or would the NAACP make sure that heads roll?
It would be front page news, as well as the talk of every major news program in the Western Hemisphere. Major boycotts would be raised against Fox, and Murdy and company denounced as racists.
When Don Imus made a tasteless joke about "knappy haired" black women athletes, his career was over by the next morning.
Let me suggest that making a joke about "knappy haired" African American women, no matter how terrible, does not quite compare to insinuating that an innocent and victim nation collaborated with the Nazis in some of the greatest attrocities of the 20th century.
Make it a Polish joke, and it stands. Not bad for a country which claims to be struggling to eradicate racism.
Thousands of phone calls flood Fox, every major Polish American organization makes public complaint, and even members of the Polish government contact Fox.
Meanwhile, Fox releases a half-assed apology, and I couldn't even find the story in the papers.
This is hardly fair: shouldn't the pursuit of equality be an equal-opportunity program?
Will the slur be erased from future episodes? One can only hope so. After all, a lie oft-repeated soon becomes truth...
A minor victory was won at the end of this week, as Emperor Murdock and Fox Corporation apologized for their underhanded anti-Polish slur on the "Back to You" sitcom on November 14th.
I am still remiss as to why a public apology -- either by the writer or Mr. Murdock himself -- was not aired before the next episode. This shows a dismissal of those who called Fox on their error, and Murdock's ultimate anti-Polonism.
Imagine, for a moment, that the previous statement were aired, in the form of an underhanded joke, by an ignorant character, on a major Fox sitcom.
Imagine now if "emperor" Murdoch of Fox corp. released a short statement about the incident, half apologizing yet half passing the incident off as a misunderstanding of the people of the script. What if he said that the joke was relatively transparent as ignorant, because it was uttered by an ignorant character?
Would any of that matter? Or would the NAACP make sure that heads roll?
It would be front page news, as well as the talk of every major news program in the Western Hemisphere. Major boycotts would be raised against Fox, and Murdy and company denounced as racists.
When Don Imus made a tasteless joke about "knappy haired" black women athletes, his career was over by the next morning.
Let me suggest that making a joke about "knappy haired" African American women, no matter how terrible, does not quite compare to insinuating that an innocent and victim nation collaborated with the Nazis in some of the greatest attrocities of the 20th century.
Make it a Polish joke, and it stands. Not bad for a country which claims to be struggling to eradicate racism.
Thousands of phone calls flood Fox, every major Polish American organization makes public complaint, and even members of the Polish government contact Fox.
Meanwhile, Fox releases a half-assed apology, and I couldn't even find the story in the papers.
This is hardly fair: shouldn't the pursuit of equality be an equal-opportunity program?
Will the slur be erased from future episodes? One can only hope so. After all, a lie oft-repeated soon becomes truth...
A minor victory was won at the end of this week, as Emperor Murdock and Fox Corporation apologized for their underhanded anti-Polish slur on the "Back to You" sitcom on November 14th.
I am still remiss as to why a public apology -- either by the writer or Mr. Murdock himself -- was not aired before the next episode. This shows a dismissal of those who called Fox on their error, and Murdock's ultimate anti-Polonism.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Racism on Fox: Anti-Polonism Lives On.
This unfortunate news has just been brought to my attention:
On Wednesday, Nov 14, 2007, Fox aired an episode of the "Back to You" sitcom. During one scene, a character tries to convince the show's only Polish character to go bowling by saying:
"It's in your Polish blood, just like kielbasa and collaborating with the Nazis."
The English historian Norman Davies is clear in his message that of all nations subdued endure Nazi authority, no nation had fewer rats and collaborators than Poland. Poland fought the Nazis across Europe and Africa for over six years, and suffered over 6 million deaths in the war. In fact, the Nazi "final solution" included the Poles as well: they were to be done away with once the less numerous peoples (Jews, Gypsies) had been eliminated. There were numerous non-Germanic nations who DID collaborate with the Nazis, however: one wonders why they weren't the ones targeted. One wonders how Fox could make such a blunder.
It's stuff like this that really boils my blood. If you think I'm being overly sensitive, let me rephrase the statement in two other ways:
"It's in your Mexican blood, just like tamales and taking money to transport your own people across borders in refrigerated trucks."
-or, perhaps:-
"It's in your African blood, just like chitlins and selling your own people to white slave-traders."
I wonder if the NAACP would have let that last one slide. Either statement would have made the front page. Anti-Polonism, however, is an institution in the United States. The error won't even be noticed until people act.
Whether you are Polish or not, I ask you to contact Fox at the number below. Ask for the comment line regarding the "Back to you" show, and then you will be able to leave a recorded message. In fact, it would speak volumes if some of my esteemed German friends could take this action.
1-310-369-1000
With a moment of your time, you can help continue the work to eradicate -- not just misplace -- racism in America. Please help keep this error from going into syndication.
On Wednesday, Nov 14, 2007, Fox aired an episode of the "Back to You" sitcom. During one scene, a character tries to convince the show's only Polish character to go bowling by saying:
"It's in your Polish blood, just like kielbasa and collaborating with the Nazis."
The English historian Norman Davies is clear in his message that of all nations subdued endure Nazi authority, no nation had fewer rats and collaborators than Poland. Poland fought the Nazis across Europe and Africa for over six years, and suffered over 6 million deaths in the war. In fact, the Nazi "final solution" included the Poles as well: they were to be done away with once the less numerous peoples (Jews, Gypsies) had been eliminated. There were numerous non-Germanic nations who DID collaborate with the Nazis, however: one wonders why they weren't the ones targeted. One wonders how Fox could make such a blunder.
It's stuff like this that really boils my blood. If you think I'm being overly sensitive, let me rephrase the statement in two other ways:
"It's in your Mexican blood, just like tamales and taking money to transport your own people across borders in refrigerated trucks."
-or, perhaps:-
"It's in your African blood, just like chitlins and selling your own people to white slave-traders."
I wonder if the NAACP would have let that last one slide. Either statement would have made the front page. Anti-Polonism, however, is an institution in the United States. The error won't even be noticed until people act.
Whether you are Polish or not, I ask you to contact Fox at the number below. Ask for the comment line regarding the "Back to you" show, and then you will be able to leave a recorded message. In fact, it would speak volumes if some of my esteemed German friends could take this action.
1-310-369-1000
With a moment of your time, you can help continue the work to eradicate -- not just misplace -- racism in America. Please help keep this error from going into syndication.
On Christmas Trees and the Shopping (Advent) Season
On November 1st, I just about tripped while walking through my living room, seeing the unmistakable lights of a Christmas tree coming from a neighbor's window. Advent had not yet begun, the Turkeys had not yet been shipped, I still had a carved pumpkin on my balcony, yet here was the symbol of the Christmas season, right in my face every time I walked from my bedroom to the kitchen. Not suprisingly, and like a malignant growth, it soon split off and made friends.
Does anybody remember Advent? Yes, you recall: that unfortunate old quasi-religious practice that was once imposed on people by a dominating medieval Church? That time when religious prudes kept people from having fun? That period only slightly less unpleasant than Lent?
If you listen to college history professors and neo-bobo-yuppies, this is probably your perspective on the matter.
What about Advent as a time of reflection, as a time of greater quiet, as a time of moderation, a time of self-inquiry, a time of prayer, and a time to pursue peace in our lives and in the world?
Nah... I'm sure you don't need any of that. Clearly, the great success of modern man has proven that no such introspective periods (yoga lessons aside) are necessary. Who needs Advent when you have Prozac and the Wellness Network?
I once heard a noted author remark that "there is true genius in the structure of the Church." Advent, my friends, is a work of genius.
Every year, we sing the "12 days of Christmas." It's too bad we only celebrate one of those days. Or does anybody remember that the Christmas season actually BEGINS on the 25th?
The 23rd is still Advent. Not a good time to get sloshed at your company's Christmas party.
Let me suggest, in keeping with the Western world in all of but the past 25 or so years, that Advent is a valuable and necessary component to be experienced before we arrive at Christmas. I have found it to be personally beneficial. I will even fast a bit before the big day, just to bring further austerity and depth to the time. When Christmas Eve arrives, I really feel like something important is happening: this is greatly helped by the sense of awareness and personal balance which can be achieved during Advent.
Christmas Eve itself is traditionally used to celebrate the birth of Christ. In keeping with the Church's suggestion, my family has always practiced a vigil meal, and the mood is somber and reflective. I will say that now, at 29 years of age, the structure of our Christmas Eve allows me to still feel that child-like magic. It is perhaps even greater now, butressed with an adult's knowledge of the true meaning of this holiday. It is a "silent night," and a "holy night," and all really IS "calm," and all is certainly "bright."
I will suggest that a meaningful, somber, musical, spiritual and family-oriented time (sans tv) is a far superior way to celebrate Christmas Eve then take-out food, rented movies, needless Christmas parties, and last-minute shopping.
Christmas Day is the one thing we still have relatively right in our culture. I'll leave it alone.
What about the day AFTER Christmas? In Europe, it is still widely viewed as a holiday in which to visit other family and friends. Only in America do we have to trudge back to work. In fact, our Christmas parties should begin to be held on the 26th.
The Christmas Season proper begins on the 25th, a fitting celebration of the season lasting until Three Kings Day. Every year, my family proudly puts up their tree "late," keeping it going well past the new year. Every year, people ask us if we're either too lazy to take it down "on time," or if we're Orthodox.
Few things are sadder than the sight of Christmas Trees in the garbage and people bustling around, business as usual, on December 26th.
This year, I encourage you to embrace the tradition of the Advent and Christmas seasons, as they were meant to be celebrated. Perhaps you will experience the genius in this seasonal design, and -- as is intended -- come out a better and deeper person in the end.
Does anybody remember Advent? Yes, you recall: that unfortunate old quasi-religious practice that was once imposed on people by a dominating medieval Church? That time when religious prudes kept people from having fun? That period only slightly less unpleasant than Lent?
If you listen to college history professors and neo-bobo-yuppies, this is probably your perspective on the matter.
What about Advent as a time of reflection, as a time of greater quiet, as a time of moderation, a time of self-inquiry, a time of prayer, and a time to pursue peace in our lives and in the world?
Nah... I'm sure you don't need any of that. Clearly, the great success of modern man has proven that no such introspective periods (yoga lessons aside) are necessary. Who needs Advent when you have Prozac and the Wellness Network?
I once heard a noted author remark that "there is true genius in the structure of the Church." Advent, my friends, is a work of genius.
Every year, we sing the "12 days of Christmas." It's too bad we only celebrate one of those days. Or does anybody remember that the Christmas season actually BEGINS on the 25th?
The 23rd is still Advent. Not a good time to get sloshed at your company's Christmas party.
Let me suggest, in keeping with the Western world in all of but the past 25 or so years, that Advent is a valuable and necessary component to be experienced before we arrive at Christmas. I have found it to be personally beneficial. I will even fast a bit before the big day, just to bring further austerity and depth to the time. When Christmas Eve arrives, I really feel like something important is happening: this is greatly helped by the sense of awareness and personal balance which can be achieved during Advent.
Christmas Eve itself is traditionally used to celebrate the birth of Christ. In keeping with the Church's suggestion, my family has always practiced a vigil meal, and the mood is somber and reflective. I will say that now, at 29 years of age, the structure of our Christmas Eve allows me to still feel that child-like magic. It is perhaps even greater now, butressed with an adult's knowledge of the true meaning of this holiday. It is a "silent night," and a "holy night," and all really IS "calm," and all is certainly "bright."
I will suggest that a meaningful, somber, musical, spiritual and family-oriented time (sans tv) is a far superior way to celebrate Christmas Eve then take-out food, rented movies, needless Christmas parties, and last-minute shopping.
Christmas Day is the one thing we still have relatively right in our culture. I'll leave it alone.
What about the day AFTER Christmas? In Europe, it is still widely viewed as a holiday in which to visit other family and friends. Only in America do we have to trudge back to work. In fact, our Christmas parties should begin to be held on the 26th.
The Christmas Season proper begins on the 25th, a fitting celebration of the season lasting until Three Kings Day. Every year, my family proudly puts up their tree "late," keeping it going well past the new year. Every year, people ask us if we're either too lazy to take it down "on time," or if we're Orthodox.
Few things are sadder than the sight of Christmas Trees in the garbage and people bustling around, business as usual, on December 26th.
This year, I encourage you to embrace the tradition of the Advent and Christmas seasons, as they were meant to be celebrated. Perhaps you will experience the genius in this seasonal design, and -- as is intended -- come out a better and deeper person in the end.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Thought for the day...
A short story for your day...
A professor began his lecture series on "ethics" by asking his students to opine on ethics, their source, and their guiding principles.
The conversation quickly shifted to one of existential opinionation. Phrases such as "it's all a matter of opinion" and "ethics are determined by the beliefs of the dominant culture" were generally agreed upon. When the professor brought up the idea of an "absolute truth" guiding ethics, he was largely disagreed with.
Towards the end of the class, the professor stopped the conversation and smiled widely. He began to explain how the class would work, and how students would be graded. He said:
"In the end, if I like you, I'll pass you. If I don't, you'll fail."
The students began to complain, and soon the word "injustice" emerged.
The professor laughed, saying: "Justice? Justice is just a matter of opinion. Justice is just a tool of self-determination. I'm the professor, I'm in charge, and therefore I am the dominant culture. This grading system fulfills me and makes me feel good about myself. I really, TRULY believe that it will fulfill you too."
The purpose of the lesson began to dawn on the students...
A professor began his lecture series on "ethics" by asking his students to opine on ethics, their source, and their guiding principles.
The conversation quickly shifted to one of existential opinionation. Phrases such as "it's all a matter of opinion" and "ethics are determined by the beliefs of the dominant culture" were generally agreed upon. When the professor brought up the idea of an "absolute truth" guiding ethics, he was largely disagreed with.
Towards the end of the class, the professor stopped the conversation and smiled widely. He began to explain how the class would work, and how students would be graded. He said:
"In the end, if I like you, I'll pass you. If I don't, you'll fail."
The students began to complain, and soon the word "injustice" emerged.
The professor laughed, saying: "Justice? Justice is just a matter of opinion. Justice is just a tool of self-determination. I'm the professor, I'm in charge, and therefore I am the dominant culture. This grading system fulfills me and makes me feel good about myself. I really, TRULY believe that it will fulfill you too."
The purpose of the lesson began to dawn on the students...
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
...is new again...
In my recent music-turncoat theme, I'm starting to latch on to the commentaries found on websites like newmusicbox.org. A striking theme on the site has been that of "newness", or, that undefinable American urge to be revolutionary and original. Again and again, Ives and Cage are held up as model mavericks, as if a new-music society full of barely comprehensible creative rebels were the goal of music-making.
What is "newness?" Must we reinvent the wheel every time we sit down to compose? Considering the dizzying blur of the past century of musical innovation, is it any wonder that we're slowing down a bit in this day and age? Even electronic music, that self-proclaimed new creative frontier, has already become bogged down in its own cliches and traditions (as humorously expressed in Mark Applebaum's piece "Precomposition.") The composer who is slowing down, taking stock of what has occured, and creating a meaningful synthesis -- is this not "new" as an approach? What about the composer who actually tries to build an audience with his work -- is he not, in recent light, doing something radical and "new"?
We do not see authors chastise other authors for using words that were in use more than a half-century ago, nor is an aspiring artist told "don't use so much red: it's SO 1950." I've never heard a poet say: "my work focuses entirely on words beginning with consonants." Tell a jazz musician that they play with Coltrane's fire or have a harmonic sensibility comparable to Miles, and you'll see a beaming smile. Why then this "newness" obsession in new music? I ask: what IS new? Is it perhaps possible that certain pre-formed elements of music simply... work? I'm not sure there is a more self-conscious and hypocritical strain of thought amongst new music composers than our pandering to the "new," whatever such a term actually means anymore. What about music as a process of synthesis and discovery? Ives certainly discovered new modes of expression, as did Schoenberg. Ives was also a synthesist, blending the great European tradition with his (and his father's) more individual ideas. Ives also believed in the transcendent element of music: something most modern music is lacking to its detriment.
This whole obsession with newness is absurd, and is clearly a cover for the fact that much new music simply lacks meaning. It lacks meaning, because much of it is self-centered and unwilling to look outside of itself. Write the words "God" and "Soul" in a newmusicbox commentary, and you'll be either hammered or ignored. Or, as one composer put it to me: "you lost me when you brought up the whole soul thing."
Funny, considering that the concept was part and parcel with new music for Bach, Beethoven, Ives, Messiaen, Penderecki,.....
What is "newness?" Must we reinvent the wheel every time we sit down to compose? Considering the dizzying blur of the past century of musical innovation, is it any wonder that we're slowing down a bit in this day and age? Even electronic music, that self-proclaimed new creative frontier, has already become bogged down in its own cliches and traditions (as humorously expressed in Mark Applebaum's piece "Precomposition.") The composer who is slowing down, taking stock of what has occured, and creating a meaningful synthesis -- is this not "new" as an approach? What about the composer who actually tries to build an audience with his work -- is he not, in recent light, doing something radical and "new"?
We do not see authors chastise other authors for using words that were in use more than a half-century ago, nor is an aspiring artist told "don't use so much red: it's SO 1950." I've never heard a poet say: "my work focuses entirely on words beginning with consonants." Tell a jazz musician that they play with Coltrane's fire or have a harmonic sensibility comparable to Miles, and you'll see a beaming smile. Why then this "newness" obsession in new music? I ask: what IS new? Is it perhaps possible that certain pre-formed elements of music simply... work? I'm not sure there is a more self-conscious and hypocritical strain of thought amongst new music composers than our pandering to the "new," whatever such a term actually means anymore. What about music as a process of synthesis and discovery? Ives certainly discovered new modes of expression, as did Schoenberg. Ives was also a synthesist, blending the great European tradition with his (and his father's) more individual ideas. Ives also believed in the transcendent element of music: something most modern music is lacking to its detriment.
This whole obsession with newness is absurd, and is clearly a cover for the fact that much new music simply lacks meaning. It lacks meaning, because much of it is self-centered and unwilling to look outside of itself. Write the words "God" and "Soul" in a newmusicbox commentary, and you'll be either hammered or ignored. Or, as one composer put it to me: "you lost me when you brought up the whole soul thing."
Funny, considering that the concept was part and parcel with new music for Bach, Beethoven, Ives, Messiaen, Penderecki,.....
Friday, November 2, 2007
Composers: Strangest of the strange?
More musical musings, because it's that kind of week:
This past week, I'm proud to report that I sparked a curious article by Randy Nordschaw on Newmusicbox.org. In response to an article by Colin Holter, I pointed out that the musical realms of, say, Arvo Part and Britney Spears are both necessarily and thankfully seperate. Randy counterattacked my clear "separitist" attitudes, to which I simply replied: "if it's really all the same, or SHOULD be the same, then sell this site to Rolling Stone Magazine and be done with it."
That being said, I spend a lot of time on this blog defending new music, though I will this time take a different approach. This week has taught me something:
Composers are a scared, insecure, and frequently unpleasant bunch of people. At least those that haven't "made it."
I include myself in that "unmade" mix. Faced with a society largely indifferent to the best of our efforts, we tend to develop curious defense mechanisms.
I think most composers fit into the following categories:
1.) The less-than-1% making a living off their music. Generally few axes to grind.
2.) The "who cares if you listen?" bunch.
3.) The elite non-elitists, like the guy who kept attacking me for a suppossed elitist attitude, missing the point that he was an elitist himself, and that the very idea of an internet forum on new music discussing elitism is in itself... ELITIST. (phew.)
4.) The "pleasantly-elite," "I have refined taste and can help you with yours" type. I admit membership in this category.
5.) The hopelessly insecure type who will list-off their self-righteously eclectic ipod listening lists and talk about how the Gamelan has affected their piano writing, helping liberate it from a restricting classicism/modernism/whatever-ism.
6.) The "what process did you use to generate your pitch material?" type (my least favorite.)
and, lastly, the
7.) "I hate being poor. Fuck it, let's sell insurance and just ruminate about music on message-boards" type -- this is the category I'm viciously trying to avoid drifting in to.
To be fair, I've probably missed a few categories, and many creative-types straddle more than a few of these. I think you get the point.
I love new music. I love composers. I'm starting to think, however, that somewhere along the line, we got a LOT of it going in an aimless and self-defeating direction. What think YOU, composer and musician types?
This past week, I'm proud to report that I sparked a curious article by Randy Nordschaw on Newmusicbox.org. In response to an article by Colin Holter, I pointed out that the musical realms of, say, Arvo Part and Britney Spears are both necessarily and thankfully seperate. Randy counterattacked my clear "separitist" attitudes, to which I simply replied: "if it's really all the same, or SHOULD be the same, then sell this site to Rolling Stone Magazine and be done with it."
That being said, I spend a lot of time on this blog defending new music, though I will this time take a different approach. This week has taught me something:
Composers are a scared, insecure, and frequently unpleasant bunch of people. At least those that haven't "made it."
I include myself in that "unmade" mix. Faced with a society largely indifferent to the best of our efforts, we tend to develop curious defense mechanisms.
I think most composers fit into the following categories:
1.) The less-than-1% making a living off their music. Generally few axes to grind.
2.) The "who cares if you listen?" bunch.
3.) The elite non-elitists, like the guy who kept attacking me for a suppossed elitist attitude, missing the point that he was an elitist himself, and that the very idea of an internet forum on new music discussing elitism is in itself... ELITIST. (phew.)
4.) The "pleasantly-elite," "I have refined taste and can help you with yours" type. I admit membership in this category.
5.) The hopelessly insecure type who will list-off their self-righteously eclectic ipod listening lists and talk about how the Gamelan has affected their piano writing, helping liberate it from a restricting classicism/modernism/whatever-ism.
6.) The "what process did you use to generate your pitch material?" type (my least favorite.)
and, lastly, the
7.) "I hate being poor. Fuck it, let's sell insurance and just ruminate about music on message-boards" type -- this is the category I'm viciously trying to avoid drifting in to.
To be fair, I've probably missed a few categories, and many creative-types straddle more than a few of these. I think you get the point.
I love new music. I love composers. I'm starting to think, however, that somewhere along the line, we got a LOT of it going in an aimless and self-defeating direction. What think YOU, composer and musician types?
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Thoughts from a Conservatory
There is nothing like a Conservatory -- or any room of astute academic musicians -- to point out all the things that you don't know about music. The more time I spend in one, I feel rather than learning, I'm just lengthening the list of things "I should already know."
Composition, however, seems to be a different beast. Like musicality, you can clue people in on where to start, but authenticity cannot be taught. What have I learned in school? A lot about history. A lot about reading scores, hearing things better, improving counterpoint, strengthening various aspects of craft, and learning all the different ways I can string a set of notes together.
The music, however, has nothing to do with any of this. Essentially, I'm hearing the same music I've heard in my head since I was teenager. It is only that I'm hearing it better, and getting more of it down on paper. I'm very encouraged that there are still things floating past my mind's ear that I can't quite put a finger on, so I know I still have much room to grow.
All of this rumination leads me to one thought: is it wise to school a musician for so many years? What, beyond the basics of undergraduate education, could I not have learned from a traditional apprenticeship instead? Were it not for the need to find income in a society brutally unforgiving of unprofitable ventures (like new music), would many of us even bother with the schooling? Would a classical music culture more divided from an increasingly delusional academic world prosper, or falter?
Composition, however, seems to be a different beast. Like musicality, you can clue people in on where to start, but authenticity cannot be taught. What have I learned in school? A lot about history. A lot about reading scores, hearing things better, improving counterpoint, strengthening various aspects of craft, and learning all the different ways I can string a set of notes together.
The music, however, has nothing to do with any of this. Essentially, I'm hearing the same music I've heard in my head since I was teenager. It is only that I'm hearing it better, and getting more of it down on paper. I'm very encouraged that there are still things floating past my mind's ear that I can't quite put a finger on, so I know I still have much room to grow.
All of this rumination leads me to one thought: is it wise to school a musician for so many years? What, beyond the basics of undergraduate education, could I not have learned from a traditional apprenticeship instead? Were it not for the need to find income in a society brutally unforgiving of unprofitable ventures (like new music), would many of us even bother with the schooling? Would a classical music culture more divided from an increasingly delusional academic world prosper, or falter?
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Phone-Salesman turned Opera Star
Thanks to Jeff Meyer for sharing the below link with me.
Upon viewing it, I saw yet another example of what real music, and true artistry can do to a crowd of people, even when that crowd is gathered for shallow entertainment. Can anything in the pop-music world achieve such an effect? How else does a phone-salesman bring people to tears?
http://www.maniacworld.com/Phone-Salesman-Amazes-Crowd.html
Upon viewing it, I saw yet another example of what real music, and true artistry can do to a crowd of people, even when that crowd is gathered for shallow entertainment. Can anything in the pop-music world achieve such an effect? How else does a phone-salesman bring people to tears?
http://www.maniacworld.com/Phone-Salesman-Amazes-Crowd.html
Monday, October 22, 2007
The Fascists and the Phallus
The great American author Sinclair Lewis wrote that:
"When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross."
Many Americans have heard this quote as of late, though not as a result of their literary dispositions or bookishness. This quote, like many other liberal one-liners, has become a popular commodity in the land of bumper-sticker politics.
Unfortunately for Mr. Lewis and his legion of one-liner bumper-sticker wielding liberals, there is no precedence for supporting such a statement. I think it would be more accurate to say:
"When Communism comes to America, it will be in the shape of a giant neon rainbow-colored dildo."
Such a powerful political symbol would be in the front of marches and parades across the nation, proudly followed by the likes of Barrack Obama, Al Gore and his fuzzy scientists, proud Frenchmen everywhere and Dumbledore. "Follow the Phallus!" would be their rallying cry. Actually, now that I think about it, it already is...
You see, my passionate bumper-sticker one-liner loving liberal friends: Christianity in America may have a historical precedent for being occasionally oppressive, but it has never made America weak. Nor has a God-fearing nation ever turned Fascist since the second world war. The facts are that the Nazi paradigm was built on Pagan superstition and Atheist philosophy (Nietzsche's.) The fact is, the grand Atheist Utopian worker-paradise known as Communism managed to amass a body count to make Hitler, Napolean, and Nero blush. Liberals parade around misinterpretations and sloppy history concerning the Inquisition, while totally ignoring the recent bloody work of their own kind.
There is no historical precedent linking Christianity and Fascism, despite what Mr. Lewis and his post-mortem bumper sticker publication success might lead you to believe. There IS, however, a clear and undeniable linking between Atheism, liberal thought, and more dead people than we can count.
This doesn't matter to the left, however. I've always been jealous of the liberals and their numerous bumper stickers. How comforting it must be to have a worldview supported by colorful snippets, one-liners, unburdened by solid research, information, or deeper reflection. It is no wonder that this perpetually childish offshoot of humanity supports Barrack Obama, a candidate who thinks that one-liners and half-baked visions are enough to run an entire nation.
Not that the Conservatives are doing much better, considering the candidates they're supporting and the great potential leaders they're allowing to be swept aside. Who ever thought that a female Presidential Candidate, especially one bearing the name of Clinton, would ever strike fear into the straight-shooting testosterone overdrive of the Republican Party? All the Jeds, Hanks, and Dicks are shaking in their collective cowboy boots.
As usual, the answers don't lie on bumper stickers. Liberals are wrong about most things, and extreme Conservatives fair only slightly better. The truth generally lies in the middle. The truth is also complex and uncomfortable, hence the general rejection of moderate political candidates who seek solutions instead of playing on fears or perpetuating one-liner political debate (a-la tv-news political "discussions.")
I've become convinced that American Democracy is only a larger, gray-haired version of high-school elections. Since the nation is not likely to drift into actual informed debate anytime soon, the question remains:
Is America ready for a moderate bumper sticker revolution?
"When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross."
Many Americans have heard this quote as of late, though not as a result of their literary dispositions or bookishness. This quote, like many other liberal one-liners, has become a popular commodity in the land of bumper-sticker politics.
Unfortunately for Mr. Lewis and his legion of one-liner bumper-sticker wielding liberals, there is no precedence for supporting such a statement. I think it would be more accurate to say:
"When Communism comes to America, it will be in the shape of a giant neon rainbow-colored dildo."
Such a powerful political symbol would be in the front of marches and parades across the nation, proudly followed by the likes of Barrack Obama, Al Gore and his fuzzy scientists, proud Frenchmen everywhere and Dumbledore. "Follow the Phallus!" would be their rallying cry. Actually, now that I think about it, it already is...
You see, my passionate bumper-sticker one-liner loving liberal friends: Christianity in America may have a historical precedent for being occasionally oppressive, but it has never made America weak. Nor has a God-fearing nation ever turned Fascist since the second world war. The facts are that the Nazi paradigm was built on Pagan superstition and Atheist philosophy (Nietzsche's.) The fact is, the grand Atheist Utopian worker-paradise known as Communism managed to amass a body count to make Hitler, Napolean, and Nero blush. Liberals parade around misinterpretations and sloppy history concerning the Inquisition, while totally ignoring the recent bloody work of their own kind.
There is no historical precedent linking Christianity and Fascism, despite what Mr. Lewis and his post-mortem bumper sticker publication success might lead you to believe. There IS, however, a clear and undeniable linking between Atheism, liberal thought, and more dead people than we can count.
This doesn't matter to the left, however. I've always been jealous of the liberals and their numerous bumper stickers. How comforting it must be to have a worldview supported by colorful snippets, one-liners, unburdened by solid research, information, or deeper reflection. It is no wonder that this perpetually childish offshoot of humanity supports Barrack Obama, a candidate who thinks that one-liners and half-baked visions are enough to run an entire nation.
Not that the Conservatives are doing much better, considering the candidates they're supporting and the great potential leaders they're allowing to be swept aside. Who ever thought that a female Presidential Candidate, especially one bearing the name of Clinton, would ever strike fear into the straight-shooting testosterone overdrive of the Republican Party? All the Jeds, Hanks, and Dicks are shaking in their collective cowboy boots.
As usual, the answers don't lie on bumper stickers. Liberals are wrong about most things, and extreme Conservatives fair only slightly better. The truth generally lies in the middle. The truth is also complex and uncomfortable, hence the general rejection of moderate political candidates who seek solutions instead of playing on fears or perpetuating one-liner political debate (a-la tv-news political "discussions.")
I've become convinced that American Democracy is only a larger, gray-haired version of high-school elections. Since the nation is not likely to drift into actual informed debate anytime soon, the question remains:
Is America ready for a moderate bumper sticker revolution?
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Silence and Priorities.
I have a problem.
Chances are, you share this problem as well.
It's a common social ill nowadays, and what's worse, it is often glorified.
We put too much stock in our lives. It is very difficult to seperate what is good, true, and necessary, from what is merely convenient, attractive, and self-glorifying. This is where "careers" replace "callings" and "vocations" are usurped by practicalities.
This social disease has a universal symptom: the lack of silence. The average American fears only death and spiders more than silence, recent surveys show.
Silence is where God resides, and therefore the truth.
The tragedy of the modern Atheistic movement, led by 'intellectuals' like Richard Dawkins, is only succeeding on casting enough doubt to move the uneducated and weak of faith. In trying to deconstruct religion, they are deconstructing humanity. When they say that "the only real thing is the here and now," the miss the most important parts of what makes us human and what gives our lives meaning. They often sight the ills brought about by organized religion, failing to see that one century of atheist/secularist rule has generated a greater body-count than 19 centuries of Europan Christianity combined.
Unfortunately, many people of various belief-stripes, including myself at times, fall into the mistake of overembracing the secular, and not separting meaning from reality and destiny from selfish convenience.
It's a common flaw, and it is only cured by... silence.
The silence leads us inward. Coming inward, we discover God. We go deeper, and the next thing you know, you're living the "examined life."
It's actually really easy to start. It's just hard to keep it going, considering all of the modern American fabric, religion included, is geared to lead us away from the contemplative lifestyle.
When looking inside of myself, beneath the sometimes cheerful sometimes sarcastic exterior, I found troubling things. I found confusion and shallowness of heart. I found a fickle and sometimes selfish nature. I found more fear than I ever thought could reside in me.
It's a troubling thing, when you discover how many of your "decisions" are motivated by a deep current of fear.
So, I have two choices: 1.)Pretend the problem doesn't exist and take the nearest ride into suburban controversy-free paradise, or 2.)deal with it.
What do you have to deal with? What noise in your life prevents you from dealing with your own issues, or from even realizing they are there?
Is the person with their new hummer, burgeoning stock-portfolio, 9 blackberries all keeping track of different financial situations, six personal assistants, a perfect wife and house and job, really living the "life?"
Or, is he hiding from something?
Chances are, you share this problem as well.
It's a common social ill nowadays, and what's worse, it is often glorified.
We put too much stock in our lives. It is very difficult to seperate what is good, true, and necessary, from what is merely convenient, attractive, and self-glorifying. This is where "careers" replace "callings" and "vocations" are usurped by practicalities.
This social disease has a universal symptom: the lack of silence. The average American fears only death and spiders more than silence, recent surveys show.
Silence is where God resides, and therefore the truth.
The tragedy of the modern Atheistic movement, led by 'intellectuals' like Richard Dawkins, is only succeeding on casting enough doubt to move the uneducated and weak of faith. In trying to deconstruct religion, they are deconstructing humanity. When they say that "the only real thing is the here and now," the miss the most important parts of what makes us human and what gives our lives meaning. They often sight the ills brought about by organized religion, failing to see that one century of atheist/secularist rule has generated a greater body-count than 19 centuries of Europan Christianity combined.
Unfortunately, many people of various belief-stripes, including myself at times, fall into the mistake of overembracing the secular, and not separting meaning from reality and destiny from selfish convenience.
It's a common flaw, and it is only cured by... silence.
The silence leads us inward. Coming inward, we discover God. We go deeper, and the next thing you know, you're living the "examined life."
It's actually really easy to start. It's just hard to keep it going, considering all of the modern American fabric, religion included, is geared to lead us away from the contemplative lifestyle.
When looking inside of myself, beneath the sometimes cheerful sometimes sarcastic exterior, I found troubling things. I found confusion and shallowness of heart. I found a fickle and sometimes selfish nature. I found more fear than I ever thought could reside in me.
It's a troubling thing, when you discover how many of your "decisions" are motivated by a deep current of fear.
So, I have two choices: 1.)Pretend the problem doesn't exist and take the nearest ride into suburban controversy-free paradise, or 2.)deal with it.
What do you have to deal with? What noise in your life prevents you from dealing with your own issues, or from even realizing they are there?
Is the person with their new hummer, burgeoning stock-portfolio, 9 blackberries all keeping track of different financial situations, six personal assistants, a perfect wife and house and job, really living the "life?"
Or, is he hiding from something?
Thursday, October 18, 2007
"The Pope and all the Idiot Americans..."
I love taking my laptop to the local book store to work. A nice fresh cup of coffee, the surrounding piles of completed work to inspire me, and the steady procession of interesting people. Generally, people watching is an activity I throw in between writing my notes, a way to temporarily rest the mind and keep a rhythm of working going. Sometimes, however, as in any other public situation, you only find yourself infuriated.
The purposefully amplified cell-phone conversation came from the middle table in my favorite local Borders store, being sustained almost entirely by a middle-aged Fara-Khan dressed man with a Jesse Jackson tone and attitude.
"You know what tha problem IS, brotha: It's like I say in all my classes: the Europeans gots it all figured out: you need a mistress."
My ears shot up. This was going to be good. I had already deduced -- by force rather than by voyeurism -- that this man was a professor at some local college. His "lecture" continued:
"It's not about morALity, brotha, but just about releasin' some pressure. It's a win-win, brotha: you get your fun, and she gets supported. But all the stupid Puritans in this country, they just can't get on board..."
Finishing this conversation, he proceeded closer to my work area, greeting all the older men around him. He began to engage in a conversation about the cover-story in Time Magazine (that great scholarly source) about global warming:
"Yeah, brotha, I tell you what: It's like I say in my clASSes, we need population control. Not just the humans, but the animals too!"
I was doubtlessly entertained at this point.
"The Chinese have already started to limit their births, but the Pope and all the idiot Americans can't get on board. Don't they realize our limited resources?"
He shook his head in disdain, bid his friend farewell, and presumably went to spread his learned wisdom to his next group of unfortunate students.
Apparently, Time magazine is a scholarly source. Apparently, this supposedly educated man would advocate planet-wide sterilization programs, despite the fact that the world has more food, resources, and space than it knows what to do with. Apparently, in all his enlightened wisdom, this man has no problem treating one woman as a wife, and another as a glorified prostitute. Apparently, these "beliefs" and "opinions" are somehow tolerated in the company of the academic elite.
There is nothing else I need to say here.
The purposefully amplified cell-phone conversation came from the middle table in my favorite local Borders store, being sustained almost entirely by a middle-aged Fara-Khan dressed man with a Jesse Jackson tone and attitude.
"You know what tha problem IS, brotha: It's like I say in all my classes: the Europeans gots it all figured out: you need a mistress."
My ears shot up. This was going to be good. I had already deduced -- by force rather than by voyeurism -- that this man was a professor at some local college. His "lecture" continued:
"It's not about morALity, brotha, but just about releasin' some pressure. It's a win-win, brotha: you get your fun, and she gets supported. But all the stupid Puritans in this country, they just can't get on board..."
Finishing this conversation, he proceeded closer to my work area, greeting all the older men around him. He began to engage in a conversation about the cover-story in Time Magazine (that great scholarly source) about global warming:
"Yeah, brotha, I tell you what: It's like I say in my clASSes, we need population control. Not just the humans, but the animals too!"
I was doubtlessly entertained at this point.
"The Chinese have already started to limit their births, but the Pope and all the idiot Americans can't get on board. Don't they realize our limited resources?"
He shook his head in disdain, bid his friend farewell, and presumably went to spread his learned wisdom to his next group of unfortunate students.
Apparently, Time magazine is a scholarly source. Apparently, this supposedly educated man would advocate planet-wide sterilization programs, despite the fact that the world has more food, resources, and space than it knows what to do with. Apparently, in all his enlightened wisdom, this man has no problem treating one woman as a wife, and another as a glorified prostitute. Apparently, these "beliefs" and "opinions" are somehow tolerated in the company of the academic elite.
There is nothing else I need to say here.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Sisters of Perpetual Cowardice.
Some people like to play with fire, metaphysically speaking.
Two members of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence attended a Catholic Mass in San Fransisco this past week, accepting communion as an act of agitation against the Church which so publicly has opposed their actions.
(If you're not familiar with the "sisters," please read my blog "Is it time to boycott San Fran?" or check the Catholic League website.)
Regardless of your own beliefs, Catholic teaching holds that communion is only to be received by Catholics of good standing and moral certainty. For a non-Catholic to receive communion -- from the Bishop, no-less -- is blatant mockery. For Catholics, it amounts to a violation of the Sacred flesh of God -- no small action.
The Bishop has since apologized for distributing communion to these confused people, claiming he did not know their identity or affiliation. Fair enough: the burden of such a gesture -- a sin in Catholic eyes -- rests on the "sisters."
I will once again encourage the "sisters" to play fair: Catholics and Catholic countries denounce homosexual behavior, but certain Islamic countries behead people for indulging in it. Old Catholic Bishops and non-violent laity are easy targets for cynical (and sick) people. I suggest their next trip be to the local Mosque. After all, Christians have been martyred for their beliefs for over 2,000 years. Peter and Paul walked straight up to the gates of their "Babylon" itself, and paid the ultimate price for it. In fact, the 20th century has seen more Christian martyrdom than any other century in Christ's millennium. Can the "sisters" and their sister-organizations say anything comparable?
Let's see it, then: An international pilgrimage to Iran, with the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence leading the way. Only then will I give them credit for being anything else but easy-opportunity, showboating cowards.
Two members of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence attended a Catholic Mass in San Fransisco this past week, accepting communion as an act of agitation against the Church which so publicly has opposed their actions.
(If you're not familiar with the "sisters," please read my blog "Is it time to boycott San Fran?" or check the Catholic League website.)
Regardless of your own beliefs, Catholic teaching holds that communion is only to be received by Catholics of good standing and moral certainty. For a non-Catholic to receive communion -- from the Bishop, no-less -- is blatant mockery. For Catholics, it amounts to a violation of the Sacred flesh of God -- no small action.
The Bishop has since apologized for distributing communion to these confused people, claiming he did not know their identity or affiliation. Fair enough: the burden of such a gesture -- a sin in Catholic eyes -- rests on the "sisters."
I will once again encourage the "sisters" to play fair: Catholics and Catholic countries denounce homosexual behavior, but certain Islamic countries behead people for indulging in it. Old Catholic Bishops and non-violent laity are easy targets for cynical (and sick) people. I suggest their next trip be to the local Mosque. After all, Christians have been martyred for their beliefs for over 2,000 years. Peter and Paul walked straight up to the gates of their "Babylon" itself, and paid the ultimate price for it. In fact, the 20th century has seen more Christian martyrdom than any other century in Christ's millennium. Can the "sisters" and their sister-organizations say anything comparable?
Let's see it, then: An international pilgrimage to Iran, with the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence leading the way. Only then will I give them credit for being anything else but easy-opportunity, showboating cowards.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Echoes of Origin and Destiny
...and some days, you couldn't feel more alive. Outside it is cold, rainy, and generally smug. Inside...well...
I knew that something was up when I got moving this morning; there was an inexpicable yet completely palpable sense of joy in the air. Later, having a chance to speak with a friend, encourage him, and build him up, I suddenly found myself in the possession of wings. A little sweet Opeth on the car-stereo driving home, a few green lights, and the outside gloom could not have been a bigger antithesis of my heart.
This was far beyond having a "good day," however, because truthfully, it wasn't the best of days.
Why does the simple act of helping someone open the doors within themselves lead to deep joy? What are these moments when we feel like we've just conquered the world, when in our realities nothing substantial has happened to trigger such feelings?
And when you know for certain that your "feelings" go well beyond simple chemical reactions such as energetic cheerfulness or smugness, what do you call them then?
I've been thinking a lot recently on how our shared humanity -- those similarities which sociologists show us in every culture -- point not only to a shared biological origin, but a spiritual/metaphysical one as well.
In the Ignatian spiritual excercises, one journies to the center of his/her humanity beginning with the contemplation of what God IS, and therefore what the creatures created in his image are/should be. When I participated in the excercises, my spiritual director at the time went in the opposite direction: We began at what we are as human beings, and moved down these shared paths to our shared maker. Both paths are equally valid, both often share the same two-lane metaphysical highway.
Both also point to the deeper feelings in life: those feelings which are in fact only heavenly consolations, or as I like to call them: "echoes of origin and destiny."
How often are we conscious of the different between soul and spirit, and the difference between our pscyhosomatic intellectual musings and the movements of the soul? King David, in seeking God's will for his life, would often ask questions of his soul. "Why are you so downcast, my soul?" As a friend of mine recently pointed out, artists share art on a different level, a soul-to-soul level. Our souls are distinct parts of our personhood, and we choose to let ourselves reverberate either with them, or against/independent of them.
The process of searching your soul is a tasking and often painful one: hence loud music, television, and every other human invention to drown out the beautiful stillness within. The 'highs' of the soul are extremely gratifying, hence the human invention of narcotics to mimic this effect.
Some days, you couldn't feel more alive. The "why" doesn't matter. It's the fact that God loves you enough to remind you of your mighty destiny is what is important at these times. Be thankful -- feel -- and live.
I knew that something was up when I got moving this morning; there was an inexpicable yet completely palpable sense of joy in the air. Later, having a chance to speak with a friend, encourage him, and build him up, I suddenly found myself in the possession of wings. A little sweet Opeth on the car-stereo driving home, a few green lights, and the outside gloom could not have been a bigger antithesis of my heart.
This was far beyond having a "good day," however, because truthfully, it wasn't the best of days.
Why does the simple act of helping someone open the doors within themselves lead to deep joy? What are these moments when we feel like we've just conquered the world, when in our realities nothing substantial has happened to trigger such feelings?
And when you know for certain that your "feelings" go well beyond simple chemical reactions such as energetic cheerfulness or smugness, what do you call them then?
I've been thinking a lot recently on how our shared humanity -- those similarities which sociologists show us in every culture -- point not only to a shared biological origin, but a spiritual/metaphysical one as well.
In the Ignatian spiritual excercises, one journies to the center of his/her humanity beginning with the contemplation of what God IS, and therefore what the creatures created in his image are/should be. When I participated in the excercises, my spiritual director at the time went in the opposite direction: We began at what we are as human beings, and moved down these shared paths to our shared maker. Both paths are equally valid, both often share the same two-lane metaphysical highway.
Both also point to the deeper feelings in life: those feelings which are in fact only heavenly consolations, or as I like to call them: "echoes of origin and destiny."
How often are we conscious of the different between soul and spirit, and the difference between our pscyhosomatic intellectual musings and the movements of the soul? King David, in seeking God's will for his life, would often ask questions of his soul. "Why are you so downcast, my soul?" As a friend of mine recently pointed out, artists share art on a different level, a soul-to-soul level. Our souls are distinct parts of our personhood, and we choose to let ourselves reverberate either with them, or against/independent of them.
The process of searching your soul is a tasking and often painful one: hence loud music, television, and every other human invention to drown out the beautiful stillness within. The 'highs' of the soul are extremely gratifying, hence the human invention of narcotics to mimic this effect.
Some days, you couldn't feel more alive. The "why" doesn't matter. It's the fact that God loves you enough to remind you of your mighty destiny is what is important at these times. Be thankful -- feel -- and live.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Why not?
Perhaps I am overly idealistic. At least, that is often the charge. Still, I can't imagine why the world of art is as it is. On one side is the academic elite, dismissing anything with populist overtones or even triadic structure. On the other side are the innumerable mass of sheep, mindlessly bobbing their heads to idiot rhymes.
Why?
When, in the course of becoming the most educated society in world history, did we lose the importance of the arts?
I can understand that as the music of a bygone era, Mozart and company won't appeal to the vast majority of people. But the world is filled with wonderful, accessible new music. Why not Part, Corigliano, or my beloved Gorecki on the radio, instead of the Black-Eyed-Peas?
I think I know why: yes, it is true that we have become an educated culture. But we have also become a shallow one. The sounds in our lives have become a soundtrack to the pursuit of shallow living, or the means by which to deaden the pain caused by such a low way of life.
When a composer like Gorecki sets before you a bleak and distant landscape, it is with an eye to help you slow down and confront yourself. This is not escapism, but realism of the highest order. Considering how short life is, I don't see why we would waste time with any lesser level of contemplation.
Yesterday while driving home, I had the windows down and the Tavener "Alleluia" playing. In the distant, the Church-bells tolled 5pm, and one of those wonderful Ivesian moments occured where unrelated sounds fused into a beautiful, momentary whole of music.
Then, some jerk drove by with his bass all the way up and drowned out the entire moment.
Music is not a way to drown out life, my friends. It is a way to embrace it, to challenge it, to move through it in a poetic manner.
So, why not? Why can't new music appeal to more people?
Why?
When, in the course of becoming the most educated society in world history, did we lose the importance of the arts?
I can understand that as the music of a bygone era, Mozart and company won't appeal to the vast majority of people. But the world is filled with wonderful, accessible new music. Why not Part, Corigliano, or my beloved Gorecki on the radio, instead of the Black-Eyed-Peas?
I think I know why: yes, it is true that we have become an educated culture. But we have also become a shallow one. The sounds in our lives have become a soundtrack to the pursuit of shallow living, or the means by which to deaden the pain caused by such a low way of life.
When a composer like Gorecki sets before you a bleak and distant landscape, it is with an eye to help you slow down and confront yourself. This is not escapism, but realism of the highest order. Considering how short life is, I don't see why we would waste time with any lesser level of contemplation.
Yesterday while driving home, I had the windows down and the Tavener "Alleluia" playing. In the distant, the Church-bells tolled 5pm, and one of those wonderful Ivesian moments occured where unrelated sounds fused into a beautiful, momentary whole of music.
Then, some jerk drove by with his bass all the way up and drowned out the entire moment.
Music is not a way to drown out life, my friends. It is a way to embrace it, to challenge it, to move through it in a poetic manner.
So, why not? Why can't new music appeal to more people?
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Bravo to Mike Gundy
I am a sports fan, I love competition, and believe that sports have a vital and educational place within our society. That being said, it is time for Americans to step back from their sports-obsession and evaluate their actions. (I wish this statement were only true of sports, as opposed to just about every form of popular entertainment available to us.)
Oklahoma State Football Coach Mike Gundy recently presented such a reminder to the press, criticizing them for their virulent attacks on young athletes. Here's a youtube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoMmbUmKN0E
The spineless have criticized Coach Gundy, perhaps too fragile in their populist assumptions to see the righteous (and many-layered!) truth such a well-deserved tirade illuminates. Gundy is a football man, and he reacted as a football man should. Is it really so painful to have the mirror turned on you?
We take our athletics way too seriously, and when this spills over into the amateur realm, the sort of criticisms that Gundy rightly vilifies can only hurt young players. These are not professionals, but amateurs. If a professional wide-receiver drops half his passes and he's making 5 million dollars a year, by all means criticize a man for not doing his job. To criticize a high-school or college athlete -- an amateur, and still a child -- in this way is the same as yelling at your kid for getting a 'B' on his chemistry exam, or for having difficulty in a certain subject. It is a heartless, brainless, and ultimately damaging action towards the fragile generation who we should be trying to rear into leaders. A nation which attacks its young is a nation doomed to fail.
Bravo, Mike Gundy. May other coaches take your brave example to heart. This is ONLY college football -- ONLY a game. As Gundy left the press-room, a loose smattering of applause could be heard. May it be echoed on Saturday by the loudest cheering in the history of Oklahoma State Football.
Oklahoma State Football Coach Mike Gundy recently presented such a reminder to the press, criticizing them for their virulent attacks on young athletes. Here's a youtube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoMmbUmKN0E
The spineless have criticized Coach Gundy, perhaps too fragile in their populist assumptions to see the righteous (and many-layered!) truth such a well-deserved tirade illuminates. Gundy is a football man, and he reacted as a football man should. Is it really so painful to have the mirror turned on you?
We take our athletics way too seriously, and when this spills over into the amateur realm, the sort of criticisms that Gundy rightly vilifies can only hurt young players. These are not professionals, but amateurs. If a professional wide-receiver drops half his passes and he's making 5 million dollars a year, by all means criticize a man for not doing his job. To criticize a high-school or college athlete -- an amateur, and still a child -- in this way is the same as yelling at your kid for getting a 'B' on his chemistry exam, or for having difficulty in a certain subject. It is a heartless, brainless, and ultimately damaging action towards the fragile generation who we should be trying to rear into leaders. A nation which attacks its young is a nation doomed to fail.
Bravo, Mike Gundy. May other coaches take your brave example to heart. This is ONLY college football -- ONLY a game. As Gundy left the press-room, a loose smattering of applause could be heard. May it be echoed on Saturday by the loudest cheering in the history of Oklahoma State Football.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Is it Time to Boycott San Francisco?
The world has always been full of sick and disturbed people. When a state begins to protect and financially support the very people who undermine it, however, the lines of sanity become even more blurred. Clearly, something is wrong when major American corporations such as Miller support the infamous (and under-stated in name) "Folsom Street Fair" in San Francisco.
For those not aware of the content of the fair, it is a sexually explicit gender-bending event, giving corporate sponsorship to public displays that would normally (and rightfully) put a person behind bars. Participants in the "fair" include numerous homosexual pornography outlets, S&M groups, and the infamous "Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence," an anti-Christian group who will be celebrating a mock last-supper as graphically portrayed in the Folsolm Street Fair poster for this year.
This is not a bout of prudery or exaggeration on my part... if you are unfamiliar with the fair, you can look at fair pictures posted on the National Catholic League website. (Warning: graphic content.) These are the very same images that the League is sending to the corporate sponsors of the event, in hopes of persuading them to withdraw their funding.
http://www.catholicleague.org/release.php?id=1335
Bill Donohue and the Catholic League are organizing a boycott of the festival and the sponsors involved, a boycott being supported by religious organizations of all stripes.
The mocking of a peaceful religion is a cowardly act. For my part, I would like to urge the "Sisters" and their supporters to mock the prophet of Islam next time, just to see the kind of reaction it would bring about. How about placing a picture of Mohamed on their fair posters? Considering their willingness to mock religious belief, and the pronounced anti-homosexual stance of the Muslim world, shouldn't a "courageous" and "liberated" event like to Folsom Fair take equal measure of their foes?
For those not aware of the content of the fair, it is a sexually explicit gender-bending event, giving corporate sponsorship to public displays that would normally (and rightfully) put a person behind bars. Participants in the "fair" include numerous homosexual pornography outlets, S&M groups, and the infamous "Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence," an anti-Christian group who will be celebrating a mock last-supper as graphically portrayed in the Folsolm Street Fair poster for this year.
This is not a bout of prudery or exaggeration on my part... if you are unfamiliar with the fair, you can look at fair pictures posted on the National Catholic League website. (Warning: graphic content.) These are the very same images that the League is sending to the corporate sponsors of the event, in hopes of persuading them to withdraw their funding.
http://www.catholicleague.org/release.php?id=1335
Bill Donohue and the Catholic League are organizing a boycott of the festival and the sponsors involved, a boycott being supported by religious organizations of all stripes.
The mocking of a peaceful religion is a cowardly act. For my part, I would like to urge the "Sisters" and their supporters to mock the prophet of Islam next time, just to see the kind of reaction it would bring about. How about placing a picture of Mohamed on their fair posters? Considering their willingness to mock religious belief, and the pronounced anti-homosexual stance of the Muslim world, shouldn't a "courageous" and "liberated" event like to Folsom Fair take equal measure of their foes?
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
You can't make this stuff up
The famous Roman cynic Petronius in Sienkiewicz's novel "Quo Vadis," upon being questioned for his cynical attitude, replied: "life is ridiculous, and so I laugh."
Life is truly absurd at times, and I often wonder whether things are really getting worse, or the media getting more effective at keeping track of human ludicracy. Take a sampling of the headlines from the past two weeks... (note: these are all real. You can look them up.)
--Woman attacked with sword in argument over puppy.
--CNN reports that "a recent study proves that men prefer women who are "hot." (gee, ya think?)
--Texas court of appeals frees man convicted of beheading his own three children, over "disputed evidence" introduced in his original trial.
--Three diamonds to be created using the carbon from Beethoven's hair.
--Comedian Kathy Griffin tells Jesus to "suck it" after accepting ward. Claims that
her "trophy is her God now."
--German town ditches traffic lights to improve road safety.
--Atheist author Richard Dawkins claims that religion is "child abuse," further
comparing Moses to Hitler and calling the New Testament a "sado-masochistic doctrine."
--Terrorists vow to behead "prostitute" Britney Spears.
--Then, of course, there is the wonderful moment where the "music" business finally caught on to the fact that Britney Spears... well, sucks. Here's hoping they realize that most of them fall into the very same category of un-talent as well.
--Falling Excrement Prompts Court Order for Tree-Sitters
--Mugger picks on blind Judo champ
and, in our most misleading news story of the week:
--"Birth control pill may cut cancer risk." Were this an article in "The Onion," it would likely continue: "neglecting to read the rest of the article, millions of women accosted pharmacy counters around the nation." --> Read the article further, and you will find that the cut is minimal (around 1%) and applying to women who took the pill for a short time. Women who took the pill for over 8 years (as many do) actually had an increased risk. So there you go. Again.
***
Sometimes funny, sometimes tragic, often fond of misinformation, this is the world we live in. It is little wonder that so many people build their religious, philosophical, and political viewpoints on skewed perspectives and half truths (which are also full lies.)
I now understand why Petronius liked to laugh as he did.
And thanks to the miracle of media technology, there is now no shortage of ridiculous headlines to make us feel better (or worse) about ourselves.
Life is truly absurd at times, and I often wonder whether things are really getting worse, or the media getting more effective at keeping track of human ludicracy. Take a sampling of the headlines from the past two weeks... (note: these are all real. You can look them up.)
--Woman attacked with sword in argument over puppy.
--CNN reports that "a recent study proves that men prefer women who are "hot." (gee, ya think?)
--Texas court of appeals frees man convicted of beheading his own three children, over "disputed evidence" introduced in his original trial.
--Three diamonds to be created using the carbon from Beethoven's hair.
--Comedian Kathy Griffin tells Jesus to "suck it" after accepting ward. Claims that
her "trophy is her God now."
--German town ditches traffic lights to improve road safety.
--Atheist author Richard Dawkins claims that religion is "child abuse," further
comparing Moses to Hitler and calling the New Testament a "sado-masochistic doctrine."
--Terrorists vow to behead "prostitute" Britney Spears.
--Then, of course, there is the wonderful moment where the "music" business finally caught on to the fact that Britney Spears... well, sucks. Here's hoping they realize that most of them fall into the very same category of un-talent as well.
--Falling Excrement Prompts Court Order for Tree-Sitters
--Mugger picks on blind Judo champ
and, in our most misleading news story of the week:
--"Birth control pill may cut cancer risk." Were this an article in "The Onion," it would likely continue: "neglecting to read the rest of the article, millions of women accosted pharmacy counters around the nation." --> Read the article further, and you will find that the cut is minimal (around 1%) and applying to women who took the pill for a short time. Women who took the pill for over 8 years (as many do) actually had an increased risk. So there you go. Again.
***
Sometimes funny, sometimes tragic, often fond of misinformation, this is the world we live in. It is little wonder that so many people build their religious, philosophical, and political viewpoints on skewed perspectives and half truths (which are also full lies.)
I now understand why Petronius liked to laugh as he did.
And thanks to the miracle of media technology, there is now no shortage of ridiculous headlines to make us feel better (or worse) about ourselves.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Form in Music
I'm starting to understand why so many composers have turned to artificial methods of material generation and predefined forms: Taking all the ingredients of a new composition and congealing them into a tasty and well-balanced stew is truly a challenge of epic proportions.
Listening to my recent works amongst well-worn musical sages this summer has revealed new things to me. Older composers, even if they lack in good ideas, seem to often have their proportions just "right." When I hear some of my pieces, I receive great satisfaction from them. Others bring frustration, however, as I can't get over litte things being just...not...right. Slightly too long here, slightly too short there, a bit too much major-triad harmony here... yet it all seemed "right" at the time. What is a well-intentioned composer to do?
My form issues are further complicated by my view on modern music aesthetics: I see no reason why serial harmony can't be mixed with Chopin-esque romantic gestures and the intensity of aleatoric music a-la Penderecki. There's no good reason not to attempt it -- but doing it well remains the major question in my artistic search.
In the end, I must believe that form in authentic art is based more on a natural sense of proportion more than any predefined formula. Hindsight is generally 20/20, and the trick seems to reside in getting things "just right" in the moment, and not upon a 30th re-listening of the recording. I can't seem to revise works after they've ripened, if only because that individual inspiration is no longer present. I can only hope to get better at this aspect of my craft as time moves on... and hopefully before I'm in my 50's.
Listening to my recent works amongst well-worn musical sages this summer has revealed new things to me. Older composers, even if they lack in good ideas, seem to often have their proportions just "right." When I hear some of my pieces, I receive great satisfaction from them. Others bring frustration, however, as I can't get over litte things being just...not...right. Slightly too long here, slightly too short there, a bit too much major-triad harmony here... yet it all seemed "right" at the time. What is a well-intentioned composer to do?
My form issues are further complicated by my view on modern music aesthetics: I see no reason why serial harmony can't be mixed with Chopin-esque romantic gestures and the intensity of aleatoric music a-la Penderecki. There's no good reason not to attempt it -- but doing it well remains the major question in my artistic search.
In the end, I must believe that form in authentic art is based more on a natural sense of proportion more than any predefined formula. Hindsight is generally 20/20, and the trick seems to reside in getting things "just right" in the moment, and not upon a 30th re-listening of the recording. I can't seem to revise works after they've ripened, if only because that individual inspiration is no longer present. I can only hope to get better at this aspect of my craft as time moves on... and hopefully before I'm in my 50's.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Who dun fault it be?
I promised myself that I wouldn't write any political blogs while overseas... In general, I've tried to stay away from reading the American news. I even refused to bite when insanity and anti-democracy struck in Iowa. But this, my friends, simply rubs me the wrong way...
Police officers have been suspended in Houston after allegedly distributing a guide called "wacha dun did now?" -- jokingly referred to as a "quick guide to ebonics." To quote the AP report:
The booklet billed itself as a guide to Ebonics, teaching the reader to speak "as if you just came out of the hood." It included definitions such as "foty: a 40-ounce bottle of beer"; "aks: to ask a question"; and "hoodrat: scummy girl."
I'm not sure if any actual racist or demeaning statements were made in the book, or if there were any racist illustrations. If the AP report is to believed, the book is simply an ebonics translation manual. Perhaps it is necessary? Lest I be labeled a racist prematurely, let's look at the following two situations:
A cousin of mine was visiting from Europe, and we were sitting in a cafe. She was learning English, and curious about her environment. Across from us was sitting a table full of young African Americans, clearly having a good (and loud) time. More power to them. When my cousin asked me what they were saying, however, I was honestly at a loss to translate. I had no idea. I simply couldn't understand.
Another time I was taking the bus from Cleveland regional airport to my apartment, when several young African Americans sat down next to me and began an animated conversation. I will honestly claim that despite my best efforts, I could only pick up one in ten words in the conversation. Generally, that one word was the "f" word.
Keep in mind, my parents were immigrants, and I grew up surrounded by dialects and accents -- deciphering the English language in its various forms and misforms is a bit of a specialty of mine. If I can't make it out, is some American-born white-as-they-come officer from the suburbs named Joe Macnamarra going to figure it out?
If only to add insult to injury, I have watched my parents demeaned for their accents more times than I could possibly count. This, despite the fact that they make an effort to actually speak the language of the country in which they live.
Now before you plaster me up as a bigot, let's return to the AP report once again:
It included definitions such as "foty: a 40-ounce bottle of beer"; "aks: to ask a question"; and "hoodrat: scummy girl."
It's accurate. It's true. It's part of a black culture pumped into every television set in America. Are the officers to be punished by simply repeating what they see and hear everyday?
What about the following offering from a San-Fran based hip-hop website?
http://www.riceplate.com/rap/rap.php
Racist?
What about:
www.urbandictionary.com
or even the following site, representing such "artists" as Dr. Dre:
http://www.atr-mixtape.com/cgi-bin/word-search.pl?l=E
Now WHO is the racist?
It is not our place to judge the men and women who put their lives on the line in dangerous neighborhoods every day, let alone the effects of the stress they must go through.
There are bigger fish to fry in this beleagured nation without inventing racism where it is not present.
Police officers have been suspended in Houston after allegedly distributing a guide called "wacha dun did now?" -- jokingly referred to as a "quick guide to ebonics." To quote the AP report:
The booklet billed itself as a guide to Ebonics, teaching the reader to speak "as if you just came out of the hood." It included definitions such as "foty: a 40-ounce bottle of beer"; "aks: to ask a question"; and "hoodrat: scummy girl."
I'm not sure if any actual racist or demeaning statements were made in the book, or if there were any racist illustrations. If the AP report is to believed, the book is simply an ebonics translation manual. Perhaps
A cousin of mine was visiting from Europe, and we were sitting in a cafe. She was learning English, and curious about her environment. Across from us was sitting a table full of young African Americans, clearly having a good (and loud) time. More power to them. When my cousin asked me what they were saying, however, I was honestly at a loss to translate. I had no idea. I simply couldn't understand.
Another time I was taking the bus from Cleveland regional airport to my apartment, when several young African Americans sat down next to me and began an animated conversation. I will honestly claim that despite my best efforts, I could only pick up one in ten words in the conversation. Generally, that one word was the "f" word.
Keep in mind, my parents were immigrants, and I grew up surrounded by dialects and accents -- deciphering the English language in its various forms and misforms is a bit of a specialty of mine. If I can't make it out, is some American-born white-as-they-come officer from the suburbs named Joe Macnamarra going to figure it out?
If only to add insult to injury, I have watched my parents demeaned for their accents more times than I could possibly count. This, despite the fact that they make an effort to actually speak the language of the country in which they live.
Now before you plaster me up as a bigot, let's return to the AP report once again:
It included definitions such as "foty: a 40-ounce bottle of beer"; "aks: to ask a question"; and "hoodrat: scummy girl."
It's accurate. It's true. It's part of a black culture pumped into every television set in America. Are the officers to be punished by simply repeating what they see and hear everyday?
What about the following offering from a San-Fran based hip-hop website?
http://www.riceplate.com/rap/rap.php
Racist?
What about:
www.urbandictionary.com
or even the following site, representing such "artists" as Dr. Dre:
http://www.atr-mixtape.com/cgi-bin/word-search.pl?l=E
Now WHO is the racist?
It is not our place to judge the men and women who put their lives on the line in dangerous neighborhoods every day, let alone the effects of the stress they must go through.
There are bigger fish to fry in this beleagured nation without inventing racism where it is not present.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Eyes on the Prize
Some blessings come unlooked for. Some favors are unwanted. Sometimes -- in the words of Paolo Coelho -- the Universe will do something seemingly harsh to knock us back on track.
Sometimes God is a severe father, yet he is always working for our own good.
When you spend time in the dark tunnel and see the light ahead, only to have it blotted out, it can be a terribly disconcerting experience. For the prayerful, peaceful supplications can become bitter accusations and harsh words. There are times that the words fail, and as you lie awake at night, all you can do is send your groans upwards.
...yet he is always working for our own good.
It's important to recognize those times in our lives when we are called to step back and reevaluate our existence. This has been the context of my summer, one of hard work and much thought. I still have the occasional sleepless night, but things are starting to come into focus.
When Jesus told us to turn the other cheek, I don't think he was encouraging pacifism or wimpiness. If you read the statement in context, it seems that the "strike" that Christ is referring to is a backhand. A dismissive blow, from a (supposedly) higher power.
I think that Christ is really saying: "when you are backhanded and told to desist, then rise and present your other cheek. Insist on being hit with the front of the hand, as an equal."
The other cheek is turned.
The hard work is over for a litte while, and now I have time to take my thoughts to the road. First, to the Northeast coast, where so many great American creative souls have found inspiration and consolation. Then, to Krakow, a seat of Kings and a nest of Poets...I am going to drink deeply of the Christian courage of my ancestors.
(I can hardly afford any of this, but it's exactly what I need at the moment.)
That familiar fire is returning in the pit of my stomach, the eyes are narrowing, yet the anger is diminishing. Focus. Joy. The rest of my energy will be used to embrace the blessings unlooked for. I won't let anger chain me to the spot where I was brought to my knees.
The other cheek is turned.
...and HE is always working for our very greatest good...
Sometimes God is a severe father, yet he is always working for our own good.
When you spend time in the dark tunnel and see the light ahead, only to have it blotted out, it can be a terribly disconcerting experience. For the prayerful, peaceful supplications can become bitter accusations and harsh words. There are times that the words fail, and as you lie awake at night, all you can do is send your groans upwards.
...yet he is always working for our own good.
It's important to recognize those times in our lives when we are called to step back and reevaluate our existence. This has been the context of my summer, one of hard work and much thought. I still have the occasional sleepless night, but things are starting to come into focus.
When Jesus told us to turn the other cheek, I don't think he was encouraging pacifism or wimpiness. If you read the statement in context, it seems that the "strike" that Christ is referring to is a backhand. A dismissive blow, from a (supposedly) higher power.
I think that Christ is really saying: "when you are backhanded and told to desist, then rise and present your other cheek. Insist on being hit with the front of the hand, as an equal."
The other cheek is turned.
The hard work is over for a litte while, and now I have time to take my thoughts to the road. First, to the Northeast coast, where so many great American creative souls have found inspiration and consolation. Then, to Krakow, a seat of Kings and a nest of Poets...I am going to drink deeply of the Christian courage of my ancestors.
(I can hardly afford any of this, but it's exactly what I need at the moment.)
That familiar fire is returning in the pit of my stomach, the eyes are narrowing, yet the anger is diminishing. Focus. Joy. The rest of my energy will be used to embrace the blessings unlooked for. I won't let anger chain me to the spot where I was brought to my knees.
The other cheek is turned.
...and HE is always working for our very greatest good...
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Hope and Hockey in Chicago
Enjoying a rare simultaneous week off, my father and I decided to play beat reporters today and make a trip to the second day of the Chicago Blackhawks Prospects camp. We were eager to see the new kids on the block, and perhaps catch a glimpse of some hidden potential.
We might as well dub the future Toews/Kane line the "hope" line, because these two athletes carry the hopes of beleagured Chicago fans on their young backs.. Kane dazzled with his rapid stickhandling and seemingly hit-proof skating, while Toews seemed to knock the puck around the ice effortlessly. Their chemistry is already fantastic. If Savard can match the correct style of winger with these two, then Chicago's second line (and future) is assured. As talented as the squads today were, these two athletes were on a whole other level.
Not wanting to be undone, the white team's Nigerian born Aliu and a fiesty Tanguay combined for some wonderful play on the other end of the ice. Aliu was aggressive and surprisingly elusive for a man of his size, showing great promise. Cam Barker was convincing on both sides of the ice, exuding the most veteran cool of any player on the ice.
It is unfortunate that Skille dissapeared after the drills -- it would have been nice to see his ability alongside that of the hope line.
If I had to pick an additional favorite or sleeper talent, it would have been Bertram. He was excellent in drills, adding offensive punch and even a fight during the scrimmage. This is a player that could potentially develop into top-line talent.
I am a jaded Blackhawks fan, and history has taught me not to hope too much. With the huge pool of young talent and recently signed veteran help, Tallon is tempting me into becoming a believer again. One this is certain: after what we witnessed today, we can't wait until October. Summer is too long without the greatest sport in the world...
We might as well dub the future Toews/Kane line the "hope" line, because these two athletes carry the hopes of beleagured Chicago fans on their young backs.. Kane dazzled with his rapid stickhandling and seemingly hit-proof skating, while Toews seemed to knock the puck around the ice effortlessly. Their chemistry is already fantastic. If Savard can match the correct style of winger with these two, then Chicago's second line (and future) is assured. As talented as the squads today were, these two athletes were on a whole other level.
Not wanting to be undone, the white team's Nigerian born Aliu and a fiesty Tanguay combined for some wonderful play on the other end of the ice. Aliu was aggressive and surprisingly elusive for a man of his size, showing great promise. Cam Barker was convincing on both sides of the ice, exuding the most veteran cool of any player on the ice.
It is unfortunate that Skille dissapeared after the drills -- it would have been nice to see his ability alongside that of the hope line.
If I had to pick an additional favorite or sleeper talent, it would have been Bertram. He was excellent in drills, adding offensive punch and even a fight during the scrimmage. This is a player that could potentially develop into top-line talent.
I am a jaded Blackhawks fan, and history has taught me not to hope too much. With the huge pool of young talent and recently signed veteran help, Tallon is tempting me into becoming a believer again. One this is certain: after what we witnessed today, we can't wait until October. Summer is too long without the greatest sport in the world...
Friday, June 15, 2007
Sex Abuse, Catholophobia, and Media Hypocrisy
"It's almost a curse to be a Priest -- so many people hate us now. Many Americans think us no better than a troop of pedophiles."
So a friend of mine, recently ordained, lamented about the public perception of his vocation. In America, Anti-Catholicism is the last acceptable prejudice, one seized upon by media outlets and various leftist organizations. The Priest sex-abuse scandal has provided these Catholophobe outlets with ample ammunition.
The numbers, however, tell a different story.
As a person who has long been involved in education, I must first say that ANY abuse directed towards a child is tragic and deserving of the highest punishment.
Anyone reading the newspapers would be under the impression that there is a virtual epidemic in the Church regarding pedophilia. For the purposes of Catholic congregations, even a single proven incident of Clerical sexual abuse is one-too-many. The image of the pedophile Priest and the uncaring Bishop is simply a false one, however, when compared with the available date.
An AP report released today chronicles the yearly number of sexual abuse cases in Protestant Churches, claiming an average of 260 complaints are filed every year. That is higher than the average of 228 a year from the Catholic Church. Remember the Frugal Gourmet? He was a Methodist Minister, and a convicted sex offender. Last week when a grown man complained against the Catholic Bishops in Chicago for their "lack of action" against pedophiles, he was front-page news in the Tribune. Today's AP report about Protestant sexual abuse is hidden on the corner of page 22.
Yet Protestant Ministers don't receive the stigma of being a pack of pedophiles. As to why this is, the complex of reasons lie beyond the scope of this article.
Keep in mind that of the nearly 500 claims filed a year against Clerics of all stripes, many are shown to be false claims. Not surprisingly, such vindications rarely make the news.
When compared to the numbers against public school teachers accused of the very same act, it's not even close:
"A national survey of 2,064 students in 2000 showed that 9.6 percent of public school students from kindergarten through 11th grade reported unwanted sexual harassment or abuse by public school employees, mostly educators, said Shakeshaft, professor of educational policies at Hofstra University in Huntington, N.Y." (Agostino Bono, "Picture of Child Sex Abuse..." CNS.)"
To be fair, if Catholic Priests are to be labeled a pack of pedophiles, then the slander must extend to Protestant Ministers and ESPECIALLY to Public School Teachers. The easily influenced might as well lock up their child until they turn 18.
Let me suggest, however, that the very same media who is so quick to slander based on claims of sexual abuse is itself guilty of the very same crime. In a culture where psychologists claim the average age of female sexualization as 8, something is clearly wrong. Whether watching television, driving down the street or checking out in the grocery store, our oversexed culture is impossible to escape.
Perhaps magazine editors and television executives should be slandered for sexual abuse towards children? Considering the magnitude of their influence, such a claim would be far more justified than the irrational and bigoted hate directed towards Catholic Clergymen. It is an honest question: When a "diva" grinds her crotch into the stage during a performance meant for all ages, is this really different then somebody doing it in the middle of the street in the sight of children?
As usual with the media, what "sells" is often overblown, whether we are speaking about sex abuse or spinach-salmonela scares. It is good habit to view all press with skepticism, and dig deeper on the issues before forming our prejudices.
In the case of the Church, it is both unfair and bigoted to paint the world's largest provider of charity as a den of child molesters. I can only call such claims what they are: Catholophobia.
So a friend of mine, recently ordained, lamented about the public perception of his vocation. In America, Anti-Catholicism is the last acceptable prejudice, one seized upon by media outlets and various leftist organizations. The Priest sex-abuse scandal has provided these Catholophobe outlets with ample ammunition.
The numbers, however, tell a different story.
As a person who has long been involved in education, I must first say that ANY abuse directed towards a child is tragic and deserving of the highest punishment.
Anyone reading the newspapers would be under the impression that there is a virtual epidemic in the Church regarding pedophilia. For the purposes of Catholic congregations, even a single proven incident of Clerical sexual abuse is one-too-many. The image of the pedophile Priest and the uncaring Bishop is simply a false one, however, when compared with the available date.
An AP report released today chronicles the yearly number of sexual abuse cases in Protestant Churches, claiming an average of 260 complaints are filed every year. That is higher than the average of 228 a year from the Catholic Church. Remember the Frugal Gourmet? He was a Methodist Minister, and a convicted sex offender. Last week when a grown man complained against the Catholic Bishops in Chicago for their "lack of action" against pedophiles, he was front-page news in the Tribune. Today's AP report about Protestant sexual abuse is hidden on the corner of page 22.
Yet Protestant Ministers don't receive the stigma of being a pack of pedophiles. As to why this is, the complex of reasons lie beyond the scope of this article.
Keep in mind that of the nearly 500 claims filed a year against Clerics of all stripes, many are shown to be false claims. Not surprisingly, such vindications rarely make the news.
When compared to the numbers against public school teachers accused of the very same act, it's not even close:
"A national survey of 2,064 students in 2000 showed that 9.6 percent of public school students from kindergarten through 11th grade reported unwanted sexual harassment or abuse by public school employees, mostly educators, said Shakeshaft, professor of educational policies at Hofstra University in Huntington, N.Y." (Agostino Bono, "Picture of Child Sex Abuse..." CNS.)"
To be fair, if Catholic Priests are to be labeled a pack of pedophiles, then the slander must extend to Protestant Ministers and ESPECIALLY to Public School Teachers. The easily influenced might as well lock up their child until they turn 18.
Let me suggest, however, that the very same media who is so quick to slander based on claims of sexual abuse is itself guilty of the very same crime. In a culture where psychologists claim the average age of female sexualization as 8, something is clearly wrong. Whether watching television, driving down the street or checking out in the grocery store, our oversexed culture is impossible to escape.
Perhaps magazine editors and television executives should be slandered for sexual abuse towards children? Considering the magnitude of their influence, such a claim would be far more justified than the irrational and bigoted hate directed towards Catholic Clergymen. It is an honest question: When a "diva" grinds her crotch into the stage during a performance meant for all ages, is this really different then somebody doing it in the middle of the street in the sight of children?
As usual with the media, what "sells" is often overblown, whether we are speaking about sex abuse or spinach-salmonela scares. It is good habit to view all press with skepticism, and dig deeper on the issues before forming our prejudices.
In the case of the Church, it is both unfair and bigoted to paint the world's largest provider of charity as a den of child molesters. I can only call such claims what they are: Catholophobia.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
New Music: Alive and Well.
Just last week, several thousand people filled the Harris Theater in Chicago to hear "new music." Dawn Upshaw was in town, and she was about to give a rousing performance of Osvaldo Golijov's "Ayre."
Aided by musicians from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Upshaw's performance received the adulation it deserved. The musicians even repeated a movement from the first half of the work, further breaking from (recently) established tradition.
Upon entering the upper level of the theater, I could already spot the new music "purists" and academics, being obviously uncomfortable with the large turn-out for a composer and piece many of them probably considered "second-rate."
I've heard people slam Phillip Glass for sounding "too much like Yanni." The criticisms of Gorecki are many, including his "total disavowal of the past 100 years of advancement in Western Harmony." I heard a well-known composer slam Golijov for his "undisguised use of folk melody."
Amazing. Milton Babbitt's "Who Cares if You Listen?" mentality, aided by the mathematical snobishness of Boulez-ites, has done nothing but empty the concert hall.
Academic art has its place. And it needs to KNOW its place, which does not include the criticism of legitimate art that falls outside of its borders, or the students that aspire to such careers.
A city like Chicago has 9 million listeners to choose from. To assume that the only "intelligent" or "adventurous" listeners are the dozen-or-so who populate your new music series is an arrogant and agregious insult to many intelligent and open-minded people.
The fact is: people want something to hold on to. They want a dramatic curve. They want MEANING. Music -- or any art for that matter -- that fails to provide this is specialist at best, and useless at worst. An artist who refuses to extend a hand (or at least a fingertip) to his/her audience is nothing more than a creative snob, completely ignorant of the great tradition of artists who did just THAT.
The crowd at the Ayre concert was wonderfully varied, from neo-hippies to yuppies to art students to families with children to the simple-looking South-American couple sitting behind me. It was obvious that Golijov's creation had crossed numerous borders, just as the composer had intended it to, conventions be damned.
I wonder how many of the "real" composers sulking at the Ayre performance had the ability to compose something so simply beautiful and near-perfect as the guitar-voice duo in the second half of the work. Simple harmonies. Simple melodies. Transparent scalar structure. Yet, my heart fluttered when I heard it... and my intellect was not offended at its simplicity, because it simply worked.
The acquiring of Golijov as the CSO "Composer is Residence" is simply the smartest new-music move Chicago has made in a generation. Golijov is himself -- he expresses his cultural identity, his ideological bent, and his melodic heart in a music that can only be considered authentic and honest. If the Ayre concert is any indication, the presence of Golijov -- along with fellow CSO-Composer-in-Residence Marc-Anthony Turnage -- will go a long way in repairing the image of new-music in Chicago.
New music is alive and well, and its face is Osvaldo Golijov. He proves that it is possible to write authentic new music, while still caring "if you listen."
Aided by musicians from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Upshaw's performance received the adulation it deserved. The musicians even repeated a movement from the first half of the work, further breaking from (recently) established tradition.
Upon entering the upper level of the theater, I could already spot the new music "purists" and academics, being obviously uncomfortable with the large turn-out for a composer and piece many of them probably considered "second-rate."
I've heard people slam Phillip Glass for sounding "too much like Yanni." The criticisms of Gorecki are many, including his "total disavowal of the past 100 years of advancement in Western Harmony." I heard a well-known composer slam Golijov for his "undisguised use of folk melody."
Amazing. Milton Babbitt's "Who Cares if You Listen?" mentality, aided by the mathematical snobishness of Boulez-ites, has done nothing but empty the concert hall.
Academic art has its place. And it needs to KNOW its place, which does not include the criticism of legitimate art that falls outside of its borders, or the students that aspire to such careers.
A city like Chicago has 9 million listeners to choose from. To assume that the only "intelligent" or "adventurous" listeners are the dozen-or-so who populate your new music series is an arrogant and agregious insult to many intelligent and open-minded people.
The fact is: people want something to hold on to. They want a dramatic curve. They want MEANING. Music -- or any art for that matter -- that fails to provide this is specialist at best, and useless at worst. An artist who refuses to extend a hand (or at least a fingertip) to his/her audience is nothing more than a creative snob, completely ignorant of the great tradition of artists who did just THAT.
The crowd at the Ayre concert was wonderfully varied, from neo-hippies to yuppies to art students to families with children to the simple-looking South-American couple sitting behind me. It was obvious that Golijov's creation had crossed numerous borders, just as the composer had intended it to, conventions be damned.
I wonder how many of the "real" composers sulking at the Ayre performance had the ability to compose something so simply beautiful and near-perfect as the guitar-voice duo in the second half of the work. Simple harmonies. Simple melodies. Transparent scalar structure. Yet, my heart fluttered when I heard it... and my intellect was not offended at its simplicity, because it simply worked.
The acquiring of Golijov as the CSO "Composer is Residence" is simply the smartest new-music move Chicago has made in a generation. Golijov is himself -- he expresses his cultural identity, his ideological bent, and his melodic heart in a music that can only be considered authentic and honest. If the Ayre concert is any indication, the presence of Golijov -- along with fellow CSO-Composer-in-Residence Marc-Anthony Turnage -- will go a long way in repairing the image of new-music in Chicago.
New music is alive and well, and its face is Osvaldo Golijov. He proves that it is possible to write authentic new music, while still caring "if you listen."
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Saving Face(book) in My Space
In the fractured humanity of our everyday modern lives, we are starting to develop split personalities and alter-egos at dizzying speeds. The computer -- once the proud tool of the disenfranchised "geek" class (and yours truly) -- has now turned into the preferred method of social interaction among even the more computer-challenged folks out there. (I cannot help but perceive the irony, when the very same high-school jock who picked on me because I knew how to program a computer is now maintaining a meticulously personalized myspace profile!)
With online profiles, we are also discovering a new form of hypocrisy. For instance: a person will construct a profile, share intimate information about themselves, link with all of their closest friends, and put up pictures of themselves frolicking on a Mexican beach. Say now that this person is your acquaintance at school or work, and you happen to encounter them in passing and strike up a conversation. Can you compliment them on their taste in music, or mention that sweet bikini they wore in Tahiti? Can you tell them that you "totally disagree" with that jerk Bob's comments about their latest blog? Can you offer them advice about the relationship woes which they have published for the world to see?
Perhaps. Unfortunately, many people would label you an "online stalker," or at least think you a bit strange. Just like the attractive woman who wears a v-neck and dares you not to get caught looking, we are now in the age of digital-teasing. Then there are those people who put up profiles in public places and make them "private," either missing the whole point of the WORLD-wide web, or using myspace as a way to further show their exclusive existance to others. The hypocrisy runs deep, but is hardly surprising.
Personally, I love this new aspect of internet socialization -- it certainly beats the days of text-only BBS and telnet chatrooms (though many of you were too "cool" to participate in these.) I've met new friends, made professional contacts, and caught up with people I thought I'd never see again.
Some may find it strange that they now know so many personal things about familiar faces with whom they've never had a personal conversation. Perhaps it is strange, but I will opine that it is really a tool -- once our hypocrisy about it is removed -- to create more open and intimate social settings. In a world where technology is causing us to be fractured and isolated, technology may have also provided a solution to its own dehumanzing dillema.
With online profiles, we are also discovering a new form of hypocrisy. For instance: a person will construct a profile, share intimate information about themselves, link with all of their closest friends, and put up pictures of themselves frolicking on a Mexican beach. Say now that this person is your acquaintance at school or work, and you happen to encounter them in passing and strike up a conversation. Can you compliment them on their taste in music, or mention that sweet bikini they wore in Tahiti? Can you tell them that you "totally disagree" with that jerk Bob's comments about their latest blog? Can you offer them advice about the relationship woes which they have published for the world to see?
Perhaps. Unfortunately, many people would label you an "online stalker," or at least think you a bit strange. Just like the attractive woman who wears a v-neck and dares you not to get caught looking, we are now in the age of digital-teasing. Then there are those people who put up profiles in public places and make them "private," either missing the whole point of the WORLD-wide web, or using myspace as a way to further show their exclusive existance to others. The hypocrisy runs deep, but is hardly surprising.
Personally, I love this new aspect of internet socialization -- it certainly beats the days of text-only BBS and telnet chatrooms (though many of you were too "cool" to participate in these.) I've met new friends, made professional contacts, and caught up with people I thought I'd never see again.
Some may find it strange that they now know so many personal things about familiar faces with whom they've never had a personal conversation. Perhaps it is strange, but I will opine that it is really a tool -- once our hypocrisy about it is removed -- to create more open and intimate social settings. In a world where technology is causing us to be fractured and isolated, technology may have also provided a solution to its own dehumanzing dillema.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Administrative Bliss.
Perhaps amongst his numerous vocational desires for us, God calls people to be administrators. These people are given special gifts of vision, detail orientation, a listening and discerning ear, and a sense of the people for whom which they pursue their tasks.
Unfortunately for those so called, they’re out of luck. They will rarely (if ever) be allowed to fulfill their calling by the powers-that-be. Administrative positions are often filled by those people who quantitatively lack such good qualities. Throughout my academic career, every great effort of mine has been opposed by at least one of these beady-eyed detail hounds, seemingly bent on opposition for opposition’s sake. I’ve often wondered how any human being can behave in such a manner, and how supposedly intelligent people with numerous degrees to prove their intellectual ability still were capable of human indifference.
The Polish Poet Alexander Wat said that administrators “are a separate species, like in appearance to homo-sapiens, which have infiltrated our higher establishments.” (This is a loose quote, since my copy of the book is currently in another state.) Wat knew a thing or two about this “other species” – he spent years in Soviet Prisoner of War Camps, enduring trial after pointless trial. Reading his descriptions of these patently insane yet clearly by-the-book hearings, I cannot help but be reminded of the mentalities behind the administrative roadblocks I have encountered during my young career.
While we Poles tend to be rather sensitive and intolerant towards overly pedantic thinkers, I think there is a deeper truth to be found here. If you dig under the surface of history for a little while, it doesn’t take long to see that the engine that drove the greatest evils of the 20th Century – the Soviet and Nazi Regimes – was the administrative personality (or, species.) Visit the concentration camps, and you see mass-slaughter executed in neat little rows, completely by the book. Read transcripts of Soviet trials against political “dissidents,” and you see a chilling resemblance to the modern bureaucratic process. Anyone who has enjoyed long-term administrative oversight cannot help but see the chilling parallels. My conclusion? That the greatest horrors of the 20th century would not have been possible without the keen oversight of droves of picky and (as they are today) inhuman administrators.
Bureaucrats and administrators are not “people” who are merely overly right-brained – they are a species entirely devoid of a left brain. They are a specimen which burrows itself deep into a pile of rules and regulations, quoting them with ruthless efficiency while punishing those who would speak out of turn.
You may think me bitter, but I’ve already had my fill of these people, even at my young age. A wise teacher of mine once said that the aforementioned species was a type of “coward, lacking the backbone to make their own judgments, therefore hiding behind regulations whenever possible.”
If you doubt any of this, then just observe summer road construction or the Illinois tollway system. Can you honestly see a single line of sanity running through the mentality which governs such processes?
History has shown us the danger of hiding behind regulations. My attitude can be summed up by the following quote (whose source I have long forgotten.)
”Administrators are to be approached first with patience, and then with a bulldozer.”
Act now, for the sake of mankind.
Unfortunately for those so called, they’re out of luck. They will rarely (if ever) be allowed to fulfill their calling by the powers-that-be. Administrative positions are often filled by those people who quantitatively lack such good qualities. Throughout my academic career, every great effort of mine has been opposed by at least one of these beady-eyed detail hounds, seemingly bent on opposition for opposition’s sake. I’ve often wondered how any human being can behave in such a manner, and how supposedly intelligent people with numerous degrees to prove their intellectual ability still were capable of human indifference.
The Polish Poet Alexander Wat said that administrators “are a separate species, like in appearance to homo-sapiens, which have infiltrated our higher establishments.” (This is a loose quote, since my copy of the book is currently in another state.) Wat knew a thing or two about this “other species” – he spent years in Soviet Prisoner of War Camps, enduring trial after pointless trial. Reading his descriptions of these patently insane yet clearly by-the-book hearings, I cannot help but be reminded of the mentalities behind the administrative roadblocks I have encountered during my young career.
While we Poles tend to be rather sensitive and intolerant towards overly pedantic thinkers, I think there is a deeper truth to be found here. If you dig under the surface of history for a little while, it doesn’t take long to see that the engine that drove the greatest evils of the 20th Century – the Soviet and Nazi Regimes – was the administrative personality (or, species.) Visit the concentration camps, and you see mass-slaughter executed in neat little rows, completely by the book. Read transcripts of Soviet trials against political “dissidents,” and you see a chilling resemblance to the modern bureaucratic process. Anyone who has enjoyed long-term administrative oversight cannot help but see the chilling parallels. My conclusion? That the greatest horrors of the 20th century would not have been possible without the keen oversight of droves of picky and (as they are today) inhuman administrators.
Bureaucrats and administrators are not “people” who are merely overly right-brained – they are a species entirely devoid of a left brain. They are a specimen which burrows itself deep into a pile of rules and regulations, quoting them with ruthless efficiency while punishing those who would speak out of turn.
You may think me bitter, but I’ve already had my fill of these people, even at my young age. A wise teacher of mine once said that the aforementioned species was a type of “coward, lacking the backbone to make their own judgments, therefore hiding behind regulations whenever possible.”
If you doubt any of this, then just observe summer road construction or the Illinois tollway system. Can you honestly see a single line of sanity running through the mentality which governs such processes?
History has shown us the danger of hiding behind regulations. My attitude can be summed up by the following quote (whose source I have long forgotten.)
”Administrators are to be approached first with patience, and then with a bulldozer.”
Act now, for the sake of mankind.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
New Truth
Truth is eternal. It does not change. Nevertheless, we are only human, and truth comes at us only as quickly as we are able to embrace it. Sometimes, violent change is necessary to make us fully grasp what should otherwise be a straightforward lesson.
In recent weeks, I have been given the gift of learning two essential truths, embracing in that area of my heart that moves beyond the intellect. In other words, I've long understood and believed these things, but this new level of knowledge is a deeper one... in the words of George Weigel, I'm "thinking with my heart, and feeling with my intellect."
First Truth: No matter what you give this world, it isn't good enough. You can give everything you have, and someone will still find fault with you. It's a fallen place. I understand now a little part of the agony of Christ, who gave the world everything it needed, and still found himself nailed up on a tree. He even cured diseases and raised the dead, only to be murdered for it. Aside from my own travails, two of the best people I know in the world are suffering terribly, in a way that would only reinforce the common atheist's stance on suffering disproving a loving God... yet...
Second Truth: Suffering is temporary, and character-forming, and ultimately good. A thousand years of suffering is only a brief uncomfortable moment in the face of an eternity of light. Another angle to this truth can be gleaned from the words of Evelyn Waugh, writing to George Orwell in response to his bleak novel "1984": "the book failed to make my flesh creep as you intended... men who have loved a crucified God never need think of torture as all-powerful." (For more of this good wisdom, read George Weigel's "Letters to a Young Catholic.")
So I move through my own difficulties, and endure sight of those I love suffering, all with a deep sense of hope and renewal. Every cross will bloom into a garden, every tear of sorrow will be transformed into shouts of joy. If this is not true, then life is not worth living. If it is true, then our destinies lie beyond the wildest joys we have ever known.
In recent weeks, I have been given the gift of learning two essential truths, embracing in that area of my heart that moves beyond the intellect. In other words, I've long understood and believed these things, but this new level of knowledge is a deeper one... in the words of George Weigel, I'm "thinking with my heart, and feeling with my intellect."
First Truth: No matter what you give this world, it isn't good enough. You can give everything you have, and someone will still find fault with you. It's a fallen place. I understand now a little part of the agony of Christ, who gave the world everything it needed, and still found himself nailed up on a tree. He even cured diseases and raised the dead, only to be murdered for it. Aside from my own travails, two of the best people I know in the world are suffering terribly, in a way that would only reinforce the common atheist's stance on suffering disproving a loving God... yet...
Second Truth: Suffering is temporary, and character-forming, and ultimately good. A thousand years of suffering is only a brief uncomfortable moment in the face of an eternity of light. Another angle to this truth can be gleaned from the words of Evelyn Waugh, writing to George Orwell in response to his bleak novel "1984": "the book failed to make my flesh creep as you intended... men who have loved a crucified God never need think of torture as all-powerful." (For more of this good wisdom, read George Weigel's "Letters to a Young Catholic.")
So I move through my own difficulties, and endure sight of those I love suffering, all with a deep sense of hope and renewal. Every cross will bloom into a garden, every tear of sorrow will be transformed into shouts of joy. If this is not true, then life is not worth living. If it is true, then our destinies lie beyond the wildest joys we have ever known.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Creative Recovery.
It is that precious time of year, the time of endings and beginnings, when I try to cast off the shackles of pedanticism, ignore the well-meaning but inaccurate aesthetic judgements of the imbalanced, and move boldly forward into new creative and spiritual ground. There is nothing I desire more.
Then why is it so hard?
It's truly amazing how our world of cubicle-rats is completely succeeding in its mad dash to blissful inhumanity. It is also interesting that so many people who would rather not live this type of false life are nonetheless still deeply influenced by it... myseld included.
There are books to read, movies to see, music to hear, scores to study, notes and charts and ideas to sketch, and creations to bring to life. Prayers to pray, wisdom-books to inhale like a sweet scent, and new stories to join to my own. I've yearned for this time for months, yet somehow I've come stumbling out of the starting gate.
I heard composer Michael Colegrass say that "the composer is a secular priest -- he gets his reward in the afterlife." Perhaps so. But there is also the reward of the creative process itself. There is the sweet self-given permission to play: if I want to compose 20 minutes, play a video game, compose 20 more minutes, take a walk, compose 20 more minutes, pray or read something substantive, then write some words down, then so be it. It must seem so eratic to outsiders, yet the process of creativity is seldom a straight line. It is a self-centered, and God-serving form of intense, personal play-time. To outsiders it often looks self-serving, but in the end it is God-serving. Not that the big guy has given me any choice: whenever I chance to stop, or not give it my all, life becomes miserable. No wonder so many artists are cranky.
Part of my creative goal is to learn how to do this stuff, without being a cranky or curmudgeony scrooge. Beethoven was certainly a great composer, but we know that his people-skills left something to be desired. Is it possible to be rewarded for following your passion, yet remain a person unmastered by the torrents and deep swells one must tread in order to make meaningful art?
I firmly believe that the answer is "yes," and I hope to dedicate a fair portion of this summer to figuring out how. It's difficult to accept that an evening of introspection is not the same as "being distant," nor being overwhelmed by deep emotion the same as being "depressed." Oftentimes, during these moments, I am actually at my most joyful peaks, though the external does not show it.
The road goes ever on and on... and I really, REALLY want to learn how to start enjoying the individual footsteps more, without always being blinded by the destination.
Then why is it so hard?
It's truly amazing how our world of cubicle-rats is completely succeeding in its mad dash to blissful inhumanity. It is also interesting that so many people who would rather not live this type of false life are nonetheless still deeply influenced by it... myseld included.
There are books to read, movies to see, music to hear, scores to study, notes and charts and ideas to sketch, and creations to bring to life. Prayers to pray, wisdom-books to inhale like a sweet scent, and new stories to join to my own. I've yearned for this time for months, yet somehow I've come stumbling out of the starting gate.
I heard composer Michael Colegrass say that "the composer is a secular priest -- he gets his reward in the afterlife." Perhaps so. But there is also the reward of the creative process itself. There is the sweet self-given permission to play: if I want to compose 20 minutes, play a video game, compose 20 more minutes, take a walk, compose 20 more minutes, pray or read something substantive, then write some words down, then so be it. It must seem so eratic to outsiders, yet the process of creativity is seldom a straight line. It is a self-centered, and God-serving form of intense, personal play-time. To outsiders it often looks self-serving, but in the end it is God-serving. Not that the big guy has given me any choice: whenever I chance to stop, or not give it my all, life becomes miserable. No wonder so many artists are cranky.
Part of my creative goal is to learn how to do this stuff, without being a cranky or curmudgeony scrooge. Beethoven was certainly a great composer, but we know that his people-skills left something to be desired. Is it possible to be rewarded for following your passion, yet remain a person unmastered by the torrents and deep swells one must tread in order to make meaningful art?
I firmly believe that the answer is "yes," and I hope to dedicate a fair portion of this summer to figuring out how. It's difficult to accept that an evening of introspection is not the same as "being distant," nor being overwhelmed by deep emotion the same as being "depressed." Oftentimes, during these moments, I am actually at my most joyful peaks, though the external does not show it.
The road goes ever on and on... and I really, REALLY want to learn how to start enjoying the individual footsteps more, without always being blinded by the destination.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
We Are Lying to Ourselves...
I received the following from Duc in Altum. I generally don't repost what others have written, but I could not have said it any better myself. I'm guilty of this. So is everyone else reading this blog.
****
"WHEN I LIE TO MYSELF -- I LIE TO GOD..."
Pope John Paul II once said: «We must let ourselves be challenged by the great questions of life. These questions, which are always timely, concern man’s origins and his end. These are questions which were asked by the Second Vatican Council in the Constitution Gaudium et spes. These questions constantly accompany us and, indeed, it could be said that they are always with us. Who am I? Where do I come from and where am I going? What is the meaning of my life and of my being a human creature? Why do I have this eternal “restlessness” in me, as St. Augustine liked to call it? »
We should each try to give ourselves the chance to discover more about ourselves. This is particularly significant for those who are led by their faith commitment to make this search for truth about themselves an important dimension of their lives.
The poem offered here is just an aid to let you see how one might wrongly perceive oneself. People inadvertently put on mask over mask. The reasons for doing so are multiple. There is even some kind of automated “mechanism” to avoid situations that hurt, which can move one to wear a mask. These masks fool not only others. They especially fool the person wearing them. When they are invisible soul-masks worn on the inside the self deceit, lying to oneself, is even greater. One really does not know he or she is not authentic. Maybe that is one of the reasons Saint Theresa of Avila said: «To be humble is to walk in truth». To walk in truth! That is the aim. This means: to be really humble.
The Czech poet Rainer Maria Rilke, in his “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge,” described a young man playing to mask himself and how difficult it became for him to get rid of the masks afterwards. The risk of experiencing suffocation and that of defacement -- of losing one's face altogether -- are in many people part of their life experience because of what is called the “existential lie” or “skotosis”. It is important to take notice of the double effect of lying to oneself and living under masks. It deprives and disfigures, and the consequences are quite painful.
“Discovering a room full of costumes in his ancestral
home, young Malte soon learns the restorative powers of masquerade. "Hardly had I donned one of these suits, when I had to admit that it had me in its power;
that it prescribed my movements, the expressions
of my features, even, indeed, my ideas. My hand, over
which the lace cuff fell and fell again, was anything but my usual hand: it moved like an actor;
I might even say that it was watching
itself, exaggerated though this may seem.
These disguises never,
indeed, went so far as to make me feel a stranger to myself:
on the contrary, the more varied my transformations,
the more assured I was of my own identity".
“Completely disguised in mask, scarves, and robe, he accidentally knocks over a little table laden with
"small fragile objects" which are "shivered into a thousand tiny
fragments." To set things aright he frantically turns to the mirror to undo his costume:
But just for this the mirror had been waiting. Its moment of
revenge had come. While I strove with measurelessly increasing
anguish to tear myself somehow out of my disguise,
it forced me, by what means I know not,
to lift my eyes, and imposed on me an
image, nay, a reality, an alien, unbelievable, monstrous reality,
with which, against my will, I became permeated: for now it was the stronger, and it was I who was the mirror.
I stared at this great, terrifying, unknown personage before me, and it seemed appalling to me that I should be alone with him.
But at the very moment I thought thus, the worst befell: I lost all knowledge of myself,
I simply ceased to exist.
For one second I had an unutterable, sad, and futile longing for myself, then there was only he --
there was nothing but he.”
“I ran away from him, but now it was he that ran. He knocked
against everything, he did not know the house, he had no idea
where to go; he managed to get down a stair; he stumbled over someone in the passage who shouted in struggling free. A door opened, and several persons came out. Oh, oh, what a relief it was to recognize them! There were Sieversen, the good Sieversen, and the housemaid and the butler; now everything would be put right.
But they did not spring forward to the rescue; their
cruelty knew no bounds. They stood there and laughed; my
God, they could stand there and laugh! I wept, but the mask did not let the tears escape; they ran down inside over my cheeks and dried at once, and ran and dried again. And at last I knelt before them, as no one has ever knelt before; I knelt, and lifted up my hands, and implored them, "
Take me out, if it is still possible,
and keep hold of me!"
But they did not hear; I had no longer any voice.”
To deepen this painful reality of disguising one’s reality from oneself, of living a fictional reality of which you might not even be aware or completely conscious, is one of the tragic realities that come as a consequence of obscuring the “likeness” due of sin. Its consequences are devastating for the person involved, in relation to his own authenticity, towards God, and in relation to others. But in lying to oneself and others, one does not lie to God. He knows the truth.
To help oneself get rid of the masks and try to answer the question, “Who am I,” is not an easy quest. Even as he tries to look at himself honestly he can't recognize the mask as such because he thinks it is his true face. Self-honesty is just not enough because the fictional image somehow takes over in an automatic way.
But God has given an answer since the beginning. «And God said: Let us make man to our image and likeness.» (Gn 1:26) Let us seek our true image! Let us recover our likeness! That is the path that takes us back to discover our true identity, free ourselves from the masks, and even the invisible inner-masks worn on the inside.
Pope John Paul II taught: «Indeed, “the Word of God, by taking on our human nature in all things save sin (cf. Heb 4:15), manifests the Father's Plan by revealing to each human person the way to realize fully his or her vocation. Thus Jesus not only reconciles man with the Father, but also reconciles man with himself and thus reveals his true nature”. With these words the Synod Fathers, taking up the teaching of the Second Vatican Council, reaffirmed that Jesus is the Way which leads to full personal realization, culminating in the definitive and eternal encounter with God. “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father, but by me” (Jn 14:6). God has predestined us “to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the first-born of many brethren” (Rom 8:29). Jesus Christ is thus the definitive answer to the question of the meaning of life, and to those fundamental questions which still trouble so many men and women on the American continent.» (Ecclesia in America, 10)
«I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life», says Lord Jesus.
****
"WHEN I LIE TO MYSELF -- I LIE TO GOD..."
Pope John Paul II once said: «We must let ourselves be challenged by the great questions of life. These questions, which are always timely, concern man’s origins and his end. These are questions which were asked by the Second Vatican Council in the Constitution Gaudium et spes. These questions constantly accompany us and, indeed, it could be said that they are always with us. Who am I? Where do I come from and where am I going? What is the meaning of my life and of my being a human creature? Why do I have this eternal “restlessness” in me, as St. Augustine liked to call it? »
We should each try to give ourselves the chance to discover more about ourselves. This is particularly significant for those who are led by their faith commitment to make this search for truth about themselves an important dimension of their lives.
The poem offered here is just an aid to let you see how one might wrongly perceive oneself. People inadvertently put on mask over mask. The reasons for doing so are multiple. There is even some kind of automated “mechanism” to avoid situations that hurt, which can move one to wear a mask. These masks fool not only others. They especially fool the person wearing them. When they are invisible soul-masks worn on the inside the self deceit, lying to oneself, is even greater. One really does not know he or she is not authentic. Maybe that is one of the reasons Saint Theresa of Avila said: «To be humble is to walk in truth». To walk in truth! That is the aim. This means: to be really humble.
The Czech poet Rainer Maria Rilke, in his “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge,” described a young man playing to mask himself and how difficult it became for him to get rid of the masks afterwards. The risk of experiencing suffocation and that of defacement -- of losing one's face altogether -- are in many people part of their life experience because of what is called the “existential lie” or “skotosis”. It is important to take notice of the double effect of lying to oneself and living under masks. It deprives and disfigures, and the consequences are quite painful.
“Discovering a room full of costumes in his ancestral
home, young Malte soon learns the restorative powers of masquerade. "Hardly had I donned one of these suits, when I had to admit that it had me in its power;
that it prescribed my movements, the expressions
of my features, even, indeed, my ideas. My hand, over
which the lace cuff fell and fell again, was anything but my usual hand: it moved like an actor;
I might even say that it was watching
itself, exaggerated though this may seem.
These disguises never,
indeed, went so far as to make me feel a stranger to myself:
on the contrary, the more varied my transformations,
the more assured I was of my own identity".
“Completely disguised in mask, scarves, and robe, he accidentally knocks over a little table laden with
"small fragile objects" which are "shivered into a thousand tiny
fragments." To set things aright he frantically turns to the mirror to undo his costume:
But just for this the mirror had been waiting. Its moment of
revenge had come. While I strove with measurelessly increasing
anguish to tear myself somehow out of my disguise,
it forced me, by what means I know not,
to lift my eyes, and imposed on me an
image, nay, a reality, an alien, unbelievable, monstrous reality,
with which, against my will, I became permeated: for now it was the stronger, and it was I who was the mirror.
I stared at this great, terrifying, unknown personage before me, and it seemed appalling to me that I should be alone with him.
But at the very moment I thought thus, the worst befell: I lost all knowledge of myself,
I simply ceased to exist.
For one second I had an unutterable, sad, and futile longing for myself, then there was only he --
there was nothing but he.”
“I ran away from him, but now it was he that ran. He knocked
against everything, he did not know the house, he had no idea
where to go; he managed to get down a stair; he stumbled over someone in the passage who shouted in struggling free. A door opened, and several persons came out. Oh, oh, what a relief it was to recognize them! There were Sieversen, the good Sieversen, and the housemaid and the butler; now everything would be put right.
But they did not spring forward to the rescue; their
cruelty knew no bounds. They stood there and laughed; my
God, they could stand there and laugh! I wept, but the mask did not let the tears escape; they ran down inside over my cheeks and dried at once, and ran and dried again. And at last I knelt before them, as no one has ever knelt before; I knelt, and lifted up my hands, and implored them, "
Take me out, if it is still possible,
and keep hold of me!"
But they did not hear; I had no longer any voice.”
To deepen this painful reality of disguising one’s reality from oneself, of living a fictional reality of which you might not even be aware or completely conscious, is one of the tragic realities that come as a consequence of obscuring the “likeness” due of sin. Its consequences are devastating for the person involved, in relation to his own authenticity, towards God, and in relation to others. But in lying to oneself and others, one does not lie to God. He knows the truth.
To help oneself get rid of the masks and try to answer the question, “Who am I,” is not an easy quest. Even as he tries to look at himself honestly he can't recognize the mask as such because he thinks it is his true face. Self-honesty is just not enough because the fictional image somehow takes over in an automatic way.
But God has given an answer since the beginning. «And God said: Let us make man to our image and likeness.» (Gn 1:26) Let us seek our true image! Let us recover our likeness! That is the path that takes us back to discover our true identity, free ourselves from the masks, and even the invisible inner-masks worn on the inside.
Pope John Paul II taught: «Indeed, “the Word of God, by taking on our human nature in all things save sin (cf. Heb 4:15), manifests the Father's Plan by revealing to each human person the way to realize fully his or her vocation. Thus Jesus not only reconciles man with the Father, but also reconciles man with himself and thus reveals his true nature”. With these words the Synod Fathers, taking up the teaching of the Second Vatican Council, reaffirmed that Jesus is the Way which leads to full personal realization, culminating in the definitive and eternal encounter with God. “I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father, but by me” (Jn 14:6). God has predestined us “to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the first-born of many brethren” (Rom 8:29). Jesus Christ is thus the definitive answer to the question of the meaning of life, and to those fundamental questions which still trouble so many men and women on the American continent.» (Ecclesia in America, 10)
«I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life», says Lord Jesus.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Church wide, Church deep.
A feeling grips me tonight, and it is one of complete gratitude. God has deigned to give me a tradition of depth, fire, and delight, stretching from St. Peter the Rock to the winsome smile and deep philosophy of John Paul the Great. I can revel in the colorful visions of St. Hildegard, or read Chesterton's scathing critiques of our "modern, but really regressively pagan" world. I can lose myself in Palestrina, or be moved to tears by the intensity of the still young and thriving MacMillan. I can revel in academic freedom, charity, science and medicine, knowing its source. As a musician, I can comfortably sit in Cecilia's charge. Now we wait for Benedict's new book on Christ, something I plan to eagerly devour over the summer. What a tradition!!! -- inexhaustible.
Tonight, exhausted from studying, I turn instead to relaxing in the words of Thomas Merton. Monk, mystic, author, poet, and active cross-faith and ecumenical crusader, Merton is one of the more fascinating figures of the Christian 20th-Century. And, as I'm discovering, he was able to be a darn good poet when he tried:
For, like a grain of fire
Smouldering in the heart of every living essence
God plants his undivided power ------
Buries his thoughts too vast for worlds
In seed and root and blade and flower,
Until, in the amazing light of April,
Surcharging the religious silence of the spring,
Creation finds the pressure of his everlasting secret
To terrible to bear.
(From The Sowing of Meaning.)
For my part, I'll be setting some of these lines to song. My whole being seems to be on edge, waiting for this tedious schoolwork to be done, and the real and important work to begin. This thursday evening, then, I will begin.
While I deeply respect my Christian and Jewish brothers and sisters, I simply could not imagine another way to go about the journey of faith. For years I searched high and low, examined every faith tradition I could find, and (in the words of C.S Lewis) put the greatest energy of my mind to determining what I believe.
In the end, I accept the Christ. Not a watered down tv-jaaaayzzus of a guy, not a nice guy, not a hippie or liberal (or conservative), but a God-man who exemplified every facet of behavior derived from the infinite, linking goodness and ferocity and every contradiction into a whole even a child could understand. This God-man set a rock, and upon it, 2000 years of rich thought and tradition has been built. I accept his bride, this great Church. No matter the mood or the problem, I can plunge into the ocean of our faith, letting the wisdom of generations illuminate the word and clear the grime from my vision.
Or, as Merton might write:
What choice remains?
Well, to be ordinary is not a choice:
It is the usual freedom
Of men without visions.
Tonight, exhausted from studying, I turn instead to relaxing in the words of Thomas Merton. Monk, mystic, author, poet, and active cross-faith and ecumenical crusader, Merton is one of the more fascinating figures of the Christian 20th-Century. And, as I'm discovering, he was able to be a darn good poet when he tried:
For, like a grain of fire
Smouldering in the heart of every living essence
God plants his undivided power ------
Buries his thoughts too vast for worlds
In seed and root and blade and flower,
Until, in the amazing light of April,
Surcharging the religious silence of the spring,
Creation finds the pressure of his everlasting secret
To terrible to bear.
(From The Sowing of Meaning.)
For my part, I'll be setting some of these lines to song. My whole being seems to be on edge, waiting for this tedious schoolwork to be done, and the real and important work to begin. This thursday evening, then, I will begin.
While I deeply respect my Christian and Jewish brothers and sisters, I simply could not imagine another way to go about the journey of faith. For years I searched high and low, examined every faith tradition I could find, and (in the words of C.S Lewis) put the greatest energy of my mind to determining what I believe.
In the end, I accept the Christ. Not a watered down tv-jaaaayzzus of a guy, not a nice guy, not a hippie or liberal (or conservative), but a God-man who exemplified every facet of behavior derived from the infinite, linking goodness and ferocity and every contradiction into a whole even a child could understand. This God-man set a rock, and upon it, 2000 years of rich thought and tradition has been built. I accept his bride, this great Church. No matter the mood or the problem, I can plunge into the ocean of our faith, letting the wisdom of generations illuminate the word and clear the grime from my vision.
Or, as Merton might write:
What choice remains?
Well, to be ordinary is not a choice:
It is the usual freedom
Of men without visions.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Columbine, VT, and a bit of compassion...
How can you know of a quiet person's deep-seeded anguish, if you never ask? How can you see a tragedy coming, if your eyes are always closed? Can you see the treasures around you, if you can see no farther than your own socially-conditioned preferences?
Throughout this week, I've been rather deaf to all the headlines describing "a disturbed killer" and "a dark picture of a madman." All my thoughts, rather, are centered on human dignity, compassion, and patience.
Unless you've been on the other side, you don't know what it's like to be shunned, abused, and pushed away. A person who experiences such things for many years, even when suddenly faced with a positive environment, will not suddenly see the world through rose-colored glasses. Add an unstable psyche or the lack of a supportive family, and you may have the recipe for tragedy.
Nobody is perfect, and I'm sure I've missed many opportunities to help others. Throughout my time, however, I have found that the strangest, most awkward, and most "uncool" of people have become the biggest blessings in my life. I've learned to intentionally seek these people out, and help pull them out of their shells. Along the way, I can count two averted suicides. I can also count the time the burden became too much, I began to ignore the person, and they soon found themselves in a violent encounter.
It seems that lack of concern for those outside of our immediate social-circles is an inbred social characteristic of the times. To be shallow is to be hip. To be selectively uncaring seems to be part and parcel with "coolness." Even in the wonderful Church environments I've worked in, the tendency to establish exclusive cliques sometimes reminded me of high school. I can't count the amount of times attempts by others and myself to have deep conversation, inclusive social gatherings, and overall quality time were shunned or ignored. Not surprisingly, many of the most guilty are now falling like flies, leaving their faith and showing how thoughtless, spineless, shallow, and self-centered they are. These are the "cool kids", in a different guise. As soon as that guise became inconvenient, it was cast-off like an out of style garment. If you can cast-away people, why not ideas? Apparently, nothing and no-one is sacred in our culture.
Columbine, for instance, is a many-sided tragedy. The death and carnage was tragic, to be sure. But so was the rash of irresponsible parenting that led to it. So were the uncaring and cruel bullies who pushed these kids to the edge. Surprisingly, nothing seems to have been done -- on a large scale -- to deal with the needless phenomenon of peer-cruelty. I'm not talking about simple bullying and teasing -- I'm talking about full-fledged cruelty. It's there, everyday, stirring the pot in an easily repeatable recipe for tragedy.
In the case of VT, it's impossible to say whether such a tragedy could have been prevented. There is certainly no way that those who died deserved such an end: it was purely senseless, and completely tragic.
...But yet, I can't help but wonder if one persistently caring person could have prevented the tragedy at VT, or at least seen the warning flags that something was seriously wrong. Perhaps somebody tried... who knows? I can't help but wonder, if I were around such a situation, could I take the time out of my busy life to embrace this person? Would I gather them in and hear them out, or would I go on my oblivious way?
Throughout this week, I've been rather deaf to all the headlines describing "a disturbed killer" and "a dark picture of a madman." All my thoughts, rather, are centered on human dignity, compassion, and patience.
Unless you've been on the other side, you don't know what it's like to be shunned, abused, and pushed away. A person who experiences such things for many years, even when suddenly faced with a positive environment, will not suddenly see the world through rose-colored glasses. Add an unstable psyche or the lack of a supportive family, and you may have the recipe for tragedy.
Nobody is perfect, and I'm sure I've missed many opportunities to help others. Throughout my time, however, I have found that the strangest, most awkward, and most "uncool" of people have become the biggest blessings in my life. I've learned to intentionally seek these people out, and help pull them out of their shells. Along the way, I can count two averted suicides. I can also count the time the burden became too much, I began to ignore the person, and they soon found themselves in a violent encounter.
It seems that lack of concern for those outside of our immediate social-circles is an inbred social characteristic of the times. To be shallow is to be hip. To be selectively uncaring seems to be part and parcel with "coolness." Even in the wonderful Church environments I've worked in, the tendency to establish exclusive cliques sometimes reminded me of high school. I can't count the amount of times attempts by others and myself to have deep conversation, inclusive social gatherings, and overall quality time were shunned or ignored. Not surprisingly, many of the most guilty are now falling like flies, leaving their faith and showing how thoughtless, spineless, shallow, and self-centered they are. These are the "cool kids", in a different guise. As soon as that guise became inconvenient, it was cast-off like an out of style garment. If you can cast-away people, why not ideas? Apparently, nothing and no-one is sacred in our culture.
Columbine, for instance, is a many-sided tragedy. The death and carnage was tragic, to be sure. But so was the rash of irresponsible parenting that led to it. So were the uncaring and cruel bullies who pushed these kids to the edge. Surprisingly, nothing seems to have been done -- on a large scale -- to deal with the needless phenomenon of peer-cruelty. I'm not talking about simple bullying and teasing -- I'm talking about full-fledged cruelty. It's there, everyday, stirring the pot in an easily repeatable recipe for tragedy.
In the case of VT, it's impossible to say whether such a tragedy could have been prevented. There is certainly no way that those who died deserved such an end: it was purely senseless, and completely tragic.
...But yet, I can't help but wonder if one persistently caring person could have prevented the tragedy at VT, or at least seen the warning flags that something was seriously wrong. Perhaps somebody tried... who knows? I can't help but wonder, if I were around such a situation, could I take the time out of my busy life to embrace this person? Would I gather them in and hear them out, or would I go on my oblivious way?
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