May I let my voice be a clarion call. I will use these words for justice. I will use these words for truth. And humour.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

 

Ru Paul on Spirituality

Interviewer: "In the last episode of "Drag Race All Stars" you sat with the final four and went really deep with each of them. JujuBee (one of the contestants) later said that you have a God-given ability for reaching people. Do you view yourself as a spiritual mentor to these up and coming queens?

Ru Paul: Do I give spiritual advice? All the time. Everything I ever say is spiritual advice.
It's not like I'm a guru or anything, but it is the only game in town. It's the only conversation I can ever really have. As drag queens, we have taken the position of being shamans and witch doctors and people who remind the culture not to take itself so seriously. What it says on your driver's license isn't really who you are -- you are something much greater than that.
A lot of the queens coming on the show are just beginning to realize that. They know it on an unconscious level, that they wanted to transcend the labels and boxes that society would have them be in, so they turn to drag because it is a natural thing. It is what we are all doing -- God masquerading in drag."

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Monday, January 16, 2012

 

New Thought Movement

Just investigating this now, seeing how it correlates with my understanding of process theology.... pax hominibus, agape to all, joel

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Tuesday, January 3, 2012

 

Free Project Management Software Links

I just had to post this, as this topic is near and dear to my heart.

pax hominibus, agape to all, joel

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Wednesday, November 9, 2011

 

Joe Gerstandt on flying your freak flag




Do you know who you are?
Do you know what you are here for?  purpose, calling
Do you know what your gift is?
Wrestle with these if you want to live a life of truth.
Is there any evidence?  If this is who I claim to be, am I acting accordingly?  Am I doing something different?  Am I downplaying playing it safe?
Freaks love to find other freaks.  Others won't know how to respond.  You'll scare some people by confronting them with your own freedom.
Difference is the genesis of conflict, and conflict is the genesis of change.
Be willing to be different.  There is no progress without deviance.
Your odd piece of the puzzle will provoke the future that we want together.
You are now free to fly your freak flag.


Been so busy lately.  Will post something more meaningful later in life.

pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Wednesday, September 28, 2011

 

For Sixteen Years, My Dove Seeking for Peace


After first of three sessions.

This last year, during my chaplain residency / clinical pastoral experience, one thing I've been mulling over has been the meaning of the olive branch that the dove found in Noah's story.  When I was younger, and I got the third portion of my head tattoo with the last of ten birds -- golden eagle, peregrine falcon, albatross; crow, raven, hummingbird; bald eagle, wren, loon, and dove.  I asked the artist to put the dove right in front with the sunrise (and autonomically cried through the whole inking), but felt it was not appropriate at the time to have an olive branch in its beak, so left a little space to ink it in later, when the time was more appropriate.  I had a lot of work left to do.

During my CPE, it came to my attention that the olive branch was a symbol for divine power.  I've learned a lot about power this last year.  I've learned the difference between power over (forcing somebody to work on the agenda of the more powerful person), power alongside (assessing complementary skills and working collaboratively), and power under (providing strength and opportunity for another to more completely follow their own volitional path).  Given the US culture I was raised in, I had mainly only paid attention to the first kind of power, the power of battle, oppression, and suppression, in which the stronger is the victor and the weaker is the victim.  I felt freed when I learned of the second as a good pastoral stance, and I made up the third myself, because balanced-ternary is the way I roll, and because there are some people in the world with way too much power who rarely put it to good use themselves, and might actually like to give much of it away, thereby freeing themselves.


Now, here I am, taking a break from assembling my MFC packet, and taking in this interview with Phil Anselmo of Pantera.  I haven't been keeping up with his more recent projects, and while my musical tastes have changed, I still enjoy their older songs.  And while his personality is arrestingly unique, I've met at least two others with similar qualities during my time here.  

In any case, at the end of the interview in Part 4 at 12 minutes, 30 seconds, he says, 
"I'm not afraid to make friends, and I'm not afraid to extend my hand, first.  To walk up to people, extend an olive branch even…"

This, to me, is the meaning of my missing olive branch.  I haven't been ready to trust until maybe now.

The question foremost in my mind at this point is, "What kind of person extends an olive branch when most everybody else stands (at least partially unknowingly) with their swords drawn?"  I've been open and honest before, and have been through an emotional evisceration as people -- not understanding the context and framework I approached in -- applied their own, leaving me decontextualized.

In other words, am I actually returning from a hero's journey after finding dry land (peace and security) or have I found the ingredients for their formation?  Or am I just saying "peace, peace" when there is no peace?  And to help make this concrete (considering Joseph Campbell's diagram in the previous link) how have I atoned, and what was that atonement for anyway?

Moving beyond the narrative from within the narrative, like the hummingbird (which stands for Joy) in this story, I will just take control of myself, and do what I can.



lyrics: "If you crossed me, I'd shake your hand like a man, not a god." -F**king HostilePantera
colors: Had a dream of red, white and blue postage stamps with monkeys on them last night.  (As I said on my FB status update: "America, I've got your number.")
mood: Exhausted, frozen, thawing.
chant/prayer/mantra: Do. 


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Saturday, September 3, 2011

 

Pay attention to birds.

I invite u to.

This picture was taken in front of Oakland city hall.

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Saturday, August 6, 2011

 

Wonderful One-Woman Show of a Friend Portraying Prophets and Goddesses

. . lyrics: colors: mood: chant/prayer/mantra: pax hominibus, agape to all, joel

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Thursday, May 5, 2011

 

god as santa claus

a minister friend posted this on their facebook.  i'm copying it verbatim in order to share it with you.

A friend just forwarded this message to me via email.  I never forward this stuff.  Never.  But there is something so compelling about this I felt like I just had to post something, somewhere.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
We don't know who replied, but there is
a beautiful soul working in the dead letter office of the US postal
service.
                                Our 14-year-old dog Abbey died last
month. The day after she passed away my 4-year-old daughter Meredith was
crying and talking about how much she missed Abbey. She asked if we
could write a letter to God so that when Abbey got to heaven, God would
recognize her. I told her that I thought we could so, and she dictated
these words:
                                Dear God,
                                Will you please take care of my dog?
She died yesterday and is with you in heaven. I miss her very much. I am
happy that you let me have her as my dog even though she got sick.
                                I hope you will play with her. She
likes to swim and play with balls. I am sending a picture of her so when
you see her you will know that she is my dog. I really miss her.
                                Love, Meredith
                                We put the letter in an envelope with a
picture of Abbey and Meredith and addressed it to God/Heaven. We put our
return address on it. Then Meredith pasted several stamps on the front
of the envelope because she said it would take lots of stamps to get the
letter all the way to heaven. That afternoon she dropped it into the
letter box at the post office. A few days later, she asked if God had
gotten the letter yet. I told her that I thought He had..
                                Yesterday, there was a package wrapped
in gold paper on our front porch addressed, 'To Meredith' in an
unfamiliar hand. Meredith opened it. Inside was a book by Mr. Rogers
called, 'When a Pet Dies.' Taped to the inside front cover was the
letter we had written to God in its opened envelope. On the opposite
page was the picture of Abbey & Meredith and this note:
                                Dear Meredith,
                                Abbey arrived safely in heaven. Having
the picture was a big help and I recognized her right away.
                                Abbey isn't sick anymore. Her spirit is
here with me just like it stays in your heart. Abbey loved being your
dog. Since we don't need our bodies in heaven, I don't have any pockets
to keep your picture in so I am sending it back to you in this little
book for you to keep and have something to remember Abbey by.
                                Thank you for the beautiful letter and
thank your mother for helping you write it and sending it to me. What a
wonderful mother you have. I picked her especially for you. I send my
blessings every day and remember that I love you very much. By the way,
I'm easy to find. I am wherever there is love.
                                Love,
                                God
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
I started reading this and got goose-bumpy, moved by the idea that a little girl could get so much comfort from something so little as writing a letter to a God that she still sees as personal, embodied and not only connected to her, but also aware and protective. That's a pretty amazing thing for a little child to have in a world where the adults all seem so afraid all the time.
But when I got to the part where the book arrived in the mail, I started feeling uncomfortable. I LOVE Mr. Rogers, and love that somebody thought to give the little girl the book.  Mr. Rogers -- actually Rev. Rogers, a Presbyterian minister -- does a great job of explaining hard life circumstances to children in a way that allows room for their imagination, honors their array of emotions, and lets them know they are not alone.
But there was something about the letter. It's a view of God that I don't share.  I don't see God as and anthropomorphic being who watches over us, protects each of us individually, and determines which of us deserve salvation in the afterlife.  I see god as being the energy that connects us, the constant creation that keeps the universe ever-growing, ever-changing, moving in the direction of greater love, knowledge and justice.  I see god as more of a verb than a noun. 
I could talk a long time about my vision of a loving god that is co-creator with all of creation.  But that's not the point.  The point is that the God described by the author of that letter to that little girl, is the mainstream view of God, a view that frankly I have a hard time distinguishing from the myth of Santa Claus....the old bearded man who sees everything and gets to determine who's been good and who's been bad and therefore who is worhty of salvation and who is not.  the point is that the person who wrote that letter believes in that God, and the healing power of that God, enough to take the time to buy a book, write a letter, wrap it and send it off.
No wonder that image of God is so powerful, so pervasive, so present in so much of the western hemisphere today.
So, where do we stand, we religious liberals, who have a different view of what is holy, of what is sacred, of what it is that binds us together in what we Unitarian Universalists like to call the interdependent web of all existence?  What are we willing to stand up and say we have faith in, and how that affects our views of life and loss and love?  What are we willing to do to help a child reaching out in pain?  Ask more questions? Or actually do something bold, and do it with conviction.
I like to think that had I been the person in the lost letters department faced with that letter from little Meredith, I would have sent her the book with a note from myself, thanking her for reaching out, for seeking the help for her dog, for caring, and for giving me the blessing of connecting with her in such a meaningful and profound way.
How would you respond?








lyrics: colors: mood: chant/prayer/mantra: pax hominibus, agape to all, joel

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Thursday, April 7, 2011

 

sfood h "a revjd pastoral process"

one song sample to accompany: "shake yr body hallelujah" loop and variants from dj minorminor's "plaster blaster"


here's my incipient process right now:
  1. greet pt.  elicit pt to candidly tell experience/story
  2. show them you've heard their story by recounting yr core understandings of their sharings
  3. facilitate exploration of their feelings in the moment of recounting the story
  4. aid them in articulating their primary emotions and triggers
  5. guide them to reflect on their sources of spiritual strength/drain: key relationships with divinity within, between, among, and beyond
  6. (have fun brainstorming on ideas)
  7. send whiteheadian process theology angels from god for potentially limitless list of potential actions
  8. consider ramifications, risks, theological and moral reflection
  9. narrow down and engage with a choice
  10. encourage pt toward spiritual growth through practicing that choice and allowing it to bloom into the world.
see the messages here to engage with some of my thoughts on process theology

next up, sfood h "a revjd prophetic practice"

xoox,
joel

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Friday, October 1, 2010

 

A shared gift with a friend

A friend of mine gave me this.
He's going through some soul s
earching and path-discerning,
so I'm holding his heart now as ever.




















Love,
Joel

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Tuesday, August 10, 2010

 

My profile pics from Facebook
























lyrics:
"oh the canvass can do miracles, just you wait and see"
from Sailing, by Christopher Cross

colors:orange blue yellow

mood: awake, overwhelmed, relaxed

chant/prayer/mantra: thank spirit of life for life

pax hominibus,agape to all,joel

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Thursday, August 6, 2009

 

Chords and Lyrics for "Hush Little Baby"

This lullaby is a really easy one to sing, and when I looked up the lyrics for it online, I was surprised to find that it had all sorts of archaic stuff, is clumsy with the rhyme scheme, and even tried to jam extra syllables in. Case in point: "dog named rover," "cart and bull"???

Anyway, I called up my sister to see what she recalled our parents singing, and she said these were the lyrics she used, so I'm going to go with that.

Here is the song as a printable image using one of my favorite fonts and a soft and soothing color scheme (click for full-size):




















Note that this key is awfully high, but it sounds just great and Henry loves it. The opening note is C#.

And here are the words as plain text:
Hush little baby don't say a word
Mama's* gonna buy** you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird don't sing

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
|
And if that diamond ring is brass

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass should crack

Mama's gonna buy you a jumping jack

And if that jumping jack won't hop

Mama's gonna buy you a lollipop

And when that lollipop is done

Mama's gonna buy you another one

So hush little baby don't say a word...

(rinse and repeat as needed)


*substitutions of "papa" "mommy" "daddy" or any two-syllable name may be admissable
**kind of a consumeristic song, huh? I envision GWB post-911 telling people "go out and buy more mockingbirds and lollipops people!"


chant/prayer/mantra: may all our babies and parents sleep soundly one day


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Saturday, August 1, 2009

 

Clifton R.I.P.

.
My best friend from college took his life a couple weeks ago, and lots of people are trying to make sense of it. There's been a lot of anguish and grief, and also much anger, guilt, confusion, numbness, and other negative emotions on my part and on the part of family and other friends. I wrote a personal eulogy for him that I delivered at the funeral, crying through most of it. I hope my expression of what I felt lent some bit of understanding and relief for everyone else. I'm still coming to terms with this event, and the magnitude of that lost connection, never to be regained.

I won't go into details of my words, but the minister of their church shared a lot of wisdom as part of the funeral service. I found it online, so I thought I would share it here, as an honor to Clif and all who loved him and still love his memory.

In short, if anyone reading this is depressed* (or more accurately, suffers from chronic or acute depression), please know that it's better to share it than to keep it deep inside. The culture lived in by many of us tries to push a context of stigma onto depression, but when it does that, the world is wrong. My vision of a good and right world is one where we can share what we're going through. You can share it with me, at least. A blessed community has open ears for both the joys and the sorrows we're going through.

*There's a lot going on in the world that can generally bring a person down, even without mental illness or acute personal disasters. We all suffer to some degree from the former, except for people who live by an "ignorance is bliss" mantra, who might opt to trade awareness for some type of consciousness-lowering opiate. To counteract all that might depress us, it's important to also look for the good in life and in the world. Life becomes miserable pretty quickly when you can't see the light shining around all the edges.


chant/prayer/mantra: Call me if ever you need me.


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Sunday, March 22, 2009

 

Tyranny of Freedom?

I have to go to bed soon, so can't develop this nearly as much as I'd like, but wonder how many readers of this little blog have had the opportunity to suffer freedom in the round. The few times where I've been in a situation where I had freedom to explore and do what I wanted were good for a while, but after an extended period, I needed to get a script, a plan, and some structure.

I came across an interesting article someone wrote about how the U.S. will move into tyranny, though I am hopeful that the Obama tyranny will be of a noticeably better variety than the Bush tyranny, with a different bent to it.

Essentially, according to Plato in his Republic, a true democracy breeds atomistic freedom units, individuals, and eventually that leads to the worship/glorification of freedom at the expense of communal actions. Then some people exercise their freedoms to develop tyrannies. That can take the form of corporate monopolies or government, or "free-market" advocates (I'm a fair-market advocate, BTW), NGO's, etc, that by way of having so much freedom that it turns to license, and it falls out of balance. I'm sure if you read the article, you'll get something different from it.

lyrics: "Bye bye baby. Baby bye bye" by the Bay City Rollers.

chant/prayer/mantra: which is most desirable: structured freedom, or freedomed structure? what do those look like?


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Monday, March 9, 2009

 

Tomorrow's Sermon

Multithetical Manifesto: Hardcore Angel Power

There is a practice in Unitarian Universalism where the youths spend a year studying a wide variety of religious beliefs. Then they get an opportunity to get up in front of the congregation and make their individual statements of belief. Not having grown up in the tradition, I'd like to now share my faith statement, after a fashion. And yes, I do still plan for it to fit within the parameters of the actual assignment of preaching prophetically.

Here, now, please let’s take a quick journey out into the solar system. It takes about 8 minutes for light to travel from the Sun to the Earth. And it actually takes over 100,000 years for the photons produced in the sun's core to travel the 700,000 kilometers John 3:17, metaphor, Multitheticalism, personal religion, renewable energy, salvation, theology, sefrom the core to its surface, and then for those final eight minutes, it travels to Earth at the speed of light. This parallels how our ideas and communication work. Our collective ideas gestate for a long time before they're ready. Then we communicate them orally and they are delivered at the speed of sound, or we can type them and they end up halfway across the world in seconds.

Growing up, math, along with spelling, was always my favorite subject. Now, it informs my theology in fundamental ways. One primary way is through set theory. For example, imagine the set of whole numbers between 1 and 5, inclusive. The subset of all odd numbers is 1, 3, and 5. The subset of all even numbers is 2 and 4. 1 by itself is a subset. So is 2 by itself, and on and on. The largest “subset” is all five numbers, and then there is the empty set, which includes nothing at all, but still qualifies as a set.

I wonder: Do you see where I'm going with this, theologically? To put a word to it, I'm a multitheticalist. That means I'm an atheist, including Buddhism and Humanism – either a system of religious belief that doesn't consider any god, or a religious belief that specifically denies that a god exists. And I'm a theist. And a monotheist at that – including each of the various descriptions of “the one God” written by leaders such as Moses, Zoroaster, Jesus, Paul of Tarsus, and Mohammad. And I’m a polytheist, to the degree that I can learn about the many Hindu gods, and the pantheons of Greek and Roman deities. And I'm a pantheist, a panentheist, and even an animist.

“But which of those do you believe,” I hear my 20 year old fundamentalist self demand of me. “You have to believe something!” And I do. I believe that it's impossible to know anything about the divine, so that might lead one to label me as an agnostic. But agnostic is too simple a term, without sufficient examination of the complexity of meaning at play here.

In a fluid bedrock kind of way, I've come to appreciate that anything carried with words is metaphor – it's meaning attributed to physical happenings and existences. But in telling stories about the world, by necessity, we are mapping from the ultimate reality into stories that we believe, to help us make sense of the world. That mapping simplifies complex things however. It distorts events to fit into recognizable frameworks. This mapping deletes things because telling the whole truth in all its complexity would mean recreating the whole universe. And the mapping that accompanies systems of belief also generalizes things, turning them into archetypes, stereotypes, and symbols within our stories.

Knowing all that, choosing just one belief is like being stranded on an island and choosing only one book, or one album, or one type of food. Or one thing for my mind and spirit to ingest. Therefore, I'm a multitheticalist (from “multi-thesis”) – or holding several theses in balance all at once, and keeping them open for critical evaluation. My free and responsible search for truth and meaning demands this of me.

But it's not just about belief. It's about the heart. When I first got into this, God told me that it was going to be my heart on the line. But like Jonah, I escaped for a while. I escaped into concepts and theories, and reveled in wonderment at the opportunity to examine the “Big Picture,” (whatever size that actually is). But going beyond means coming back. That's the responsible part of the search. Even with all the angels and demons I’ve collected along my journey, I still feel inadequate to tell my prophetic story. All I know is that for everyone out there with messages (either to deliver from your mind through your voice, or to your mind from your senses), we're cut from the same cloth as those other prophets, especially when we can see beyond the boundaries of our cultural contexts. With all my agnosticism, that is a story I do know.

But what's a prophet to tell? Ideally, I'd light up a cigarette, strap on a guitar, and sing for you, about you, and with you. Why use this gracious gift of breath just to expound on so much theology, or to craft something that compels people to action, but what action? There are SO MANY of them!

There's the age-old practice of taking moral stances on issues:

Or budgetary concerns like:


I feel like I could (and very well might) speak to these things from the pulpit every week. It just goes round and round, like wheels in icy slush in March in Minnesota. I want to put sand down under the tires. I want to dig out to the concrete below the ice and get some traction! I want to be primal, to recognize it's not just about squeezing out words as breath flows out past my vocal cords. Text and speech is necessary, but so insufficient. I want to put out that all-too-necessary barbaric “yop” -- I'm ALIVE!!!!! And I hope you do too.

I have to do that. When my God speaks (all of them, and none of them, and one of them), it's through me. See, I'm one of those Multithetical Universalists who believes in radical uncertainty. Our salvation is all tied up together in this boat named Earth, and there is no fate but that which we make. This world is so beautiful, and yet so fragile. One of my versions of God is where I am the creator born into creation to walk upon this beautiful blue-green planet I have made, and I weep and marvel all at once at the horror and the beauty of the upside-downness side by side with the right-side-upness. Because like it or not, humanity has declared dominion here. Now, they/we will get credit or blame for whatever is to come. The blame or credit goes not to God, or ancient prophecies – only to humanity's insistence in those gods and prophecies. Demanding that theirs be the true version, and arguing over details in their stories of divinity and prophecy.

Because we have a preponderance of new prophets, telling the story clearly and honestly, from really recent and accurate knowledge about this world and our relationship within it. Yet there is almost no need for prophets now. The story of the condition of our cultures and our planet now comes to us ever more clearly. Humans have to close their ears, eyes, and minds to avoid the trumpets call. In Zoroastrianism, the job of the Saoshyant, or final judge at the end of the age or world, is simply to point that out. In essence saying “Open your eyes. Look around you! There is your prophecy, and my work is done here.” But its not as easy as that, since peoples' frames mask the full truth, until truth's complexities start to pull open the frames. But the process is soooo slow. After all, wasn't it 2000 years ago that Jesus said, “Those who have ears, let them hear...”? It's slow, but it's coming.

There's more to the story. In my rear-view mirror, I have all these memories of the heavens and hells my mind has visited, to bring me here. In my dreams, I've seen chariots and thrones, and so many apocalyptic futures, like the beatific utopian heaven-on-earth that my inner voice compels me to co-create. I do hope one day to write a utopian sci-fi drama. On the other hand, some of those memories of potential futures are outright hellish. I won't go into detail, but those dreams had people in the grayest darkest cavernous pits, stepping on those below them to try to climb out, but always being stepped on from above by someone else. Even those highest up were still in the pit. With nobody ever reaching down to lend a hand. And then there's the bittersweet end, somewhere in between. Where the world plods through, suffering for centuries or millennia because of the damage we've done to our planet and each other.

So, what saves us? Our actions do. Which are influenced by the thoughts and words that compose our world-views. Our actions influenced by our beliefs, with all their tendencies to distort, delete, and generalize. That is why I'm preaching multitheticalism today. It seeks to open wide to any possibility, evaluating it while finding ways to enrich worldviews. But it has one big drawback. It takes a lot of time. It's heavy, and it's slow to come into the light.

It's slow, like the photons inside the sun.


chant/prayer/mantra: For energy to deliver this well.


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Monday, February 23, 2009

 

Some other people's thoughts on music and nature, along with my own...

While looking up a John Cage quote, I came across this page, with several interesting things to say about sound, music, musicians, and other stuff.

The two notable ones that made me most want to link to it are:
[ David Sanjek on music fans who value the tragic stories of dysfunctional musicians]: "The word 'schadenfreude' grants these lookyloos way too much dignity."
and 

[On why he {Stephin Merritt} subverts genres]: "Because I'm embarrassed." (He added that this is also why Andy Warhol did everything the way he did.)

[On the difference between shame and embarrassment]: "You can talk about embarrassment. You cannot talk about shame."


And here's my 5-minute presentation for class tomorrow on "Why I Love the Sound of Music" (It may be a little fluffy in tone, but I stand by it as one of my truths.)

To me, all sound is musical in some way or another. According to musician John Cage, “Everything we do is music. And everywhere is the best seat.” While some sounds – the blaring repetition of a car alarm or the too-loud hum of a laptop's fan – do still qualify as music to me in the way John Cage describes, they're not the kind I like. Those sounds make me mad, because they are created from principles that mar the natural music of life. The car alarm was intentionally designed to cut through the baseline sounds introducing cacophony, and not blending with the beauty around it, just squawking. And the whir of computers, refrigerators, and the constant sound of the freeway's stream of cars are unfortunate byproducts of our culture's design that raise the noise floor, obscuring our ability to more perfectly perceive nature's music.

Frequently, I will clap my hands together when I walk into a new and interesting space. I clap not really for the purpose of dispelling evil spirits, as is the belief in some cultures, but rather just to hear the acoustic signature. Every location has an acoustic signature, but I imagine many people do not fully note the beauty of this. A hand-clap is a short, sharp sound with such a quick “attack” that it manages to carry many different frequencies of pressure waves as it propagates outward to any boundaries, where it will then bounce around before returning to the clapper's ears. At sea level, the sound's pressure wave will travel at 1100 feet/second, which means that in a cathedral like St. Mary's on Geary in San Francisco or the Cathedral of Christ the Light just north of Lake Merritt in Oakland, the sound may travel 100 feet to a wall or ceiling, then return two-tenths of a second later.

Actually, there will be the direct sound that only takes a millisecond to go the one foot from your hands to your ears, then there is the first echo, then there will be multiple echoes as the sound waves bounce back and forth. The sound is damped partially by the total distance it must travel through the air, and also by the surfaces of the walls or trees or ground as they absorb the sound. A simple example of this how is a wall made of carpet in Elvis' basement will absorb much more sound than the tiles in your bathroom. Actually, the reverberation is one of the reasons people like so much to sing in the shower. That, and the fact that the noise floor created by the shower's spray kind of covers up those off-key notes....

But even the off-key singing I like. I had a voice teacher explain to me that you want to sing each note right on key instantly, but many singers' nature is to start the note slightly flat if its in the upper registers and then sort of slide into the right pitch a fraction of a second later. To me, that's part of what is called the “attack” or the onset of a musical note. The next part is the decay, which is the portion of a note where the “voice” tapers off. This voice can be a human voice, a hammered piano string, a bowed viola string, a horn's honk, a plucked guitar string, or something entirely synthetic. Each instrument has its own unique [act with hands] attack, decay, sustain, and release.

More importantly to me is the timbre of the sound, spelled with an “i” but pronounced with an “a.” Timbre is the quality of the overtones as they relate to the fundamental pitch. Say you pluck a low E on a guitar string, you will also hear harmonics resonate at various amplitudes. There is a harmonic that occurs at half the length of the string and sounds an octave higher than the fundamental. Another harmonic occurring at 2/3rd the length of the string is the perfect fifth, and so on. Synthesizers, with their abilities of sculpting harmonic levels, feeding back, and applying low-frequency oscillators, are able to create any sound imaginable. You may play a note on an instrument, but the sound that comes out may be entirely different, depending on the timbre. With the right settings, a single note can be made to sound like a chord, or may just sound like something many people may not associate with music at all....

There's much more to say about all that's beautiful about sound, but I will just leave it at that, saying that the music to me in life is how our notes resonate and reverberate and resound. So,... Send your sound out there, and see which frequencies it resonates on, and find out how long it takes to come back.



lyrics: Something in Turkish off of a song called "Haydi Kolkola" by Grup Yorum off of The Rough Guide to Turkey

colors: 430,000,000,000,000 Hz (red) to 750,000,000,000,000 Hz (violet)

mood: Okay.

chant/prayer/mantra: May all our sound be a chorus.


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Friday, February 6, 2009

 

Michael Phelps caught smoking from a bong

So uber-champion of swimming Michael Phelps had a picture of him smoking from a bong end up in a newspaper. And now lots of his sponsors are dropping his contract, including Kellogg's and Subway -- corporations which enjoy business from people who smoke marijuana. Perhaps they and the other folks trying to slap his wrist really are doing it because he should be a role model for kids, perhaps they're doing it because they don't want to be associated with marijuana because of family-goodness perceptions they want to keep alive.

There is a lot I would add to this discussion, but apparently, there are many professional journalists saying pretty much the same thing. Note a few of the headlines of the Related Blogs section from the page linked above (I will add my comments in []'s):

The simple way of saying this is that the context is being presented as if Michael Phelps spending some of his downtime in an altered state of consciousness cannot be allowed as a part of our worldview. For Christ's sake -- and I do mean that literally -- shaman and spiritual guides have been smoking and snorting herbs and such for thousands of years. When can we get real about drug policy, and get real about having a system of laws based on a deep and grounded ethical morality, and put people (and the planet) before ideologies?


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Friday, December 12, 2008

 

Oooooga!

Well, I'm exhausted. I'm writing a 25 page paper for the "Christ, Krishna, Buddha: Towards a New Theology of Divine Embodiment" course, and it's been trying. I've been resisting doing it, and getting enough done at each stage to make it come into being, but it's been DIFFICULT, as if I'm taking the resistive energy from ancient sources. The paper is supposed to plum the depths of ontological grounding, and the nature of the flux between ultimate reality and the story we (as experiencing subjects) tell about it. It's due today at 5 pm. I hope it's done by then, and not too slipshod... I've got several good sources to draw from, and the quotes already pulled into an outline, and I've been chewing down the outline into the written sections.

lyrics:
The sun burned hot, it burned my eyes
Burned so hot I thought I'd died
Thought I'd died and gone to hell
Lookin' for the water from a deeper well
I went to the river but the river was dry
I fell to my knees an I looked to the sky
I looked to the sky and the spring rain fell
I saw the water from a deeper well
-Emmylou Harris, Deeper Well

colors: Green, Red, Brown, and White (trying to get into the Xmas spirit, don't ya know?)
In other news, we found an artificial Christmas tree still in-box, with a tag saying "free" on it, sitting on the corner the other evening while we were walking the dog. It looks just fine in our living room.

mood: Soul-tired.

chant/prayer/mantra: Simply for strength, for myself, to finish this paper. And for all the others who need to finish papers, now or in the future.


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Thursday, September 25, 2008

 

Fritz Eichenberg's Woodcuts

Ever since I saw the woodcut engravings in Dostoevsky's "Grand Inquisitor", I've loved Fritz Eichenberg's work. Especially the folly pieces, most especially "The Folly of the Popes," which feels especially applicable given that the last four weeks of my Christ, Krishna, Buddha class have been focused on Patristic Christology.

I wonder how many people starved in the streets, or were nailed up while they were debating details on the structure of the body, spirit, nature, and origin of Christ and the Logos. Me, I always thought the function of Christ was the important part, perhaps to the degree that the Christology (what's our savior look like) seems a lot more like soteriology (how are we saved)


lyrics: "I don't care if their teeth are big. I don't care if their legs are big. I don't care if her hair is a wig. Why waste time looking at the waistline? First, I look at the purse." - First I look at the Purse, by Contours

colors: black and white

mood: how about that economy crashing down? i kind of thought it would be 1-3 years further down -- perhaps the u.s. government will be able to fend it off this time.

chant/prayer/mantra: may we look beyond all of our human constructions, and realize the true nature of all our resources.


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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Tuesday, September 2, 2008

 

A dream from the other night

I often have freaky dreams, and they don't bug me too much. In fact, I find them to be very inspirational sometimes. I had a very freaky dream the other night.

In this dream, I was a private in the military (complete with haircut I'm pretty sure), down on some military base in a hot climate. I was in a large reinforced concrete bathroom, emptying my bladder, when an earthquake happened. It seemed to go on for about 20 seconds, and I had found a less-than-clean place on the floor where I thought I'd be relatively safe. As it was fading and we were worrying about aftershocks, there was another soldier about ten feet away over by the sinks, singing (to reassure himself), "We are chariots. We are chariots. We are bizarre chariots. We're going to make it out of this world."

Wow. I woke up around 4:00am, and using my best drowsy voice got a recording of what he sang. I'm so glad I've got that little voice recorder. Anyway, if you combine the above-linked understanding of chariot with this blog entry from a while ago, and this recent tattoo post (the symbolism and pragmatic semiotics, not the picture itself) on the bmemodblog, I'm not sure exactly what to make of it, but it must mean something...


lyrics: "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound...."

colors: burnt,white, and blue

mood: steady, and ready

chant/prayer/mantra: may we all be, and be loosely connected.


pax hominibus,
agape to all,
joel

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