The year that was

 Well, that was quite a year, to say the least. Although I have been fortunate enough to have had a number of positive things happen in the midst of almost continual isolation, it seems appropriate to end the year on a sombre yet hopeful note.

This is an ancient Orthodox hymn in a modern rendition.

See him

I came across this hauntingly beautiful song at the beginning of lockdown. I have spent the rest of the year trying to remember where I found it - even though I had posted it on facebook (facepalm). 

I have found it again...  

See him in the manger

Swaddled in a cloth

Angel's words grown in flesh

Brought him to the earth.

See him in the temple

Making earth his home

Wisdom's child seated

Learning as he grows.

See him at the wedding

Heaven's gifts at hand

John cleans with water

He will heal with wine.

See him on a donkey

Riding as a king

To the man of wisdom

Palms and stones will sing.

See him on the hillside

Swaddled in a cloth

Angel's words piercing flesh

Take him from the earth.

Oh my heart, oh my soul

Tell how can this be?

Oh my heart, oh my Christ

Come again to me.

See him in the garden

Tending to the same

Though he's hid from our eyes

Yet he calls my name.

Riff on Martyn Joseph's tweet: 'Today I walked and listened while Autumn spoke'

A Poem for Advent

I joined a Secret Poet's Society in my workplace. We were asked to write a poem for Autumn which led to the first two verses. I had seen a tweet posted on Facebook by the singer Martyn Joseph and found the words so evocative I decided to run with them.

We were then asked to write poems for a Christmas Advent calendar and it seemed to me the existing poem lent itself to further verses on Advent. 

So, in my first blog post for five years, I've gone and got all poetic.

Riff on Martyn Joseph's tweet: 'Today I walked and listened while Autumn spoke'

'Today I walked and listened while Autumn spoke'

Called out in cinnamon and scarlet

To senses long parched of its kaleidoscopic hues

Dropped burnt umber, maroon, and gold at my feet

Spelled out the lavish exuberance of life set down

It told my eyes to watch and wait

To see beyond the constraints of nights drawn in

To feast and drink on the tonal smorgasbord

Before the lean, cool, meditation

Of a landscape, soulscape, stripped bare

It told my ears to listen with intent 

Not only for the coming bells, sleighs and carolling

But for the quiet knock, the inconspicuous event

Of divinity hidden in poverty, of splendour in the discarded

In the swept up, swish of russet glory trampled under the feet of those who pass

It told my heart to go and do likewise

Cast beauty and abundance freely, quietly

Not for likes, social experiments, appraisal points - but unmeasured

Cascading down, irrespective of person, unafraid of the apparent loss

It said: all will come around again in its time.

N W

The Lark Ascending

On Sunday night I was kindly taken to a concert. There was a slightly shaky start, a lovely rendition of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana with some sections that were outstanding (particularly the baritone), and then there was Hannah Roper playing Vaughan Williams, The Lark Ascending: this was stunning. She is still only in her early twenties, if that, and yet plays with such skill and sensitivity, it was actually breathtaking. I almost held my breath throughout for fear of making any noise and spoiling the performance (I was also terrified that my phone that was on silent might somehow override the command), there was a sense of being inwardly stretched as she played. Incredible.
      Sadly, I don't have a recording of it but there is a link of her playing the same piece five/six years ago here when she must have been in her teens. 

Here is another wonderful rendition: Iona Brown playing with St. Martin in the Fields.

Picture from here

Letter to a Hostage: friendship beyond difference.

Antoine De Saint-Exupery not only wrote the beautiful book, The Little Prince, but many other works including one named Letter to a Hostage, a small gem of a book which ponders existence. Near to the end of the letter he writes the following words which speak of a rare quality of friendship. The words are both timeless and concrete for his situation and the present troubled days. 

'That is undoubtedly why, my friend, I need your friendship so badly. I long for a companion who, above the disputes of reason, will respect in me the pilgrim of that light. I need to feel sometimes, in advance, the promised warmth, and to rely, beyond myself, upon that rendezvous which will be ours. I am so weary of polemics, exclusiveness and fanaticism. I can come to you without having to wear a uniform, without having to recite the Koran, without denying anything of my inmost world. With you I do not have to justify myself, to plead or to prove; I find peace as I did at Tournus. Beyond awkward words, beyond deceiving statements, you only consider the [person] in me. You honour in me the ambassador of special beliefs, customs, and lore. If I am different from you, far from depriving you, I augment you. You question me as one questions a traveller.
    As like anyone else, I need to be appreciated, I feel pure in you and come to you. I need to go where I am pure. Neither my sayings nor my doings have taught you who I am. But because you have accepted me as I am, you are indulgent, when necessary, towards those doings and sayings. I know that you are prepared to accept me as I am. What could I do with a friend who would judge me? When I welcome a friend, if he is lame, I invite him to sit down and do not ask him to dance.
     My friend, I need you as one needs a space where one can breathe... '

Listening

To listen, really listen, is an art which few of us cultivate, and to be heard--really heard---is a privilege few encounter, but when we do there is usually an accompanying transformation, if in no other way, then in the manner in which we feel about the one who listens. If I have any resolution for 2015 it is to listen more, at least to those whose words are spoken in generous truth and who aim to nourish by their speech--there is one who does that above all--and, to those are crying out to be heard, not to impress, flatter, deceive, dominate, manipulate, or suffocate with maligning or cloying words, but to be heard: to these I incline my ear.

Again--and without seeking it out--I came across some more art today that captivated. This is called Listening for Divine Instruction, by Shiloh Sophia McCloud, many of her other pieces weren't so much to my taste, but this, in my eyes, is stunning.

'Christmas' past and Christmas present

Although I have never been a fan of icons, in the last couple of days two religious pictures have caught my attention; they put in art form both the disquiet and the hope that I can only poorly express in words. There is a sense in which they depict 'Christmas' past and Christmas present. 

In the same time period I have also been introduced to a new artist by a lovely friend, somehow the music and the art align with one another. The first track with the former, and the second with the latter.

* "Virgin Mary Consoles Eve", painted by Sister Grace Remington, OCSO, of the Sisters of the Mississippi Abbey

"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" by Ain Vares

Rachel weeping for her children

"A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted because they are no more." Matthew 2:18

' "Atticus" said Jem bleakly.

He turned in the doorway. What, son?"

"How could they do it? How could they?"

"I don't know but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again. And when they do it--seems that only children weep." ' 

                                                                                                                        To Kill a Mockingbird

What can be said in the face of yet another slaughter of innocents, to yet more who are torn apart by the death of their little ones and left in desolation? May God comfort those who mourn, and have mercy on the rest/the West/the white privileged as we run from Black Friday to Cyber ​​Monday to Christmas sales to buy more for those who have no lack, and who bemoan every little ache and discomfort knowing nothing of the searing and shattering heartache and devastation of much of the world. 

Redeeming the time, for the days are evil...                                                   Ephesians 5:16

Seal lullaby

Radio 3 came up trumps again this afternoon during one of my enforced listening sessions. They played this beautiful piece, 'The Seal Lullaby' by Eric Whittacre:

and a live performance here with Whittacre conducting:

And, a photo of a seal - for good measure.

Pic from here

The Lisa Hannigan pick up

This was my go to 'pick up' song in the two week insane MA dissertation 20 hour/day blitz back in 2009. Am now hoping it will work for the last push of the thesis - desperate days.

And this is the caaaaaalm down song when it all got too much; needed again, perhaps...

The haunting sound of a goldfish

On one of my recent enforced hearings of Radio 3, I heard a beautiful flute piece that I misheard as being referred to as 'The Goldfish, by Vivaldi'. I realise that great musicians are ingeniously creative, but I was hard pressed to think of any sound that a goldfish might make beyond a gentle pop as it opens and closes its mouth. As it turns out, the piece is actually appropriately named: the Goldfinch...

Another plainer, and yet still haunting version, can be heard here 

Goldfinch

Not goldfish...

* pics from here, here, and here.

Mouquet's marvellous music

I haven't played this for a long while - and never played it as well as this - but it remains one of my favourite pieces both to play and hear being played; it is exquisite.

Once upon a time I had an amazing poster of a flute with exploding keys with coloured smoke pouring out of them, it comes to mind when I hear this piece. I lent the poster to the music teacher at the school at which I taught to put up in the music room and someone stole it! :-/  So these will have to do:

* from here

                                                                     ** from here

Sanctus

A song of peace for turbulent days.

Image taken from here

A little bit of Lauryn Hill, and an Afghan 'sparrow' named Soheila.

*

Some things are timely.



This documentary, To Kill a Sparrow , is both disturbing and moving, and well worth watching. Soheila's father promised her in marriage when she was five years old because her brother ran away with a woman that was due to be the next wife of the man Soheila was consequently promised to. On her wedding day Soheila ran away and a cousin gave her refuge and later married her after the two had fallen in love. Soheila's father had her put in prison. He first says he will agree to her return home if she kills the two year old son she had with the man she married and later that whenever he finds her he will kill her. The brother that caused the problem in the first place promised that he would kill Soheila, like a sparrow.

*Sparrow photo from here.

Autumn Palette - Sumac de virginie

I was captivated by this tree the other day, it provided a moment of wonder in between narrowly escaping being hit by a speeding bus and being scared out of my wits by a 5ft effigy of a girl that someone had curiously placed in their tree.

The depths and shades of the leaves' colours change depending on the angle from which you look at the tree and the amount of light. I was transfixed and could have stayed and marvelled at it for a long time had I not been with someone that was greatly in need of a chocolate buttons fix.

The tree is called Sumac de virgine (rhus typhina), or Sumac Virginia, or Virginia Creeper.

Finlandia in all its bagpipe sublimity

I came across this rendition of Finlandia several years ago whilst living in Cyprus, it was one of my go to pieces when I needed to get back to equilibrium and calm. It is played on the bagpipes - possibly electronically enhanced - by a group called Celtic Expressions, and with each successive verse of the hymn it embeds deeper into the soul.

Sibelius' Finlandia has been used as the tune for several great hymns, for example: Be Still My Soul, and We Rest on Thee Our Shield and Our Defender.

"Be Still, My Soul"

Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart
And all is darkened in the vale of tears;
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay
From His own fulness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul; the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul; when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Hymn #651
The Lutheran Hymnal
Text: Psalm 46:10
Author: Catharine Amalia Dorothea von Schlegel, 1752, cento
Translated by: Jane Borthwick, 1855
Titled: "Stille, mein Wille"
Composer: Jean Sibelius, b. 1865, arr.
Tune: "Finlandia"

We rest on Thee

We rest on Thee, our Shield and our Defender.
We go not forth alone against the foe;
Strong in Thy strength, safe in Thy keeping tender,
We rest on Thee, and in Thy name we go.

Yes, in Thy name, O Captain of salvation,
In Thy dear name, all other names above;
Jesus our Righteousness, our sure Foundation,
Our Prince of glory and our King of love.

We go in faith, our own great weakness feeling.
And needing more each day Thy grace to know:
Yet from our hearts a song of triumph pealing,
"We rest on Thee, and in Thy Name we go."

We rest on Thee, our Shield and our Defender.
Thine is the battle, Thine shall be the praise;
When passing through the gates of pearly splendour,
Victors, we rest with Thee, through endless days.

Edith G. Cherry, c.1895

Copyright: Public Domain

---

Scripture: 2 Chronicles 14:11

Endellion and Bethge synchronicity

Several times a term I have the privilege of listening to the Endellion string quartet rehearse. This came about because my friend, R, loves to listen to live classical music and she also has locked-in syndrome as the result of a disastrous operation in her teens. In her happiness at hearing the music she will often 'vocalise', aka whoop with joy, which doesn't go down well with other 'serious' music lovers who attend the concert. So, the quartet very kindly allow the two of us to attend their rehearsals - and often give us tea and biscuits too.

They are masters of the strings, and with great synchronicity with my studies, the first violinist is close friends with Dietrich Bonhoeffer's nephew and godson, cellist Dietrich Bethge.

Here they are playing Beethoven Op 59/2 Rasoumovsky first movement

Last week they played a piece that is new to me and it was stunning. Here it is played by a different quartet (sadly, I couldn't find a you tube clip of Endellion playing this).

The cat that looked like it was a fox and the fox that looked like it was asleep

On one of my many walks with Lady R, I came across some unexpected wildlife yesterday. As R lives in a beauty spot, Hansel and Gretel like in a woods, we frequently encounter pheasant, muntjac deer, and the occasional rabbit or hare. Yesterday, we met a cat. That may not sound odd at all but there aren't many cats where she lives, and in those rare moments that we do see one the cat usually runs away at the sight and sound of R's wheelchair; yesterday was different. The cat not only came up for a cuddle, it also very quickly decided that it wanted to climb up onto my shoulders and sit there, this was great as it meant I could lean in towards R and she could get a stroke of the cat too. After I had persuaded the ball of fluffy ginger loveliness that was the cat to disembark, it proceeded to mark R's wheelchair as her territory by rubbing against it, it was then that I saw what a fox-like face she had.

A few moments later we saw an actual fox, the largest one I have ever seen and from the closest distance. Sadly, though it looked asleep, it was dead, road kill no doubt - at least I think it was, the likelihood of a fox simply sleeping by the side of the road is minimal.

We also came across a dead rat on our path, that I didn't photograph, and a tree painted blue, as you do.

They have their reward

I have a deadline, so after thirty hours of no sleep I got to thinking about other things (and playing with meme generators), in particular this:

 'Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full'

Blessing on the Day of Atonement

There is a wonderful greeting, in the form of a blessing, which is given on Yom Kippur - Day of Atonement; it is  G'mar Hatimah Tovah  - with the beautiful meaning: may you be sealed (in the book of life) for good. It is a blessing of mercy, grace and good will. What a way to address someone; if only such kindness were extended every day and to enemies as well as those held close. 

Yom Kippur is thus a day of wishing life to others and seeking it for oneself. Therefore, it is a time of prayer, sombre reflection, and most importantly, confession - a subject close to my heart. Confession of sins is repeated ten times throughout the day.* Interestingly, the book of Jonah is traditionally read out on Yom Kippur, it speaks of God's mercy extended to the oppressor, and of forgiveness to those who sin in ignorance; it is a theological treasure mine.

One of the most sublime pieces of music ever conceived (imho) was written in connection with this sombre day. In 1881, Max Bruch published the cello piece, Kol Nidrei (Aramaic for 'All Vows') taking the title from the prayer which is recited at the evening service on the Day of Atonement. Here is Jacqueline Du Pre playing it:

You can find the prayer of confession here which begins like this:

For the sin which we have committed before You under duress or willingly.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by hard-heartedness.

For the sin which we have committed before You inadvertently.

And for the sin which we have committed before You with an utterance of the lips.

For the sin which we have committed before You with immorality.

And for the sin which we have committed before You openly or secretly.

For the sin which we have committed before You with knowledge and with deceit.

And for the sin which we have committed before You through speech.

For the sin which we have committed before You by deceiving a fellowman.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by improper thoughts.

For the sin which we have committed before You by a gathering of lewdness.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by verbal [insincere] confession.

For the sin which we have committed before You by disrespect for parents and teachers.

And for the sin which we have committed before You intentionally or unintentionally.

For the sin which we have committed before You by using coercion.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by  desecrating the Divine Name.

For the sin which we have committed before You by impurity of  speech.

And for the sin which we have committed before You by foolish  talk.

For the sin which we have committed before You with the evil  inclination.

And for the sin which we have committed before You knowingly or unknowingly.

For all these, God of pardon, pardon us, forgive us, atone for us.