Tag: St. Alban’s

Both Sides Now

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for confusion, and a time for understanding.  
                                                    –Ecclesiastes 3

(Ok, I admit the last line is mine, but I think King Solomon would approve.)

The opposite of a correct statement is a false statement. But the opposite of a profound truth may well be another profound truth. – Danish physicist Niels Bohr

A book about math and science that a friend recommended as highly readable had been languishing on my bedside table for a couple of years now.  I can’t begin to explain why I picked it up as my “beach reading” for a quick trip to Florida a few weeks ago, but The Universe and the Teacup by K.C. Cole had me with its subtitle: The Mathematics of Truth and Beauty.  The author suggested ways that the realm of physics offers us the opportunity to understand how we might avoid those often impossible choices between one valid truth and another.  Not mourning or dancing, but times for mourning and dancing.  Seeing different truths gives us a deeper insight into a problem, just as mourning and dancing offer us a fuller understanding of life.  Cole gives the example of light – at once a wave and a particle.  Life, she reminds us, can be explained by biology as much as by novels and poetry.  Or as Joni Mitchell wrote, clouds are ice cream castles in the air one moment and the next, simply something that block the sun.

Both Sides Now – Joni Mitchell

A young friend gave me permission to share excerpts from an opinion piece she wrote for her high school newspaper recently.  I was moved by her ability to articulate the practicality of impracticality.  That doctors and poets are equally responsible for moving humanity forward in our search for understanding.

So We Beat On: Why Art Matters by Sophia Higgins

Here’s the truth: Life isn’t fair.  Or perfect, or quantifiable by any metric.  There are people who live under bridges and in war zones and with heroin addicts for parents.  People are unequal and things often don’t go as planned.  That’s just the way things are.  We exist to alleviate suffering…Doctors and the Mother Teresa’s of the world keep us living…but there’s still a group of people whose purpose is not so clear.  Of what use is the poet, the musician, the painter?  Poetry doesn’t keep you alive.  A song can’t cure disease.  Art is what we survive for…it finds meaning beyond the suffering…connecting people in the most basic expressive way, [creating something that touches] you despite a gap of space and time.

Art is pointless

The fact that a “theory of everything” in physics remains elusive just might reveal the limitations of having any single point of view.  Perhaps understanding requires us to stay open to contrasting perspectives and truths.  K.C. Cole, in The Universe and the Teacup quotes 20th century theoretical physicist Victor Weisskopf:

What’s beautiful in science is that same thing that’s beautiful in Beethoven.  There’s fog of events and suddenly you see a connection.  It expresses a complex of human concerns that goes deeply to you, that connects things that were always in you that were never put together before.

Symmetry and proportions are often our guides through the fog as we search for meaning and beauty. As Cole writes, “symmetry therefore lends a satisfying concreteness to the vague sense that there is beauty in truth, and truth to beauty.” Could the symmetry of seeming opposites create different perspectives and definitions which take us to those deep truths we yearn to understand?

Peace,

Sonya

Where I’ll be:

April 17 – Church of the Redeemer, 6201 Dunrobbin Drive, Bethesda MD, playing for their 10:30 am service

April 24 – performing L’enfant prodigue, Debussy’s one-act opera, with Mary Shaffran, James Shaffran and Andrew Brown, at Bradley Hills Presbyterian Church, Bethesda, 7:30 p.m. ($15 suggested donation)

 *   *   *   *   *

This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway. More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of new connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested. You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment. If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much to be grateful for.

 

 

 

 

Joy in Sadness

You’ve probably heard music written in a minor key that ends with a final major chord which lands on the ears like a ray of sunshine coming through the clouds. That kind of moment in music is known as a Picardy third – taking a minor chord and raising the middle note to create a major chord – and it certainly has a place in music-making.  Sadness to cheerfulness.  A happy ending.

Recently, while preparing Bach’s Fantasy and Fugue in G Minor, BWV 542 for a concert, I found myself grinning during a particularly favorite passage near the end of the fugue. I felt such joy shining through the minor key.

Sun through cloudsIt’s not a big step for most of us to think about the possibility of joy coming after sadness goes away.  I think we have a harder time thinking about experiencing joy IN sadness. Not so much finding that the dark clouds have moved away and the sun is back in full force, but those magical times when diffused rays of sun come through the dark clouds.  Perhaps when someone we love has died and we are mourning their loss, yet feeling grateful at the same time that they were ever part of our lives. Or when someone we trust betrays us, feeling fortunate to have new insights into what true friendship looks like in contrast.  Perhaps something doesn’t work out the way we hope, yet we have enough wisdom to find gladness in the possibilities of our future.

In yoga, a set of principles known as niyamas offer the prescription of santosha as a way of finding joy through contentment with what is.  Not what could or should be, but an embrace of the place where we are now.  Dark clouds and all.

I am no Pollyanna about finding rays of sun through the darkest clouds.  It would be unrealistic, not to mention unkind, to expect victims of tragedy to find joy in their pain. Maybe, just maybe, in that case we can find ways to be the diffused light so desperately needed by others in our world.  It seems like very little, yet perhaps we can simply cling to what makes us human by continuing to pursue understanding and beauty.  And that brings me back to Bach’s great fugue in G minor, even ending, as it does, with a Picardy third. 

Here is what this Holy Week holds for me:  playing for a Maundy Thursday service at Episcopal High School in Alexandria, attending the Good Friday service at Washington National Cathedral, and for the first and perhaps only time ever, worshiping  with my husband on Easter Sunday, also at Washington National Cathedral.  Having experienced Holy Week in some sense already this year, I am grateful to learn that I still care about being in church and am gingerly walking my way through the Triduum.

Peace,

Sonya

This blog represents my attempt to put thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway.  More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of new connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested.  You can simply subscribe (look for the “Subscribe” button at the top of the post) to get a reminder of new posts, or you can register with a user name and password in order to comment.  If a community conversation comes out of this, all the better. We have so much to share and so much to be grateful for.

Seven Divided by Three

A composer-friend wrote a piece for me a few weeks ago.  A lovely choral work that sets the Easter text by Charles Wesley, Love’s redeeming work is done.  My friend, Rob Lehman, thought the text would bring some comfort during a difficult time in my life, and having friendship take the form of a new creation was deeply moving.  An early Easter present:

Love’s redeeming work is done, fought the fight, the battle won, Death in vain forbids him rise; Christ has opened paradise.

Lives again our glorious King; where, O death, is now thy sting? Once he died our souls to save, where thy victory, O grave?

Soar we now where Christ has led, following our exalted Head; made like him, like him we rise, ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

I had told Rob a few years ago that I loved pieces in 7/8 time, and he promptly wrote a sparkling setting of the wonderful 19th century American text, How can I keep from singing, for me…in 7/8 time of course.  When I called to thank him for this new work a few weeks ago, I reflected on why 7/8 is so appealing to me, wondering aloud if it is because performing a piece in 7/8 time requires a musician to divide seven into three parts – albeit three unequal parts.  2+2+3 or 3+2+2 or even 2+3+2.   We know the importance of three in our thinking.   Spiritually it’s the Trinity of Father, Son and Holy Ghost.  Personally it might be the trinity of friends, family and work that makes claims on our time and affection.  The power of three makes itself known in all kinds of ways in our lives. The three little pigs…Goldilocks and the three bears… three people walked into a bar…bad things happen in threes.

But 7/8 time is the reminder that the three parts of something are never equally present at any given time.  Spiritually, there are times when we walk more closely with the Son, depend more on the Father, or are more aware of the Holy Spirit working in our lives. Certainly, friends and family and work play unequal roles at various points in our life. Which isn’t to say we don’t need a balance of these three parts, just that they can’t be equally important at any given moment.

I wrote about 7/8 years ago, describing the dance I felt inherent in that time signature. Not a waltz, or any other kind of dance you would see in the ballroom, but a dance where varying parts are made into a whole. A woman responded, then, writing that she had multiple sclerosis and nothing made her happier than being held by her husband as they danced together in graceful awkwardness. That’s why I love 7/8 time.

 *  *  *  *  *

Where I’ll be:

Sunday, March 13

first…Bradley Hills Presbyterian Church, substitute organist for their 10:30 am service and then…Chevy Chase Presbyterian Church’s annual Bach Marathon which runs from 2:00-7:00.  I’ll be playing two of my favorite preludes and fugues during the 4:30-5:00 time slot.

This blog represents an attempt to continue putting thoughts together on various things that seem to connect – in my mind anyway!  More often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this page inspires all kinds of new connections between old and new.

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested, and if a community conversation comes out of it, all the better.  We have so much to share and so much to be grateful for.

Peace,
Sonya

 

Getting Off the Ground

More love and kindness.  I just heard a presidential candidate say those words, and I’m not often so completely in agreement with any politician.  After getting knocked down, a little love and kindness go a long way in someone’s life. Having been knocked down myself recently, it meant a great deal to me to have people show so much kindness in their support of my effort to get this new blog off the ground and I thank those who read last week’s inaugural Notes for New Day.

This is not really a Notes for a New Day posting.  I’ll be writing every other week, with a piece called Seven Divided by Three coming out on March 10.  Meanwhile, I’m continuing to reach out to anyone who might be interested in reading my musings on the ways that the arts, spirituality and life intersect.

Interestingly, I played last weekend for the Atlas Performing Arts Center’s Intersections Festival 2016,  which was described as the place “where the art world and the real world intersect.”  That’s the place where I want to live and hope you’ll join me there.

This Sunday, March 6, I’ll be at St. Columba Episcopal Church with my friend, French harpist Isabelle Frouvelle.  We’ll be playing a beautiful piece for organ and harp by Marcel Grandjany as the prelude to their 11:15 service, and then, adding a Handel concerto, we’ll play as part of a program there at 2:00 (OrganPlusConcert2016). On March 13 I’ll be playing the 4:30-5:00 time slot during the annual Bach Marathon at Chevy Chase Presbyterian Church (Bach Marathon).

Love and kindness are running themes throughout Michael Moore’s new film, Where to Invade Next.  He looks abroad for ways that we, as Americans, can better respect the dignity of every human being.  Even if you’re not a fan of Moore, it’s difficult to argue with that need in this world.  He asks us to be better people.  Ones who use the tools of love and kindness to help everyone get up off the ground.

Somehow, this turned into a regular Notes for a New Day posting after all…

Peace,

Sonya

Notes for a New Day

Barbara Brown Taylor, in her 2006 book Leaving Church, wrote about her need to leave church in order to maintain a relationship with God, after a 20 year career of working in the Episcopal Church as a priest.

I recently stopped going to church as well, after a 20 year career as a church musician that never really seemed so much a career as a way of life.  I also can see the wisdom of leaving church in order to nurture a relationship with God, as awful as that initially sounds to someone who has grown up, raised a family, matured and planned to retire from a life in the church.

On my first Sunday after leaving church there was a snowstorm which happily made a decision about going to another church completely unnecessary.  Of course my husband and I wouldn’t be going anywhere that morning, but he gingerly asked, knowing my wounds were still raw, if we could have “home church.”  I painfully nodded yes, seeing that it was important to him that we do this, and he created a brief liturgy of words that began with the Collect for Purity.

I must have heard this prayer thousands of times over the course of my life, but he read the familiar words in a way that made them completely new to me.  I became aware of the words, which begin each celebration of the Eucharist, as something I was truly hearing for the first time.

Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hid

Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy holy Name;

through Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Each word of the Collect for Purity promises the comfort of an embracing love that at the same time understands and forgives and expects more of us. These are thoughts that feel like good companions during a time of leaving church, of healing, and of moving into new days that require new ways of thinking and being.

  *   *   *   *   *

This blog is a new venture for me, after 8 years of writing for another forum.  It’s an attempt to continue putting thoughts together on various things that seem to connect, at least in my mind.  I believe that more often than not new ideas first involve reaching back to what was and I can only hope that the prehistoric San cave painting at the top of this posting inspires all kinds of connections between old and new.

Also new is what I’ll be doing this weekend, February 27 and 28 – playing Spanish music for keyboard and electric guitar with the Furia Flamenca Dance Company as part of the Intersections Festival at the Atlas Performing Arts Center. Several firsts for me right there in this melding of a dance tradition that has roots in the 18th century with instruments of this century. This Saturday at 8:00 pm and Sunday at 6:00 pm. (Atlas ArtsCenter)

Or join me at St. Columba Episcopal Church on Sunday, March 6 when French harpist Isabelle Frouvelle and I will be playing the prelude to their 11:15 service and playing again that same day as part of their 2:00 concert, Organ Plus for organ and various instruments. (St. Columba)

Feel free to pass this message along to anyone who might be interested, and if a community conversation comes out of it, all the better. We have so much to share and so much to be grateful for.

Peace,
Sonya

 

 

 

 

Welcome!

Welcome to this new venture!  I will be posting every other Thursday beginning February 25th.  Topics will include music, art, poetry, and spirituality, among other general observations.  In addition, I will post about upcoming performances.  Looking forward to exploring with you!