I've Got a Little List (of Gratitude)

My friend Lucy initiated an advent calendar of gratitude for November, and I decided to participate as well. I'll update this about every five days.

1.) I am grateful for Life.
Not much else counts in this world if you're dead. Whether or not there's an afterlife, your corpse can't enjoy what pleasures and delights can be had on this planet. As the Teacher says in Ecclesiastes: 9:4-10
Anyone who is among the living has hope—even a live dog is better off than a dead lion!

5 For the living know that they will die,
but the dead know nothing;
they have no further reward,
and even their name is forgotten.
6 Their love, their hate
and their jealousy have long since vanished;
never again will they have a part
in anything that happens under the sun.

7 Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do. 8 Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil. 9 Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun—all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun. 10 Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.

2.)  I am grateful for Liberty.
What good is life if you are not free to live it as you please? These days the maxim that you are most grateful for the things you've lost is becoming more and more true, and as our freedoms erode, I can only be thankful for those I still have.

3.) I am grateful for Gratitude.
Yes, meta-gratitude. It's important, for it's a form of humility that perhaps shows the greatest strength. When you show thankfulness, you acknowledge the greatness of others, and when you receive it, it is a most wondrous feeling.

4.) I am grateful for Family.
While it is true that I look at my family (and they look at me) and wonder how I came to be, I still love them dearly. Particularly now, as I go through a difficult time in my life, I am glad that I have them around to support me (i.e. let me freeload).

5.) I am grateful for Friends.
My second family. Just like my first one, there are some who are most distant, while there are those I see all the time. And I love them all. I do not make friends quickly, for the most part, unless there is that instant connection. For I am shy and retiring, modest, and not prone to speaking (unless libations open me up). The friends I do have made it through that barrier and have access to my more inner self; ask, and I will likely tell you. They made it through only because I think they are the most wonderful people I have met, and after my recent graduation, the pang of long and frequent separation from them is most keenly felt.

6.) I am grateful for the Arts, the best being Music.
The more I think of it, the less I believe that one's physical self can live without art. I'll save myself from waxing poetic, but I'll let this article explain. 

7.) I am grateful for Literature.
My first ardent desire was to be a writer, ever since I was in the 1st grade (or kindergarten). My first story was a fable involving a pumpkin. From then to now, I've written all manner of things, even a novella that wasn't half bad (but it also wasn't half good). Now I write poetry and librettos. Literature has never been about escapism for me: if I want to escape, I prefer more immediate means like a TV or music. Rather, it is the artistic ordering of life, the vivification of the mundane and the beautification of the ugly, that I love about literature. My favorite novel, "Don Quixote," captures this best, as it isn't about a man escaping into his fantasies of knights, but dealing with the worst of life head on, the worst being Death itself.

8.) I am grateful for my Health.
Let me get it out of the way: there are plenty of things about my physical self I dislike. I am prone to heaviness, and the fat tends to collect around my waist and face; I have frequent, often hindering headaches; my eyesight isn't the best; I can tire easily; I don't think I have the best looks (though I do think I have some handsomeness). However, the most heinous issue I've had with my health was a bout of gut pains for a few weeks last summer. Otherwise, I'm doing pretty well. When I see wheelchair bound people, or hear about those for whom the hospital is a second home, I feel both pity for them and thankfulness that, despite the problems I have with my body, it still functions well enough to let me live as I would like.

9.) I am grateful for my Brain.
For most of my life I have been known as "the smart one," even though I was friends with a guy who was more worthy of that title. I have yet to understand the nature of my intellect, for there is a constant dialectic between the rational and emotional (or, a battle between what I know is right and what I think is nice), and just when I think one side is the more prominent, the other stands up and says not so fast. But whatever problems it presents, my intellect is supposedly one of my defining features, and for that I am thankful.

10.) I am grateful for Sleep.
It is pretty much the one constant part of your life where you don't have to deal with other people's BS. If you experience something in your slumbers, it is of your doing; if it is good, then try to enhance, if it is bad, try to eliminate it. One of the safest feelings I have is lying underneath all my blankets (as long as I can keep the bad thoughts away).

11.) I am grateful for Light.
Dark, dreary days can bring out my homebody ways, and I'm thankful for that, but I have a strong and sensitive reaction with light of a both concrete and abstract nature. Seasonal depression can affect me greatly during the winter, particularly when I do not have things to distract me; and I'm happier in the mornings where soft sunlight breezes into my bedroom. More often than not, light actually lessens the pain of my headaches. I love art that gives off a shimmer, has a warmth, or is otherwise bright. I have something of a personal Trinity, which is Life, Liberty, and Light, which I find links up with the Holy Trinity quite nicely, for God created us, Jesus set us free, and the Holy Spirit, to me, descends upon us as light.

11.b) I am also grateful for Night.
God saw it fit to have night within a day, so should we also not accept it? For that which is dark will fade into darkness, but that which has even a little light will still stand out, even a bit. Night therefore gives us a piercing, confirmatory perspective on what light can reveal. Plus, there is much beauty in this part of the day.

12.) I am grateful for (Real) Money.
Money makes the modern world possible. It is a step up from the barter system, whereby one could only acquire an item or service through direct trade (or making/doing it yourself), and which could only take mankind so far.
I am NOT grateful for fiat currencies, which is what has allowed many of our modern ailments, such as depraved and massive warfare, hyper-inflation, etc.

13.) I am grateful that I have too many things to be grateful for.
I would save this for Thanksgiving, but I'd probably forget. Perhaps it is also a cop-out, since I couldn't really decide on something. But there is so much that is good in my life that I do not even see it all yet; that is why we say hindsight is 20/20.

14.) I am grateful that my best friend for many years is a Jehovah's Witness.
This may be an odd thing to be grateful for, but from my friendship I learned many things:
a.) Tolerance/Acceptance.
It's one thing to know a Catholic or Lutheran - they're everywhere. But unless they are about, one doesn't meet too many Witnesses, and they are a different sort of Christian. Not that I would be a bigot now if we hadn't been friends, but in dealing with questions like why Witnesses don't celebrate Christmas, you learn that there are many ways to view things.
b.) Learning that there are many ways to view things.
If you don't know the beliefs of Witnesses, I suggest looking them up. At the least, you will get a different version of Christianity, which goes against the grain of many other denominations.
c.) Respect, and how to earn it.
Not just showing it, but earning it. My friend's parents were cautious of letting their son hang out with anyone, and it took a while for me to gain enough respect to become a trusted friend of the whole family. And in doing this, they gained my respect.
d.) Maintaining a principled stance.
Perhaps Witnesses are too rigid in their beliefs, but to paraphrase G.K. Chesterton, should we be so open in our beliefs that our brains fall out of our heads? Despite some unfortunate comments from our peers, my friend never backed down from what he thought was right.

15.) I am thankful for my Piano.
As long as I'm home, I have a friend I can talk to. He listens to me unconditionally, and when he responds, no matter how hurt or happy I am, the music is always great for the soul, and usually beautiful.

Today's Special: 6 Business Ideas (for FREE!)

I have often thought about starting my own business. Within five minutes, though, I am so overwhelmed with the thought of dealing with bureaucracy that my dreams are forever smashed. Besides, I would need another person to deal with the actual business side, the part with the numbers, quarterly sales meetings, deals, and so on, because I'm more of an idea/big picture person. My creativity is more for the product itself, not it's marketing. 

Before I start listing ideas, I think it is important to define the state of the world and what it needs at the moment. Anyone can conceive of a coffee house, but do we really need more overpriced drinks and brownies so large they look like they devoured other brownies? We must avoid "bubble companies," places like cupcakeries and Pop-Tart delicatessens which piggy-back on economic bubbles, for once the bubble has popped, so will the company. It is also important to note that the world is not America. Much of it is still only developing or lower, so what might seem run of the mill here could be a real innovation elsewhere. This means that while competition here and in Europe is dog-eat-dog, one might fit in quite easily elsewhere and quickly become prosperous. Meanwhile, what isn't developing or lower is currently hurting. The future is so dark at the moment for many first-world nations that we can barely see anything past a year, and what we do see is frightening. This is another reason to avoid frivolous things like coffee houses (unless it assured that it could work in your place; I would say, avoid New York City); people will need businesses that provides them essentials (and cheaply). They will also need, however, diversion from all the bleakness. YouTube became wildly successful for providing both, as evidenced by at one moment watching tutorials on using Microsoft Office to cat massaging. This brings me to another point: technology. Who knew we would need iPads? Steve Jobs. Facebook has become one of the most fabulously successful companies around, and in only a decade (its creation was even the basis of a good movie). Google continues its path to gobble up everything (ex. YouTube). Therefore, technology and the internet are great places to work in, if you can (here is where I would definitely be an idea man; I don't know code or how to put together a computer). Also, see if you can provide something for very little or free. The above companies do such, but they make money from other means, such as advertisement. That covers a good deal, and though I could probably point out more concerns, I will just move on to the list.

1. Self-publishing: This covers everything from creating the physical book to getting it on shelves (physical or electronic). It is relatively easy to do this these days, without the need of going to some publishing company and praying that some lower level employee won't just stow it away. Companies have arisen that don't care what your book is, but they will create the physical copies for you. Or you could make them yourself. There are now machines one can purchase at a relatively low price and, with a little extra space, one can be a micro-publisher. Then there are e-books, which eliminates the need for any publishing. Get Adobe Acrobat, and you can put finely crafted books online for people to purchase. As a composer, I myself would focus on making sheet music available. Caveat emptor: avoid pricey and ridiculous copyright schemes. Instead, get a Creative Commons license. 
2. Website of websites: There are so many websites I go to at the moment, and it can be hard to keep track of them all. Something like a blog feed would be nice. However, these sites involve constantly updated information, like new job postings, or the status of an application, or emails, and it would be nice if I had one place to go for it all. I would log on to my account on this meta-website and see all sorts of updated info for job sites, emails from various email accounts, perhaps bills that I pay online. Whatever it is that keep track of online, it could be compiled into one place for me. The problem here is security: that is a lot of information to have available at once, so maybe instead of immediate access, one could log in to each site from this one place. The meta-website can then suggest related websites that might interest the user, enhanced by being connected to one's social website (Facebook, etc.). This could go many ways
3. Social networking: It seems like Facebook has the market cornered here, but many people have begun complaining about the many changes it keeps making. Then Google devised Google+, and people have switched over. I do not use Google+, because I have no desire to at the moment and Facebook works just fine for me. However, I bet either site could still be improved upon. Facebook, after all, did completely out do that other site, MySpace, or whatever it's called (does anyone still use that?).
4. Jack-of-all-trades: Let's face it, hard times are coming, and the less you have to pay to have something done, the better. So if you can have one person do most of the tasks, then that consolidates your payment. Start a business where you hire people who can do anything and everything, from lawn care to home care, driving someone around, personal care, organizer, planner, and so on. The problem here is that much of this may require state licensing, so unless one can deal with the headaches therein involved, this may not be the best route.
5. Personal software developer: Perhaps Hector has a great idea for a computer game, and he can lay out all story lines and characters and such, but has no idea how to go about actually creating it. He's in luck, because your company will work with him to do such. Payment can be before-hand or after the fact, or both, depending on what Hector wants to do with it.
6. Generating business ideas: There are two sides here: a.) someone wants to start a company, and maybe has a vague idea of what they want, which you and your team flesh out this person and make a reality; or b.) someone already has a company, but is looking for a way to add more, to branch out, or simply refresh it, so you and your team look at what's going and formulate solutions. Perhaps something like this already exists--I don't know, and I don't really care at the moment. These are just ideas.

So there you have it, some ideas that I've had or just created on the spot here. If anyone who reads this acts on these ideas and becomes profitable, great. But please keep me in mind when you're raking in your millions.

Blame

I know a few people who will blame anything and everything but themselves. "I didn't have a good morning because you didn't have coffee made." "I failed my test because the teacher didn't tell us everything that would be on it, and you didn't help me study." And so on. I'm going to make this a short post and say: Try blaming yourself first. This post is inspired by a Facebook debate about the economy and education and Wall Street Occupiers and etc., like many others, and it suddenly struck me that what everyone needed (myself even on occasion) was a hardy slap and to be told to look to thine own faults. Sure, the government is awful and has ruined our economy; Wall Street and other mainstream financial/economists types, supported by the government, has done the dirty work to screw us over; and so on. But I say, are we not all to blame? Has not our common compliance with dictates, has not our common avarice, has not our sense of superiority, our imperial short-sightedness lay the foundation of our current state of affairs? If you want to change the world, start by changing yourself. Large amounts of peoples have made, are making, and will make themselves better because individuals improved their own lot before meddling in the affairs of others. To go to something smaller: are you in a difficult situation? Instead of blaming the shortcomings of others, look to your own and improve them.  

End rant.

The Enemy: Death

The recent execution of the possibly innocent Troy Davis reminds me of a conversation I had many years ago with a friend about execution, and my position then was about what it is now (which I will explain throughout). It shocked me that he, a religious person, believed it to be a necessary element of justice. I thought, and still think, that the main enemy in the Bible is death, hence: the doom of the descendants of Adam and Eve to return to dust; the first crime after leaving Eden is murder (of Abel), and Cain is banished from the Lord; that throughout the Old Testament, thousands are executed because they have forsaken the will of the Lord of Life, and therefore are already dead, their execution merely fulfilling it; the fact that Christianity rests on the Resurrection of Jesus Christ; passages like 1 Corinthians 15:50-57 (or perhaps all of Corinthians); and so much else. I therefore look upon death with great loathing, and wish it on no one. 

This includes those who supposedly deserve to die. Execution is (supposedly) the worst punishment available for criminals. But I ask, who orders the sentence, man or God? In the Old Testament, it is presumably Yahweh; but we have no decrees from on high now saying that so-and-so has forfeited his right to life, therefore what little remains is to be taken from him: all we have is the State and Personal Vendettas. I do not trust the State with anything, especially not Life, so I obviously have even less trust in their ability to execute. This is supported by instances like Troy Davis' recent demise, who may or may not have been innocent, but the fact that the question still remained (well, for those outside government its seems) should have put such a finality out of consideration. Likewise, revenge is perhaps an even shakier ground for justice, as vengeance is carried out usually without much consideration for evidence and the like. However, we can punish people who carry justice out on their own, but how do we punish the State when it blunders and murders innocent people? As for the Big Evils, like Hitler, Stalin, Mao, serial killers, etc., the same should hold, because it is how we treat the worst among us that shows how good our best qualities really are. I cannot say that I am not relieved that these men have no more chance to raise Hell on Earth, and like Satan they were Agents of Death, but I still derive no pleasure from their death. In this case, the enemy of my enemy is still my nemesis. 

It should be plain by now that death is not my friend; yet, there is much today in the way of praising death for supposedly making life meaningful. I believe it was Freud who advised us to make friends with the necessity of dying. For me, I would change "necessity" to "inevitability." We need not die, but yet we do. To accept this is to realize that our days are short and that we must make the most of them; therefore, people say that death makes us realize the value of life (and the more imminent, the more valuable it becomes). I do not deny this, but ask: do we have a choice? Are presented even once in our lives the chance of immortality? Do we know what it is like to have life into a time without boundaries? Or are we hostages from the cradle to the grave, prisoners of the Inevitable? To accept death is to make do with a situation that we have no option of escaping. I often wonder what it would be like if we all did live forever. Would we be so accepting of death then? Or would we look at it as it should be looked at: the greatest of enemies?

The Sudden Legend

Recently I've been reading through the Ancient Greek plays (or rereading, as with Euripides' Bacchae); this includes Euripides' Trojan Women, Aristophanes' Lysistrata and Frogs, and Aeschylus' Oresteia Trilogy. All of these, as well as almost all other plays these Greeks wrote, dealt with myths and legends that even at their time in the 5th century B.C. were ancient. However, an event happened that was so monumental that it instantly attained the status of a play-worthy story: the Persian Wars, in which the Greek underdogs defeated the massive forces of Xerxes in humiliating defeat, particularly at one of the most stunning naval victories of all time, the Battle of Salamis. The Greek world was stunned by their triumph. In Athens, the poets and playwrights saw, aside from the greatness of it, what C. John Herington called "a perfect exemplification of the ancient law of hybris-ate; almost, one might dare to say, the incarnation of it, on the grandest conceivable scale." He wrote this in an introduction to Persians, written by Aeschylus only 7-8 years after Salamis, in which he fought. Persians tells of the aftermath of the battle from the view of defeated; it begins with the chorus of Persian regents at Susa, the capital, praising their empire and emperor. Atossa, the queen and Xerxes' mother enters and joins. However, a messenger arrives and delivers the bad news: the Persian navy has been destroyed and the army's morale has been struck a mortal blow, and in their retreat have nearly completely perished from hunger and the elements. There is much wailing and gnashing of teeth, they call forth the ghost of Darius, Xerxes' father and former emperor who had made Persia great, who explains all, and then Xerxes himself enters, completely miserable and humiliated. Of course, Aeschylus would have no way of knowing the inner workings of Susa on that day, or any day really, so the play is mostly imagination playing upon the common tragic theme of that time, overweening pride. Xerxes dared to overcome nature and the gods, and thought that by merely amassing a large force, he could defeat a supposedly inferior people; the gods thought differently.

Now, some two and a half millennia later, we face a similar situation. The disaster of September 11, 2001 has had global consequences, and yet, people in the arts are very wary on how to approach it. Granted, the Greeks who wrote about the Persian Wars were of the victors, so they didn't face the burden of calamity. As a slew of articles today in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch have shown, there is great unease in movies, television, even theatre and literature. Most works include 9/11 slant-wise, sometimes making it seem like we only see the World Trade Center in the distance through a window, or at other times making it the white elephant in the room that everyone feels to reverential about to mention. Some have dealt with it directly: there's United 93, a movie dramatizing the events on the plane and on the ground about the people who courageously but perilously sabotaged one of the missions; there is another movie, World Trade Center, whose title explains enough. I also should mention documentaries, like Fahrenheit 9/11 and Loose Change 9/11, which raised grave questions about practically everything. In music, the composer John Adams was commissioned to write a commemorative work, and produced On the Transmigration of Souls, which is shattering, and Steve Reich wrote a string quartet called WTC 9/11, which faced controversy recently for the album's cover art. This particular controversy is endemic of what seems to be the large problem, which is: what is proper? Where is the line between reverence and sacrilege, the line between mere truth and too much? 9/11 has become a sudden legend; the truth about the events of that day, as well as its cause and effect, have already entered the foggy realm between objective truth and metaphorical truth, as well as being corrupted by official lies and common prejudices. But unlike the joyous victory for the Greeks that were the Battle of Salamis and the Persian Wars, 9/11 was a disastrous defeat for the whole world, and we are all burdened with that question of what is proper, so until we figure out our stance, we can only tell the truth slant, if there remains any truth by the time we feel comfortable.

The New Agists, Under Which are the Literalists and Hypocrites

[Part 1 in my "Return of the Gods" series; sorry for the delay]

Religion is a feel-good enterprise these days, at least with Christianity. It more and more adopts the New Age mantra of "I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change" (yes, that is the title of a musical) regarding others. But when one reflects on oneself, the third part of that phrase is frequently ignored; it's not always that people fail to see what needs to be changed, but that they fail to do it at all. Can it be because God loves them, no matter what? When something is accepted as it is, it is not going to be changed, so I wonder if some people, feeling the Divine Love, slough off any feeling of the need for change. I will leave that particular strain up to you to decide, after sharing this thought: perhaps instead of loving us, should we be concerned if God likes us?

My concern is the age-old problem of using religion to justify anything and everything. Self-justification is making oneself feel good about what one thinks or does, so it is relevant to my opening statement. Though, as Aesop pointed out in his fable "The Wolf and the Lamb," a "tyrant will always find a pretext for his tyranny," the tyrant's position can seem more secure if he uses a widely accepted source for defense. Enter the Bible and other religious texts. I love the Bible, the greatest anthology in the world, as the magnificent collection of literature it is. A problem arises when people take it for its word (instead of its Word). These Literalists are multiplying madly currently, and these little tyrants have been finding all sorts of pretexts. Anyone with a decent knowledge of how literature works should know better than to read poetry (good poetry, anyway; as Oscar Wilde said, "all bad poetry is sincere"), exactly as it is written. The Bible, which also contains writing of a wonderful mixture or fiction and non-fiction (it is not my concern here how correct the Holy Book is on history and science, only how it is interpreted), loses much of its luster and gains much terror in the hands of the Literalists. Much of Protestantism in America is overrun with these people; Catholicism, not to be left out, is catching up. You see them when they claim that the world was created in 144 modern hours; when they interpret any and every natural disaster as a sign from God; when they justify taxation with Jesus' admonition to "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's"; and so on. A favorite recourse seems to be Leviticus, though that is as much a good read as the Communist Manifesto, and is, in terms of good literature, the weakest book in the Bible; needless to say, much of its strictures are antiquated. Though it will be more important with the Hypocrites, Literalists also pick-and-choose the chapters and verses they use, perhaps to avoid the logical dissonance that would result from their preconceived notions meeting with a text that didn't support them. Now, their positions might be more justified if the words they take as exact fact were the words first written. But they attempt to literalize translations from languages quite different from our own. There is always something lost in translation, particularly with poetry, whose word choice is very exact. I think that is enough that needs to be said on that matter. In any case, my problem with Literalists is that I read the Bible largely as metaphor, with its central figure, God, being the greatest of all metaphors, since He is Everything; and you can't read a metaphor literally.

A frequent crossover with these people are the Hypocrites, who are of a much larger breed. The capital 'H' is significant, because these people don't just say one thing and do another; rather, they are one thing, and yet really are another. Many Christian-claiming people really are nothing of the sort (someone said that if Christ came back today, he wouldn't be a Christian; Nietzsche said that there was only one Christian, and he died on the cross). You cannot serve both God and Mammon, yet many try. Republicans are on the gallop lately, savoring the chance to be President, and most claim to be Christians. Yet, do their views side with the Prince of Peace? You cannot both take up the Cross of Christ and take up offensive war. "Just War Theory," even in its looser interpretations, still does not allow for the blood-lust most of the Republican candidates display (to be fair, this is also rampant among Democrats). And isn't there a disconnect between being Pro-Life with fetuses but not with those already born? This is probably the biggest instance, but there are others. For example, Christian redistributionists justify their actions using the Bible's declarations to help the poor; what they overlook is the more important fact of the New Testament's implications for free will, that charity is something to be encouraged, not enforced, and that it becomes void when not done willingly. When Jesus said that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of the needle than for a rich person to get into heaven, he was not damning the wealthy because of their wealth; if that were so, then why does God make so many prosperous (as a friend pointed out)? Rather, it is the lack of will to relinquish material positions to follow Christ prevalent among most people that is the problem (or, to make it less religious, the need for renunciation in order to change). There is a deep rankness among people who truly believe they are Christians and yet overtly discard Christ's most important lessons, and it must be by Doublethink.

The New Agists, subsuming Literalists and Hypocrites, are helping to bring back a Theocratic Age by instituting theocracy itself; in other words, deeply politicizing religion, and making their God the President. Christ, who denied Satan's gift of the nations because they are of this world and Christ is of the Kingdom of God, is becoming very worldly. How else do you explain the American flag being flown above the Christian flag at a church, or that there is even a Christian flag at all? How else do you explain Christ being used to exonerate agents of offensive war, from soldiers to politicians? How else do you explain using a figure who freely died for others to endorse forced redistribution? How else do you explain several Republicans claiming they are on a mission from God, that they were called, as though they were the Blues Brothers? God was very clear himself about what he thought of earthly kings (1 Samuel 8:7-18). No, for me Christ is renunciation, who gave to the world what was the world's, his human aspects, so that he could be like his Father God. His love is not a justification for not changing that which can and should be changed (the New Agists, who think "you are beautiful, no matter what they say" or that you are perfect, even though perfection is a finality impossible for humans, who must change to love as Kiekegaard said); his parables and the prophecies are not meant to be understood at word, but are meant for rumination to discover who you are (the point of all literature), and therefore what needs to be changed; and his wisdom cannot be both claimed and ignored, and the hypocrisy is worst when used for political expediency. Religion has always been (unfortunately) tied to the State, but there seems to be something arising that is more than marriage, and I think it is that as the two meld more and more, the newest religion we'll see is Politicism, where people will worship at temples like the White House. This process is already well underway, as America elected a President running on the rather non-governmental concerns of Hope and Confidence ("Yes We Can"), and who is (or was) spoken of with a reverence unbecoming of a politician.

Therefore, the next segment will discuss the emerging religion of Politicism, and it's grave dangers for man.

The Return of the Gods: An Introduction

Those who know their history know we are doomed to repeat it.

That formulation came to mind a few days ago in a conversation about history; it was meant in jest, but I almost immediately seized upon its import, and it has been coursing about my head for a bit, desiring me to do something with it. Running concurrently with that is the culmination of tempered dealings with a certain difficult person, who has lately moved me to condemnation (not directly with this person, since that would achieve nothing), leading me to begin writing a blog post. After two paragraphs and a day's reflection, I realized that I was writing a few essays in one: a rant, essentially, and that I was skirting about the what I really needed and wanted to focus on. Reenter the heading line of this post; I realized that what I needed to focus on was a topic of great interest to me since I first heard about it, for it is a Big Idea. First learning of him in the critical writings of Harold Bloom, Giambattista Vico proposed in his magnum opus Scienza Nuova (The New Science) a revolution of history in which there are three "distinct stages (corsi): the ages of gods, heroes, and men," until there is a return (ricorsi) to a theocracy, in which people are most poetical (Bloom proposes a fourth, intermediate stage, at least in literature: a chaotic age, a transitional period back to a theocratic age).  Bloom believes that we are in the final stages of the Chaotic Age, and indeed are already in the midst of a new Time of Gods; this series of posts is my acceptance, reasoning, and explication of this notion.

What is most central for me is the concern of what this ricorsi already looks like (and hence why I think it is upon us), where it could go, and the question of authority. There will be plenty of compare and contrast between the previous Theocratic Age and the incoming one, at least as much as I can muster. anyway Since this is a blog, I feel the need to be short, concise, and must forbear deep research and thorough essaying; consider it the first foray into a possibly larger project. I do not have all the posts planned, but since I am writing about a new Dawn of Deities, I will start with Religion, and I know I will follow it with Science; indeed, the rest of the series will focus on the institutions of authority present in our world.

Like Fortuna here.

"But enough about me. Why don't you talk about me . . ."

It is not in my nature to talk about myself (at least directly). Part of it is a feeling of inferiority, another part is a flight from solipsism, which I always fear I am sinking into. Even in this blog, I try to stay away from myself and focus more on the topic, so that anything relating to me personally is incidental. This can be great for aesthetic pursuits, as with that paragon Shakespeare, who so removed his self from his works that we know, to paraphrase Borges, everything and nothing about him. It is not so great in life.

Despite so much praise and so much belief from others that I will succeed fabulously, I must admit that I suffer from a rather low sense of self-regard and an immense doubt that I'll amount to even a hill of beans, and it is nothing new. I had two small nervous breakdowns before college, and almost another one, which, in an attempt to quell it before it overtook me, led to telling my parents I am bi, which only helped in taking my mind from one issue to another. The first two dealt specifically with the immense burden I felt to succeed (mostly coming from myself), while the almost-one was related to my sexuality. But they all were connected by the feeling of unworth. I did not think I could succeed, and I did not like myself at the time for liking all sexes (oh, younger me. . .). Only now am I fully getting over the latter, but now that the stakes are higher, the former is even more troublesome. As a composer, I have to go in with a certain mentality that what I am doing is good, at least worthy of performance, or why bother? Almost every day, though, I face the fear that I am outmoded, old-fashioned, and practically every new piece is a reluctant embrace of more "modern" practices (though I am really embracing the expansion of my personal art). This inferiority is also a hindrance to conversation, for rarely do I feel like I have something of interest to say (which compounds my natural shyness and difficulty with words while talking).

As stated above, another part of the problem is the desire to avoid falling into myself. Solipsism, "the philosophical idea that only one's own mind is sure to exist," is great in art (Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest is a great example), but you should probably turn the other way if you encounter a solipsist. For me, the temptation to fall into such a state is a defensive measure, a shielding from  that which could cause me trouble. To ward it off, I try to take myself as un-seriously as possible. The title of this blog is a somewhat serious thing, but it is also my joke on the egotism involved in blogging. Also, I think arrogance can coincide with solipsism; a friend asked about the difference between arrogance and confidence, and among the answers, I offered that arrogance is the opinion of others that one has padded his resume; for a solipsist, his resume is everything. It is a dangerous trait to have, because, as I understand it, it comes at the expense of empathy. At any rate, though I don't think I will truly become such, I fear it nonetheless.

I offer this much of myself, first, to get it out of it the way (so I can avoid bringing it up again and again on this blog), but also to discuss the notion of talking about oneself. How far can one go in self-praise before it becomes boasting? How much should one reveal to anyone and everyone? Is there such a thing as full disclosure, and if so, is it a good thing? And how much should privacy be sacrificed? I have chosen to forgo some privacy for myself by writing having this blog, but I still retain the right to my self. These are self-revealing times, and people leave much too little to be desired.

A Fest of Many Colors

Just returned from Pridefest '11 at Tower Grove Park in St. Louis, and I had a good time (this was my first time). Though I was expecting much more activity, it still had excitement (aside from some pastor walking around the perimeter spewing vitriol against the whole thing, though very briefly, it was good excitement). Some good acts (go Gateway Men's Chorus!), many great vendors, and the largest collection of non-straight people I've seen, some of whom were advertising their goods, to put it politely. I spent most of the time with my best friend/ex-girlfriend, who, when I left her, was more bedecked in pride then myself, including a brand new rainbow purse.

Indeed, I ended up with only a bracelet (one of those of the LiveStrong kind) because it was tossed out for free. I had a certain peculiar shame of sexuality for much of my life, and I'm only recently getting over it; this, along with my naturally reserved nature, leads me to be quiet about expressing myself very noticeably. My embarrassment was peculiar because my stance on sexuality was very equivocal, which is to say that I didn't know what it was, it was changing every time I thought about it. Over the years though, as I became more comfortable with myself, my views became more specified and pacified. I prefer to keep many private things private, so I'm not going to get more specific about my life relative to this matter. However, for all the victories that PrideFests around the world celebrate, for me, going today was about celebrating my victory over past qualms over a part of myself and others.

A work of beauty that a friend posted on Facebook, by Debussy.

Walking

 Today, I walked for some 2 hours (with a 5-10 minute break and plenty of brief pauses to sightsee) around the Central West End (St. Louis, MO), for around 4 1/2 miles, certainly one of the longest walking sprees I've taken. Though my legs were passing tired when I got back, they aren't sore, though I don't feel soreness until the next day, so we'll see. When I lived in St. Jacob, there were a couple years when I would walk almost every single day, even in the harsher temperatures. The town was small enough that if I wanted I could easily take in the whole place within 2 hours, though I usually didn't. Now that I live Collinsville, which is about 25 times bigger, I don't have that luxury, but I do have much more variety, so it's a good tradeoff. It was variety that drove me to walk to such an extent, and since I'm housesitting for the week near the CWE area, I decided to stroll through some of it.

I learned a few things. There is even more beauty in this neighborhood than I had previously known; there is much more variety of people and places intermixed in this small area than in the whole of a place like Collinsville, my current home of 25,000 people and the typical separation of residential and commercial; a place like this is where I really want to live (God I need a job!). More pertinent to this post, however, is that I truly rediscovered my love for walking. It's not that I'd forsaken strolling about, but the walks I've taken lately were more constitutionals than pleasures. I revamped my regular walks last summer to help lose weight, but I rarely enjoyed them as I used to. The muggy, miserable summer weather didn't help, but the unfamiliarity of my new home (this was only 2-3 years after moving, which may seem like a long time, but I rarely got out into the community) hampered my interest, and it certainly didn't have the glamor of a neighborhood like the area around Forest Park. But I realized today, along with my new-found passion for ambling about, my new community had become familiar and that I could finally begin enjoy my walks around it. Though I knew St. Jacob very intimately from 18 years of dwelling there, I was never bored with the surroundings; rather, I would be startled by some subtlety, some minutiae that I had never seen before, or I would be too occupied with thoughts to really care.

Another thing, which was more emphasized than realized, was that I enjoy observation too much to whiz past things. There was so much to see that I would need to see it again to truly begin to see it, but none of this could I truly appreciate if I just ran by it all. Mark Twain said that "golf is a good walk spoiled." Replace "golf" with "jogging," and you get my sentiment. I chuckle a little inside when ever I pass a jogger (or they pass me), and I've always thought jogging was a silly thing, though for a long time I just accepted that as an opinion, perhaps unfounded. (Also, my body just never accepted long-distance running, so that might have influenced it.) Last year I read The Primal Lifestyle, which helped me lose weight, become healthier, and gave me a reason for my suspicions of sustained running. The author, Mark Sisson, was a former long-distance runner (an Olympic one, I think) who would jog and run for many miles almost every day. He writes that such a lifestyle, coupled with runners' diet filled with carbohydrates, was actually making him unhealthy. Sure, he was incredibly fit, but build of body does good health denote. Such sustained fast paces depresses the immune system, which accounts for a higher amount of minor illnesses among runners. There are scientists who also say it smacks of evolution, that mankind didn't evolve to constantly run but to walk, and that sprinting was merely a survival technique.

So maybe my physical and mental instincts are right, that walking with intermittent sprinting is the most healthful option. At the least, I will see the things that I would miss if I just ran past it.

Got Trust?

    In reading a book called The Politically Incorrect Guide on Socialism, I was moved to thought by a marginalia, which posited that trust is more inherent in capitalism than socialism, and I was so stirred because it made clear to me a perplexing observation, that so many people I know have no faith in people or society at large. It now occurs to me that most of these same people are advocates of either socialist or welfare-statist ideas, whether knowingly or not. With capitalism, trust is required of a large group of people (consumers) to tell businesses and industries what they want and need, while with socialism, the trust is in a small group of people (central planners) to direct goods and service. I think people find it easier to trust a few people who are seemingly smart, philosopher kings who claim to know things the public simply can not, than a large mass that consists of a range from imbeciles to geniuses. We have, however, already run into the fatal flaw of socialism, which is that consumers know what they want and need and therefore businesses get direct intelligence on what to offer; with socialism, this direct communication is removed, and central planners, who can never have enough knowledge to know everyone's wants and needs, regulate things for the "average citizen" in the ideal case (if this can be called ideal), or, as is the frequent case in the real world, for some national ideal and egotistic purposes, i.e. personal gain and glory. Experience has shown that philosopher kings are anathema to a good, free society, because it is the will of the few over many, so trust in them is misplace.

   It really does trouble me that so many people lack fidelity in their fellow people. When ever they say that a group of people have been and are so easily led astray and do awful things, I think two things: first, that it was an individual or individuals (a cult of personality) that did such (Hitler's Germany, for example); and second, just as easily as they can be led astray, so too can they be brought down the straight and narrow way. However, I find it distasteful to speak of the need of leading anyone as such. People, in most cases, at least want to do good, and usually will when it suits them. "Ah," some will say, "that's the problem. If they only do it when it's good for them, then how are we to believe that they ever will?" For one thing, why would anyone do something bad for themselves? They may not see the long-term problems in some cases (eating all those cookies ruining your health and waistline), but if they can't derive immediate satisfaction (cookies are just so delicious), then they wouldn't do it all. But let's look at a large, long-term problem: pollution. Several people I know say the public can't be trusted to solve our pollution problems. Their view of solutions runs contrary to real world examples of what actually happened during the start of the Industrial Revolution that kept pollution at bay. If people are jealous of anything, it is their own property, and they will seek retribution if it is transgressed upon. When this happened in the early 19th century America, with the pollution of factories going downstream and harming people's land and waterways, the property owners sued successfully and the industries were required to somehow clean-up and deal with industrial waste. The threat of lawsuits therefore gives companies an incentive to invest in technologies that reduce waste and pollution. Then this was taken away by activist judges who claimed that, for public benefit, there was a certain amount of pollution that was allowable, since industries could therefore reap larger profits. This hasn't changed. All this is opposite of what many environmentalists propose as a solution, that is, government involvement in setting straight a wayward people, when it was actually these people who would have long ago had control of the issue if it weren't for government.

    I say, in short, that the common mistrust of society is gravely misplaced. The cultural anthropologist Margaret Mead once said that "A small group of thoughtful people could change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has." She meant something uplifting, but I also find, in this context, the shadow of a painful truth, for plenty of small groups of "thoughtful people" have changed the world much for the worse.

    What are your thoughts? How much trust do you place in humanity? What are your reasons?

And now for a thing of beauty. All this talk of socialism leads me to think of Dmitri Shostakovich, who lived in fear under Soviet Russia (which practiced socialism's twin, communism). I'm really just going to pick a symphony at random; let's see. . . and. . . Symphony No. 11 it is, fourth movement.

Fairy Tale (of sorts), Part 1

    (After watching Pan's Labyrinth, I was inspired to write a fairy tale of my own. Here is the start.)

 

    Gregory Surdus had never bothered to look deep for answers. And why should he? They were always ready for him when he had exerted himself more than he could possibly bear, which, like a person who by not moving much is quickly out of breath, was always very soon. His family was very wealthy, and if Gregory had trouble with his studies, then-but it is silly to say he had trouble, for he never had to bother with them. Yet, despite all he could have, he was discontent, and therefore prone to wandering the expansive plains, where the only trees for miles around either followed little brooks, or were solitary figures, stubbornly rising amidst a sea of crops like a buoy at sea. Since there was seemingly so little in the prairie, and he had never have a searching mind, Gregory would quickly become bored with his walks in the fields, and return home almost as soon as he left, so it appeared; and he was always more upset when he was back.
    As of late there was a dark fog following the family, for Gregory's father had suddenly fallen ill, and the sickness became fatal. Rumor, like a vulture, then pecked at his remaining reputation and dragged it through the dirt as it went to the nearby town, where gossips spread the most vile things, particularly about his death. But he was buried without much ado about the cause, and as far as the police were concerned, that was that. Mr. Surdus' fortune was split four ways, the largest portion going to his wife, Gregory's mother, Nebona; then two equal portions going to Gregory and his oldest brother, Simon, whose mother was the first Mrs. Surdus (I should mention now that Gregory was only nine years old, and his brother was twenty-one); and the final portion split among the other of the Surdus family. The rest of the clan dispersed grumbling about the blow they had been dealt, and the house now held only Gregory, his mother, and Simon, who had just finished college and was now head of the family business. The two brothers were close, and Simon looked after Gregory very lovingly, and Gregory, for his part, was very jealous for his brother, always taking his side in any matter. Nebona had married Mr. Surdus when Simon was twelve, and though he was therefore under her care, he was always distant with her, holding a distrust that even he did not quite understand. However, despite this change in household, life continued in much the same way for the Surdus family.
    Then one day, Gregory happened to travel farther than he was usually wont to do; not out of curiosity, necessarily, but the vagrant, aimless quality of thinking that leads people to wander as carelessly as their thoughts. Before he realized it, he found himself in a new place, a ribbon of trees that stretched along a stream which weaved through the fields. He was about to turn back when he heard, faintly, a noise farther ahead. Walking just a little more, he saw what had made the commotion. There was a hermit thrashing about by the stream, pulling at his hair in anger. He seemed about to hurt himself when he suddenly calmed, took a deep breath, and turned to the stream. Waiting a few moments, he then began making gestures towards the stream, moving his arms all about, bending his wrists at certain times, wiggling his fingers with abandon; it seemed he was trying to see the reflection of his strange actions in the stream, but bursts of mud would cloud the view, and he became upset. What Gregory did not and would not know for a bit was that the hermit was deaf, and signed a language no one knew. 

Principles

Today is Memorial Day in America, which is for the commemoration of those who died in combat, that is, those involved in fighting. This post is inspired by a short YouTube clip about all the people, besides the above mentioned, who should also be remembered today. Here is the video:

Though all of it is worthy of consideration, I was particularly struck by the narrator's shrewd observation that we teach children that harming and killing others is wrong, but then expect them to deal with the exception of war; indeed, this is expected of any patriotic citizen, that it is wrongful to kill your neighbor, but just to kill "your" enemy. My thoughts quickly ran to principles. The above, to me, is an unprincipled stance, for principles do not allow for exceptions; if you find yourself making exceptions, you should probably abandon the principle. It is the fashion as of long late to disavow the foundations of moral codes in favor of the convenient. And foundations they are: the word "principle" comes from the Latin word "principium" which means "the beginning," and therefore is meant to be the firmest bedrock upon which one's morals are place. There can be no compromise of this bedrock without a fundamental change of your whole system.

I realized lately that I am strongly attracted to principled people. Most of the most influential and favorite people in my life are very firm in their stances. One of my best friends throughout primary and secondary school was a Jehovah's Witness, and say what you will about them, they are some of the strongest adherents to their faith that I know, because I can't recall a single exception they make to their beliefs in favor of the expedient. This presents another admirable trait of the principled: their strength through adversity and difficulty, in dealing with naysayers. There is much fire and infamy blast upon those who will not budge from what they believe and think is right, and man could have easily gone the way of giving in, in our thousands of years we have yet to lose such strong people. Now, I would be speaking incompletely if I did not mention that this go both ways, and that there many repugnant people and groups who yet hold onto principles. I have no regard for the Westboro Baptist Church and their crusade against homosexuality, but I admit to some admiration for them and their death-grip upon a repulsive and extremely unpopular position. They also demonstrate the extremes most principles must be taken if they are to be true. Though I think the logic is a bit flawed, and they do it for the attention, by boycotting military funerals for the supposed support their employer, the US, gives to gays, the Westborons demonstrate that a moral foundation must extend beyond the roots if it is to have any life. Some might call this stubbornness or thick-headedness, and perhaps with them it is, but being stubborn is different from being principled, for the former is for it's own sake and will eventually budge, while the latter is for some other reason, and will not budge (unless given up completely, as mentioned above); also, a change brought on by giving up being stubborn is small compared to giving up principles.

There is also the accusation of seeing things in black-and-white. I have many problems with this, such as a.) for those with supposed gray vision, it seems a bit too easy and divisive to label some people as black-and-white, and others as gray, and that all people fit neatly into either/or; b.) very little thought is given to what it actually involves to see things in black-and-white, and the same is true with gray vision; c.) perhaps most intriguing to me, seeing gray is merely to see a way of the world, which goes against my Quixotic stance. I will deal with these in reverse. My Quixotic stance is summed by this quote from the novel: "...too much sanity may be the maddest and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be." I see, upon first glance, much grayness in our lives, by which I mean that there are so many exceptions to everything it is quite easy to live in fog of contradictions: we expect the truth but accept white lies; we'll hate an item but love it when given to us as a gift, at the least to save face; and so on. In this grayness are many of the things we barely tolerate, or don't tolerate but give up to in hopelessness, such as war, famine, poverty, etc. I prefer to see beyond this mist and find the foundations as well as the extents of things, and to see what can be done with them and where they can go. I try to see the world as it should be by seeing, from what it has, what it can be. This involves dividing into what is such and such, and what is not, what works, and what doesn't. This is what an honest, decent monochromatic seeing person does. To do so involves thinking, judgment, and wisdom. Seeing gray is, fundamentally, merely an act of opening your eyes, while monochromatic vision requires one to do something with what one sees. I do not mean to disparage the gray, for it is essential to have, and I would say just as essential as the black-and-white, but too much has been given to the former that has been taken from the latter. Neither do I carelessly praise the monochromatic, for there are many who, in lacking the gray, are unthinking in their stances, usually just following what someone or something told them. This type of person is not to be emulated. Thus, a complete person must have both the gray and the black-and-white, which is perhaps the grayest and most monochromatic idea to have. To deal with the world, one must know it (gray) and then learn how to deal with it (black-and-white) and it is in this latter part that principles arise.


I return, then, to Memorial Day. I take a principled stance against aggressive warfare; I demand the truth. The truth is then that I cannot praise nor honor our soldiers. No war in recent memory has any honorable justifications, and those who fight them are misguided about their actions, or, unfortunately, are bloodthirsty (or both, I suppose). The video I posted above pretty much sums this up. "Defending our Liberties" is a pretty phrase that is also quite vacuous, for our armed forces are doing nothing along those lines. They have invaded foreign countries that have done us no harm; they have destroyed people, families, homes, towns, even the entire infrastructure of a people, in essence, destroy; they continuously assist in the perpetuation of lies. In supposedly protecting our freedom of speech, they have murdered innocents and posed with their corpses for pictures, which is a most revolting use of this freedom. In supposedly protecting our freedom of religion they have blown up the temples of religions not their own, which is a most blatant violation of most religious creeds. In supposedly protecting our freedom to bear arms and therefore protect ourselves, they have disarmed an already weak people, which is a most dishonorable violation of property rights. In supposedly protecting our freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures and the right to due process, they invade homes on mere whims and summarily execute innocents out of battlefield justice, which is most retrograde to our legal rights. And need I describe how they trample upon the freedom from cruel and unusual punishment? There are very few who earn honor upon the battlefield: the rest earn either pity or scorn, if they earn anything at all. I will not celebrate those who have died for fruitless and unjust causes, and I will not honor those currently involved in entanglements abroad who mindlessly do what they are told. It is against my principles.


How about some beauty now. Because I am American, and, in my own, I very much love my country, I'll share some American music. First, Leonard Bernstein, the first American conductor of international prominence, conducting and playing the piano in Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, which is just about as American as you can get.

This next selection comes from Aaron Copland's Twelve Poems of Emily Dickinson: "Going to Heaven"

Finally, perhaps the greatest American aria (in my opinion) "Batter My Heart" from John Adams' Doctor Atomic (which is one of the coolest names of any opera). The subject is the Manhattan Project, which is a very unfortunate part of our history, and the character singing this is Oppenheimer, who led the project.

As Easy as Di-Ri-Mi: Some Observations on My Compositional Process/Style

Yesterday was a particularly rigorous day for me in composition. I spent about three hours working on fifteen seconds of music, which I may yet go back and change--we'll see. In such a period, I also dwelt on what I observe are some perhaps compositional idiosyncrasies, maybe stylistic particularities. I'll share them with you.

I'm a melody guy. This is not to say that I am necessarily a tunesmith, but that I think of things linearly, that a piece directed by aspects more melodic than harmonic or rhythmic (or coloristic); however, this does frequently manifest in clear melodies. If I am working with blocks of harmony, there must be at least one voice who moves in a distinct, interesting manner, but I frequently try to have more. I latched on to this a short while ago when I realized that it a.) gave me a foundation for logical movement from spot to spot, and b.) opened up more interesting harmonies that I was constantly seeking, as opposed to the more traditional ones that I had relied on. However, I also noticed that this linear approach has been present from the start; but earlier, vertical sonorities were pretty tame--passing from one to the next was the jarring aspect; now, there is more nuance and variety in my verticalities.

Following the linear aspect, my writing is frequently polyphonal. One of my favorite genres is the quodlibet (Latin for "what you will"), where you pile on various tunes in wonderful harmony. This, combined with my interest in teleological genesis (a term used in discussing Sibelius' musical procedures), intrigues me very deeply as a means for dynamic music, particular for opera music. I will likely touch upon this subject at a later time. 

When I compose, it is a very physical process. I used to think I worked things out better by singing, but now I realize that action with more of the body, or all of it, spurs my drive. Sometimes it's dancing, sometimes it's conducting, other times it's performing on an air-instrument: usually it's a combination of these three, and others (such as indicating line through hand gestures). It perhaps started as a need to entertain myself through the often dreary sessions of sitting and thinking, but I now fully embrace it. At least it's some exercise.

I naturally lean towards deeper sounds. There is something about feeling the vibrations that makes it seem very alive, while not overbearing (as a piccolo can be). It also allows for a richness of sound. However, I used to focus much too much on this, and I am working on opening my range. In the same vein, I also gravitate towards open harmonies, and this does lead to trouble, particularly when you are dealing with limited ranges.

Some specific things now. In counterpoint classes, melodic voices are supposed to move in predominantly conjunct motion (step-wise), and harmony in disjunct motion (leap-wise), usually the bass. This flips for me, I find, and, as I mentioned above, my harmonic notes somewhat slide about, or move conjunctly, while my melodies have frequent leaps, and are therefore disjunct. For instance, I find I am using a good amount of fifths in my melodies, a large interval indeed. I also use a preponderance of augmented triads, particularly at half cadences or climax points. There is very little that is vague or foggy about this chord; for me, it doesn't have so much an indefiniteness of sound and direction as an urge to go somewhere.

Overall, there has to be a reason for every single note, and every single move these notes take. Very rarely do I do something just because it sounds good, though I am allowing more of it (if it's good) because of the possibilities it presents; if I happen upon an intriguing sound, I have to find a way to rationalize its incorporation. My reasons may be directed by the rules of theory, or they spring from deep within, which may be little more than it just sounding good. Too often I hear composers who, in rebelling against this logical method, write pieces that are little more than a collection of interesting sounds, though there is the common paradox that an overabundance of intriguing things saps them of their interest, and they become dull. I once did this, and sometimes still do, but it's a process, and I hope to have it more under control soon enough.

Now for a thing of beauty (or perhaps rambunctiousness): the third movement from Dvorak's Symphony No. 6, the Furiant, which is Czech dance style. This is an absolutely, wildly fun piece.

Mozart's "Don Giovanni": Some Thoughts

The other day I saw a dress rehearsal for Opera Theatre of St. Louis' production of Don Giovanni, music by W.A. Mozart, libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte. This is my fifth favorite opera (after another Mozart, The Magic Flute, Verdi's Falstaff, Wagner's Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg, and Strauss' Der Rosenkavalier), and of the five, the first I was able to see live. I was not disappointed. The Opera Theatre usually hires younger singers who are on the verge of a major career, so audiences get the double fortune of youthful, fresh voices that are also well-trained and have some experience. I can't think of a single miscast. The man in the title role had, for my taste, a little too much swagger in his voice at times (by which I primarily mean scooping), but that is my main concern, and he otherwise very much looked the part (in fact, the best look I've seen); Leporello was perhaps the best cast, a reminder of Leporello's comic nature. The production, however, had the unfortunate dashes of Eurotrash, which I was surprised to see in this part of the world. Perhaps the directors (one of whom I know as an acquaintance from working together in Opera Studio) thought the supernatural aspects in the 2nd act gave them license to play with the opera all-around, but it came of as campy. My eyes rolled dangerously when, after Don Giovanni murders the Commendatore, three ghostly figures walk out, one of them carrying a timepiece. One of my viewing companions, Dr. Carter, said during intermission that he viewed these and the other figures that appeared occasionally as symbols of the decay of the libertine lifestyle the Don would eventually face. That seems likely, but also insulting. Symbols are meant to reveal deeper aspects of things that otherwise would not be seen; people don't need decaying spectres to tell them that such a way of life does not end well. It came off as hokey. The conductor was Jane Glover, who wrote a wonderful biography of sorts on Mozart called Mozart's Women, and does the great job of avoiding feminism while still giving due respect to the females in the composer's life.
The Don Juan legend vies with the Wandering Jew legend as one of the most vital European legends to affect Western Civilization. I recall reading that one supposed origin is from a Spanish nobleman, who, wanting to conceal his rampant homosexuality, spread rumors of his straight conquests. Essentially, the legend concerns a libertine who gets his due, usually by going to Hell. The three greatest literary works inspired by the figure are Moliere's play Dom Juan, Byron's poem Don Juan (pronounced joo-en), and Kierkegaard's Either/Or. In music, it inspired Richard Strauss to write a tone poem. Then there's the opera Don Giovanni, which is perhaps the most influential version of them all.

As it does with most other artists contending with it, the Don Juan legend seemed to cause many equivocal feelings in Mozart and da Ponte (da Ponte had been something of libertine, and was friends with Casanova, who was in the audience at the premiere of Don Giovanni). The opera defies classification. It is officially considered a "dramma giocoso," a catch-all term for anything that mixed the comical and serious; Mozart entered it as "opera buffa," which seems odd if one thinks only of the more harrowing moments of the work. It is probably the prime exemplar of Mozart's gift of combining various styles and elements into a unified and cohesive whole. In Leporello and the peasants, you have the elements of opera buffa; in the nobles, you have opera seria; Don Giovanni is able to go between the two. However, he seems to falter at the newer presence in opera, the supernatural, a beckoning of Romanticism that was fast approaching; the Don courageously, if foolishly and hubristically, tries to defy his the Statue and his fate, that which he himself set up to occur, but is dragged to Hell for his defiance. Seeing it again, I realize how much a check Don Giovanni is against my sensibilities of liberty, much like Ecclesiastes is against my romantic ones. In the first act finale (one of the glories of opera, and music in general), Giovanni leads the peasants in a salute to liberty ("Viva la libertá!"), which inspired the most equivocal feelings I have had in seeing this work. (One interesting criticism of the opera concerns Mozart's increasingly negative view of the Enlightenment, and, since many modern ideas concerning the nature of liberty spring from this period, it would be interesting to explore this.) He both means and doesn't mean what he says (I'll leave you to figure that out). As a libertine, he shows the depths to which one can take liberty. I will never reject freedom, but I do recognize full on the depravity it invites. But that is more the fault of human character and action.

Which brings me to Don Giovanni himself. What kind of character is he? Some compare him to Hamlet, in that he seems to invite as many interpretations as there are people, which I suppose could be the case, but as there are higher orders of infinity in mathematics, so too here, and Hamlet is at least one order removed from Giovanni. I find the Don to be one of the largest cases of inherent emptiness made explicit. He is little more than appetite, which this recent production really brought out. One wonders how he has time for anything else, if he has bedded some 1800 women; the noble are not invincible to debt, and the Don seems to have plenty of money on hand, though perhaps such questions are irrelevant, or not, if we are to concern ourselves with liberty. The wedding party he hosts in the first act finale is supremely decadent (some go so far as an orgy). At his last supper, he begrudgingly allows Leporello to have some morsels of food, hording the rest to himself. Opera Theatre's production has a wall full of pictures of his conquests right to next to Giovanni as he dines, an addition I quite like, for, in addition with the next thing I will list, it seems that, before his damnation, he is surrounded by that which satiates him. One more thing which pleases his appetite, it is unfortunate to notice, is music. He eats as three different selections of music are played (one of which is one of Mozart's most famous tunes, "Non piú andrai" from The Marriage of Figaro), cycling through them as quickly as he does women (I am reminded of something G.K. Chesterton said, that dining with music is an insult to both the cook and the violinist). I bring this up because I am bothered at the moment by a troublesome question: is music divine, or is it human? In other words, is music truly worthy of God, or is it a delightful construct of man? The Psalms presume to praise God through music, but is it a good medium or a diversion? I'll leave this to another time, but it is important here because music is, no matter what, a sensuous experience, and the Don knows nothing deeper than sensuality. So, again, what type of character is the Don? He is not Shakespearean, for I do not think he has an inwardness, or a lack of inwardness that matters. More importantly, he does not change, which Shakespeare's great personages do. This is important, at least concerning his damnation. Dante's characters necessarily experience no change, as Harold Bloom says: they have received their judgment, and, I think, so has Don Giovanni. All the pleas for renunciation from Donna Elvira, and the demands of the Statue, are useless. The great moment in the first act finale when Zerlina leads the charge in telling Don Giovanni he's done for is perhaps a redundancy, as that was the case when we first see him. I think that is part of the foregrounding involved. Sometime before the events of the opera occur, the Don had already become a lost cause; the murder of the Commendatore only hastens his demise.

Mind you, most of the thoughts are inspired more by the music than the words, admirable libretto though it is. It is widely accepted that Mozart's genius lay in opera, that his true gifts sing through his characters. There will have to be another post to consider the music, for there is simply too much to explore here and now. Only Verdi, and to a smaller extent Puccini, consistently manifested such humanistic music that breathed life and character into the people on the page. Wagner achieved this in Die Meistersinger, but his other operas are too much in the realm of myth and gods to be human. Strauss did so in Der Rosenkavalier, but there is something else in his other works. Mozart remains the paragon of shaping humans with music.

The Three Modes of Persuasion

I often wonder if people find me cold or uncaring. Though nothing could be further from the truth, whenever I state my beliefs and "political" ideas, I sense that the other person or people think there is something deficient in my morality or character. Here, I would like to explain myself.

Aristotle laid out three modes of persuasion in his Rhetoric: ethos, pathos, and logos. Ethos is an "appeal to the authority or honesty of the speaker," and we derive the word "ethics" from it. Pathos "is an appeal to the audience’s emotions," from which we get "pathetic" (as well as a direct cognate). And logos "is logical appeal or the simulation of it," from which we get "logic." This is supposedly the order they were placed in Aristotle's book, but I do not think it is a good order at all. I say this, because I think one should find a way to employ at least two of these in an argument, but it is much better if all three are present. This covers the bases, so to speak, and makes an attempt for persuasion much more likely to succeed. As such, I place a hierarchy on the importance and order in which these three elements are introduced, and it is this: logos, ethos, pathos.

Logos
I am already touching upon what I think makes me seem cold. Practically all arguments I make start with reasoning, facts, data, theory, etc. Frequently, these are dispassionate (despite my passionate delivery of them), seemingly unkind, and possibly cruel. This is because I try to reach bedrock truth, where objectivity is supreme. My ability to objective is both a strength and a weakness. It allows me to be constantly levelheaded about things, but it frequently inhibits my ability to "be in the moment." One of my foundational principles is that the first, last, and most important piece of property you will ever own is your own person, the body, the mind, and the soul of it. Some can follow and see my point, but many frequently seize up at the hearing people referred to as "property" because of the history of slavery. I can understand this, but they forget the number one law of property rights: no one may take it, alter it, or destroy it, without the owner's permission. This should effectively eliminate concerns about slavery, since forcing one to work against one's will and without permission violates their property rights to their own person. Another principle of mine is that the only real rights you have in this world are all property rights. Life is a condition of owning your own body, so that is part and parcel; liberty, the freedom to do what one wants as long as it does not transgress against another's rights, is also subsumed under this, since another stipulation of property rights is the freedom of the owner to do with it as he pleases, whether it is improvement or destruction, and to achieve this, he must act to achieve the tools and supplies needed, and this requires a free but respectful interaction with others (in almost all cases). The third right we are familiar with, "the pursuit of happiness," is actually different from what was originally third, which was "property," but "the pursuit of happiness," in my book, has stock in life and liberty. Following this, the many rights bandied about these days are illegitimate. The right to water, food, shelter, an education, etc, are nice things to say, but fall flat in the face of reasoning (particularly my brand of "Terminal Extent Reasoning"). If I have the right to food, then it follows that I am entitled to it, that no matter what, I am bound by some law to own food, and any lack of ownership is a transgression against my right. If this is so, then food may be taken from another to achieve this end. This already flies in the face of property rights, but let's continue. Now, this person whose food stores are being emptied by the entitled must now go out and obtain more food so he can have some for himself. He must either produce it himself or work harder to earn money to purchase more. In effect, he is forced to labor so that part of his wealth may be turned over to others, which is slavery, the most contemptible form of disrespect for property rights. Entitlement leads to moral hazard, which is when people act in ways they wouldn't otherwise because risk has been artificially lowered, and this leads further to the inability to appreciate a thing's true worth, for if one can have something no matter what, they will value less.

"But what about the homeless" or the "poor" or the "starving?" This leads to pathos, which I will deal with later. Many people cannot get beyond the supposed heartlessness of the argument, and therefore think it is invalid. Yet, the central idea of this argument, that "no one owes you anything" (and therefore you owe no one else anything), is what instills self-reliance and responsibility where it should matter first: with yourself. They also overlook that another aspect of property rights is the freedom to give it away at whatever cost the owner deems appropriate, and this includes freely, what we otherwise call charity. People in more ancient times may have lacked the kindness we pride ourselves on these days, but they are no reason to think that people now are uncharitable. Indeed, as wealth increases for everyone, so does charitibility. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ethos
It is hoped that the soundness of logic will instill a sense of authority in the speaker, but if not, then authority must be offered. This is tricky, as it can easily result in the informal logical fallacy of "appeal to authority," where one argues that something is so because a person of authority in that field says it is so. This trades hearsay for reason. However, if you have made a sound argument, then letting your audience know by what authority you speak can help. Obviously, if you are an expert in the field, you can cite your credentials, but I say this should be backed up by an accounting for why you deserve the credentials. What if you don't have credentials? I am a musician and poet, but I frequently discuss and deal with "politics" and world affairs (I enquote politics because what I view what I deal with as human nature and the fundamentals of liberty; "politics" is a cancer that leaches off liberty, so I must contend with it), so what right have to speak on them? I read a good deal on the issues, and I constantly exercise my reasoning to gain a better understanding of the matter. My favorite way of dealing with doubters is to refer them to a book or article, not out of an "appeal to authority," but because it a.) shows that I am not a lone crackpot, that there are others saying these things, and b.) allows the doubting Thomas to read for himself where I get my ideas; it invites the audience to explore the issue themselves.

Then there is the concern for ethics. Much of the ethical argument, for me, is contained in the logical (in this case, it is unethical to transgress against property rights). What can really be done here is make the logical argument active, to apply it to real world situations and to appeal the listener's character and ethics. Slavery is against practically everyone's moral code, so here I would show how slavery is alive and well, only transfigured. I would should how a world built on my logical can coexist with my auditor's ethics and morals. And so. As can be seen, the three modes, though can be made distinct, frequently flow in and out of each other.

Pathos
This is the last tier of persuasion. If only it were so in life. In my short time on this planet so far, I would say that have observed quite deeply, and one thing I notice with great force is that there are three types of people who start their arguments with pathos and make it the central facet: 1.) those who have spoken with logic and ethic elsewhere and whose past arguments link up with the current one, and therefore can lend strength and credibility to it; 2.) the well-intending, good-hearted people who fail to see the logical and even ethical flaws in their case; 3.) nefarious types, like politicians, ("think of the children!") who disregard logic and ethic (they don't care about them, don't know them, or both) and play and manipulate people's emotions, frequently with fear. I immediately become very wary when someone tries to appeal to my emotions (particularly if the person is a charismatic), because the first type I listed is a rare exception, the second type, no matter how kind or nice, has an emptiness in their logic that could spell disaster if their ideas are implemented, and the third type is especially to be denounced. I swore some time ago to refuse to just let someone to power over me, and one way people do this is through controlling emotions. I allow someone to influence me if they make sound logical and/or ethical arguments, but appeals to my emotions without either of those will only harden me. I find that much of the world's problems these days stem from unchecked kindness, kindness that turns people practically into tyrants. "We must feed the starving" people say out of the goodness of their hearts, but then support and enforce policies whose unintended consequences result in more and worse misery. "Think of the children" a politician says, and then passes legislation that makes the child's, and everyone's, situation more terrible.

However, an appeal to emotions, and even fear, is essential to really clutching many people. Fear is good when it is based on solid reasoning. For example, there is much to fear about the economy these days, and people need to be made aware of it. But fear unsupported thus, particularly when peddled by the government, causes anger, hatred, hysteria, and the dissolution of intelligence, wisdom, ethics, and kindness. So, for an example, I would put my audience in the place of a person under the chains of my idea of slavery, and vividly tell them how I would feel, and how I think they would feel.

After all this, I would clinch my argument with a return to the logic, but this time I would likely put it in the warmer light of pathos. I don't think it is vital for an argument to have pathos, not in the way it is to have the first two modes, but it goes a long way in persuasion.

For myself, this is how I have to make my cases, because I would feel like a cheat, a swindler otherwise. I do care, very much, about the poor and downtrodden. But I can't let my emotions cloud what I know to be true, which is that the policies in place today to supposedly help them only makes things worse. When I argue from a purely logical standpoint, it is backed up very much with a passion for humanity and its betterment.