Beethoven Number Nine

an excerpt from chapter 18 of King of Soul

O Freunde, nicht diese Töne! Sondem laβt uns angenehmere anstimmen, und freudenvollere! While the widening gyre of anarchy was roaring so blatantly through Altamont, another thing altogether was happening in the hub of the heartland, that humongous, meat-packin’ Windy City on western shore of Lake Michigan. In a concert hall on Michigan Avenue, a mere stone’s throw from the site where, last year, Mayor Daley’s legion of policemen had taught the boomer upstarts a thing or two about how his version of order would be enforced in the city of Chicago, a theater-full of listeners sat expectantly. They were awaiting the arrival of Ludwig Von Beethoven. His scribbled notes upon a 5- lined manuscript would soon provide the roadmap to guide them through an extraordinary experience, an o’erleaping of the bounds of time and space. At 8:07, as if by clockwork, Conductor Riccardo Ormando entered the hall from the wings, welcomed enthusiastically in a wave of applause. Now the time of his orchestra’s purple mountains’ majesty of preparation would yield forth the fruited plains of actual, musical delight. Thus would their collective soundings propel this eager audience through an exploration of rock music as it had been performed a century and a half earlier. The great concert hall came to an absolute silence when Ormando turned his back on the audience. He lifted the baton. Softly, Sustenuto Strings sounded the beginning of an event like no other, and yet exactly the same as it had always been.

Something, something very fine was about to happen, something tuned and prepared, painstakingly written, performed through ages, rehearsed again and again and again and, and then again, it began. Flutes, woodwinds joined in harmonious agreement that, yes, something here should happen, but it would not begin too soon, not too hastily. Let it develop. A brief discordant note, reminiscent of their prior tuning, then the sonorous appearance of Pianissimo notes over strong tremolos. With a wave of his hand, Riccardo gave the Horns permission to so sedately make their entrance. Allegro rhythm took hold of their soundings. Ensemble musings melted into congruous agreements. Along the way, Flutes, French horns, Oboes, Clarinets, Bassoons, Trumpets—all contributed to a mounting statement of masterful musical expectation; carefully formed a hundred and fifty-four years ago. The bundle of sound was delivered precisely, within a sonata form of melded anticipations and fortissimo fulfillments, interspersed with overlapping phrases, strings and horns alternating on descents; Violins ascending pyrrhically to the heights of their prepared assents. Passion stretched between a wooden frame, tensioned with pegs from skillful instrument-makers long dead and gone, as was the composer himself. Air, vibrating. Atmospheric molecules activated in energetic creation, rushing now through tubes of brass, squeezing ‘tween reeds of vibrating resistance. This rarified air, dispensed by accomplished lips of love, entrained through hearts of gold, it all blew through, sounding forth, offering delicate harmonies and bold crescendos intended to lift the human heart to heights of reflective joy, joy that is perhaps not fully appreciated until the depths of despair have been debilitated, and the heights of achievement have been laid out like sacrifices upon the altar of endeavor and the crucible of time. Listen to the scene on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xkj0TeZeZuo%20">

Portrait of a Lady

Listen to the song: Portrait of a Lady It seems the birds are flying south; winter’s here and there’s no doubt the leaves are going to fall; and relatives will call their sons and daughter all, and tell them to be sure and stay warm. Yes, winter is that time of year when snow appears and birds make their way back south. . . prompting all the folks at home to keep their skin and chilly bones wrapped in sweaters so they won’t be cold.

The air just seems to crystalize, somehow bringing bluer skies and crisp autumn sounds. . . like the wind that brings the northern cold . . . the quilt a lady now unfolds. She sees the bare-branched trees outside the window; they seem to frown. She lays the quilt out on the bed with visions running in her head of all the things she has never done; all the words she might have said . . .all the children and the dead. . . The winter wind just blows. She sits down on the window sill; she opens up her mind to fill it with a thought of far away. . . a man she knew. . .she met him on a streetcar. . .it was a day, a day just like today. She wonders why October cold always seems to bring that old memory back again. . . of steaming coffee in a cup, and eyes that never would give up. . .as they watched across the table, her trembling hands. . . Suddenly she hears a stirring sound. . . and in the hall, the pounding of little feet. . . that bring a boy with younger eyes, to kiss, and hug her and make her sigh her silly thoughts right out the window. Yeah, now there’s just a pair of eyes that gaze at her from three feet high, and smile when she’s too sad, a childish face that wants to see all it was ever meant to be. . . till she takes it in her trembling hands. . . don’t cry, baby. Listen to the song: Portrait of a Lady Glass half-Full

American Dream

Where am I? I know I was laying in a field of grass somewhere. . . Leaves of grass. . . leaves falling. . . looking around. . . in the autumn of my life, harkening back to the roots . . . the American dream. . . life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Philadelphia 1776 . . . now, today, in Boston. . . the old north church, “one if by land; two if by sea” Am I on solid ground or am I treading water as the waves of history roll in, crashing upon the sands of time? The contest of nature and man’s controlling of it. . . the contrast of order and chaos. . .the contest of harmony and invention is playing out far beyond the scripted documents of human events. . . all men and women being created equally, endowed by our Creator with life, liberty and the right to pursue happiness. . . the right to work toward fulfilling the American dream, on a lifelong journey to make the best of every opportunity to work hard, have a decent car to drive in the morning, have a house to live in, raise a family of three or four young’uns.. . . it’s all good, y’all. Born in the deep south, watching all the changes: Martin Luther KIng Jr., having come down from the mountaintop . . . https://www.micahrowland.com/carey/Mountaintop.mp3 . And yet. . . ‘‘the contest of harmony and invention is playing out, far beyond the scripted staffs of musical history, and the yellowed pages of history. . . presenting consequences more grave than the mere comfort of American citizens.

Still to be found in the world today is the ongoing contest of order against chaos. Here’s the ever-present duel between right and wrong; there’s the Establishment beating back dissidents, with frequent sightings of the powers that be, as they take advantage of the powerless who want to be. And we shan’t neglect to mention the plight of them who think they should be running the show, being perpetually put down by them who are in charge of it. And we do learn we have words that must be said; yet we have words that should never be spoken; but someone will pronounce those words sooner or later. Yes, we do encounter in this life lines in the sand that daren’t be crossed, and prohibitions that beg to be violated; we find rules that must be broken, and sometimes we encounter the terrible consequences of convention vs. contention.

King of Soul

Steve and Tucker

Driving three kids to school, five mornings of every week, in the 1990’s I would listen to NPR Morning Edition, hearing the voice of Steve Inskeep delivering news headlines of the day. We didn’t have a TV, comfortable as we were in a Christian community and a New Testament, charismatic church. We were inclined toward conservatism. The absence of a TV in our home meant that our household was nothing like the two households that my wife and I had grown up in, both of them Catholic. That absence of TV meant that I never watched Fox News. So we had a conservative world view but no Fox influence, if you can grok that in this day and age. All that to say. . . I never thought I would hear Steve Inskeep interviewing Tucker Carlson. Never having listened to Tucker, I was amazed at Tucker’s assessment of trump’s self-proclaimed war on Iran.

The beauty of this development is that Tucker is such an eloquent defender of good ole American common sense, in his criticism of trump’s self-proclaimed war against Iran. Here are just a few of Tucker’s comments that so profoundly reveal the dilema of being an American in this time of trump’s war: “He was pushed by a foreign country (Netanyahu) to do this (war). It is the most profoundly destructive single decision a president has made in our history.” . . . “ He should have been removed from office immediately when he threatened nuclear war.”. . . “He should have been removed from office by his own cabinet secretaries the moment he threatened a nuclear attack.” (25th amendment) “There’s no greater threat than that”. . .” here you have a guy threatening to eliminate the human race.”. . . “I disagree, almost entirely with everything the Secretary of Defense (Hegseth). . . and I’m going to call him the secretary of defence because I don’t acknowledge that a decent country would have a secretary of war.”. . “The republican chairman, Bryan Mast of Florida showed up wearing an IDF uniform, a foreign military uniform.”. . . “ What you’re seeing now is the control of what was supposed to be the strongest country in the world by a country of nine million people with no resources.”. . . “None of this (criticism) is anti-semitic.” “As someone who opposed Obama. . . it took a huge amount of courage to get that (Obama’s peace deal with Iran) done.” “Iran is a regional power; it’s always going to be a regional power. It’s also the world’s oldest civilization.” …“the push for war with Iran. . .this will destroy the United States, I thought.” . . . “The majority of American Jews who were polled are not for Netanyahu.” “That was important to me, that the Republican party change, from being a tool of a foreign country (Israel) to being an instrument of uplift for the United States.” “ I would urge. . . the vice president, every member of the cabinet, everyone who works for the president, to march into his office and demand that he renoune his statements calling for the use of nuclear weapons, and if he doesn’t do that, they should quit.” “The number one thing I wanted to achieve was to get the neo-cons out of the Republican party because they did the Iraq war.” . . . “I don’t pay attention to the numbers.” “The real threat . . . is that you become a monomaniac. . . you get so mad about a topic that you can’t stop talking about it.. . totally fixated on this one thing”. . .“I know who I am.” This youtube viewer concludes, based on Tucker’s testimony, we should all know who we are, and not allow the push and shove of politics or world events or the cultural wars to interfere with our own individual missions in life. Glass half-Full

The Tragic Truth

The white man’s delusion was blown to smithereens when President Lincoln declared the slaves free in 1863. The white man’s delusion was buried in the dirt of Gettysburg when President Lincoln eulogized the slain soldiers who had defended the cause of Liberty and Emancipation in 1863. The white man’s delusion was driven into the dirt of Appomattox when Robert E. Lee surrendered to General Ulysses S. Grant in 1865.

The correction of the burden was memorialized at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington. An episode in Glass half-Full, chapter 5 simulates the tragic truth: Marcus and Bridget visit our Lincoln Memorial. They walked up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. When they reached the top, Bridget was gazing, like most everyone else who ascends here, with rapt interest at the seated statue. But Marcus, holding Bridget’s hand, gently prodded her to keep moving, slowly to the left, through the myriad of ambling visitors. They came to an inner sanctum. Carved on the white marble wall in front of them were the words of the slain President’s Gettysburg address. Marcus stopped, taking in the enormity of it, both physically and philosophically. He was looking at the speech intently. Bridget was looking at him. After a few moments: “Isn’t that amazing?” “Yes.” She could see that he was thinking hard about something. The great chamber echoed a murmur of humankind. “Supreme irony.” The longing of a nation’s soul reverberated through the memorial… in the soundings of children, the whisperings of passersby. Deep within Marcus’ soul, something sacred was stirring, and she could see it coming forth. “The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but can never forget what they did here.” He was reading aloud Lincoln’s words on the white wall. But for the echoes of a million people who had passed through this place, there was silence. After a moment, Bridget responded. “…and yet, there it is carved on the wall, for all to see: ‘the world will little note what we say here….’” “Right, Bridget. Isn’t it amazing?” Suddenly, amid the noise was a loud shouting. Marcus could hear where it was coming from. He moved quickly away, toward the noise, to see what was happening. Bridget felt the sudden coolness of air on her hand, in the absence of Marcus’ gentle grip. As soon as he emerged from behind the marble column, Marcus was puzzled by an incongruous, glistening wet flash of red upon the feet of Lincoln’s statue. What the hell? Instinctively, he ran over to it. He could still hear a constant shouting; it was a ranting. Then his attention settled on the man who was yelling. He had a bucket in his hand, dripping with red paint. The rant went on, and suddenly Marcus was comprehending it: “…you sonofabitch see if you can get that off and then rub it on your white ass, your sorry white ass that destroyed what this country could have been you’re a traitor to your race.” This must be a dream, a very bad dream. Marcus was noticing the speaker’s bald head, goatee, his moving mouth spouting insult. Then Marcus was deciding to do something. It seemed to him that it was someone else speaking when he asked, loudly, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The stranger, startled, turned to Marcus and looked at him. Then he opened his foul mouth: “I’m gonna make things right. There’s a lotta things need to be made right. It’s gonna start now.” A bad dream. Marcus could feel his ire rising. His voice must have quivered with “You better leave now. You’ve defaced national property. You better find a park ranger and turn yourself in. If you don’t, I’ll turn you in.” Marcus found himself yelling, as his challenge escalated through the marble edifice. The man turned and began to walk down the steps. Impulsively, Marcus thought, and shouted: “Who are you, anyway?” Marcus began following the man down the steps. “They oughta bury you under this place.” Marcus was right behind him. Suddenly the vandal turned and punched his assailant in the face. Marcus reeled. There was blood and pain in his awareness. Impetuous, he jumped on the guy with a vengeance and tackled him. They spun downward through midair, landed with a bonecrunching impact on the steps, rolled and stopped, still lost in a fierce, flailing embrace of sudden hatred. A crowd of people tore them apart. Then there was a D.C. cop. He arrested them both. The white man’s imagined superiority was buried at the battle of Little Big Horn in 1870. Listen: https://www.micahrowland.com/carey/Sitting%20Bulls%20Eyes.mp3 Glass half-Full

The Wonder of Ai

We are living in a brave new world in which the powers of electronic media can turn red presidents into blue protesters, so to speak. If you don’t believe me, follow the link to Michael Kryton’s You Tube presentation: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/QOCwt4YM5bk

Here’s the message being delivered on YouTube by the Ai images and voices of four living presidents: “The country’s on fire and we’ve come down to the wire. We are face to face with what we have to do. It has become our destiny, our single opportunity. What happens to our nation now is really up to you. So we are here reminding you the power’s in your hands. Time to make decisions and to make your final stand. We’re the living presidents; oh hear our final word. Get off your ass and make it count on this November third. Sing this song and share it; do the thing you need to do. . . and let’s bring down these bastards in a raging sea of blue!” Blogger’s note: This blogation is assembled and presented here by a registered Republican who is in full support of the message that Michael Kryton has presented. The use of certain offensive words, a** and bas****s and f***, is a feature of this Ai video that obviously demonstrates our Constitutional right to free speech. “They started wars and make us pay with pain on every day. They tell us that we are the ones who really are to blame; They mock us and they F*c* us, cuz it’s in their dna, but they forget that we all walk, awake in every way. So we are reminding you the powers in your hands; It’s time to make decisions and to make your final stand! We’re the living presidents; we felt we had no choice Your nation really needs you and is counting on your voice All we have to do is grab the problem by the throat. Remember this November to get off your butt and vote. Remember this November third you know what you must do. Bring down all those bastards in a raging sea of blue! Bloggers note: this written blogitation is typed out by a 75 year-old American who is still a registered (red) Republican who is full agreement with the message.

Glass half-Full

From Eminant to imminent

The Creator of the universe is everywhere, all seeing, all knowing. YWHW spoke light into being. . . electromagnetic energy shining forth through the Universe, illuminating the planets, warming the lands and the waters. Long before Morse code, long before Fortran or Basic or C++ or html, YWHW wrote the genetic code that enables life to live, breathe and propagate. The Spirit of God was moving upon the waters, combining hydrogen and oxygen to create the waters that would supply an earthly environment with liquidity, fluidity and mobility. The Spirit separated waters from the waters, setting aside some waters that would generate new features of solidity, structure and growth, coding the elements creatively brought forth in minerals, proteins and plants. The Spirit of God sculpted mineral elements into planets and moons. Planets then brought forth plants, varying in size, shape, color, and protein, according to their respective genetic codes. The Spirit of God thereby established a garden where the plants could prosper and grow. The Spirit of God, moving right along, raised life to a higher level, enabling consciousness and mobility, and regenerative life processes for the propagation and growth of the various organisms that would be living in the garden. . . all the while, lengthening the genetic codes to establish patterns of development, growth, wired with neurons. . . time and history and evolution, empowering neurons and nerves to transmit consciousness. As the Spirit of God continued moving through the waters and the plants and the creatures, YWHW brought forth more new plants and animals. Creation took on the quality and appearance of what we call a garden. All the creatures were growing and flourishing. Seeing that it was all good, YWHW took Creation to a higher level. . . bringing forth the crown of Creation, Man. . . the creature that scientists later classified as homo sapiens, which is Latin for a creature that can walk and talk and use intelligence to supervise the other life forms. This intelligence development was originally a blessing for the man and the woman who were enjoying their life in the garden; but . . . (with homo sapiens there has always been a ‘but’ . . that is. . . a limitation, a natural boundary, a set of rules.) Understanding that this unique crown of Creation, this man. . . had been given a few god-like attributes. . . consciousness, intelligence and a certain amount of creativity. . . YWHW set limits on Adam and Eve, so they would not get too carried away with this freedom and dignity thing. Meanwhile, back at the Eden ranch, there was another critter to whom the Creator had given a certain amount of consciousness and intelligence. The snake had mobility, just like Adam and Even did, but he didn’t have any arms or legs, and I think he must have gotten upset about it. Licking his tongue on a root of bitterness, the serpent decided to take matters into his own scales and try to convince the man and the women to violate a law that YWHW had established. Thinking himself a wise guy, he raised the question of the tree of knowlege, which was bound with YWHW’s prohibition: don’t eat from the fruit of that tree of knowledge of good and evil!

. . .nd the rest is history. As a consequence of their breaking the rules, violating the limits of YWHW Law, Adam and Eve were banished from the paradise; YWHW sent them out into the world, the territories of homo sapiens, to struggle and contend with the other men and women on the earth, the neanderthals and the cromagnon peoples who were being mean and stupid and all that stuff. . . the will to power and thus spoke zarathustra blahblah and the bullsh** and you know the rest of the story.

So we understand, looking back into this revealed history, that the crown of creation, Man and Woman, blew their chance for a perfect life. Originally created as God’s eminent creature in this earthly garden, they set in motion a degenerative pattern in which human depravity dragged men and women into an imminent degeneration, which became the way of the world. . . a cycle of lawlessness, debauchery, greed, violence and magamania. and its been going on for a long time. I’m here to tell you the degeneration of decency into magamania does not have to be immanent. Read the books of Mattew, Mark, Luke and John to find out about it. Glass half-Full