FOUND

Every end is a new beginning. I think I've said that before--maybe in a dream, maybe in another life.

And it's only at these junctures, where an ending fades to the bright light of a beginning, that we can look back, encapsulate, and ask the ultimate question: "Does any of this matter?"

Still, after all these years, it's a matter of perspective and faith. Just because we all end up going to the same place doesn't mean the path we choose to get there is unimportant. The only certain destination is death; best not to make the journey too direct; better to have all sorts of surprise plot twists, tangents, and even parallels.

The stories end up becoming almost mythological, almost as if the creator(s) was/were spinning out a new theology that combines the ascending religions (destination: Heaven) with the descending religions (all praise Gaia). And with this quasi-religious set of stories, just like with other religious texts, the question of reality is less than important. Whatever this light is, we can be sure it's a metaphor. And whatever it's a metaphor for is subject to whatever religious background you hail from.

Q: So do our actions matter? A: It depends on your perspective.

For the more self-centered--narcissistic--everything matters a great deal. But if you step back from the individual and look at a whole city, the actions of each individual don't matter so much as those of the collective. It's like going from playing singles tennis to rugby. (Let's see Pete Sampras do that.) But if you take another step back and look at how that city fits into a country, then the collective actions of that city only matter insofar as they fit in with the country. So instead of being on the rugby team, you watch from the stands, understanding that this game doesn't matter to much of the world, and yet it is the whole world to those on the field. And finally, how much do our actions matter to a spy satellite. The nations of the world fit together; some will win today and lose tomorrow; others will continually struggle with scarcity.

But from the ultimate perspective, the one from which we look back as we fade into the light, none of it matters: all our journeys, all our tribulations, appear so infinitesimal, so arbitrary.

So while some pessimists say none of it matters, I argue that everything matters to someone and nothing (besides death) matters to everyone.

No one dies for no reason.
(Except maybe Nikki and Paulo. Their lives were totally without purpose.)

make your own fate

I got caught up last night; I watched in on tv and now know everything you know--about Lost. I'm not exactly proud of it, but at least, today, I don't have hours of streaming video to tempt me away from some quality introspection and musicking. On the continuum of "good/evil" to "everything-is-relative", turns out it is, in fact, somewhere in between. There seems to be a clear evil but good is ambiguous. Which seems more like our experience: we can all agree on certain acts as evil (maybe not unanimous, but close enough), but there are as many paths to righteousness as there are religions. Maybe to be good is to not be evil. It's like, we can all agree on what silence is, but we can't agree what music is. And, to continue the metaphor, we need silence to define the music, to give it a shape by which we can perceive it.

The show also talks a lot about "good people" and "bad people", often redefining the same person several times in an episode. According to my above interpretation, there are only bad people and not-bad people. And many of the not-bad people think they're good, but few can agree on what that means.

I feel like I've been writing a lot of not-bad music, living a not-bad life, but it's maybe time to get on some path for good. But, considering I tend not to stay on the path if it's laid out before me, I'll have to get my machete and find my own way, make my own path. I feel like I've said something similar before--like when I started this blog.

I went for a bike ride again this morning. Spring is here with conviction; flowers are pushing up through the dirt and birds are scrounging for food. And ants and mice are again exploring the house. I find it ironic that the traffic noise is almost louder here than in the city. We're about a mile from 94, so we get a lot of truck noise, depending on the room. Sometimes, though, the wave noise from the lake beats out the truck noise, depending on the wind.

good and evil

This weekend, my last moments in Chicago for the next week, has been about recuperation and Lost. I've watched all but 3 episodes of season 5 in the past few days--am hoping to finish tonight. Yesterday, I felt slightly ill all day from the night before, so it was just about all I could do. I'm not sure how I got so drunk; I guess that's what I get for hanging out with homebrewers--was out of my league.

And in the nearly 11 hours of Lost, I realized that this show is just as much about the post-9-11 age as 24. I never got into 24, but from what I know about it, they're similar shows. The major difference is that in 24 you always know who's good and who's evil--the Fox News version of the world. In Lost, you think you know, but then are turned around so many times, that it becomes clear that: there's more than just 2 sides, the sides are nested, creating internal conflicts, and none of the sides are wholly good or evil. 24 seems more about the outmoded worldview, while Lost is perhaps a prescient view of the future.

Somewhere around episode 5 yesterday, I finally at some food.

And somewhere in between episodes 9 and 10, I went to Sarah's going away party as she heads of to NYC with a 3-month layover in Cali to meditate and do yoga.

I'm hoping to finish tonight so I can get on with my life.

I had flashes of brilliance towards the end of the week, am hoping to continue tomorrow once re-ensconced in the simplicity of Michigan.

You say fail; I say win.

Contrary to usual, I'll start with the big news: finished Lost Season 3 last night. You probably know this if you follow my Facebook stream with a fine-tooth comb. And it ended in a way that was such a downer. Somehow, they managed to contrast the usual flow of the show with scenes from another part of the timeline, creating an existential disconnect, leaving me with a feeling of hollowness that is unusual for the show. The ephemeral nature of life on the island, its fragility, the intensity of each moment suddenly became a mid-life crisis of a man whose meaning is redefined by a society that has left him behind. The naturalness of the motivations (basic survival) on the island become the twisted web of lies and simulacra that our economy uses to keep us in line.
I had dinner with Corbett and Grace last night, which ended with me slaughtering them in Scrabble. The letters I was getting seemed so much more flexible than normal. Good vibes.
My ChicagoNOW blog got 40-something unique visitors yesterday thanks to a post on Facebook. I need to figure out how to monetize it. And see more shows. I'm going to email the Symphony today. Tonight begins a slew of concerts. Tonight is a salon, tomorrow a flute recital before seeing a composer who's been likened to myself, Sunday is Winterreise after pizza for Corbett's birthday, and then Monday is MusicNOW. Tuesday is open, but Wednesday is Sound of Silent Film. All good things! I could get used to seeing a lot of concerts if they are this promising.
I gave the cat the steroid today, which I've been avoiding because it seems like a lot of effort and suffering for something that she might just regurgitate. Last day of housesitting, which comes at a good time; I'm not getting much good stuff done right now. I've had a deadline of tomorrow, for which I think I'll come up with some draft--but nothing final.
Oh and I got a haircut at "sine qua non", a salon in Andersonville. I never know where to go for haircuts; there's something in me that revolts at the idea of spending more than 20 or 30 for a cut, but there's something else (memory of failed cuts) that keeps me from wanting to be too cheap. So it was more than I would like to pay but I'm pretty content with it. And then I got a consultation on "product", which all cost more than I would like.


I'm starting to think that verbal thinking reduces musical thinking, the latter being more abstract. I'm thinking of taking a day off from words altogether, so if I disappear it's only for a moment.

on silent haunches

I'm still adjusting to my new life. It's like my composition teacher used to say: some things change, some stay the same. Hopefully, for me now, that is: the unimportant things are open to change, revealing the core that is immutable. Really, though, it's all open to change, just to varying degrees. Like a weather balloon tethered to the earth, we blow in the wind. Everything from the balloon down the tether is wandering with the wind, except for the one spot that is anchored. Like an inverted pendulum.

Speaking of nonsense, I saw Alice in Wonderland last night--in 3D. Pretty good. But I came out feeling almost drunk or stoned or something. It was like being in a hyperreal dream. Worth seeing if your visual cortex can handle that much stimulation. Made me feel a little like I was in Clockwork Orange. I could look away but I couldn't.

And on the way back, the fog was cold and thick. My glasses were all fogged up just from riding in it. Nice that I had my lights and there wasn't much traffic.

I'm back into Lost, Season 3. I am appreciating this time away from work and regularity because it allows me to observe how various factors have an affect on my well-being. Too much Lost makes it difficult to work on music; I sit and think and try things out but nothing comes. I think Lost and movies like Alice work out different muscles than music writing requires. Good muscles to have--and in me they're just now getting a good workout--but contrary to what I'm trained to do. Still finding balance by exploring the extremes.

Good news. I just got an email from Bang on a Can. I'm an alternate. Which is better than last year. I'll know yea or nay on March 30.

And if you're in Chicago, you should check out the Sound of Silent Film tomorrow (Wed) and next week (3/10, 3/17). I wrote a quick explanation to it on Beyond Words. Thanks to all those who visited yesterday's post. Hits will one day equal money.

ending / beginning

Most people can't wait for the weekend to come, but I always get to Friday an feel unready for the weekend to come again. I could do with 7 days on and 2 days off. Or maybe it could change every week. I like variety - sometimes too much.

And I'm almost at the end of another journey - the first season of Lost. Sometimes it seems so far greater than a tv show; sometimes it shows its roots as a prime-time drama. Either way, it proves, along with the Watchmen, that if you pay attention to the details, tying them together, connecting, you elevate an artisanal craft, mere entertainment, to something more profound, touching on the intellectual as well as emotional, hinting at the spiritual.

Once they start touching us physically, we'll know that we really do live in a hologram.

The ant problem has subsided to its usual level. I saw only one ant yesterday and disposed of it properly. I did, however, see a half-dozen dead ants in the skylight, eternally resting on the screen. Odd. Were they on their way in or out?

I found something useful yesterday, and it made sure it's point was taken. It started on the way back from South Bend. I thought it was a lot closer, but in fact it took 45 minutes of driving through the beautiful backwoods and farms of southwest michigan and northern Indiana. My favorite was a street that didn't show up on myPhone's map (at the level to which I was zoomed) called State Line road. Narrow, twists, turns, hills, and few other cars. Highly recommended. I finally got to South Bend and found the coffee shop I was looking for, looked around for 10 minutes for anything better, and ended up back where I started at the Chicory Cafe. Good stuff. Well, good beignets, weak coffee. The whole place has a sort of Cajun, Nawlins feel to it. I thought it a shame that I missed Mardi Gras - and Ash Wednesday for that matter - and that I had ignored the custom of giving something up. It's not really my thing, but I like the idea of it. And in my current religious drift, I have no period of fasting or giving up. There are worse fates.

On the way back from S.B., I listened to 3 classic TED talks that I had on myPhone. All three were about happiness and/or creativity, all three concluding that we are happiest when we are in the Flow, not when we are isolated (ahem) and thinking about our own happiness. I would posit that we have to think about our happiness in order to find the flow that suits us best. Which is what I'm trying to do. I may not be happy all the time up here, but hopefully, through regular practice and work, I can create the structures that let it flow. Whatever it is.

The most direct of the talks was the one I embedded below. After getting back to the house, my mom called from the car on her way from Springfield back to the burbs. She had listened to the same TED talk at some point recently and brought it up before I even could. Odd. The point that I'm taking away is that the secret to creativity is being in the Flow, which is hard to do. Like meditating, you get better over time. Like meditating, you can't reproach yourself for not being a rockstar right off the bat. So, for want of anything more specific, my goal these days, as it has been in many previous moments in my life, is to practice being in the Flow - come what may.


In a few hours, I'll head back to Chicago - via car - going to see this avant-garde opera USW by Opera Cabal. I should read about Rosa Luxemburg, because from the sounds of things, they don't give you a clear narrative of who she is. She's apparently important. I'm a little tired of Marxists - but not as much as libertarians or the people who think they know what our founding fathers thought.

Tomorrow is La Damnation de Faust by Berlioz at the Lyric. Had the usual date trouble but found a suitable one yesterday.

Then Sunday to the family's house in the burbs to see my sister and her baby. And then back. I had some great ideas yesterday and I'm excited to build on them. To be fair, the ideas that I had yesterday were built from fragments I had a couple weeks ago. That's how it works, you produce a load of crap from which mushrooms grow; then you eat the mushrooms and have hallucinations of the music at the end of the world; then you write it down.

First it was the Watchmen; now it's Lost. I am filling my head up with drama, human drama. But in each case, there's something else going on - little puzzles that reveal themselves, giving the experience more depth than just entertainment.

So far, the Watchmen achieved greater depth than Lost. But, again, I'm only in the early stages of my journey through Lost. It's interesting to see how each experience changes my awareness of the real world. For instance, there are all sorts of themes and parallels tying together each episode of Lost; there are even more details woven together in Watchmen. Suddenly, I start noticing details connecting in life.

Today there was a sudden influx in the number of ants in the cottage. I think the culprit was some sticky buns that my mom left for me on the counter. Ordinarily, I would have eaten them the first day back, but the weekend ended with massive amounts of sugar, leaving me disinclined. I've discovered ants in the cottage before - one or two each week - but today I must have killed almost a dozen. They're not the little, annoying ants but the big black ones. Nice and slow. Not too hard to take care of. But I've disposed of the sticky sweetness and wiped the counters down. I'm not a big fan of killing insects - the Jains believe they could be your great-grandfather making amends - but what else to do with ants in the house in the middle of winter? Build them a solarium?

All this reminds me I should get back to reading Walden, which I put down last weeks ago. He had a much different relationship with ants, one that I could maybe learn from: not how to deal with ants but how to look at them.

As if to prove their point, an ant just crawled across the bed. This seems to support the theory that the ants are just bored, exploring the house for fun. Or they have that parasite that makes them do crazy things, like the parasite that infects a mouse's brain making him fearless and eaten by a cat - which is where the parasite wants to get. I guess in the ant's case it's a fungus.

mission creep

I've been thinking about mission. If I had to pick one mission by which to organize all the others, what would it be? Something to think about and always be in the process of answering. Maybe it changes in different stages of life, but in each moment, it's nice to know precisely what's #1.

Without a clear sense of it, it's easy to get lost, which is what I've been doing this week (and last). My head is clearer this week but my progress is impeded by trepidation and distraction.

And I've been getting into Lost - the tv show. I'm not sure why, but it's been something I've been passively interested in after hearing some of the buzz about metaphysical and sci-fi plot twists in recent years. I'm partway through season 1 - so far, so good. I can see why people get excited about it. For me, I am totally aware of how it is manipulating me emotionally, and yet I submit myself to it anyway. It's like emotional porn. In fact, I would say that most entertainment is, in some way, related to porn in the sense that it's artificial manipulation of our mental state, eliciting various feelings and thoughts to make up for their lack in our own lives. Watching a show about people stranded on a desert island helps make up for the lack of desert islands in my life. [And in a way, I, myself, am in a castaway period.]

Pull the Strings!

I'm betting it will transcend this base level of entertainment. I'm not exactly sure what that would entail. Maybe "Art" is when you're not overtly aware of the manipulations and the intent of the manipulation is ambiguous.

I worked a fair number of hours yesterday on music but with nothing significant to show for it.

I'm headed into Chicago this weekend to see some operas. Friday and Saturday is the performance of USW by Opera Cabal. I'm going on Friday so I can go to the Lyric Opera on Saturday. They're doing the Damnation of Faust by Berlioz. I know next to nothing about it.

I'm closer and closer to actually going to South Bend to sit in a coffee shop. Let's get some work done and see what happens this afternoon.