"Vandalism"

A friend sent this ...
__________

God is a tagger on the walls of nonexistence.

You and everything are the four dimensional graffiti of God.



God writes his name a thousand different ways, not as an egomaniac

but to claim the emptiness

on the walls of nonexistence.



There is another who hates the color – says the walls are his-

who works to strip all of it clean into nothingness

or to at least sandblast that name unrecognizable.



but He who showed up as the art and the artist,

scandalous scrawny four dimensional spray can manifestation of outrageous word-shapes

was Himself sandblasted and stripped on the wall of nonbeing.



He took his name and the art to the other side of the wall, claiming it forever

color reaching us from the inside, we hang with Him, the name which is written a thousand

different ways.



still somewhere obliterated on this side, we spray it back, knowing who we are.

- from "a Denver Book of Prayer"

Visual Faith

Art is a subject I’ve wanted to study – not art history, and not the how-to. I’ve collected many books and it may be what I write on next, having blogged about the calendar for two years and putting it in book form (I really have several books in meself to write!) (and, as I’ve written sometime this summer, I am going to change my blog format … someday … when I’ve more time … haha!). But my art quest began moreso with “Come to me as a child” and the desire to Recapture the Wonder (which is the title of a book by Ravi Zacharias, and then there’s Dangerous Wonder by Mike Yaconelli). I want to study of the power of beauty, the power of the visual – Visual Faith.


I got a new Bible for this year’s devotional/ meditational/ lectio divina/ contemplative reading. It’s called the Mosaic Holy Bible, using the word mosaic as referring to us believers. On our own we are little more than bits of stone and glass, but together we make up the body of Christ, reflecting His image. The front third of the book has guided Scripture readings appropriate to the church season, along with writings encompassing a great cloud of witnesses from old to new; prayers, hymns, and poems, as well as full-color artwork – all for engaging the soul. Then the last 2/3 is the New Living Translation. I’ve not read that translation and am finding it refreshing.

I recently read the section titled “Creativity”. Remember, calendar girl me has told you our Christian Year begins the end of November with the start of Advent, and we are now in the season called “Ordinary Time”, the 22^nd week after Pentecost. I really resonated with this creativity theme. Even if I weren’t artistic (which if you say that of yourself, I’d question your definition of “artistic” and maybe some quotations and comments here will help you think this through) … I’d still value the thoughts worth pondering.

“Let us make human beings in our image, to be like us” … So God created human beings in his own image. In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them … Then God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was very good!
- Genesis 1

“Deep within all of us is a longing to recapture a sense of wonder, to marvel at the mystery of God and His creation like we did as children. But through the years our capacity for wonder has been stifled by busyness and ambitions, and we have resigned ourselves to explaining away all that once made us gasp in awe … Our sense of wonder is a blessing from God.”
- Ravi Zacharias


“Every experience of beauty points to infinity.”
- Hans Urs von Balthasar

All creation proclaims God’s craftsmanship and glory day after day and night after night—they make Him known in their way.
- Psalm 19

“I am creating new heavens and a new earth … Be glad, rejoice forever in my creation! And look!”
- Isaiah 65:17,18

I have been looking. I do notice. I do appreciate, hopefully beyond a rational assertion … but in the realm of aha!!!!!


“Art has long been a spiritual practice. Its modern stigma has undeservingly dampened Christian creativity and squelched the innate novelty with which we were formed. Fortunately, churches are once again beginning to embrace the full range of the arts, exploring the nonverbal ways God is glorified.

Of course, we were given this very mandate and model for creativity in God’s creation—nature and humanity are brave testaments to an imaginative Creator. As we enter an awestruck posture, it is right and appropriate to respond using the creative nature with which we’ve been blessed.”
- Mosaic Holy Bible

Our imagination as Christians has been primarily nourished by the spoken and written word as well as music. The church and its experience with beauty appears to be estranged, and the role the church could offer has been supplanted by art galleries and theaters. In desiring to respond to the presence of God with the whole of our beings, is there a place for visual artists and their responses in church? In saying above that we’ve been moreso nourished by literature and music, could I also say that we’re mal-nourished in our visual imagination?

The importance of creativity “is that the Christian life involves the use of the imagination—after all, we are dealing with the invisible [like God], and the imagination is our training in dealing with the invisible—making connections…”
- Eugene Peterson

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
- Albert Einstein

The root word for imagination is “image”, meaning a visual representation, a visible impression, a mental representation or idea, a simile or metaphor. The visual has a way of sticking in our memory and making demands on our conscience long after the explanations have been rubbed thin by the frictions of daily life. We do need moral propositions and principles, but we need images too, because we think more readily in pictures than in propositions. And when a moral principle has the power to move us to action, it is often because it is backed up by a story or visual image.

Christ is the visible image of the invisible God … Through Christ God created everything … “For God in all his fullness was pleased to live in Christ, and through him God reconciled everything to himself …”
- Colossians 1:15-20

“Creator God, your Spirit enables our own creative abilities as we allow you to work through our words, our hands and our imaginations.

We thank you for the beauty of created things, for pots and bowls moulded by the skilful manipulation of clay, for a portrait which captures the essence of a personality, for the written word which transports us to a faraway place, a poem that captures the raw emotion of a moment, a prayer that speaks to our heart and soul.

You are present wherever mankind opens its eyes to see, can be heard whenever mankind opens its ears to hear, can be felt as hands are outstretched in faith.”
- John Birch

“The desire to create is not taught. The world and everything in it is the workmanship of the Creator. As created beings, we carry the image of God, not least of which is an innate urge called creativity.

Creativity is a spiritual discipline that followers of Jesus have too often ignored. As far back as Genesis, God gave humanity an artistic assignment. He asked Adam to name the animals and thus invited him into the creative process with himself, the Creator.

Unfortunately, the beauty and order of creation were soon scarred; God, however, was not deterred. The story of Jesus is the mark of the creative master at work. Only divinity could take something as offensive as the cross and use it to restore beauty. He continues his redemptive plan by empowering us to join him in this creative work … And the Spirit came in power to an expectant group of Christ-followers, and the creative force embodied in one person, Jesus Christ, is now available to everyone.

Peter quoted the prophet Joel to describe what has happened: ‘In the last days,’ God says, ‘I will pour out my Spirit upon all people’ (Acts 2:17). And with these words, God’s creative spark ignites the hearts of men and women in a whole new way.

God the Creator now places his divine imprint on our spirits. Pentecost shatters the glass ceiling of possibility. The garden is now replaced with an upper room, and the new assignment goes beyond simply naming his creation to calling his creation into a regenerative process, making old things new.

Wherever there is a divide, God’s creativity in us leads us to build a bridge. Wherever there is doubt, God’s creativity in us stirs our imagination and produces faith. Wherever there is despair, God’s creativity in us pictures and pursues hope. Wherever there is injustice, God’s creativity in us finds a way to show his love.”
- Mark Miller

Travis had a poster that said “Expose yourself to art”. And I think it was Madeline L’Engle who said to not judge art, but let art judge you.

Taos Wool Festival, etc

It's early morning. The sun might not make an appearance today. I'm currently looking out on thickly frosted plants and ground - wilted leaves and flowers. I love how only one side of the evergreen trees has the thicker white coating, leaving all the north sides of the trees their dark green. It would make a nice picture to capture and keep.

I'm not seeing bunny tracks - maybe it's still sleeping. The birds are awakening and looking for seeds. Are bugs out for the bug eating birds? Are the bears hibernating yet? I hope so. Do raccoons hibernate? Monte saw two in the trash trailer (probably after some fish wrappings) and we've decided they did the latest bird feeder destruction. Elk are still in their rut and bugling.

It's getting lighter outside and I think it's trying to snow. Now it's pretty seeing an occasional golden aspen in the midst of the dark evergreens with their white one-sided dusting. I should be starting the wood stove. Made my tea though, and curled up in wool socks and thick bathrobe. And I don't want to take too much time posting cuz I'm working on a felted piece. Colorful wool in baskets and curly colored locks too, and a shiny skein of wool, are covering the kitchen table and benches awaiting me to create.

Which reminds me ... my last post was just before Monte and me were leaving for the Taos Wool Festival. It was a great vacation - a true vacation, not related to Monte's work travel or us speaking.

Our close friends, Jim and Marty, had time share places lined up for us to stay in - the first night in Red River, New Mexico. Monte worked there just before we married, coming home for us to elope. Lots of memories, including his favorite restaurant, Texas Reds, where he ate a lot. Tho the original had burned down, it's a part of the Red River Lodge now and the owner remembered Monte! We all had a salad with their famous salad dressing that Monte's raved about for 34 years - and yes, it was very good! The waitress had fun with us and Monte's memories (like hiking the hills with backpack full of rocks), tho she'd not been born yet then. With the great music in the bar (Monte and Jim bought the guy's CD) it was a great atmosphere and wonderful meal.

The nice thing about this trip was that we weren't driving long distances, so could stop and enjoy the local scenery - which included galleries and the local's food hangouts. La Veda, Colorado was one stop, for lunch. A very old hippie (yes, old hippies, including us), artsy fartsy town. We could tell lots of music happens around there. Some famous people (famous to us textile people - like Marty is a quilter) live around there, and then Monte fell in love with one style of oil painting and we ended up talking with the painter himself - and Monte's got to go back next year (his first openings) for a week long class.

Scenery? It was perfect timing for colorful Colorado's fall colors! Since we don't have maple trees, our rusts and reds come from scrub oak and other bushes and vines. The golds of aspen are our main color. But too, there's the grasses (I used to have my kids notice all the varieties of grass when we'd walk - did you ever notice how many variances there are? - could fill a large book, just on grass - interested?)- lots of fall color changes with them too.

After Monte's 34 year old memory lane fix (It was Frontier Days in Red River and we walked around the next day - finding out many of the locals work several jobs in that small community. We figured they'd all be sitting around the bar the next night talking about these strange visitors that befriended them for a day.) we drove winding back roads to Taos. Monte and me were last there 33 years ago. So the joke of that time was asking around if "Joe's Place" was still there? Joke? Because with Monte's knack for stretching the truth in his story-telling, you wonder what's really real - so this was a weekend of dispelling myths or finding them true. A local at Michael's, where we had a fabulous breakfast, really had fun with Monte.

It was beautiful weather and we enjoyed walking everywhere. The beautiful place we stayed in Taos had fruit trees about the property, so as we walked anywhere we were eating apples (looking for worms) and great plums. The Wool Festival was in Kit Carson Park (Taos is his home place - his home a museum) close to our place and we walked around amongst the many colorful booths both Saturday and Sunday (as well as all the many artsy shops and galleries that make up Taos). I found a site that posted pictures from this year's festival in a slide show. By Sunday most of the beautiful felted hats, and woven pieces made into fabulous clothing were sold out (and expensive they were too!!!)

I googled the festival and can't believe there's not great pictures posted. Looking tho reminded me that the same weekend was the balloon festival in Alburquerque and little over an hour south. I've seen pictures of it and Marty and Jim went years ago. Hundreds of colorful balloons fill the sky! I did see from my own photo library that Monte took quite a few pictures from his iPhone (Dawson put them on my computer and I hadn't even looked at them yet). So I'm going to post some of them on my photoblog.

Monte and me went from this trip to Travis and Sarah's and spent the night and Monday with them. Travis has been working on a CD of original songs and creative arrangements him and friend Katrina have done. Monte was excited to hear it and help with any tweaking his producing ears heard, before it's done being mixed. We had a very relaxing day, ending it with purchased vanity and sinks for their main bathroom, and a good bar-b-q sandwich supper.

It's snowing now. I'm resigned to the fact that summer is over. Time to start the woodstove and cook a stew on it or soup.

Susan Boyle - Singer

Monte showed me this (click) , since the above won't work. Amazing! Beautiful! Great message!

It's now Friday, almost noon, snowing hard (2ft?) and when I saw the above youTube link was disabled I did the above click link that does work. So now I've probably watched this 5 times and I tear up with joy. I had heard about it on the radio and so glad Monte found it so we could actually see and hear.

I'm remembering my friend Ellen saying, "We don't dream big enough!" It'll be fun hearing about where this ladies dreams will now fly!

What Art Can Really Do!

I'm smiling having watched this. What would be your response in this setting?

I'm remembering my mom and me watching "The Sound of Music" together when it first came out. Since as a young bride she joined her husband in Austria with war clean up, I was born there. During the movie, she'd say, "You were there. You were there." I'd like to go there - maybe this summer ... and see 1st-hand for myself!

Thanks for sending me this Beth. What art are you working on these days? Wish we could get together sometime, but now you're farther away (and busy with Grandbabies!).

recipe quest

This is "the week of egg salad". Any favorite egg salad recipe you'd like to share?

This picture was taken a year after these eggs had been boiled in onion skins. What I learned? 1) Surprised, having saved yellow onion skins for a long time turned these eggs a reddish brown color. 2) That hard boiled eggs sitting out longer than a year never smell or explode (as some of our raw Ukrainian died eggs have) and do seem to dry up inside. Conclusion? Maybe hard boiled eggs would be fine to use for Ukrainian dying. They just can't be eaten, so no egg salad from them (see post.)

Indifference Quote

"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."

- quoted by Elie Wiesel, survivor of WWII concentration camp and set free April 11 in 1945 as a teenager and went on to write many books and won the Nobel Peace Prize.

May we now move forward with resurrection power, living life full of beauty, faith and love.

Passover

Benjamin West, in 1784, painted this first piece of art depicting the Lord's supper. He is our first born-in-America artist, born of a Quaker family. Quakers wanted nothing to do with "graven images" and his becoming an artist makes for an interesting story in a great book by Marguerite Henry. I love retelling this story!

The 2nd piece is a very early, 1150-1200 English fresco. As was traditional in early paintings, Judas is on the other side of the table. I find it amusing that so many Lord's Supper pictures have everyone on one side of the table as if they're posing for a photo. And, if you look thru the several hundred pieces done on this scene, so many have the Beloved John sleeping ... And why in the midst of this special feast would the disciples start arguing!

The third art is from 1542 by Italian Jacopo Bassano Ultcen. This is it restored. It was heavily painted over when the fashion did not like greens, pinks and oranges. And then the 4th piece, by Hans Holbein in 1525, has parts missing, the rest of the disciples, and has been restored too. There's been eras of history when iconoclasts rioted destroying many works of art. Jesus' head had been sawed out of this picture and then crudely glued back in. The next pieces: Le Dernier Repas, an African Mafa interpretation, a stained glass in NJ, and the washing of the feet, I don't know.

The disciples had no clue Jesus was going to die. Jesus shared the meal with them, with special twists that would tell his story more powerfully than any other way. Jesus must have played the role of the father in the typical seder, but as he did with everything, he made the Passover become personal. Jesus' new Passover speaks even more powerfully of God rescuing His people in a new and complete way.

The Passover meal became the Lord's Supper. The Passover Lamb becomes the Lamb of God. Instead of just remembering the slaughtered firstborn of Egypt - we remember that Abba Father slayed His firstborn. Instead of smeared blood protecting the firstborn - Abba protects those who drink from His firstborn's cup.

Jesus made himself the center of the Passover re-enactment. Jesus established the physical bread and wine so we will never forget his gracious act of love for us. It's a meal that speaks more volumes than any theory. We participate in his life (and death) for us. We physically remember. Jesus asks us to "taste, see, and know My presence".

Loosing Myself?

This is Passion Week, Jesus is in Bethany/Jerusalem. Mary anointing Jesus' feet with costly perfume took place this week. This picture hangs in 'my office' and I gaze at it often as I sit in my favorite chair. It's a scene I often contemplate ...

"Unless a grain is buried, dead to the world, then it sprouts itself many times over ... If you let your life go, reckless in your love, you'll have life forever ..." And this is what Mary did. Judas thought it a reckless extravagance. Jesus said, "She has done a beautiful thing to me - preparing me for burial". I'm sure the fragrance filled the house, and I imagine the fragrance stayed with him through his trial and beating and death.

My contemplation? It is very easy for me to 'lose' myself in God ... but can I 'loose' myself, as did Mary?

Art's Eternal Value

Beth, an Artist friend of mine, who had to move to Wyoming, sent me this speech. I read it yesterday morning and it's message has so touched me ... I was thinking I'd quote parts of it, but it's so good in it's entirety. I read it to Monte yesterday as we ate lunch (he ate, while my leftover spaghetti got cold :) and he so liked it he asked me to email it to him, and he's passed it on, like to our son Travis.

There's so many favorite thoughts, like ... art having a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us ... in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities ... Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning”... And then the day after 9/11 - The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on ... art is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can’t with our minds...If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists ... who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.
______________________________
Welcome address to freshman parents at Boston Conservatory, given by Karl Paulnack, pianist and director of music division at Boston Conservatory.

One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school—she said, “You’re WASTING your SAT scores.” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they LOVED music, they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.

The first people to understand how music really works were the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you: the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.

One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the “Quartet for the End of Time” written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940, sent across Germany in a cattle car and imprisoned in a concentration camp.

He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose. There were three other musicians in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist, and Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for four thousand prisoners and guards in the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.

Given what we have since learned about life in the concentration camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture—why would anyone bother with music? And yet—from the camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art. It wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning.”

On September 12, 2001, I was a resident of Manhattan. That morning I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.

And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.

At least in my neighborhood, we didn’t shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn’t play cards to pass the time, we didn’t watch TV, we didn’t shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, that same day, was singing. People sang. People sang around fire houses, people sang “We Shall Overcome.” Lots of people sang “America, the Beautiful.” The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.

From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of “arts and entertainment” as the newspaper section would have us believe. It’s not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can’t with our minds.

Some of you may know Samuel Barber’s heart wrenchingly beautiful piece “Adagio for Strings.” If you don’t know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie “Platoon,” a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn’t know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what’s really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.

I bet that you have never been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but I bet you there was some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings —people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there’s some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn’t good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks. Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can’t talk about it. Can you imagine watching “Indiana Jones” or “Superman” or “Star Wars” with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in “ET” so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn’t happen that way. The Greeks: Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.

I’ll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important: music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in Fargo, ND, about 4 years ago. I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland’s Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.

Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier—even in his 70’s, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.

When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland Sonata was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterward, tears and all, to explain himself.

What he told us was this: “During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team’s planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute chords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn’t understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?” Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. This concert in Fargo was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.

What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year’s freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this: “If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life. Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.

You’re not here to become an entertainer, and you don’t have to sell yourself. The truth is you don’t have anything to sell; being a musician isn’t about dispensing a product, like selling used Chevies. I’m not an entertainer; I’m a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You’re here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.

Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don’t expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that’s what we do. As in the concentration camp and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.”
__________________________
When we watched movies as a family, I used to always make comments about the music's importance in making the scene. "And think of the persons who KNOW music so, to pick the fitting pieces!

And the nursing home story almost undid me, I've seen similar scenes. Heather worked in nursing homes and did some in-home eldercare before she nannied and married. And I'd gone to nursing homes with Monte's mom, watching the people as she played the piano and hymns were sung.

The "why write and enjoy music in a prison camp" reminded me of the movie Shawshank Redemption. The music scene, where one man dares to share the hope in his soul with all the inmates, is the heart of the movie - a great movie.
_________________________
The art piece is "1st Cello" by my friend Melinda Morrison. I'd post art from my friend Beth too if I had access to a picture. I love her work as well.

"Beauty will save the world"
Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Ukrainian Eggs

I thought I'd post about Ukranian Eggs now with a link to where I purchase the stuff from. We often give this one kit as a wedding present. And you can read last year's post with more pictures, and then more pictures.

Last year's post tells the history of me starting to do these eggs in 1973. So it's been a long time, and the success grew exponentially when I started using these tools and dyes.

I have a box in the garage I can pull out whenever someone comes, or I want to do Ukrainian eggs. I don't think we're going to have any company coming this year to do eggs unless Travis brings a crew. His young married friends want to come again, but with him being a music minister, he wouldn't want to come till the busyness of Easter is over. We'll see.

And, as I said in last year's post, I would love to do these as Christmas ornaments to give away or sell. Monte made the shelf last year and from the same above link source I bought the egg stands.

And last summer I varnished them for the first time ever - a final step I've always skipped. So some of the varnished ones are older and already faded. These dyes are toxic, so no eating of the eggs, but are not run-proof, so make sure the varnish is not water-base.

Annunciation in Art

Today is the Calendar day for the Annunciation, when Gabriel came to Mary. (There is exactly nine months until Christmas.)

Isaiah 7:14 spoke of this event, "Behold a virgin ..." This is the day back in time God chose to enter our history. Mary in her "Yes" became the link between Heaven and Earth. We call this 'taking on flesh' the Incarnation.

I selected some works of art. There are probably over 100 done of this event. If you were to sit with this scripture and imagine a picture, what would yours look like? I imagine Mary during her day-to-day doings, like maybe carrying laundry, and in the excitement (fear!) of a visiting angel, throw up her hands, and dropping it all!

What does it mean "favored by God?" Does it mean Mary was perfect? Who else in scripture was favored by God? Abel was, and was killed by Cain. Sarah was favored at 90. Abraham was, and was asked to sacrifice his only son. Joseph was, and was sold into slavery. Moses was, and died, trying to get to the promised land. Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba found favor, yet suffered betrayal, deaths, scandals and isolation. Job lost everything. Naomi turned bitter. The Israelites wandered for 40 years.


What would Mary's "yes" mean? What the angel proposed went against the norm of Mary's expectations and dreams of what marriage, pregnancy, and then birth typically looked like. What if your daughter came home with such a story as hers, claiming she was pregnant with the Son of God, would you believe her, laugh? ... and wasn't that blasphemy?

I had to ask myself, considering that God does not coerce us, and gives us freedom, did Mary have a choice? Could Mary have refused? Would God have just gone to another maiden? "Yes" is a choice.

If Mary knew beforehand of Bethlehem, the stable...and then angelic hosts, shepherds, magi, flight into Egypt, children slaughtered, the visit to the temple ... even her Son's betrayal and death ... would she have said "Yes"?

Can I trust God with my life? enough to say "Yes"? Do I want to be impregnated by God's holy Word? I have said "Yes". Every time I say "Yes" the Holy Spirit impregnates me (overshadows me) and something new comes to birth in me. "Here I am, thy servant Lord. Let it be with me according to Your word."

The art is by El Greco, Andrea del Sarto, Caravaggio, Dante Gabriel Rosseti, or is there an Arthur Hacker piece (I'm confused)?

The last two pictures are more modern. HeQi did the fifth picture, in 2001. The last, by Jim Hasse is called The Incarnation - World Annunciation.

Mary's response to it all? A song. The girl says "yes", and the angel left her. Our World is changed.

The Prodigal or Love of God Story

"For most of my life I have struggled to find God, to know God, to love God. I have tried hard to follow the guidelines of the spiritual life—pray always, work for others, read the Scriptures—and to avoid the many temptations to dissipate myself. I have failed many times but always tried again, even when I was close to despair.

Now I wonder whether I have sufficiently realized that during all this time God has been trying to find me, to know me, and to love me. The question is not 'How am I to find God?' but 'How am I to let myself be found by him?' The question is not 'How am I to know God?' but 'How am I to let myself be known by God?' And, finally, the question is not 'How am I to love God?' but 'How am I to let myself be loved by God?' God is looking into the distance for me, trying to find me, and longing to bring me home."

From The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming by Henri J. M. Nouwen

Art: The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt

I love both the artist's work and the author's books. In my lifetime I have been the prodigal, the elder brother, and too, "I am my beloved's and He is mine".

Epiphany

The 12 Days of Christmas are now over and this day, Epiphany, we remember the wise men of Matthew coming from afar following a star to find a child who they recognize as a king. They came bearing gifts.

The art piece is by Fabriano. I change out art on an easel in my house. I like making friends with art work. Art touches me, often judging me.

God made the stars for 'signs and seasons'. And here in Matthew God is bringing astrologers into Jesus' story. I posted several days ago about the phenomena of planets in our sky the month of December which made me think of the Magi following ... something.

Were there exactly three wise men? We are told of three gifts. The book Ben Hur names three kings and opens with a dramatic description of how they might have met and traveled together to Bethlehem, but there could have been a whole entourage.

If you were dramatizing the whole Advent season with nativity figures, your wise men would be off in a distance in your house progressing to Joseph and Mary - who would in December be progressing by Donkey to Bethlehem. And baby Jesus and the Shepherds wouldn't show up until Christmas Eve or Christmas day? Many, don't do gift giving until this day.

What ever came of these strangers in Jesus' story? Jesus began his ministering when he was 30. Were the shepherds and magi still alive? Did they hear of Jesus? In the silence of 30 years, I often wonder if the shepherds thought that night a bizarre event, maybe even embarrassed about their extravagance ... maybe the most passionate thing they ever did in their life.

I like to wonder and ponder.

Childermas - Holy Innocents Remembered

This is the day Matthew 2:16-18 is remembered. The wise men came asking about the baby born "King of the Jews". Warned by an angel, they did not return to tell Herod where they had found Jesus. Herod, in jealous fear, slaughtered many male children in his attempt to get rid of Jesus. Thus the beginning of the choice for mankind: for or against Jesus.

Matthew quotes Jeremiah, "...a voice was heard...sobbing and loud lamentation; Rachel weeping for her children." Have you ever really thought of this piece of the Christmas story? Many artists have pondered it, so that it's depicted in many paintings and stories. (The pictures here are by Giovanni, Giotto, and Ruebens.)

Joseph was warned in a dream to flee this slaughter and escape to Egypt. I have a book we read every year by Madeline L'Engle called Dance in the Desert. It imagines the Holy Family traveling in a caravan to Egypt, and one night all creation comes to pay homage to their Creator. The pictures are beautiful, of toddler Jesus and various animals. The caravan men have knives ready but Mary always says, "Wait".

All cultures throughout time have the stain of innocent, unwanted children. On this day we can think of children all over the world who suffer innumerable forms of violence which threatens their lives. We can pray for our children and the world.

"Today we celebrate the heavenly birthday of these children whom the world caused to be born unto an eternally blessed life rather than that from their mothers' womb, for they attained the grace of everlasting life before the enjoyment of the present ... For already at the beginning of their lives they pass on. The end of the present life is for them the beginning of glory. These then, whom Herod's cruelty tore as sucklings from their mothers' bosom, are justly hailed as 'infant martyr flowers'; they were the Church's first blossoms, matured by the frost of persecution during the cold winter of unbelief."
-- St Augustine

On A Night Like This

After last night's Christmas Eve service, I wanted to post the words to a song written by our Minister of Worship, Kerry Conner. I was only going to post some phrases, but love it in its entirety - 

On A Night Like This

A Baby shivered

When first he felt the evening's cool caress

The creator of the cosmos clothed in flesh

But he must have warmed at the tender touch of a mother's kiss

As the young girl held the Savior in her arms

On a night like this.

The shepherds shuddered

When they heard the host proclaim that peace had come

They left their flocks to seek the virgin's son

They heard the angels sing

In the sparkling midnight mist

And their hearts leaped as they gazed upon the child

On a night like this.

Chorus:

On a night like this

Everything was changed

The Father sent his son to pay our debt

On a night like this

Our ransom was arranged

Because the hand of God became a baby's fist

On a night like this.

The darkness shattered

As the brilliance of a new star split the night

To announce the bold invasion of the light

And there must have been a groan

From the heart of the abyss

Because the chilly hand of death would lose it's grip

On a night like this

The Spirit quickens

And a spark of faith can fan into a fire

A lonely soul can find its true desire

Because Immanuel has come

And he offers us the gift

A restless heart need never stay the same 

On a night like this.

Chorus:

On a night like this 

Everything can change

There's no wound too deep and dark for race to heal

On a night like this

Love can break the cruellest chains

Because the hand of God became a baby's fist

On a night like this

Everything can change

On a night like this

Our ransom was arranged

On a night like this

Everything can change

On a night like this

Love can break the cruellest chains 

On a night like this.

Though written and produced in 1992 by Kerry, it's recorded by his friend Debbie Milligan on her album "Teach Me to Dance in the Rain". Her website is www.healingwings.com

Art The Nativity by Salvador Dali

Adoration of the Shepherds, unknown, and then El Greco

Advent Sunday 2

This second week's candle in the Advent wreath is the Bethlehem candle. The bedraggled Joseph and Mary searched for a place to sleep.

"Love" was born in Bethlehem and Love asks us to be open.

I love the song "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem" written around 1868 by Phillip Brooks. During a sabbatical he traveled from Jerusalem to Bethlehem by horseback on Dec 24, imagining Mary and Joseph on their journey and a field of the shepherds. He was overcome by the beauty and felt the peace. Then he attended a five hour service at the Church of the Nativity. This experience never left Brooks and he wrote the song for his church's children's choir to sing.

"How proper it is that Christmas should follow Advent. For him who looks toward the future, the manger is situated on Golgotha, and the cross has already been raised in Bethlehem."
- Dag Hammarskjold


This reminds me of a drawing a friend's son drew while doodling in church.

Tapestry of Life

I was going to go to FoodNetwork and look at broccoli recipes since I have lots of broccoli from our farm share to use, and I got sidetracked ... I was remembering a tapestry poem I read years ago, that I probably have filed away, but I've not organized my files yet since I've moved everything around. I ended up Googling "tapestry poem" instead.

I also downloaded the pictures off my camera from a recent felting picture I did and hung at church last night. So I'll post the picture's stages: from the layering colors of sheep wool which I cover and pour hot soapy water over and agitate, to felt ... to the finished framed picture.

Here's the Tapestry poem I was remembering. Apparently Corrie Ten Boom (my Grandmother got to talk to her - and in Dutch!) used to say this poem as she spoke around the world. (And why am I thinking of tapestry? Cuz that's the textile art I'm returning to, having sold my large weaving loom and found the tapestry loom I want posted on Craigslist on Thanksgiving Day.)

My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I do not choose the colors; He works so steadily.
Oft times He weaves in sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and me the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the weavers skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

The poem was read at my weaving mentor's funeral after her sudden death when scuba-diving (she was in her 80's) on vacation with her husband. One story told of her: during the war (and she continued for other needs too) she'd unravel knit things and reknit sweaters and socks.

And another poem I found when searching by a Debbie Milam -
When we embrace the many parts of our experience we discover a magnificent creation.

Every moment is but a thread, a thread of consciousness embracing the very essence of life.

Some threads are brilliant and dazzling while others are tattered and torn.

When looked upon in isolation the tattered threads look inferior.

Yet when woven together by the wondrous hands of the creator the light magically blends with the dark.

As joy coalesces with pain God creates the magnificent tapestry that is life.

Monte came in from his office and just whipped up something for our supper using the broccoli! And is saying, "Time to eat".

Advent Basket Day 4

Once I get out my Christmas box of decor, I'll take a picture of my Advent Basket. Like a recent Prairie Home Companion Lake Wobegon story character, I'm reluctant to decorate for Christmas. Monte's leaving town for Norway in a week, not returning till the 21st, and we go to Travis and Sarah's for Christmas Eve, making our traditional meal there, and coming home Christmas morning. I am going to be reacquainting myself with tapestry weaving during that time as well as Adventing. BUT, Dawson will be on school break soon, and I'm sure there's going to be lots of young people hanging around. AND besides, I do like Christmas tree lights - peaceful evenings in the dark with the wood stove crackling. So this weekend I'll probably have Dawson find a smallish, mainly skinny tree (we have a lot of these around on our property)(not a Charlie Brown tree - boy has that become a phrase for literacy - we all know, picture, exactly what it means! I'd pull out that video, but don't think our VCR works.) 

Okay, okay ... Day 4's Advent bag has already burnt birthday candles in it, saying, "We use these when celebrating birthdays. They make light. Read Matthew 5:14-16."

Visual artist me loves the way Eugene Peterson words it: "You're to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept...If I make you light-bearers, you don't think I'm going to hide you under a bucket, do you?...Shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives..."

Birthday - I am rebirthed in Jesus. "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound/ That saved a wretch like me/ I once was lost, but now am found/ was blind but now I see ..." I was thinking on how Jesus heals, and my response of gratitude, now that I'm found and can see: Oh that I DO be a light-bearer God, that others may see, and hunger and thirst after You.

I was also pondering Vincent Van Gogh's life, reflected in his art. When he didn't do his art, he was not sane, he was in darkness. Van Gogh felt sent of God to be a missionary amongst the peasants. Many of his sketches and paintings are of people in mining camps or working in the fields ... But he had a falling out with his denomination, in giving all his possessions to the poor. He felt abandoned by the church. If you look at two of his famous paintings: Starry Night and the Church at Auvers, there is no life/light shining from the church windows.

Open the eyes of our heart Lord; help us see ... help me, on my hill, shine my light ... This little light of mine ... help me, show me, how to be generous with my life. Be my mouth, hands, and feet.

Advent - 1st Sunday

Christianity begins with the birth of a baby. This Feast of the Nativity originally called, "Christ's Mass" includes days of preparation, referred to as Advent. Advent means "to come". It encompasses the past, present and the future. Christ was waited for and came in the past. Christ comes and is present with us day to day. And Christ promises a future.

As I type this I'm listening to the sound track of the movie "The Nativity Story" that I bought having seen the movie. The artwork is called The Living Cross by Vincent Barzoni.

Today's Advent candle? the Prophecy Candle. "Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus", "O Come, O Come Emmanuel". People waited, hoped, and trusted, having heard and read the words of the Prophets. I today still wait, hope, and trust.

Advent each year can be a journey of awakening - "Keep awake" says Matthew. Aware, alive, attentive, alert, awake - full consciousness - to God's doings in the world. Advent is a preparation time - making room in my heart for Christ's birth in a new and fuller way. My waiting, hoping, and trusting - content in God's timing, God's heart's desires and resolution. My desire is to not miss a bit of life's greatest gift from God to me.

The fairytale of the Gospel...[is] it not only happened once upon a time, but has kept on happening ever since and is happening still.
Frederick Buechner

Artisans - Glimakra & Gobelin

I'm wanting to sell my 60" Swedish Glimakra weaving loom. I've posted before about my weaving. I've put out some ads for my loom and some are interested. I'm really afraid though that I'm going to miss it. But I do have a smaller loom (actually several smaller kinds) that most of what I typically weave can be done on. With me felting more, I don't weave as much.

BUT, what I'm really doing, or should I say wanting, is a new loom - a new toy. In evaluating, I can't justify getting another loom without selling this large one. What I'm wanting, having done a lot of research is a Tapestry loom called a Gobelin. It's still another big loom, but more upright. I used to do tapestry weaving years ago and miss the more free-form weaving.

Today's Gobelin looms are copies of looms from the Royal Tapestry Manufactory of Gobelins France, near Paris, where tapestry had been done since 1667. It's where tapestries commissioned by Louis XV were created.

Since for years my thing has been "Fiber Arts", and I love history, and I've taught and done lots of demonstrating, I like being able to talk about tidbits of info (iike some I shared in the earlier post I linked above).

Something interesting is that so many of the fiber arts were originally done by men. A woman I believe invented knitting, but crochet, spinning, embroidery, weaving ... were done by men primarily. Some famous quilters today are men. When my friend lived in Sweden, she said everyone today knits, even in church, and that when she'd get stuck, she'd ask and men could help just as well as women. And we just found out while in Wisconsin that Monte's uncle Click liked to knit (Dawson was knitting this past winter). We think of these things today as women's skills.

Once the era in history left castles and Feudalism, Guilds of weavers, or guilds of embroiderers, etc began, on through the Renaissance and Baroque eras. Apprentices were taken on, still usually boys. The guild laws prohibited the wives and their underage children to be used for their work. Then progression to Journeyman and hopefully passing guild tests to become a Master - and masterpieces were created. Churches started commissioning fiber arts.

But then, technology, and the beginnings of Industrialization in 1764. With the introduction of the Spinning Jenny - it could match the production of 200 hand spinners (Leonardo da Vinci actually had drawings of my spinning wheel mechanism in one of his books)(I have more tidbits in my spinning/distaff post). And too, women and children worked cheaper than men.

SO ... when someone makes a statement that they can get a scarf cheaper at this store (probably made in an Asian country), what do I say? Men and women have an innate need, we are made in the image of a Creator, to express creativity in varying ways. As Marva Dawn talks about in her Unfettered Hope (Great book) - do you have umteen cheap coffee mugs from discount stores? or do you support a local artist and have a more creative mug? Buy something that tells a story, or compels you to look, touch, and experiment.

Francis of Assisi

Ah, today is the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi - what to post? Everyone's heard of him. There's pages and pages on Google of things named after him, including animal rescue centers. There's always garden statues of Francis with birds. And I am tempted to get one. Most people have seen the art piece of him preaching to the birds. I read a novel on Francis, I think by Richard Rohr, that I liked.

San Francisco is named for Francis of Assisi. And as I think of this, we've had some angel remembrance days lately, and California's Los Angeles means 'the angels'. The Franciscans were very instrumental in the beginnings of the United State's southwest.

Therese of Lisieux ("The Little Flower") Day was October 1, and I read her little book, The Story of a Soul. I don't care for her story, she just seems too silly to me, and nothing there for me to hold onto that would help me live better. Many saint stories bug me in their 'literal living'.

I could say that about Francis too, but he does have more depth, and he is the founder (though he wasn't wanting to found anything) of the Franciscan Order of monks. He lived scripture so literally that I get frustrated with him, yet he lived so closely like Jesus, I can't really say anything against him.

I spent some time skimming web sites for a specific story I had read about him and Claire somewhere long ago, but didn't find it. Claire was of Assisi too and inspired by Francis' change in life to follow Christ, she too followed, and lived out the rest of her life cloistered away. But supposedly the two met for a meal and talked on and on and there was such a glow over the building the townspeople came running, thinking there was a fire. There are books and a movie about them called "Brother Sun, Sister Moon".

If you don't know about Francis of Assisi you should read about him. There's lots of web sites. I found a unique one that the guy wrote in a history class using 200 year old books for reference. It really is a good place to read a 'realistic' view, I really like it.

Then too, there's a good site describing the famous painting of Francis and the birds by Giotto. I have this painting. I have an easel that I change the pictures on regularly. I like to become 'friends' with works of art. This site finally explained why so much spiritual art has people with a hand raised, with the last two fingers curled under.

One piece of his story is his love for all creatures, so he's the patron saint of animals, and ecologists like to claim him. The live nativity is attributed to Francis of Assisi - the involvement of all the senses with live animals, and him using the manger as the altar for mass. He did preach to the birds the Matthew 6 text about God caring for flowers and birds - Do not be anxious, because God will take care of us to!

Most people too know Francis's Prayer/Poem that's even been put to music:
Lord,
Make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me bring love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
Where there is discord, harmony.
Where there is error, truth.
Where there is wrong, the spirit of forgiveness.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console.
To be understood as to understand.
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

As one who loves the Trinitarian God, shouldn't I desire to live closely like Jesus too? What would it look like in our culture?

Guardian Angels

Do you believe in angels? Do you live as if they exist?

I've seen this quote on wall plaques: "Don't drive faster than your guardian angel can fly!" Some of us by our lifestyle choices might be overworking our guardian angels.

Typical popular art depicts angles as chubby cherubim ... and then there's comments like, "the face of an angel"... and then there's lovable Clarence in the movie "It's a Wonderful Life" ... but what do angels really look like? I'm betting there's something awfully unusual about them since every time they show up in scripture they're saying, "Fear not".

In our cynical, self-sufficiency of adulthood, do we forget about angels? This might be a good time to remember and thank God for his loving protection in having angels guard over us. Pray yourself through Psalm 91.

We're told to be hospitable to strangers as they may be angels!

Anyone have an angel story?