I encountered this verse, from a poem by e.e. cummings, years ago. It spoke to me then, and it speaks to me now, and if you like, just take out the word God - it isn't necessary for the verse's evocation of that feeling of transcendence and exaltation the beauty of the world and life can inspire.
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Musical Exaltation
Tonight I went to Richardson Hall for a concert of the complete Brandenburg Concertos. They have been my favorites since I was very young - eight or nine. I remember discussing which one was my favorite with the influential German philosopher, and member of the Vienna Circle, Paul Oppenheim, who was to me "Uncle Paul." I think we agreed on the sixth, but I have never been able to choose as an adult!
I have listened to them countless times, but I have never attended a live performance. When the music started, I was suddenly overcome - so many memories of listening to the Brandenburg Concertos in so many different circumstances, most especially with my father, who loved them also, and whose musical tastes I shared. In fact, had it not been for my father, I don't think I would have developed the love for classical music that I have.
My eyes filled with tears that welled and then spilled over. I felt a hot flush of embarrassment spreading over my face. Luckily, after the first movement, my emotions settled down, and I was able to feel myself sinking into the music. It adds such dimension to attend a live concert. I promised myself I would buy more tickets soon, and also that I would play the Brandenburg Concertos for myself when I got home. I was amazed at how much of the music I had missed; I had enjoyed the surface, without knowing what was going on beneath.
The night before, I went caroling. A violinist and mandolin player accompanied the group. It was wonderful to listen to them.
At some point, watching the musicians, I wondered at human beings: at our inventiveness, our creativity, the culture we have constructed to keep ourselves entertained. I saw, just briefly, the musicians on stage as though I had never seen musicians before - a group of people holding wood and sinew and hair and metal that had been fashioned as if by magic into instruments and using them to make pleasurable sounds for the entertainment of other people, sitting and listening. It all seemed so improbable, and so amazing.
I have listened to them countless times, but I have never attended a live performance. When the music started, I was suddenly overcome - so many memories of listening to the Brandenburg Concertos in so many different circumstances, most especially with my father, who loved them also, and whose musical tastes I shared. In fact, had it not been for my father, I don't think I would have developed the love for classical music that I have.
My eyes filled with tears that welled and then spilled over. I felt a hot flush of embarrassment spreading over my face. Luckily, after the first movement, my emotions settled down, and I was able to feel myself sinking into the music. It adds such dimension to attend a live concert. I promised myself I would buy more tickets soon, and also that I would play the Brandenburg Concertos for myself when I got home. I was amazed at how much of the music I had missed; I had enjoyed the surface, without knowing what was going on beneath.
The night before, I went caroling. A violinist and mandolin player accompanied the group. It was wonderful to listen to them.
At some point, watching the musicians, I wondered at human beings: at our inventiveness, our creativity, the culture we have constructed to keep ourselves entertained. I saw, just briefly, the musicians on stage as though I had never seen musicians before - a group of people holding wood and sinew and hair and metal that had been fashioned as if by magic into instruments and using them to make pleasurable sounds for the entertainment of other people, sitting and listening. It all seemed so improbable, and so amazing.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Tonight I got my holiday present
Me as Marie Antoinette, in honor of the showcase we may do. |
Tonight I drove down, way down, to White Pine, New Jersey. Pete Berlin, my financial advisor (goodness, just typing that makes me feel like a zillionaire; would that it were so!) was throwing a celebration party* for his clients, and I had rizvipped that I would go.
Not that when the time came, I was unequivocally enthusiastic. Far from it. I had received an invitation to join friends of mine at a free concert a two block walk from my house, and then to go for a late-night breakfast at PJ's Pancake house, where we would share an order of buckwheat pancakes (be still my heart!). Giving that up wasn't easy, but I had said I was going, and by golly, I was going.
The traffic on Route 1 was hellacious. For half an hour, I made a turtle look like Speedy Gonzalez. I breathed deeply, listened to Beethoven and Bach, and told myself whenever I got there, it would be fine. Then my GPS system displayed its puckish sense of humor and took me around and around until it finally had mercy on my despairing soul and deposited me at the fancy schmance Trump Golf Country Club.
When I entered, my advisor, Pete Berlin, and his wife were there and greeted me warmly. We chatted for a while, others chiming in, and then I saw an old ballroom dance acquaintance of mine. I sat with him and his mother, another ballroom dance pal, and we had a wonderful, energizing, totally copacetic time. I basically forgot to eat - I begrudged the time it would take me to go get the food from the buffet. (And believe me, my advisor pulled out all the stops. The food was terrific and gourmet in the best sense of the word. I wish I had some now for a midnight snack!)
We made plans for the three of us to do a dance showcase together involving Marie Antoinette era costumes, complete with powdered wigs and minuets, and to have dinner together sometimes before rehearsals. I felt, at the risk of sounding really sentimental, that the universe had given me a great gift; a gift of friendship, with people who are creative and excited about working on new projects as well as being thoughtful about life, with its ups and downs, its delights and despairs.
What a reward for doing the right thing and driving down to this dinner!
And by the way, because I don't want to slight his impact on my enjoyment of the evening, Pete Berlin was an incredibly thoughtful host. I spilled my diet soda at one point due to an importune gesture, and when I found my way over to the bar to get another, he was already there getting a replacement for me! Now that's thoughtful.
As I drove home, I felt so filled with gratitude and also energy - the energy that comes from spending time with kindred spirits.
I have gotten a wonderful gift for the holidays this year; there could scarcely be a better. Thank you.
*He was celebrating moving to Ameriprise near Marlton, NJ from another firm whose ethical standards were quite a disappointment. Pete Berlin, in addition to being a really good financial advisor who thinks about each client's particular needs in depth and anticipates things that may come up in the future and suggests plans for them, is a truly ethical, decent human being. I respect him enormously.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
So there, Lorenzo the Magnificent!
As I explain in my amended post about a space alien visitor for Thanksgiving, my friend Lorenzo the Magnificent was appalled by the computer-distorted photo of myself I posted, and yielding to his horrified entreaties, I have banished the photo to the outer reaches of cyber-space.
Stung by his (and other's) implication that this photo remotely represented me, I immediately grabbed my obsolete cell phone, which has a camera included (the only camera I use) and, pausing only to brush my hair, but not even to put on makeup (this was at the end of a long, trying day), or take off my coat, I took my photo. So this is me, as of Tuesday, December 14, 2010, after a day of editing, tutoring, erranding, and Stony Brook brook exploring. It may not be my best photo ever, but I don't believe anyone would accuse me of being a space alien - based on my looks . . .
Stung by his (and other's) implication that this photo remotely represented me, I immediately grabbed my obsolete cell phone, which has a camera included (the only camera I use) and, pausing only to brush my hair, but not even to put on makeup (this was at the end of a long, trying day), or take off my coat, I took my photo. So this is me, as of Tuesday, December 14, 2010, after a day of editing, tutoring, erranding, and Stony Brook brook exploring. It may not be my best photo ever, but I don't believe anyone would accuse me of being a space alien - based on my looks . . .
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Magical Explorations
I had plans for this afternoon; plans which I entirely forgot until I was headed to dinner with my brother and sister-in-law. I regret the forgotten plans to go to Drumthwacket for early music concerts, 18th century festivities, and cookies and cider; it would have been different and social. But I cannot find it in my heart to regret my afternoon's occupation, which yielded enchanted finds to treasure.
I found a new secret stream and forest, today, one which I had no idea existed, and one which has a rushing brook, moss-shrouded boulders, and bramble-protected bowers. It seems to go on and on, twisting and turning, rushing and babbling deliriously through the rocks and boulders wedged in the stream bed. I wanted to follow it through to its end, but didn't have time. The stream itself was protected by a wall of brambles, then a wide wooded walkway, and another wall of brambles, making it truly seem like a world apart. I would have loved to have strolled on the other side as well, but for that I would have to wade through the water, and and I deemed it imprudent. Now I wonder why. I can hardly wait to go back, with boots.
Then I explored a different stream, getting much further down than I had ever gone before, discovering in the process a sand-bank strewn with quartz and pebbles with vari-colored inclusions. The woods did not yield up their secrets without a fight, however. The brambles were astonishingly vicious and animated, twide they scored hits brutal enough to make my blood literally flow; my fingers were covered with blood. But the battle and the wounds were worth it. Rootling around the sandbank, I found, among other nifties, a pale rose-quartz, a quartz pebble so clear part of it is transparent, a fossilized whelk(?) shell, a large semi-petrified oyster shell, and - a geode with sparkling crystals exposed!!!! Yes, it is tiny, the crystals are tiny, but it is a geode, naturally eroded to display the crystalline interior, and I found it; I didn't buy it, I found it in the stream!
I love rubies and emeralds and sapphires and opals and amethyst and diamonds and the list of gemstones goes on; but the clear quartz pebble, the petrified shells, and the geode are just as exciting to me; as dear to me as a royal diadem, because I found them, and because they are natural magic. I want to go back to this second stream - again with boots, and in this case, with a tough set of pruning shears for all the brambles - and explore more pebbled sandbanks and find more treasures.
There is no end of excitement in the world if one simply peeks behind the veil obscuring the thrilling adventures awaiting us. I was eight years old again today, and it felt wonderful.
I found a new secret stream and forest, today, one which I had no idea existed, and one which has a rushing brook, moss-shrouded boulders, and bramble-protected bowers. It seems to go on and on, twisting and turning, rushing and babbling deliriously through the rocks and boulders wedged in the stream bed. I wanted to follow it through to its end, but didn't have time. The stream itself was protected by a wall of brambles, then a wide wooded walkway, and another wall of brambles, making it truly seem like a world apart. I would have loved to have strolled on the other side as well, but for that I would have to wade through the water, and and I deemed it imprudent. Now I wonder why. I can hardly wait to go back, with boots.
Then I explored a different stream, getting much further down than I had ever gone before, discovering in the process a sand-bank strewn with quartz and pebbles with vari-colored inclusions. The woods did not yield up their secrets without a fight, however. The brambles were astonishingly vicious and animated, twide they scored hits brutal enough to make my blood literally flow; my fingers were covered with blood. But the battle and the wounds were worth it. Rootling around the sandbank, I found, among other nifties, a pale rose-quartz, a quartz pebble so clear part of it is transparent, a fossilized whelk(?) shell, a large semi-petrified oyster shell, and - a geode with sparkling crystals exposed!!!! Yes, it is tiny, the crystals are tiny, but it is a geode, naturally eroded to display the crystalline interior, and I found it; I didn't buy it, I found it in the stream!
I love rubies and emeralds and sapphires and opals and amethyst and diamonds and the list of gemstones goes on; but the clear quartz pebble, the petrified shells, and the geode are just as exciting to me; as dear to me as a royal diadem, because I found them, and because they are natural magic. I want to go back to this second stream - again with boots, and in this case, with a tough set of pruning shears for all the brambles - and explore more pebbled sandbanks and find more treasures.
There is no end of excitement in the world if one simply peeks behind the veil obscuring the thrilling adventures awaiting us. I was eight years old again today, and it felt wonderful.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Skating geese
I went to a workshop on kinetic sculpture this morning, and had a good time. Interesting people, some very creative, some super talented, all nice. And on the way home, I stopped off at Colonial Lake, where a house is for sale and where there is a lake and a creek.
The lake had a thin but complete skim of ice over the top, on which were perched two separate - very separate! - bird communities, one of seagulls, and one of Canadian geese. Further off in the creek, ducks paddled in pairs, male and female, foraging not very successfully for food. I worried about them, but there is an unequivocal sign saying not to feed the waterfowl, so I will have to leave them to nature and the authorities.
The Canadian geese were massed in a huge mob at once end of the lake, talking, squawking, and gossiping amongst themselves. Every now and then one or two would decide to check out new neighbors, and would start to walk along the ice. Except the ice was so slippery, it was step, slide, step, slide, step, sli-i-i-ide. They skated gingerly along the surface and I couldn't help laughing out loud. I stood and laughed despite myself, and despite everything that is going wrong right now. Luckily, they ignored me. God forbid I should hurt their feelings! These were very dignified geese.
At one point on the lake, there was some crazing that looked like jagged leading for a sharply geometric monochromatic stained glass. It was so unusual, and so beautiful, I looked and looked and looked at it, hardly believing how beautiful it was. I mourned not having a camera, but perhaps I would see less if I were more involved in photographing.
What a beautiful day. Thank you ducks, thank you seagulls, thank you Canadian geese, thank you everything that is real, that is true, that is positive.
The lake had a thin but complete skim of ice over the top, on which were perched two separate - very separate! - bird communities, one of seagulls, and one of Canadian geese. Further off in the creek, ducks paddled in pairs, male and female, foraging not very successfully for food. I worried about them, but there is an unequivocal sign saying not to feed the waterfowl, so I will have to leave them to nature and the authorities.
The Canadian geese were massed in a huge mob at once end of the lake, talking, squawking, and gossiping amongst themselves. Every now and then one or two would decide to check out new neighbors, and would start to walk along the ice. Except the ice was so slippery, it was step, slide, step, slide, step, sli-i-i-ide. They skated gingerly along the surface and I couldn't help laughing out loud. I stood and laughed despite myself, and despite everything that is going wrong right now. Luckily, they ignored me. God forbid I should hurt their feelings! These were very dignified geese.
At one point on the lake, there was some crazing that looked like jagged leading for a sharply geometric monochromatic stained glass. It was so unusual, and so beautiful, I looked and looked and looked at it, hardly believing how beautiful it was. I mourned not having a camera, but perhaps I would see less if I were more involved in photographing.
What a beautiful day. Thank you ducks, thank you seagulls, thank you Canadian geese, thank you everything that is real, that is true, that is positive.
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