It is a Strange Thing to Write in Harmony

April 19th, 2011   by   Andrew

This weekend I attended a funeral. It was held in an Anglican church that looked small on the outside but vast and spacious on the inside. One part of the service, The Commendation, used the following passage:

Yet even at the grave we make our song.

This reminded me of the draft below and made me think of editing it a little.

Last week Leah posted a TED talk from John Lloyd about the invisible. Basically, he says:

The more you look at something, the more it disappears. But, the most important things in life are things you can’t see.

This made me think of my unfinished draft also. Our use of sight, and our addiction to sight, means we analyze and cut and segment things until they disappear. However, the presence of sound stirs at us, tugs at something within our very core. With sight, we disappear and things become more complex; with sound, we are present and we listen or join in.

So I got to editing again.

The title and first draft came a few months ago while I was going through Rifkin’s The Empathic Civilization.

Due to later conversations with George and with Joshua, I had returned to it and edited it. I think at this point I better hit publish, or else I might just edit it down to nothing at all…

It is a Strange thing to Write in Harmony

by Andrew Gilchrist


It is a strange thing to write in harmony.

Twin pens poised,
Scratching away at syncopated counterpoints.

But to strum or sing or beat a rhythm
Together,
That is not a strange thing.
That is the point. That is the defiant song against still life.
Call to others to listen and experience,
To join and participate,
Embrace,
Become one with song,
Echo the great moment
Together, hold it amongst ourselves as long as we can,
For such rebellions, such rejoicing,
Should not die.
Sound fills.
Sound breathes.
Sound embodies.

But to write is to dissect, to disarticulate.
Knowledge comes by the cut.
To put subject first
Then separate
From object.
Sight extends,
Exacting the subtle knife.
Remove and reflect
In isolation.
Distance the one from the all,
Cling righteously to an unpossessive point
of view,
And decline the enchantment of communion.
Sight is singular, diminishing because of it.
Sight cuts.
Sight separates.
Sight withdraws.

Should we try and hold back that abyss?
With sensory delusions, chemical mockeries, mechanized phenomena,
we can refute and collapse, all and one,
in that all too persistent vanishing point.

And you lose us in the periphery.

What would sound say of periphery?

It is a strange thing to write in harmony.

Twinned pens synchronized,
Scratching only a promise of consummation.

I resent your promise,
I miss your presence.

Yes,
I would love to hear your song.

[softly edited, Sept. 5 - still a little worried about that middle part]

What do you think?

I might make an audio version of this and include it.

How can the point come across in the visual medium?

*Sigh. *


The Rack of Lamb

October 11th, 2010   by   Andrew

I wrote this maybe more than ten years ago and never really finished it. There were some problems with the rhythm. It’s very tempting to just call it a song and be done with it. Music has all these wonderful, creative cheats built into it like ghost notes and pick-up notes and triplets, so you can pretty much make anything work in some way, shape or form.

It’s very much a male story, and I was going for a juvenile male voice. In many ways now I look at the Jewish-Christian-Muslim tradition as a long narrative of men trying to figure out or justify their place in society. I thought it might be a good contrast to my work with Bruce Sanguin, since he makes the call for Sophia, Lady Wisdom, to take a place of high importance in his own Christianity.

My dad used this once in a sermon for an illustration. I probably should have gone to hear what he had to say. Typical son, not listening to Father when he should…

The Rack of Lamb

by Andrew Gilchrist, 1999-ish, edited 2010

Barabbas was our ram
But even he was not enough
We had to have the lamb
Only that would be enough

Even Adam lost a son
To a sacrifice and sin
Cain said now I’m the only one
What suffering did I win

God came and put his mark
Sacrifice the face of Cain
All could see who did this work
And who suffered the pain

Abraham went up the hill
With Isaac and tears in tow
Committed to this mighty will
Abe, how were you to know

Abe was willing to sacrifice
And Isaac would have to suffer then
But it was said that ram will suffice
And they’d try not to sin again

Go and suffer if you please
With pride sacrifice your son
For country, god, highest duty
I’m sure salvation will be won

Barabbas was our ram
But our suffering so grim
That we had to have the lamb
A sacrifice for giving him

Only seeing sacrifice
Won’t end the suffering then
How could I think it would suffice
When I want to sin again

If I expect the son from father
But only sacrifice will I make
Then I’ll be damned and I’ll suffer
As much as I can take

Sacrifice, we think, we need
And so we look the other way
Suffering, the victims plead
I smile, it wasn’t me today

And so I suffer joyfully
And savour this roast of lamb
The meat is tender, truthfully
I’ve never tasted ram

If I am only but a child
Then that is how I’ll act
Father make me hungry while
We put more lamb on the rack

So, what do you think?



Returning to Leonard Cohen

May 14th, 2010   by   Andrew

Last night I was eating my rice and salmon and flipping through channels when I stumbled upon Ladies and Gentlemen… Mr. Leonard Cohen. It is a kind of documentary/interview with the man in the grand ol’ time of the mid-60s. (45 minutes of black and white! And not just for effect!)

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It’s funny, you know, but we used to stumble upon stuff all the time, but now when we do it there is an official sanctioning in place because of interwebbing. We used to dig things, if you dig, but again that’s the old form, daddy-o. Today, we digg.

I’m just saying that we haven’t changed the meaning so much. We are just starting to change the ritual.

Anyway, I was really happy to get this little reminder from the old tech tv (does it even get capitalized anymore?) because I didn’t really know what to do for Friday’s post. That’s how I remembered  Leonard is always there for me.

Some time ago I posted Curing, a mash-up of some my ideas over a Cohen song. Today I present for your view and commentary, another mash-up. And as I asked before, what song do you figure this is inspired by?

Crossing

By Andrew Gilchrist, with cred to Cohen

And you want to travel with him
you want to travel blind
and you think maybe you’ll trust him
For he’s touched your perfect body
with his mind
-  Leonard Cohen

I was born like this, I had no choice.
- Leonard Cohen

I hear you now, a strong voice from the tower,
I sit in the alley, patient head bowed lower.
Desperation, longing, I want to understand,
The practice is over and you excuse the band.

Says one man from his lonely tall tower,
You see a drowning man but I can see a sailor.
But down the track there stands another tower,
Where a woman and a memory can make of you a singer.

The angels tied you down to a table you say,
Or was it at the crossroads of a Holy Roman Causeway?
You see there is something I feel I need to know:
How do you speak so sweetly from your window?

That Sistine sailing ship called Bounty, State or Splendour,
Has saved a man or two from the drowning water.
This Sistine oil tanker with righteousness in tow,
Stains like a bug smeared on the reflection of a window.

Tower of the Broken G-d and Tower of Song,
What did you get from suffering so long?
I guess you already know, anyone could have told you,
It can get pretty lonely if you’ve got that kind of view.

She is still, she is longing, holding up that mirror,
Telling you it’s taller than any vaulted tower,
You can see the bridges burning deep in the reflection,
And the poor keep selling off the license to their station.

Can you build a bridge that makes a cross over the water,
High enough to let pass any sailing ship or tanker?
Could anyone direct such a traffic jam from above,
The water and the mirror, the causeway and the tower?
Did you see this coming like lovers too close together?
Can you see the crossroads being built by love?

Then you ached and your hair turned grey.
Have you travelled too long on your Holy Roman Causeway?
You see there is something I feel I need to know:
Is this why your voice sounds so sweet from your window?

This Sistine sailing ship can glorify the water,
That Sistine oil tanker can make a mess of the mirror.
On reflection that bridge better be built on something strong,
To hold the traffic of a causeway and a mighty tower of song.

Sail on, sail on, sail on…
- Leonard Cohen

When you’ve fallen on the highway
and you’re lying in the rain,
and they ask you how you’re feeling
of course you say you can’t complain-
- Leonard Cohen

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All blessings! Have a good weekend!


Ash Wednesday and Lent — T.S. Eliot Style

February 19th, 2010   by   Andrew

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I’m not a practicing Christian, if that is the best description for the exercise. It seems appropriate, since the pursuit does need a lot of practice and carries a lot of lessons.

But all the same, I can’t deny the influence it has upon me. I just want to add to it’s ongoing conversation.

More devout Christians have entered into the serious time of Lent. This is a curious part of the calendar with ancient rituals such as fasting, abstinence (from the  eating of meatahem) and repentance for being human.

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Now, each of these three activities has a purpose of course. Religious people wouldn’t just take part in a ritual for no reason, would they? That would be putting the ritual before the purpose. Unless, I guess, the ritual is the purpose. Hmm. Maybe I better let that lie.

But here’s a thought that came to me this week — aren’t all of these things, in a sense, modern fads now?

Seriously.

1. Fasting — there is a huge push right now for body cleansing, liquid diets, getting your inside metabolism balanced, etc. etc. There’s a new product or new book on the market every week designed to make your insides work better.

We are preparing our bodies inside and out through meditations and poultices and potions in efforts to have better bodies, minds and energy levels.

2. Abstinence from eating meat — Just this month I was introduced to the term ‘vaguetarianism‘. This is someone that wants to have an ethical diet, but isn’t necessarily militant about things. If something was cooked with chicken broth, well that’s ok. Is there egg in that? That’s all right, I’ll just have a little bit.

We are thinking about what we consume, and what responsibilities  and consequences are involved in our diets.

3. Repentance – in spite of all our efforts, we still don’t have the hang of things. We sort of do, but we still do funny things, and our vain actions kick up a lot of dust that keep us from seeing the world as it is. And so we have to put ourselves in check and make sure we’re cool with the world and others around us.

We are in constant symbiotic need with one another, and for that to work we have to forgive each other. From that point, we can get together to work on all the other stuff that needs our attention.

This has been a little more preachy than what I wanted, so I’m going to hand over the controls to T.S. Eliot. I’m more of a fan of Eliot’s The Waste Land, but it’s a little too dark and moody. And since he did write a poem entitled Ash Wednesday, well it’s just way too fitting.

I will only use the ending though.

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices

In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices

And the weak spirit quickens to rebel

For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell

Quickens to recover

The cry of quail and the whirling plover

And the blind eye creates

The empty forms between the ivory gates

And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth

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This is the time of tension between dying and birth

The place of solitude where three dreams cross

Between blue rocks

But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away

Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

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Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,

Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood

Teach us to care and not to care

Teach us to sit still

Even among these rocks,

Our peace in His will

And even among these rocks

Sister, mother

And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,

Suffer me not to be separated

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And let my cry come unto Thee.

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Oh, ok I can’t help myself. I’m going to quote the last bits from The Waste Land as well.

Datta. Dayadvham. Damyata.

Shantih shantih shantih.


The Jesus Christ Experience — Inspired by Jimi Hendrix

February 12th, 2010   by   Andrew

Today’s post is a real mash of ideas that have been sloshing around in my brain for a few weeks. I was browsing through other blogs and came across a comment that went something like,

“I’ve never really experienced Jesus in my life.”

This got me thinking about the Jimi Hendrix Experience, and especially the line,

“Have you ever been experienced?”

Now, Jimi might have been talking about something else, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling this idea had to be taken a little farther…

Would it not be wicked cool to put together a band called the Jesus Christ Experience?

The band could cover all of Jimi’s classics, but vamp them up a little with the Jesus message. Glorious guitar solos, bombarding bass runs and driving drum rhythms!

Here’s my first attempt at some new lyrics for the old experience (to Voodoo Child):

Bible Child!

(revamped by Andrew Gilchrist with woots to Jimi)

God stands up next to my mountain
Ohh, my big dark rocky mountain of sin!
Yeah!
Well, God stands up next my mountain
And God chops it down with the edge of his hand!
Then picks up the pieces and makes a paradise land,
And says, try not to sin again!
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Cause I’m a do-good child
Lord knows I’m a do-good child
.
I didn’t mean to do those nasty things
So I’m gonna give my time to those in need!
Oh yeah!
I didn’t mean to do all those nasty things
So I’ll give by helping my community!
Oh yeah!
If I don’t meet you no more in this world then, uh
I’ll meet ya on up in heaven!
Don’t be late
Jesus is meeting us for a date!
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Cause I’m a do-good child
Lord knows I’m a do-good child
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I’m a do-good child baby
I pray to find my answers!
Yeah!
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(my first attempt at a shopped

pic, I think the other one

came out much better)

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I might try a few more pics, I don’t know.
Wouldn’t that be a sweet concert, though?


Poetry Disguises Bull$#%&

February 3rd, 2010   by   Andrew

… with more bull&%$#?

I’ve been snooping around the blogs of a few other people. One particularly talented guy by the name of Chris Clarke has being putting together some interesting droplets of nourishment from the Mojave Desert. His blog is called Coyote Crossing and he’s written a neat little piece on poetry here.

It looks like it was inspired by another blogger, Dana. I don’t know her that well yet but from what I’ve seen she’s got some force with words as well. She has put together a list with her friends and followers on why poetry is bull%^$#. I’m trying to keep my language clean, but she doesn’t, so fair warning (oh yea, and same goes for Chris).

I don’t think poetry is.

True, most of my attempts at poetry ended in abandoned scribblings, but a strange thing has happened to me with this blog. New evidence has come to light. If I put up poetry, people seem to check it out. It’s still too early to consider this clinical proof, of course. But I’m tempted to hypothesize that poetry gets me attention.

My bull$%@# usually inspires rolls of the eyes or some brand of condescending apathy from friends and family. But if people read my poetry, maybe there is hope.

I saw the movie Invictus last week. And I looked up the poem. It is poetry that can drag someone out of the bull$%&#, and raise someone’s chin out of the bull&%$#. It is a poem that kept Nelson Mandela, a human being in most regards, from thinking that it was all bullshit.

Invictus

By William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

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In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

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Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

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It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

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Yea, it’s somebody else’s. But Morgan Freeman recites it, and his voice can make anything profound.

So, what do you think? Is it all…?

(I gotta get back to Dana’s blog now, dig into the revelations.)