"To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man."
~ William Wordsworth
Today I did something new on The Frontier Beyond Fear Blog Talk Radio program - a live broadcast centered around reading poetry, with reflections amid the poems.
You can listen to the podcast here: A Poetic Interlude
Reflection of Trees photo by Susan Larison Danz.
We sweep....and sweep....and sweep....
Yet another poem from last Saturday night, and worth sharing . . .
Sweeping
We are very effective
with our brooms
We sweep
And sweep
And sweep.
Did we never even notice
it’s not something
we can sweep away?
~ Susan Larison Danz
Raindrops photo by Susan Larison Danz.
"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it." ~ Norman Maclean
Today I listened to The Moldau, again. It came about spontaneously but with purpose. I have written about this beautiful, graceful classical piece before. When I spoke of Music Nights a couple days ago, it was not to neglect the Classical. It's just that the Classical fills a different kind of niche in my life, and typically not late at night. (Late at night, particularly on the weekend, when I feel so inclined, tends to be occupied by music of the 60's and 70's.)
Grace. That does indeed describe it. Today it felt more poignant, sublimely reflecting life.
I've revisited, again, what I wrote about The Moldau several years ago. Some is worth repeating here, in more than a link:
At the beginning, the awakening flow is virtually imperceptible,
distinct elements joining together in a dance of potential. You can
literally hear how the quietly growing stream flows easily over the
discrete rocks in its way, finding its playful path. It's wonderful to
listen to the gentle voice of streams at this stage - I could literally
do so for hours.
Then the stream begins to grow. As it gains in maturity, there is more
sophisticated interaction with its surroundings, including the people
who begin to appreciate its beauty and the gifts it brings. There is
mystery too as night falls, yet it flows undeterred by the darkness, the
moonlight lending even greater beauty.
Then the channel narrows. I know many rivers at this stage. This is
perhaps the most challenging part of the flow, yet also its most
powerful. If the flow truly desires to be free, the more discrete
limitations placed upon it, the more the existing landscape attempts to
channel its energy, the stronger it becomes. There can even be a sense
of peril perceived by those with whom it interacts, yet the flow of its
creative purpose yearns to break free.
The rapids pass. Liberation. Stillness. Hidden depths take form. At
this point, I must admit I become wistful following the river, as in
Smetena's world it enters into a city, and I find myself rather sadly
pondering its playful beginnings. Yet one wonders if the multiple
dimensions of this flow can actually exist in parallel.
In the end, Smetana's now majestic river lends the power of its full
creative contribution to the Greater Unity of another, and one can
imagine the Ocean that awaits. One could say our beautiful little
stream disappears, but does it really?
I could say more, but I'll say less. My ponderings today as I listened weren't quite as intricately poetic, spiritual or deep. Today I was thinking about innocence, poignancy and life. And that was enough.
Waters in the Woods photo by Susan Larison Danz.
"We have cut the whales off from themselves. Creatures that communicated for tens of millions of years have now effectively been silenced." ~ Carl Sagan
Some years effectively clamor into our awareness. 2020 was a year like that. It was not a quiet year.
When a year like 2020 comes our way, some of us go inwards. If we choose to continue to nurture our awareness, our voices may appear as if they have silenced themselves. And perhaps they have. But not in every way.
I made a conscious decision to be here tonight, even as my dinner is in the oven. I made a conscious decision to turn off the television that was on while I was cooking. I turned on Classical Music, instead. I just missed The Blue Danube, it seems, though they played a more modern rendition afterwards.
I was reminded even before I turned the radio on that I have often enjoyed the New Year's concert from Vienna. It is shared live, and so if it was on, it was on in the morning. I forgot about it completely. Now it's night. And yet I wondered. Was it live this year? Was it presented at all during the age of Covid? Would I have wanted to hear it, diminished? Did they play another year perhaps? Did they perform it on Zoom? (I seriously doubt it.) I could look it up, I suppose. I don't really need to.
And so it goes with 2020.
And now it's 2021.
The last time I wrote here, I wrote a rather poignant story. It was an important story, actually, one that is about trade-offs. As the year progressed, it became less accepted to talk about such things. And our awareness of them became more nuanced. There will be Catch 22's, so-to-speak, that will be examined for years, I sense, if we get that far.
Voices matter. Some of us went inwards. It doesn't mean we were "depressed", though some might have felt that way. We just needed to speak for a time with ourselves, and perhaps with the future. We didn't necessarily stop writing. And through that quiet expression of awareness (what some might call "journaling"), we discerned in the moment and found solace. Even when it felt like we didn't, we did.
That's what 2020 was like for me, after April.
I look at just about every description on my "profiles", the ones I have consciously chosen to share. In almost every case, I have put "writer" first. I did not stop being a writer in 2020. Far from it, actually.
But now it's 2021, and I am here.
A piece I do not recognize is playing on Classical radio. It has aspects of discordance. But still, it carries melody. My dinner is almost ready. It took a while to cook. I will either be back to continue, or I will finish here for now . . .
(I wonder, before I go to check on it, how many others went inwards last year? And what will the future reveal their voices to say? Dinner time.)
About 40 minutes later.....Also Sprach Zarahustra (I was thinking Thus, but I looked up the exact title) was playing as I wiped down the kitchen counters. I thought to myself "That's rather perfect." It is still playing now. I need to listen to more Classical music and less "news". (There isn't really much "news" anymore - it's essentially opinion.) I wasn't listening to "news" earlier. A movie was somewhat randomly on (the beginning of The Devil Wore Prada - it's a rather light and interesting movie, in its way, but I turned it off, knowing it).
Were they truthfully Catch-22's, or trade-offs? I thought about that at dinner, thinking I was "softening" the idea. I sense that History will consider them trade-offs, which is what I would have said in April.
(And in case you are wondering, the previous post I am referring to is this one: Every Day.)
That was written on April 7 - the last time I wrote here in 2020. A lot has surely happened in 2020 after that! And yet plenty of what I wrote about there happened as well. Some day, we will have the courage to examine all of this more closely, perhaps some of us even today (The music comes to a dramatic crescendo, and then it descends.)
2020 was a year when Spirituality has been vital for many of us, and I hope to speak a lot more about this in 2021. It is also the year when Spirituality was far too often dismissed. Perhaps I will write again tomorrow. Perhaps I will finally read Thus Spoke Zarathrustra on my Kindle one day soon - it's been there for quite a while, unread.
What people seem to think is dead is very much alive - and needs to be.
Spirituality is vitally important.
(And now the piece has finished, in precisely perfect timing. "A chance to shine", the commentator says - I didn't quite catch who was shining, how or when, as I was only partially listening. Yes, I'd love to believe that is indeed true. And true of 2021.)
Winter photo by Susan Larison Danz.
