As always, my dear friends, I know what you are thinking. Phantom Limb Experience would be a great name for a band. Lots of really groovy band names end in Experience, it seems. Besides that, a Phantom Limb Experience is a somewhat interesting phenomenon found mostly in amputees. It would seem that when some people are deprived of an arm or a leg, the brain does not fully adjust to the fact that a loyal appendage has gone missing, so a person can retain control of something that is not there. Unfortunately, the phantom limb exists only to he who has one (a phantom one, I mean), so no fun with others may be had therewith.
As you are likely aware, I am not an amputee, and for that I am thankful. I do not think that I would like to be an amputee; however, I did receive a phantom limb experience this morning, thanks to the limited consciousness available to one who is just waking up. You see, as I became aware of the waking world around me, I decided to make use of one of my arms, and so my brain ordered the arm to move. As far as my understanding was concerned, this had taken place, but the desired effect of my arm movement had not taken place. For interested parties, I think I wanted to move my pillow or something. Reaching around and feeling nothing, I decided to look and see what the trouble might be. Much to my surprise, I found that my arm was not at all where I understood it to be; rather, it was numb and motionless, exactly where it had started. At this point I tried to put the phantom limb back where the real limb yet remained, but failing at that, I decided to use my other, functional arm to bring the useless limb into locomotion. This allowed blood to flow, and it restored my belief in my true arm, rather than the phantom one. Satisfied with my perceptions of reality, I think I fell asleep again.
30 June 2008
29 June 2008
Ode to Happiness
It is a fine evening, my beloved friends, for joy. Let us rejoice now as we reflect once again on the high principles of Art and of the Church. For those of you who have spent many years in the Church, you have likely heard some strange rendition of the "Ode to Joy" theme from Beethoven's Choral Symphony at least a few times. The usurpation of this melody has long been a unique practice of Christian worshipers, even from the heyday of the hymnal, and I mean to discuss how and why we do this.
Naturally, we quickly cast aside Schiller's poem, for it is not the most agreeable text for worshipful purposes. Next, we dispense of all the notes that are not involved in our chosen theme. That fourth movement is more than twenty minutes long, after all, and it uses all those instruments and singers. Then we can put in new words and a simple accompaniment for organ; for piano; or for guitars, drums, and things. Having done this, we have successfully made kitsch. Smile!
What drives this practice? Why do we feel such a need to dilute this melody in particular? It can only be that the final movement of Beethoven's Choral Symphony is a large scale choral work. We, being Christians, hear these timbres and conclude that the music must belong to us. After all, can we think of any other massive choral works that do not belong to us, especially before the 1820's? It follows that this one must be ours, as well.
In this way, so I hypothesize, the bizarre use of this Beethoven theme has come to us. I am not going to decry the practice as being bad or distasteful, that is, if it is not to late to avoid such a declamation, but I am going to call it very strange, which is exactly what it is. Kitsch usually is odd in its perpetually happy demeanor, which admittedly works well with such a joyful music as its source.
Naturally, we quickly cast aside Schiller's poem, for it is not the most agreeable text for worshipful purposes. Next, we dispense of all the notes that are not involved in our chosen theme. That fourth movement is more than twenty minutes long, after all, and it uses all those instruments and singers. Then we can put in new words and a simple accompaniment for organ; for piano; or for guitars, drums, and things. Having done this, we have successfully made kitsch. Smile!
What drives this practice? Why do we feel such a need to dilute this melody in particular? It can only be that the final movement of Beethoven's Choral Symphony is a large scale choral work. We, being Christians, hear these timbres and conclude that the music must belong to us. After all, can we think of any other massive choral works that do not belong to us, especially before the 1820's? It follows that this one must be ours, as well.
In this way, so I hypothesize, the bizarre use of this Beethoven theme has come to us. I am not going to decry the practice as being bad or distasteful, that is, if it is not to late to avoid such a declamation, but I am going to call it very strange, which is exactly what it is. Kitsch usually is odd in its perpetually happy demeanor, which admittedly works well with such a joyful music as its source.
27 June 2008
23 June 2008
Midsummer's Day
My friends, I know what you are wondering. You wonder, "Why did my dear beloved friend not mention the Solstice upon its coming and going?" I tell you: the Solstice is not truly observed until Midsummer's Day, which is on 23 June, which was today. Some among you may argue, "But the Sun himself has appointed daylight to reach its zenith on the Solstice, which was 20 June!" I say to them: who is greater: the inanimate Sun or the faeries that always come out at this time of year, who are in truth the old gods? Though it is true that on this day the sun and the fruit of the land have had their triumph, but only by the victory of the gods of light has this taken place. (Super)naturally, not least among these faeries is the leprechaun, or Lughchromain, who is none other than the sun god himself. It is for his sake that we light bonfires, burning alive therein small woodland critters, then leaping through the smoke ourselves. This is necessary in a world that frowns upon the degree of sacrifice the gods demand. Without sufficient sacrifice, what do we get but absurd faeries? Let me warn you, my friends, at the last: faeries are a serious business. Keep an eye out for them, especially in dreams, but do not trust them in the least.
I hope you have enjoyed this installment of my Pagan calender. Our next installment I do not think will come until Samhain.
I hope you have enjoyed this installment of my Pagan calender. Our next installment I do not think will come until Samhain.
17 June 2008
The Grove of Glasir
There brightly burn beneath the sunshine seas
eternal autumn waves o'er blue-grey springs
whence whistles Wind itself through tops of trees;
whence on his throne the King of Songbirds sings.
The fondest fancies of the gods there dream,
and only lore immortal may recall
that antique garden and the golden gleam
for thence through leaves does light reflected fall
o'er the emerald ivy, hedge, and vine;
o'er aged agate pathways unbeheld
ere again together walk we sanguine,
for by the fairest weeping are we knelled
in twain through shadows as the truth unfolds
among the Grove of Glasir's greens and golds.
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Let me comment briefly. I have been meaning to post those words for about three weeks, but I had trouble finishing it. In my recent silence, I kept thinking I would post this any day, but I never did. Then again, I also weighed the question of whether or not I should post it at all. I still weigh the question, but I am going to go ahead anyway. That being said, I got the idea for this in April, at which time I was reading the Prose Edda. In addition to being one of our main sources for Norse mythology, it contains a poetical treatise from which I took a heavy influence in choosing my symbols and allusions, which are plenty, for I wanted to make it extremely difficult to discern what I am saying. I could provide other useful sources to promote understanding, but I will not because probably no one really cares, and I do not want to be at all obvious. Lastly, I realize that I am a one trick pony when it comes to this stuff, but I am still quite pleased with how this turned out. Until next time, my friends, I wish you well.
eternal autumn waves o'er blue-grey springs
whence whistles Wind itself through tops of trees;
whence on his throne the King of Songbirds sings.
The fondest fancies of the gods there dream,
and only lore immortal may recall
that antique garden and the golden gleam
for thence through leaves does light reflected fall
o'er the emerald ivy, hedge, and vine;
o'er aged agate pathways unbeheld
ere again together walk we sanguine,
for by the fairest weeping are we knelled
in twain through shadows as the truth unfolds
among the Grove of Glasir's greens and golds.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Let me comment briefly. I have been meaning to post those words for about three weeks, but I had trouble finishing it. In my recent silence, I kept thinking I would post this any day, but I never did. Then again, I also weighed the question of whether or not I should post it at all. I still weigh the question, but I am going to go ahead anyway. That being said, I got the idea for this in April, at which time I was reading the Prose Edda. In addition to being one of our main sources for Norse mythology, it contains a poetical treatise from which I took a heavy influence in choosing my symbols and allusions, which are plenty, for I wanted to make it extremely difficult to discern what I am saying. I could provide other useful sources to promote understanding, but I will not because probably no one really cares, and I do not want to be at all obvious. Lastly, I realize that I am a one trick pony when it comes to this stuff, but I am still quite pleased with how this turned out. Until next time, my friends, I wish you well.
15 June 2008
Happy Birthday, Edvard Grieg!
Today I would like to direct the world's attention to the birthday of Edvard Grieg, whose music changed my life. He is 165 today, albeit 100 years dead (101 years dead on 3 September). That is all. Grieg does not have such a plenitude of bizarre quotations, neither from nor about him, as Satie does, and I do not wish to make the greater composer (Grieg) appear inadequate.
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