The Incessant Muses

The Sacred Grove, Beloved of the Arts and the Muses, 1884–89
Pierre Cécile Puvis de Chavannes French, 1824-1898

This painting, The Sacred Grove, resides in the Chicago Museum of Art.  I saw it there last year, and spent some time trying to identify the nine Muses.  I didn't have enough information at the time, but here they are before us:

Calliope was the muse of epic poetry.
Clio was the muse of history.
Erato was the muse of love poetry.
Euterpe was the muse of music.
Melpomene was the muse of tragedy.
Polyhymnia was the muse of sacred poetry.
Terpsichore was the muse of dance.
Thalia was the muse of comedy.
Urania was the muse of astronomy.

According to The Free Dictionary, a Muse is "a guiding spirit" or "a source of inspiration". Poets from Shakespeare to Milton have called upon their Muses to inspire them to lofty and meaningful creative action.  The Muses were the personification of knowledge and the arts.

Who would dare to be guided and inspired by the Muses?  Of course, they are not real, these Greek spirits with their white robes and detached and aloof ways. They could not hover about us while we think, or write, or draw, or contemplate, or dance, or hope, or love.  For they do not exist, not in reality, not in this physical world, not in any measurable way.

But the Muses were never said to be physical beings anyway.  If anyone might secretly believe them to exist in his mind, to move and influence him, to inflame his being and excite his passions, what proof could be offered to convince him otherwise?  The collective thoughts and feelings of generations past reside hidden in his mental processes, and if he believes that among them the Muses dance and sing and play -- well, perhaps he should not share this with anyone.

The theory of the Muses does not mesh with the world of cars and cash and widescreen television sets that everyone knows exists in unavoidable reality.  The Muses could never compete or adequately compensate -- even if they did exist. How could poetry or music or dance enrich conversations filled with sardonic humor, or dreams already replete with avarice, or the soul that "knows no release from little things".  Such knowledge and art are too much for daily living.  Who among us could hear this incessant drone of the calling Muses when the real world has us in its hold?

A Father’s Steadfast Love

A father tells his children what they need to know rather than what they want to hear.  
A father is strong for the whole family amid the dangers that encompass them. 
A father provides for his children when they cannot fend for themselves.
A father maintains his bearing and puts on an air of invulnerability to instill confidence.
A father nurses private pains rather than sharing his burdens with his family.
A father gets up early and goes to bed late and doesn’t complain.
A father seeks diversions from his daily work to maintain his sanity.
A father loses his temper when confronted with foolish behavior that will do his family harm.
A father is misunderstood despite his best intentions for his family.
A father does not give up when life gets difficult.
A father favors tough love over vain sentimentality.
A father fears for his family’s safety and always deliberates on how he can protect them.
A father keeps his head high and allows nothing to besmirch his honor.
A father has put away the excesses of his youth to concentrate his energies on those he loves.
A father builds a strong foundation for his children but is not appreciated in his time.
A father provides an example of character and fortitude for his children.
A father acts in God’s stead in leading his children to sublime thoughts and actions.
A father’s steadfast love echoes down the generations long after he is gone:

                A love that supports

                A love that inspires

                A love that overcomes

                A love that endures

                A love that survives the vagaries of time

A father’s steadfast love is ours forevermore.

The Soul's Dominion

I was just surfing the web and ran across the Wikipedia post for Victor Frankl's book The Search for Meaning.  Frankl endured the hardships of the concentration camps, and went on to outline the psychotherapeutic method he called logotherapy.  I have both read the book and visited one of the camps he endured.  In the book Frankl said:
  
“Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

Dachau Concentration Camp

He was not the first or last to voice this philosophy.  The Stoics wrote that in the face of difficulty we are responsible for our own response to circumstances, rather than the circumstances themselves.  I'm also reminded of the Serenity Prayer and the desire “to accept the things I cannot change”.  The attitude of the soul is the critical thing here.  Amelia Earhart wrote: 

Courage

Courage is the price that
Life exacts for granting peace.
The soul that knows it not knows no release
From little things:
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sound of wings.

Nor can life grant us boon of living, compensate
For dull gray ugliness and pregnant hate
Unless we dare
The soul's dominion. Each time we make a choice, we pay
With courage to behold resistless day,
And count it fair.

There is a natural tendency to shrink in the face of difficulty.  We would rather take the easy path, but in so doing it may be that we lose ourselves in the dull gray ugliness of meaninglessness.  May we look within ourselves and muster the strength to meet each day, and the courage to overcome the lesser inclinations of the soul.

My Story

When I was a child, I loved learning.  I was happy to learn new words and how to spell them. I competed in the school spelling bee.  I took pride in my school assignments, and I was always willing to please the teacher.  I loved language arts and social studies.  I showed initiative, and excelled at self-paced study.  I was at the top of my classes.

I have wanted to be a writer since I was nine years old.  I started a novel back then:  “The phone rang.”  It was going to tell the story about three buddies who went off to war and came back heroes.  The only professional experience I have had as a writer was a seven-week stint as Poet-in-Residence in the San Antonio Independent School District.  Writing poems or lyrics comes easily to me.  I’ve recently started a new novel called Resistless Day.  It’s about an expat who returns to the U.S. and undergoes major life changes and finds it difficult to face each coming day.

As a teenager I became enraptured with the Christian faith.  I read the Bible daily and believed that I was responsible for the souls of the whole world.  I was very serious and sincere. I went on to study theology at a Bible College and finished with a Biblical Studies degree at a Christian liberal arts college.  After working in a children’s ministry, I became disillusioned.  I left the ministry and never turned back.

Then I tried different things.  I did a stint in the U.S. Air Force as a personnel specialist.  I moved to Tennessee to trace my family roots and ended up working as a juvenile probation officer.  I tried making music in Florida.  I went home to help look after my father when he had heart surgery, and found my career at a standstill.  That’s when I ventured to northern Virginia and found work as a telecommunications engineer.

After a year at Global One, I transferred to the operations in Frankfurt, Germany.  I spent thirteen years based there, mostly as a freelancer, and I had rich and varied experiences during my European adventure.  I finally returned to the U.S. to avoid spending the rest of my life over there.

Now I am back in my own country.  I have worked as a hospital orderly, child evangelist, construction worker, dishwasher, strolling guitarist, singer, telecommunications engineer, juvenile probation officer, database specialist, poet, and housekeeping attendant.  I have visited more than 20 countries.  I speak four languages.  And I have had only the best of intentions.  I wanted to be a good student.  I wanted to tell stories.  I wanted to inspire and encourage people with music. I wanted to save the world.  I wanted to look after my father.  I wanted to open my heart and mind to other cultures.  I wanted to run my own business.  So what’s next?

I still would like to reach my goals.  I would like to be a professional writer.  I would like to sing regularly.  I would like to reach out to the world and inspire and encourage and help others.  I would like to continue my international adventures.  I am a man of the world.  And I have a lot to share.

Moonlight in Vermont

I'm working up a song list with Bob Spaziano on piano.  We have 100+ songs already, and we're  constantly adding more.  Here's a sample:

Thinking -- by Walter D. Wintle

Thinking
by Walter D. Wintle

If you think you are beaten, you are
If you think you dare not, you don't,
If you like to win, but you think you can't
It is almost certain you won't.

If you think you'll lose, you're lost
For out of the world we find,
Success begins with a fellow's will
It's all in the state of mind.

If you think you are outclassed, you are
You've got to think high to rise,
You've got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.

Life's battles don't always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the man WHO THINKS HE CAN!

Jacques Brel-Ne me quitte pas (Eng. Subtitles)

I just find this clip incredible. First, he is so unapologetic in his presentation.  He doesn't care what anyone thinks.  He is delivering the song with reckless abandon.  Second, the text of the song he wrote is deeply meaningful, exalting the wonder of the woman he loves.  The imagery is rich and beautiful.  And third, this is pure singing, without the interruption of show-off instrumentals and intrusive band noise.

I can relate to this video in so many ways.  I see singing as storytelling, interpreting text with passion and understanding.  In a way, good singing has similarities to good acting.  The singer is playing the part, and bringing to life the words and ideas of the writer.  In this respect, singers have a quite distinct job in comparison to instrumentalists, who are left to wordless interpretations.  I really like the way Brel reaches out to the audience.

And I also find it amazing to study the personality behind this singing.  I have listened to other Brel songs and some interviews in the past few days.  Here was an outspoken and opinionated philosopher, and his beliefs were evident in his songs.  Here was an authentic man, one who lived without apology and saw things in a clearer light than the rest of the world.  And he shared his sense of meaning with his audience in a wonderful way.  There was something different about this man Brel.

Quotes on Success

Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.
Booker T. Washington

I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.
Bill Cosby

What's money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.
Bob Dylan

Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.
Winston Churchill

Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
Winston Churchill

In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.
Bill Cosby

I honestly think it is better to be a failure at something you love than to be a success at something you hate.
George Burns

Action is the foundational key to all success.
Pablo Picasso

The difference between a successful person and others is not a lack of strength, not a lack of knowledge, but rather a lack of will.
Vince Lombardi

The starting point of all achievement is desire.
Napoleon Hill

Piano improvisation: The rules give us freedom

"Learn everything, then forget it all." - Charlie Parker

"Don't play what's there, play what's not there." - Miles Davis

"It has been said that the best improvised music sounds composed, and that the best composed music sounds improvised." -- www.apassion4jazz.net

Would you like to learn to play a song on the piano?  I am trying to understand something about piano improvisation.  We can work on these together.

The first thing to understand is that music is built on  mathematics. Let’s take the major scale of C.  Think of the note C as 1, D as 2, E as 3, and so on.  So what we learned in school as Do-Re-Mi-Fa-Sol-La-Ti-Do can also be thought of as 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-1.  Now let’s try to understand what a chord is.  A triad chord can be thought of as 1-3-5, or three notes that skip one note in between.  In the key of C, the C chord would be 1-3-5, or C-E-G.  The next chord over top of D would be 2-4-6, or D-F-A. The third chord would be 3-5-7, or E-G-B, and so on.  Now let’s have a look at these triads as you would see them on staff paper.

You will notice that the first, fourth, and fifth chords are major, the second, third, and sixth chords are minor, and the seventh chord is diminished.  Now let's see how these chords would look for both major and minor keys.

Would you like to learn how to play a song on piano very quickly?  Look at the first chord in the major scale.  That’s a C chord.  Play that on the piano.  It looks like this:

Now be clever and find the G note, then play the G chord:

With those two chords, you should now be able to play this easy song.  Just play the chords you learned and sing along.  The chords are written over top:

Oh, you're playing piano now?  Good for you.  Everyone should be able to play something.

Now let me get back to my issue.  I am working on improvisation.  This means knowing what to play over certain chords in a song. Here is an interesting link about improvising over chords.  When I’m playing a C chord or the Am chord, I can safely play the notes C, D, E, G, A.  With F or Dm, I can play F, G, A, C, D.  When I’m playing G or Em, I can play G, A, B, D, E.  With G7, I can play G, A, B, C, D, E, F.  On any of the triads in the scale, I can play the corresponding modes (Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aolian, or Locrian).

Now, it is one thing to understand all this theory for improvisation, but it is another thing to make it happen. In theory if you understand the “rules” and are not afraid to experiment, you will eventually find that you can have freedom to explore and improvise within those boundaries.  When we see and hear someone who has great freedom in improvisation, it is very likely because they understand in some way the mathematics of the game.  Check out this page for more on jazz improvisation methods:  http://www.apassion4jazz.net/improv2.html.

When you get practiced up, see what you can do with this.  Have fun!

Here's another good link for you!  http://www.jazzstandards.com/index.html

Thanks for the Music: All of You

[You know who "you" are, but you can always reference the list at the bottom.]

I would like to thank you.  Something compelled you to do it.  You taught me the definition of legato and staccato.  You led my junior high choir (1).  You sang beautiful solos and duets and trios in church (2). You showed me how powerful worship music can be (3). You coached me and let me sing my first solos in public (4). You bought me my first guitar (5). You gave me my first guitar lesson (6). You led as I sang in my first big church choir (7).

Thanks so much.  You were so much fun as you led our college choir, and took me on my first choir tours (8). You taught me music theory and piano (which I never mastered, not your fault) (9). You taught me classical guitar (10).

You deserve credit.  You were the first “real” choir I joined, where I learned major classical pieces like Mozart’s Requiem, and enjoyed beautiful musical moments (11).  You led this wonderful choir, and let me sing Handel’s Messiah first as a bass and another year as a tenor (12).

And thanks for your help as I went solo.  You gave me my first solo gig as a weekly strolling guitarist on a mountain in Tennessee (13). You didn’t tell me I was crazy (though you must have thought it) when I went down to Florida to try to find opportunities to play music (14). 

And you were there when I was on the move.  I sang with you when I was working in northern Virginia (15). This was a rather quiet period.

But my thanks continue.  You were my favorite choir director, and you taught me subtlety in music (16).  You were so much fun to be with, and you learned the difficult parts and blended and made a wonderful sound (17). You opened up the world of early music, and you taught me that good singing was all in the easy release (18). You showed me that there was more than one choir director who knew how to finesse and shape the music, and you were the best organist I have ever met (19). 

And thanks for the great times!  You were the first guitarist I worked with, you showed me what it was like to rock the joint, and you worked the open mics with me (20).  You taught me the music of Buddy Holly and The Beatles, and you showed me what it’s like to exercise discipline in learning your favorite music (21). You showed how to make excellent recordings, and you stirred together your music and social and family life in a great way (22). You knew every song ever written, you could play them on anything with strings, and you sang them with reckless abandon (23). You taught me Bossa Nova chords and rhythm, and showed virtuoso skill on the guitar (24). You blindly played piano better than any sighted man I know, and taught me that it should all be about having fun (25).  You played banjo with your claw better than anyone I’ve seen (26).  You pulled the guitar off the wall and turned the room into a magical place (27).

Thanks for all you have done.  You learned the difficult parts.  You watched the choir director.  You took cues from the pianist.  You sang the old tunes (28). You jammed with the band.  You played by ear.  You read all the notes (29). You loved us through your music.  You touched our hearts and saved our souls. You taught me that music is common to all of life, that there is a “music of the spheres” that brings into symmetry all the disparate and confusing aspects of our troublesome existence.  You showed us that la musica es la vida, that we would be lost without it, that it blesses and enriches our lives in ways that could never be understood (30).

Thanks for the music.  My life would not be the same without you.  We are notes on a page, you and I, sometimes getting closer, sometimes stretching farther apart, and yet sounding out to form the harmonies of life.  Sometimes we echo nature, and sometimes nature echoes us.  The mathematics and the physics of music could be measured by scientific instruments, but those devices could never capture the true nature of the sounds that we hear and make.  We are instruments, you and I.  Thanks for making music with me.  And don’t you know, there’s so much more wonderful music ahead!

(1) Mrs. Irvine Parsons.  (2) Judy Smith. (3) The choir of Faith Baptist Church.  (4) Virginia “Aunt Ginny” Wright. (5) My parents. (6) A student at TSBC whose name I forgot. (7)  Lucky Shepherd.  (8) “Prof” Don Ogden.  (9) What was the music professor’s  name? (10) A professor from the English department.  (11) Texas Bach Choir. (12)  Dr. Finster.  (13) The lady at the bed and breakfast in Monteagle, TN. (14) My family. (15) Loudoun County Master Singers. (16) Kathleen Bird. (17) CTK choir. (18) Edmund Brownless. (19) Simon Harden. (20) Dan Carter. (21) Bob Crook. (22) Angus Foxley. (23) Paul Kachur. (24) Marcos Saback. (25) Jogi Kirschner. (26)  Don Lupo. (24)  Anita at Balalaika.  (28) All the singers.  (29) All the players. (30) All my fellow musicians and music lovers.

A Soldier's Story: "A Man of Honor"

My father served as an airplane engine repairman for 31 months, from 4 Jan, 1943 to 5 Nov, 1945.  His discharge document gives this summary:  “Repaired Cyclone, Pratt and Whitney , Aeronca, and Liberty engines in all types of planes.  Disassembled, cleaned, and replaced worn or defective parts.  Performed difficult and delicate repairs and adjustments of valve actuating and timing mechanisms."   He was a graduate of Embry-Riddle School of Aviation with six months (720 hours) of instruction.    He completed the course with 96%.  (Embry-Riddle is still one of the top aviation schools in the world, with notable alumni and service to the aeronautical industry.)  The discharge papers also tell about my father’s high school education, stating that he had five months (658 hours) of training in Aviation Engine Mechanics) at East High School Trade School.

In addition to his discharge papers, my father has an Army Air Forces Certificate of Appreciation for War Service signed by the Commanding General of the Army Air Forces, General Henry H. “Hap” Arnold.  I remember studying about Hap Arnold during my short time in the U.S. Air Force.  Hap Arnold was a legend, taught to fly by the Wright Brothers and one of the first military pilots worldwide.  The letter states:

"I cannot meet you personally to thank you for a job well done; nor can I hope to put in written words the great hope I have for your success in future life. 

Together we built the striking force that swept the Luftwaffe from the skies and broke the German power to resist.   The total might of that striking force was then unleashed upon the Japanese.  Although you no longer play an active military part, the contribution you made to the Air Forces was essential in making us the greatest team in the world.

The ties that bound us under stress of combat must not be broken in peacetime.  Together we share the responsibility for guarding our country in the air.  We who stay will never forget the part you have played while in uniform.  We know you will continue to play a comparable role as a civilian.  As our ways part, let me wish you God speed and the best of luck on your road in life.  Our gratitude and respect go with you."

Signed, H. Arnold

Following the war, my father continued his studies with the help of the GI Bill.  He earned a certificate  on 10 May, 1954, from International Correspondence Schools, Scranton, Pennsylvania, completing the following subjects:  Electrical Engineering, Division One, Mathematics, Mechanics, Electrical Principles, D-C Machines, A-C Currents, Alternators, A-C Motors, Transformers, Converters and Rectifiers, Motor Applications, Chemistry, Electric Heating, Furnaces,  Batteries, Electroplating, Measuring Instruments, Electron Tubes, Lighting Practice, Illumination, Electric Signs.  On 28 Feb, 1956, he earned a further certificate from International Correspondence Schools, completing:  Electrical Engineer, Division Two, Advanced Mathematics, Wiring, Switchgear, Electrical Distribution, Line Calculations, Electrical Machinery Operation, Voltage Regulation, Relays, Efficiency Tests, Electric Stations, Electrical Machine Design.  On 26 Jul, 1962 – 31 days after his sixth child was born – he received his Diploma from International Correspondence Schools, also called ICS. Completing this program of study was no small feat.  Wikipedia says of ICS:

“The dropout rates were high; only one in six made it past the first third of the material in a course. Only 2.6% of students who began a course finished it. The students dropped out because they overestimated the difficulty, had little encouragement, and had poor study habits.”

I’ve pieced together this soldier’s story from a few documents that have been scanned and are now residing on my computer.  One can see a lifetime in these documents, but I will elaborate somewhat.  My father, a child of the depression, studied a trade in high school that he later developed further and practiced in the Army Air Force, the forerunner of today’s U.S. Air Force.  After tech school, he traveled on a crowded ship to northern Africa,where the Desert Fox, German General Erwin Rommel waged his battles.  My father later went on to Italy, and I have a suspicion that there he know Joseph Heller, the author of the book Catch 22.  (Ask me and I’ll tell you why I think so.)  He saw Rome – I followed his footsteps a few years ago, noting the very spot where he stood in front of the Coliseum, where I explained my father’s story to a group of young choir singers. His mother -- my grandmother -- died before he returned from the war.

After the war, my father met the challenge and expectations of Hap Arnold.  He contributed.  He had success.  He had a comparable role in civilian life.  My father provided for a wife and six children, worked tirelessly in community and fraternal organizations, and finally retired after 32 years as an electrician.  His children and grandchildren know that he was the rock or our family, and we remember him as a great example.  At my father’s funeral, my brother gave a fitting eulogy.  He summed up our father’s life with these simple words:  “He was a man of honor.”

“Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never"

What does it mean to persist?  Merriam-Webster says that it is “to go on resolutely or stubbornly in spite of opposition, importunity, or warning”.  To be persistent is to continue “for a long or longer than usual time”, as:  “We were nagged by a persistent salesman.”  Persistence is “the quality that allows someone to continue doing something or trying to do something even though it is difficult or opposed by other people”.

Now that I have established this framework for meaning, let’s see what examples I can find for the quality of persistence.  The first that comes to mind – probably for you too – is the story of Thomas Edison and the light bulb.  The common belief is that he invented it, but his contribution was improving the light bulb so that it would be commercially viable.  He was reported to have said, "I have not failed 10,000 times. I have successfully found 10,000 ways that will not work."

Another story that comes to mind is that of the tortoise and the hare.  This is one of Aesop’s fables, and the lesson is clear:  those who remain focused and persevere will win the race.  Those who become idle and distracted will lose.  It is a good illustration to remind us to stay in the race.

I can think of stories from my life.  In 2012, I followed a fitness and nutrition program over six weeks and dropped 25 pounds.  I was focused, determined, and most of all, persistent.  (I need to find this focus again.)  I can remember work and school projects that seemed insurmountable.  But constant and persistent focus would eventually bring me to a successful end.  And I have many goals that I am working toward in my life.  Others may not understand them. And yet I carry on.

Every day we are faced with obstacles that hinder our path.  We face failures and setbacks.  Things don’t go our way.  We are reminded by others  – sometimes very subtly -- of our shortcomings and limited success.  We see our goals in the distance, and we have a vision of achieving them. But they seem somehow out of reach.

Life is a struggle.  Those things that would hold us back should be seen in the light of the strengths that we know that we possess within ourselves.  It could be that no one else shares the vision, no one else is aware of the internal strength, no one else seems to support us. It is during these times that we draw deeply from the wells of our personal courage, ignore the naysayers, and –-

PERSIST!

Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never — in nothing, great or small, large or petty — never give in, except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.

    -- Winston Churchill

Thoughts from the Ivory Tower

Music is a way to connect to people.  There have been countless times that I have lingered in a social situation, keeping my thoughts to myself, too aloof or disregarded to join the conversation – until I had the chance to sing.  Music can be an ice-breaker for me.  When I sing I am able to loosen up, to release energy, to reach out to people, and often it opens opportunities for new friendships and interesting conversations.  Music can alter the mood in a room and bring people together.

Writing helps me to connect in other ways, although it is often one-sided.  Sometimes I will write in my journal, and I am able to connect to my inner self in new ways.  Writing to others in emails is a way to connect to friends and family.  Poetry is a way to communicate vague ideas and deep emotions.  This blog is an attempt to reach out, to communicate.  Many times I feel vulnerable when writing for others.  I am often convinced that almost no one is interested in what I have to write, and ultimately, they are not interested in me.  And often I feel ignored.  I would almost rather be criticized than ignored.  I wonder if I should shout with a louder voice.

It almost seems weak to say that I would like to connect with others in writing and song – as if I need people.  If a tree falls in the wilderness, does anyone hear it?  I have much to express, and I believe that sometimes I can express it very well. I would be thrilled to have someone to reach out in this direction, to write something thoughtful and responsive and interesting back.  I read about the lives of great men of history and literature that they have written long and deliberative letters to acquaintances, and they – shock, shock – have received similar replies.

I perceive the world in a different way than I experience it.  I expect there to be interesting and serious discourse.  But I look around and see and hear crass culture:  on television, on the radio, in public places.  Maybe I should be in an ivory tower.  There I could write my letters and sing my songs and pass my days in reflection.  But it just wouldn’t be any fun to be in the ivory tower alone.