Axelrod, Jesus, and the Cognitive Dissonance of American Politics and Religion

I'm a preacher's daughter. When you grow up next door to where your dad works, and when he works from home a lot, and when you work in the church a lot--loading the communion trays, ditto-ing and folding bulletins, choir practice, the quotidian tasks of a church mouse--you can say you've been "baptized," "washed in the blood," as it were. Every part of my life was honest-to-god Christian. Poster-family quality. It was great. Until I figured out that some people who also said they were Christian were very mean and hurtful, for no reason I could discern.

1954 Mtn. Grove, Missouri. On the way home from Cabool one night after the movies, we rounded a curve and came upon a wreck. It was pitch dark, and we couldn't see much, but Daddy pulled over. He told us to stay in the car, and ran to the wreck to see what he could do. It seemed like a long time before a state patrol car came along, while we sat paralyzed with dread. My first real tragedy. I later learned that it was truly a tragedy for my father--one of the little boys in the wreck died in his arms, and it may have been the first time I saw my father cry. He was a real life example of a Good Samaritan.

Daddy grew up on a farm, so he was pragmatic about most things--hunted, fished, comfortable with the laws of Nature. But he had a soft spot in his heart, which helped me create an impression of THE Jesus. A man who cared about other people to the point of taking on suffering himself. Who helped others.

At the very same time, this was NOT what I saw some folks doing. Like the whole damn state of Arkansas threatening a few young people who actually WANTED to go to school to learn and grow. I couldn't see Jesus standing on the steps to the school spitting on any child, red, yellow, black or white. Because I learned in Bible School that we are all precious in his sight. Is this not the perfect Jesus all Xtians believe in?

As I grew older, and learned more about the stories and musings behind the daily structure, I found my dad's text from divinity school for New Testament Greek. In Greek. Aha. Coupled (literally) with my mom's influence with words, this propelled me into researching the general topic of religion, especially other peoples' religions. After years of study and reflection, I still believe that Jesus was a man to emulate according to the teachings we've received, no matter how shaky. I have believed since I was around 15, that Buddha and Allah and God are pretty much the same idea, with Jesus, Mohammed, and Zarathustra as the comm link, all swirled around with various colors and flavors of the Holy Ghost, ghospodi, spiritum sanctum, cavorting in Valhalla, Paradise, a sunny beach in Mexico.

Which brings me to what set off this rant. David Axelrod in an interview with someone from the WaPo. Thinking that he is just the person to be where he is right now. Kinda reminds me of Bill Moyers back when he was in politics, LBJ's press secretary, et al. Bill has that Jesus/Buddha-like quality of calm, open-minded reason, willing to do the heavy lifting into researching and reporting the truth. David Axelrod speaks the truth. I think the new administration in general is speaking the truth. Time to act more like Jesus and less like the obliterating Old Testament God of Hate that some self-styled "Christians" like our former VP and other twists to their own ends. It's a hard parallel to make, but it's stunning how politics has become so in service of a wrathful deity to practically self-immolate. At the least, to polarize politics right along with this Christian dichotomy of cognitive dissonance. At least in Hinduism, there is a pantheon of gods and goddesses to more closely mirror the human condition. Even the duality of Buddhism is a cyclical reminder that we are all one, it's all connected.

However, the destructive example of Christianity found in this country doesn't look that different to me than that of Sunni vs. Shi'ia--similar ideology--my god's better than your god, and I'm going to kill you. We're better than that.

Not an especially Christian thing to say. On the other hand, I don't advocate bombing, starving, torturing, or surrounding them with that wretched depleted uranium, or giving all the money to buddies instead of the people who it's supposed to help. I do wish that people would stop listening to them and putting any kind of Jesus-loving link to what they're saying. Jesus is better than that. Don't feed the animals.

SXSWi list time

This March, several of my colleagues will be learning, networking, interacting with old friends, and generally absorbing emerging information at SXSWinteractive. TechieU. I learn so much in a fairly short, very inexpensive (since I live in Austin), and the whole experience is one gigundidas, intensely brain-stimulating, immersion in the internet and those who are expanding its horizons. This is the place to go problem-solve, find new solutions, "get under the hood," in the vernacular.

So. First things first. What do I need to prepare? Here's a sloppy list:

1. Collect and secure hardware
2. Initiate communications links, especially with my peeps
3. Group blog the shit out of it
4. Groceries: boxed soup, hardy fruits/veggies, h2o bottle, nuts, power bars
5. Conference in a Backpack stuff for work
   
6. Living in the Austin Civic Center for 5 days in a Backpack stuff for me
   
7. Laundry
8. Make sure there's enough cat food for the duration
9. Make sure everyone is once and for all down with the fact that this is a grueling, deeply-focused marathon that will assault all your senses and nerves for what will eventually become an extremely long week, because it goes over the weekend, and it wears me out
   

OK. That's a start. #2 will involve a lot of coordination, to do what I'd like to do: videotape it, blog it, Twitter it, lens it, live interviews--it's like The Matrix. You are totally plugged in. Even if you (personally) aren't. They splash the SXSWi live blog on the big monitors. You see what everyone is commenting simultaneously. They text you updates to the programs, reminders to be at this or that session. You get your own page on the site to keep track of all your stuff. There are hundreds and hundreds of sessions. This is the most concentrated pool of internet biz folks there is.

"Coming to you live, from the Internet Cafe!" Whoa. Totally. Everybody get their friends together and introduce them to folks at work. Wonder if we can carry in camera equipment? Put it on the list...

"Going My Way" a musical goldmind

Prague Opera House, where Rise Stevens sang from 1936-38. (I am more and more ecstatic that I had the opportunity to see Budapest and Prague)


Serendipity channel surfing: as I was flipping through my meager broadcast TV offerings this afternoon, I happened upon an announcement that "the following presentation is brought to you without commercial interruptions," or boilerplate to that effect. Up popped the Bing Crosby musical "Going My Way." I've never seen it, but was aware that there are innumerable hit tunes throughout. I settled in with left-over popcorn from last night and a diet Dr Pepper and was immediately drawn in when Rise Stevens flashed on the credits. (The "e" in her first name should have an umlaut.)

I've always been drawn to the mezzo-soprano/contralto sound, even as a little girl, and Rise Stevens' star was high at the Metropolitan Opera as I grew up. Many young women aspire to the soprano range and repertoire, but the lower voices seemed richer, more sensuous. Not quite matronly, unless the role or piece was written that way--quite the opposite.

The hits came rolling in: Schubert's "Ave Maria," Mozart's "Ave Verum Corpus," and Ms. Stevens joined in with the boys choir from St. Dominick's. Gorgeous, even with Bing's buh-buh-buh-baaah baritone anchoring it firmly in the musical styles of the day.

And then I realized why this musical stuck with me, even though I'd never seen it before. One of the scenes takes place at the Metropolitan Opera, with Rise singing and flirting her pants off in the sexy, lascivious Habanera "L'Oiseau d'eun" whatever, my French is lousy, but she was fine as a straight-laced, but full of possibilities, Carmen. Any woman who can pull that off without being crass, awkward, slutty, over-the-top, or otherwise not entirely in character, has my complete, total attention.

I'd LOVE to see a punk version of Carmen. OMG. Wonder who I could get to back it? I would totally do it.

That's not all Ms. Stevens is known for. There is a particularly plum pants role in Strauss' Der Rosencavalier that was a signature character for her. Evidently, she owned Carmen. Went from Juilliard to Prague/Vienna, then to the Met. She helped train up and coming singers as manager of the Met touring program, leaving her mark on opera education. I'll see if I can find something on YouTube.

Back to "Going My Way." Lots of fascinating trivia. Released in 1944 and was the first film to win Oscars for Best Film and Best Song (see? I'll bet a lot of readers will recognize that tagline), "Swinging on a Star," later covered by Frank Sinatra. Andy Williams and his brothers debuted in the on-screen performance of that segment.

Elderbloggers are aging...and why that's important

Capricorn/Aquarian birthdays are proliferating, and I'm aware of the wheel turning. A dear friend just turned 50. He was barely in his 20's when I met him in grad school, and I can hardly believe he has only 7 years until retirement.

Every once in a while I get swept up in a deep sense of loss, as it must happen. I've been thinking a lot lately about the very special, critical difference in elderbloggers and younger bloggers. We have less time. We must gather and push our very best adventures and what we've learned from them out on the internet and in person to connect. Clue those youngsters in to what they will need to know to get their little dogies along down the road.

Elderblogrolls, frozen in electronic amber, the penners having passed on into their respective ethers. Links take on an entirely new meaning. The march of generations.

Remarkable elders, caring enough to share in ways that are gifts rather than dictates. After all, is that not our job? My most perfect memories are at my Mamaw's side, learning how to grow flowers as well as veggies, make fried okra, sew and crochet; and my Papaw's--learning how to work with wood, make fried yellow squash, peach ice cream, and fudge with pecans.

Another phenomenon more and more with elderbloggers is contact out of the blue with old boyfriends, school chums, my sisters' school chums, my daugher's school chums et al, childhood friends from 55 years ago. I'm telling you, it's hardly even two degrees of separation now.

I'll have to find it, a post by a woman who was contacted by an old schoolmate, male. Her description was on the nose--hilariously duplicating my own experience. It's just so amazing to see new horizons to explore.

So while I'm sad to lose elder voices, their pioneering work is exemplary and inspiring. It felt good to be a part of the Viet Nam era revolution. It feels great to again be a part of a movement with positive, life-affirming goals.

Support Your Local Elderblogger

25 Random Things from the Facebook meme

Must be something in the stars. I finally cranked out a meme. Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?

Seems I've been bogged down in work a little too much lately--life working for the man has become quite Matrix-esque. My brain hurts from being jacked in all day herding projects. Sucks the energy right out. I don't want to see a computer when I get home--I juggle electronic balls and plates online making other people's stuff come true.

Meanwhile, here's this meme.

Now I'll REALLY have to get busy with the meme that Kay from Kay's Thinking Cap sent me!

1. I learned to read when I was 3, and was skipped straight to the 2nd grade when I started school. My teacher took me from classroom to classroom, randomly pulling a book from the shelf and opening it for me to read. I had my first stumble in a 9th grade history book.

2. I learned to play the piano at about the same time, and continued to sing/play piano/organ every Sunday until I left home to major in music.

3. Got my first flute when I was 7, majored in flute performance/musicology through grad school. Haven't found many flute-playing opportunities in Austin--too many damn flute players here, not enough gigs for classical/experimental flutists!

4. I had my wonderful daughter at home in N. CA with no drugs (except for herbal teas) using the Bradley method. Right after she popped out, she wiggled and squirmed her way up my stomach and latched onto my left boob.

5. I lived in an alcoholic relationship for 12 years before I understood what it was doing to me and my child. It took another 10 years to extricate myself from it, and another 10 years to recover from it. SUGGESTION: Never marry an addictive/abusive person--it's a menace to the rest of the family's health and no one wins.

6. I was one of the organizers of the Pocono Pop Festival. Worked for Showco Sound, who did sound/light for the top 10 groups of the time: Led Zeppelin, 3-Dog Night, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, The Carpenters, Leon Russell, Rod Stewart and the Faces, can't even remember them all. Got to travel by helicopter while the 200,000+ attendees lined the interstate all the way from NYC to the Pocono Raceway. Went to the wrap dinner with an international rock'n roll trucker from Boston--IN the semi truck.

7. Worked for Screen Gems/Columbia making demo tapes with Michael Martin Murphy, Boomer Castleman, and Diane Hilderbrand.

8. Was followed and spied on by the FBI during the Vietnam War.

9. Lost (literally) a friend one November late '60'sin the High Sierras camping in the Stanislaus Wilderness. Endured a week of searches and questioning by the local, county, and state law enforcement. They thought we knocked him off to get him declared a missing person. They finally had to let us go b/c they couldn't find his body. We were in big trouble til I convinced the head cop we weren't murderers. He was reading Durrell's Alexandria Quartet at the time, one book of which described how a man bought a body in the bazaar and set it up to make people think he was dead. To this day I still don't know what happened to him. Maybe he survived and will join Facebook some day...John Cassteel, where are you?

10. Used to perform in Carnegie Hall with Opera Orchestra of New York (Eve Queller, director) on an annual basis when I lived in Princeton. Great fun to sing with many of the top and upcoming international opera stars.

11. Worked in arts (music) management on both coasts for decades until I moved to Austin. Austin is about 15 years behind both. Which is a huge bummer. Texas is pretty much a closed shop--not enough classical/experimental music opportunities for the hordes of musicians here. Lo, see how far the mighty fall...

12. One of the first people in N. CA to start and maintain a garden using the French Intensive/Biodynamic method. No petroleum products, all done by hand, with lots of companion planning and natural pest control. One of a group of 5 adults and a baby.

13. I have an exceptionally high degree of ESP, with lots of examples to prove it.

14. Had an out-of-body experience when I was attacked while hitchhiking in Topanga Canyon on a fire trail off Mulholland Drive. Managed to talk the guy out of raping me, but ended up with a bruised windpipe, a cracked rib, and broken glasses. Not to mention PTSD. Walked out of "A Clockwork Orange" in a cold sweat a month later during the rape scene.

15. Absolutely adored living in Australia. Would have emigrated if I could. They know how to live life fully there.

16. Sang with the top Australian choral group for 2 years, in the Sydney Opera House, Australian Broadcast Company studios, and various other venues. Good stuff, too--Beethoven "Missa Solemnis," Walton "Belshazzar's Feast," and a bunch of original Australian and African composers works.

17. National Merit Scholar semi-finalist.

18. IQ clocked at 165 when I was 15, eroded to 154 as I've aged. Actually, I don't think I'm any less intelligent, I just don't give a shit any more :)

19. Never lived in any one place longer than 2.5 years growing up--preacher's daughter.

20. I collect pieces of drift glass, shells, and coral from around the world. I make collages out of bits of kitchen middens from Victorian Sydney, trinkets from grandparents and great-grandparents, photos, baby teeth, bones, buttons, beads, and other found objects, new and antique.

21. I have enough photos on various themes to publish dozens of photo books. Portraits of friends, windows, rock 'n roll musicians, other series.

22. This is the third time I've lived in Austin. 1968, '84-88, and since '96. Each time it's been more impersonal and less intimate. Gone are the days of heading downtown for a concert in the gazebo with Janis, Angela Strehli, Bubble Puppy, Conqueroo, Rocky/Elevators, Shiva's Head Band, et al. When everyone could fit into a small park, and we walked everywhere.

23. Fascinated by: Gaudi', Wittgenstein, Jung, Dali, the philosophy of art, music, dreams, Zen.

24. My daughter started talking at 6 months. Really. Spoke in complete compound sentences by the time she was one. Explained subtleties in human physiology to me when she was 5. She's a scientist now, and is still teaching me about mass spectronomy, DNA sequencing, and other biomedical technologies. I actually understand them...she's a good teacher.

25. It's relatively simple to come up with 25 random things when you're as old as I am!

WhiteHouse.gov

Obama's tech folks had a live and functioning official White House Web site seconds after he was sworn in, at least we think he was. The site is an exemplar of good Web design. And they take comments from everyone.

Gone is the tired, monolithic Bush era site, still proclaiming Iraq had WMDs...somewhere...

News reports depict a medieval-like tech setup in the dank dungeons of government, a miasma of spotty and substandard communication systems. Kinda reminds me of the unveiling of the Great and Magnificent Oz, when Toto grasped the curtain in his teeth and pulled it aside to reveal a powerless snake oil salesman. The contrast is staggering.

They have not yet updated the "designate" status of various cabinet members, but considering the state in which they are operating, it's unfair to criticize the delay. The site itself is an open window into how Obama plans to proceed, and it will be interesting to see where they go with it.

The antidote to fear is knowledge, which can only be achieved in an open community. Bodes very well.

21st century elderblogging skills?

Please excuse the messing around. I'm about fed up with exploring apps for this and apps for that. I'm ready to make some choices and stick with a few useful, delete those that are just getting in the way.

Firefox, for sure. Research tools, search engines, virus/spy/etc. ware to the max and updated. My tech equipment is so miserably outdated. Surviving in the 21st century tech world can be a real pain in the ass on a modest income and an increasingly annoying proliferation of the aforementioned ware. I've been able to keep up with an Apple system at work and Dell system at home for more than ten years. But I'm about to throw in the towel with the exponential amount of WORK that entails. I'm continually having to look for ways in and out, longing to simplify rather than accrue, finding maintenance chores breeding alarmingly like Tribbles.

Tribbles were the micro-teddy bears of the original Star Trek generation. I first learned about Tribbles at my neighbor's house in the woods outside Edmond, Oklahoma, sometime in 1967. Now that's another story, which would include such shenanigans as having one of my very first psychic events. Five years later, a relative confirmed a creepy feeling I had of someone watching me. Apart from a dollop of native paranoia, the hair on the back of my neck actually stood up, and chills echoed up and down my spine. The relative said, did you know my dad had you watched by the FBI?

I've paid very close attention to any piece of information that comes to me from outside since then, even if I don't understand it immediately. It will come to pass. That can be exhilarating, or it can be scary as shit.

Doesn't have much to do with computers, except in a William Gibson-esque kind of way.

Now to figure out why folks still aren't able to leave comments. Geeze--another one of those time-sucking, fuss-budgety annoyances.

Lecturette on Change, Vacation-Head, and the Universe

Everyone's having trouble getting back into production. Whatever that maybe for you. I left a blissful environment, free of care, surrounded by beautiful people and lovely hospitality, and all the crap is still right here where I left it. What, you may or may not ask? Dishes, dirt, only a little mouse until it got so cold that Linus deigned to sleep inside and scared him away. And a pile of clothing that measures roughly 7 feet by feet by 3 feet--I say roughly, because there are dozens of smaller items that have sloughed off, effectively mulching the floor between bed and bath.

It occurred to me that this construction is about the size of a grave, except not so deep. A shallow grave. Then I read communicatrix on change, and I saw my body lying in that shallow grave of fabric. With an aggregate of shoe, book, a used cotton swab or two, a United boarding pass, old computer printer and keyboard, and as I squinted deeper into the layers, a confetti of various and sundry dropped pills and nostrums for the average Austin allergy season.

After I laughed myself silly, a vision hopped into my mind of hundreds of thousands of clever women all over the world coming to a simultaneous epipany about change, vacation-head, and the universe. This is the part that makes the leap from physical to intellectual to paradigm shift. And you know how I love paradigm shifts.

What we're experiencing here is the effects of the Winter Solstice, or however you prefer to name the cyclical phenomena of life on this planet. And this particular solstice is fraught with an extra scoop of socio-politico-astrological-astronometrical nutty goodness. The universe is a whole, and we each get to describe the size of that universe for ourselves.

We mystical Capricorn INFPs get downright visionary. We are billowing in dreamscapes. We take an eternal exposure of the world and instantly project our own future on the path ahead. We swim in Jungian protoplasm.

We are awash in analogies. The goat. The seed. The darkest night. The coldest stone. The basement of our dreams. And then we put one foot in front of the other and climb toward the light, singing, or writing, or chatting, or drawing, or otherwise sharing the journey with other travelers.

Which brings me to another point I don't want to forget. Multi-tasking is a made-up word by some smartass youngster with ADD. I know that because I recognize it as serial-tasking at light speed, which is what I do 24/7 unless I consciously focus on finishing one activity. Multi-tasking gives the IMPRESSION of being incredibly good at all those things, but is in fact an excuse for not properly completing projects or losing things through the cracks in the road.

Most of us are responsible for churning out some grist for our daily bread. Don't get me started on work stuff. But in my real life, I know deep down that I do my best work when I de-stress to alpha level and let all that I've experienced and absorbed ferment and coalesce into some creation that magnifies my soul.

So I observe the earth's changes, my skin feels the traverse of the sun day to day and year to year, the lover's pull of the moon at perigee. I cherish the winter (in the US--an Aussie friend says she's sweltering) as much as I do the summer solstice, for it is a time of new beginnings, growing things, and this is the optimum time to examine flows and inclinations and nudge them toward the light.

Not particularly earth-shattering, but according to the I-Ching, perseverance furthers...

Tip of the hat to Communicatrix Colleen Wainwright, one of my new favorite writers. You go, Colleen!

What's your fiscal responsibility scheme?

Normally, I'm not the best person to ask about finances. I dislike numbers, and do much better with words and intuition. My excuse is that I learned to read when I was 3 years old, and skipped the first grade, thereby missing out on the basics of arithmetic. Not that I did badly in math--I usually made A's, until I stretched a little too far my senior year in high school and took solid geometry. Made my very first C in that class. I was devastated.

Numbers affected my musicianship until I learned the technique of breaking the rhythm down to the smallest note value and setting that beat up in my head. This was especially helpful when studying Bach. Subdividing the beat allows you to navigate his sixteenth-note-rich, long, sinuous melodic/rhythmic schemes successfully. That technique, plus a "cheat-sheet" of Baroque ornamentation led to many hours of exploring the six Bach flute sonatas--arguably the pinnacle of the flute repertory.

I was also sadly lacking in knowledge of finance. My dad was a minister dedicated to serving poor rural communities, which necessarily dictated an extremely modest salary. I made up a joke about this, telling friends that we were always poorer than the proverbial church mouse. While this had some truth, we also had alternative resources. We always had a vegetable garden, and frequently chickens or part shares in a pig or steer. We put up a lot of food, and dad supplemented by hunting whatever was in season. It was as much a sport for him as food on the table, but I learned many valuable skills--how to field dress deer, clean and fillet fish, dig buckshot out of quail, and prepare such oddities as frog legs and rabbit.

Unfortunately, the only thing I learned about finances was how to alternate monthly bill-paying, keeping our balances due to 60 days rather than 30. Most dry goods establishments would generously allow the local ministry the option of layaway or payment over time (no credit cards back then), which meant that we could have at least one pair of school shoes and one pair of Sunday shoes that fit. I did learn the honorable practice of barter, which I engage in to this day.

Both sets of grandparents were adept at making a living from the land. My maternal grandparents always had a huge garden and put up all kinds of food. Mamaw was also an expert seamstress. We would draw pictures of outfits, and she had the uncanny ability to find patterns and materials and reproduce whatever our imaginations could dream up. We regularly received boxes of dresses, pajamas, skirts and blouses, always with a small box of Papaw's fudge, made with pecans from the tree in their backyard they planted when I was born. Along with hand-me-downs from the church, this was our entire wardrobe. I got my first store-bought dress when I was 11.

Paternal grandparents were farmers, as was my dad before he was called to the ministry. It was a hard, sometimes cruel life. Cotton, before the boll weevil wiped them out. Turkeys, beef cattle, even a stint as a butcher when the topsoil was gone, blown away in the 50's on the southernmost fringes of the Dust Bowl. My grandmother was blind, which didn't stop her from her farmwife chores. She cooked, did laundry, fed the chickens, gathered eggs, all by touch. Should I ever lose my sight, I know I can make my way in the dark, at least in familiar territory.

What we lacked in coin, we made up for in education, literature, intellectual discovery. self-reliance, the arts, and family. We were rich in imagination and resourcefulness. I have come to believe that these experiences were worth much more than mere money, and serve me well in the present economy. After all, I've had lots of practice. This is not to say that everything is hunky-dory. The world has changed. But this background gave me a modicum of self-confidence that keeps fear to a minimum.

In a nutshell, my fiscal sheme is simply to live as simply as possible, while maximizing resources. Nothing earth-shattering, but that just might be all I need.

Sleeting in Austin

My pals in the cold north will say, "and?" To which I would say, "yeah, but it was nearly 80 yesterday, and in the upper 70's today." Only worn a jacket twice all fall. I horrify my colleagues showing up in Birkies and a short-sleeved t-shirt. And then turning on my little fan. Drives 'em nuts.

What makes it weird is that it's also thundering and lightening. Major wind. The air is full of leaves. Raining leaves. All adds up to a late winter storm that doesn't have enough moisture in it, yet is perfectly able to freeze your toes off. Tomorrow I wear my storm jacket to work. They haven't seen anything yet. I have a wonderful Stockholm jacket that is good to below zero. But I need to be in Stockholm to wear it :) Shout out to Nick and Mia and the kids.

This will get my butt in gear to pack. I might try bundling this time, just for grins.

Is anyone else having problems with comments? Kay alerted me that she was unable to add a comment, so I checked my settings. They seem to be in good order. So I'll zing Blogspot and see what's up.

Photo--Prague, Czech Republic

Dear Mr. Obama

The indie news is full of chatter about our president-elect's unprecedented inclusion of the public in brainstorming public policy. Mr. Obama is as close to a genius as we've had in the White House. He recognizes the importance of using the more human side of current communications technology to get a reading on how the country is doing. This implies many good things. 1) we are all interconnected 2) change cannot occur unless you can convince the average citizen to buy into it (spiritually and financially) 3) might as well use the tech we've developed for forming community consensus to the good rather than the instrument of fear it's been the past 8 years.

As I toddle around this city, I never cease to be dazzled by the memories of old Austin subdurally while high-rises are dominating the skyline. Since the last time I posted on the phenomenal growth here, I've learned a few things. Texas added 200+K jobs in the last few years. It feels eerie, because I'm hearing of large groups of people being laid off in TX. They gutted the UT HS Center in Galveston, cutting loose thousands of medical faculty and practitioners. Various cost-recovery groups on campus are paring staff.

What keeps me on an arguable even keel is focusing on the locations in Austin that were a product of the New Deal. The beautiful, functional, efficient buildings and public works that pulled Austin out of the Great Depression and all over the country. These works are still working, folks. That's a pretty hefty testament to what we Americans are capable of.

So once again, I allow myself a few moments of unbridled, unadulterated hope. That this man who will be our president HAS learned from the past. Is smart enough to use his pooh-poohed "community engagement" skills to educate and illuminate a viable path through the current daggy landscape. I want to help. And if there's any way I can get the word farther upline, I'd love to have a hand in forming the new America.

Now, to figure out what that might look like. Most certainly end-of-life care and the aging population as part of health care, especially now that we know he will bring all the internet capabilities to bear. This also contains the seed for more cross-generational brainstorming and problem solving, which is crucial to all of us.

Mostly a more humane awareness of community and fractals thereof. Yes, after such a long absence of any idea where we're going other than to you know where in a you know what, it's almost scary to feel hope creeping in, almost as if I acknowledge it, it will get yanked out from under my feet. I refuse to live that way any more. No bullying allowed!

Meme is not just a musical warm-up exercise

Kay at Kay's Thinking Cap tagged me with that meme. You know, the one that asks you to reveal all the sordid, mucky details you've swept under the rug about yourself. The one about your ex- that makes it to the top of Google rankings and gets you into a world of trouble.

Just kidding. I don't have secrets. I just have multiple lifetimes of juicy living. And no more than half are X-rated. Yet.

Back to the meme. I'll be tagging some folks, irritating the heck out of some of them, I'm sure. It's kinda like getting those "send this 'friends forever' cutesy poem to everyone in all your address books in the next ten minutes or your cat goes in the river" e-mails.

Memes do two things for me, though. They usually call for at least a brief moment of introspection, which is usually a good thing. They also alert me to blogs that I usually fall in love with. When you're an elderblogger, you tend to meet exceptional people with interesting experiences and decent writing skills, messing around in non-traditional media (for that age group).

When I wrote as The Good Musician, I posted some pearls of wisdom from Margaret Hillis, long-time conductor of the Chicago Symphony Chorus. The coolest thing happened. One of the comments was from a person who adjusted my faulty memory regarding the specific performance in the conversation. It was a thrill to correspond with someone else who had worked for her and appreciated her as much as I did. I savor the essence of music distilled by a lifetime of peak musical experiences. Then share that joy with other music lovers as often as possible. Doesn't have to be classical. I still get turned on by CSNY, tears my heart out. Standing 6 feet from Janis onstage at the Texas International Pop Festival (whole roll of photos--her gorgeous purple and blue outfit), begging me to take another little piece...

Geez, haven't even gotten into the meme yet. Guess I'm not s'posed to yet. Still sore from the concert last night, still have those tone clusters in my head, still awash in the ethos. Doing my own internal debriefing. Music reviews 'R Us.

There are several key components to a vocal chamber ensemble performance, beginning well before the actual concert. Preparedness--how successfully did the group organize and learn not only the material, but how to make an ensemble sound--how to listen and blend. How to present a musical experience the composer would love. How to relate what the composer intended to the listeners. What do the words mean? How does the composer use music to emphasize that meaning? Above all, has the group found the natural phrasing of the piece? The flow that the composer heard?

Professionality--how well did the group commit to making the best sound 100% of the time? Not wasting time in chit-chat or non-essentials while the group has a few precious hours together to get the ensemble sound in their ears, the transitions, the modulations to smoothly connect sections. How willing are the singers to blend rather than blast, use their ears as part of their voice--it's all connected--all the same physical mechanism. The vocal chords vibrate the whole body, and the ears are right next to the throat. Use those vibrations to inform your sound production to sing dynamically correctly and in tune. Critical skills for a professional ensemble singer--you have to be willing to match pitch and diction with every other singer in your group, which requires both ears all the time. That's just for openers.

Performance practice--I don't mean how you get up and down from the stage. I mean are you aware of how the Baroque sound differs from the Romantic. It's a little like role-playing. Baroque instruments sound like this, so their technique of playing them would be like this. The instrument couldn't sustain a sound like a modern one does, so there would have been more separation between the notes in general, a lighter, sparer sound. You can go fairly bombasto in the Romantic. Deep, lush, gigantic orchestras, hefty singing. A conductor friend once said that when performing in the Baroque style, think lace. When doing Romantic, think velvet. Your voice has to make that distinction as well.

Experience--if you prepare properly, you can improve your sound. You can build your skills and get better. Over time, the piece will viscerally become part of you. Those vibrations will have imprinted on your body as well as memory. As you work on a piece over the years, you learn what to listen or look out for. You've memorized it long before now, so that you can swim in the flow with your fellow singers and conductors to really enjoy the music and the experience. It never stops building. The music becomes an old friend, and as such, it's more and more satisfying.

The Music Is The Thing. Not you, not your ego, not your neighbor's annoying habit of humming their part when another section is rehearsing theirs. A rehearsal no-no. Destroys focus and concentration. Do that outside of rehearsal. The sounds need to be in your ears and head before they can be sung well. You might even say it disrupts the harmony of the group (pun intended). It isn't about you. It's about sharing what the composer wrote and felt with someone else as authentically as you can, using proper technique and musicianship. The difference between playing notes and making music is proper phrasing. You have to find where the arrival points are and the most musical way to get there.

Meanwhile, I'm sore from holding up music, breathing deeply, using lots of muscles to support a dimenuendo fading to niente, a four hour round trip by car to Round Top, an up til 3 a.m. visit with my best friend from Princeton Thursday evening and Friday morning, and incomplete recovery from the Thursday night concert. It's time to get a cup of tea, take a couple of anagesic, and take a nap!

Kay, apologies for the side-track--I really will do the meme!

Concert of Hope--AVAE performs 11/13/08

The Austin Vocal Arts Ensemble sings "Poetic Voices," settings by contemporary composers of Shakespeare, Donne, Spenser, and other greats tomorrow night at Hope Presbyterian Church 8:00 p.m. John McLean weaves the lush sounds of Vaughn Williams, dello Joio (who passed away this year after a long, productive life in music), Barber, and Whitaker, calling on the considerable talent in the ensemble. A big hug for Nick and Julie Boltz, music directors and fabbo singers/pianist. They hosted AVAE rehearsals as well, allowing the ensemble plenty of time to learn the music in a superb performance space.

This has been a lovely concert period, getting to know a new director and new singers. John (or Mac) is a musical dynamo, with a vast amount of knowledge, warm-up and rehearsal technique, and visceral understanding of the gestalt of music. His tempi are always intuitive, and he brings his singers into his aura to take particular care in their execution of the piece, on every level. We always have a comfortable, satisfying workout. Or at least I do, from how well the group sounds, I assume most everyone else does too.

There's a run-out concert at the Festival Institute at Round Top this Saturday. So if you don't catch the program here, you can take a nice drive in the country for the Choral Festival.

Now, to load up my black folder...

Recovering from PTSD

A few posts back I mentioned Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the Iraq and US citizenry. Seems other minds are thinking the same way. I subscribe to OpEd News, and Rob Kall has an interesting take on what he calls PPPTSD, or political, partisan post traumatic stress and "learned helplessness" in the aftermath of the last eight years.

I've also written about PTSD as an all-too-frequent outcome for significant others in an alcoholic relationship. It's tough to live in balance when your president is behaving like an alcoholic bully. Unfortunately, this kind of scenario turns violent quickly, and can put a lot of people in harm's way for what is essentially an adolescent hissy-fit. Best get a lot of distance.

There are new estimates that 300,000 of our military suffer from PTSD, and 320,000 have traumatic brain injuries. We should be helping those men and women out. It's real, and it's the right thing to do. We're going to need lots 'o nurses, doctors, medical facilities, counselors, mental health professionals as well as physical. There's a good place to put money for education. Taking care of our wounded. What a concept.

There's a lot of work to be done. This time I think we have a chance to get some things right. Truth, justice, and the American Way, in the broadest sense. Traveling and living abroad gives one an entirely different perspective of home. We're all on this planet together, and we'd be vastly enriched if we joined the global community. Trade, yes, but broadening minds as well. We all have a lot to learn, and a huge stake in working together to fix this joint up right.

Does anybody know if Mitchell's Herb Acre still exists? I think they were in Oregon. Carried lots of unique things, like saffron bulbs, and quite reasonable. That's my dream. To grow and sell herbs for women. Black and blue cohosh, valerian, angelica root, all those earthy, Capricorn herbs. Good for every stage of life, menarche, pregnancy, childbirth, menopause and beyond--saved my life. Get an Australian Shepherd again. And a decent computer system that will accomodate all my RPGs. I've already run out of room on my current rig. Dontcha hate that?

Our mom lived in Chicago for nearly 35 years. When she died, we had a little ceremony at the end of a pier in the lake and scattered her ashes. It was stunning to watch them descend, the sunlight filtering through revealing curious fish attracted by the sparkles. To think that the cycle of life was complete.

And then on election night, watching the ocean of people in Grant Park, where I have been, with my mother, and know that she would have been on the Obama team from before his senate run. She would have been there to hear his first, historically and intellectually memorable speech that was the turning point in getting us up out of this muck.

A very long way to go, but I sure feel great about finding ways to help us all get back together again. Even to the point of considering...just maybe, you understand...actually attending my 50th h.s. reunion. Who knows?

The scary dude above is my character in Two Worlds. Insanely buffed in weaponry, armor, magic, and that certain savoir faire.

Chief Technical Officer

I read somewhere that Obama will install a CTO should he gain the White House. Extra special good idea. Seems most of government tech development is military. Fat lot of good that does us. I would assume such a position would collaborate with all branches of government to upgrade communications so that e-mail doesn't get "lost," as so much has in the present administration. Use it as a real information tool.

Are you as obsessed with keeping up with the election stats as I am? The Daily Kos has a wonderful little tool to watch change as it happens.

Lots of good advice out there about protecting your voting rights. Don't pull the handle for a straight party ticket. Keep your camera phone handy to document anomalies or events. Report any sign of irregularity to a poll official. Don't believe flyers that tell you that you can't vote, for any reason. Take a camp chair or stool with you. Bring reading material, crossword puzzles, or knitting.

Above all, just get out and vote.

Bach and the national depression

I recently read a psychologist's observation that the nation of Iraq is suffering from PTSD. I agree, except for one thing--no "post" about it, it's still in a survival state.

I do believe, however, that America is sliding into PTSD from the last 8 years, the economy, the sinking ship of health care, and murder by proxy. Last weekend I felt a distinct shift in the O Fortuna. Velut luna. Status variabilis. It felt a lot like grief, loss. The old American dream lies in little plasticky pieces, shiny but devoid of any humanity. The almighty dollar sucked us all down the toilet. We forgot how to live in harmony with the earth and each other.

We are all going to have to learn to get in touch with our selves again, ask some hard questions, before we can reach each other. We have to put people first again. We've become so cocooned in stuff, stuff made up of the earth's dwindling resources. We don't have to live as voracious consumers. Geez, I'm beginning to repeat my old rhetoric from the 60's and 70's.

Actually, there are solid analogies. Regardless of whether one equates the Iraq and Viet Nam wars, the effects on America have been even more devastating. The attitudes are the same from some of the military--not all, thank goodness. Arrogant slaughter for financial gain. Purely and simply.

I wish everyone in this country could see what life is like outside the borders of the USA. There's no excuse for not, really, if the media would practice real journalism.

I heard Molly Ivins speak not long before she died, and she talked about the death of real American journalism, especially the print variety, newspapers, specifically. One of her points described how today's newspapers have lost touch with the local, the community. The reporting is superficial, and narrows rather than expands knowledge. Not to say there aren't brilliant writers out there, but what is thoughtful and rational and workable is overlooked for the sensational, the froth.

On the other hand, I had a fabulous conversation with a friend about Bach and his music. My friend attended the Bach Cantata Project at the Blanton, and commented on the use of biblical text throughout. It gave me an opportunity to describe the cantata as a form, which is easily translatable to a computer geek. It was mind-blowing to think of it in that context, after a lifetime of relating to Bach in a distinctly non-technological way, not counting the early synthesizered "Switched On Bach" of the 60's. Sensual to the core, at the same time appreciating the beauty of the exquisite interface between sound and mathematics.

It is only fitting that I was able to visit his last musical posting and gravesite--St. Thomaskirche in Leipzig--in my own elderhood. Looking back for decades of being completely surrounded by Bach, something for all of my musical capabilities. Keyboard, vocal, instrumental, monumental, playful, serious, solo, full orchestra and chorus and everything in between--he wrote something for every facet, every mood. Even though they were different periods, I think of Bach as an extension, an evolution of Shakespeare.

For words are music, too. Human sound lifted up. Music, particularly Bach's, physically resonates with the human body, making it an instrument. Which reminds me. AVAE's first concert is November 13 in Austin, November 15 at Round Top.

I had a teacher when I was in my 30's who said music was mathematics in technicolor. Now that I'm in my 60's, I have a deeper understanding of what she meant.

Bill Evans is my favorite jazz pianist

And a friend sent this gorgeous video of his hands, doing wonderful things to George Russell's Stratusphunk.
I fell in love with Bill Evans in 1963, the first time I heard Waltz for Debby with his trio. Chopin-esque in structure, with a jazzier harmony. Tres cool.

Wayne Wang puts new film on YouTube

That's a pretty revolutionary idea for a major director to release a new film on YouTube and NOT in the theaters. It's an extraordinary film.

While watching The Princess of Nebraska, a beautifully shot slice of life about a young woman who is four months into a student exchange program...and four months into something that can change her life. She finds herself in San Francisco, bewildered by how out of touch Chinese-Americans are with contemporary China and the digital native teenagers' milieu.

I'm not crazy about YouTube, but they have one feature I love, The YouTube Screening Room. You can watch/embed new film from around the world, and that's one of my passions. Even though I know video is a technical problem for many people, I'm tempted to embed more of it on FOP. I researched and embedded a lot of video at The Good Musician, and it can add dimension to words. I'm also mulling transporting to WP.

Monarch Butterflies Mean Fall in the Hill Country

Saw my first Monarch of the season on campus the other day hanging around the trash barrels outside JC. Sometimes the variety of wildlife on our campus is rather jarring. Like don't ever, ever pick up a dead bat. And there are jillions of bats in Austin, not only under the Congress Street Bridge. They're behind signs in every strip mall. They are under most every bridge up and down Lady Bird Lake (I love that!).

Hope there are more. Monarchs, not dead bats. I can remember an October in north Texas when the Monarchs coated the wisteria, trees, bushes, any leaf or twig for several days, then move on. That was in '54 or thereabouts. We see very few these days. Still, it's a gas that the Hill Country is on the flight paths of most all migrating songbirds and butterflies.

Here's a fantastic educational science site for elementary grades. That's where I got the photo of the butterfly, BTW. Excellent resource for any age :)

I had forgotten that the Viceroy butterfly mimics the Monarch, rather like a Monarch in clown face. Features just slightly overdone. This is a Viceroy--can you see the difference?

There's a Fungus Among Us

This big guy is about fourteen inches across. It only grows in autumn, when the humidity reaches a certain point, and when it cools down to the lower 90's/upper 80's in the day and the 60's-70's at night. It will continue to grow until it disperses its spores, or someone or something squashes it.

Texas has some of the strangest fungi. Somehow it's unexpected.