The beat of the first few seconds of this song just kills me. It’s like a very Euro-flavored disco version of Dr. Who. Erlend Øye is a great pop artist from Norway who has been part of a number of other bands (remember Royksopp? Remember their song “Poor Leno?” Yep, that was Erlend. Ever hear of The Whitest Boy Alive? Erlend.). His voice is like soy milk – very smooth, pretty devoid of flavor, but surprisingly tasty.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PQQPUb8Rl0
It can take a long, long, long time to figure things out. The sermon in church this Sunday*, preached by the absolutely marvelous Stan Fornea, talked about this at length. Specifically the idea of mystery, and how we as Christians, and American Christians to boot, are problem-solvers: we don’t like dealing with the unknown. We like certainty and facts. We apply this to the religious sphere by attributing things to God that aren’t really God’s problem. As hard as it is to swallow, some stuff might just be completely random.
I think this is absolutely maddening and also delightfully freeing. To not have to ascribe meaning to a screw-up, a bad day, a good day, a human interaction, any of it – to not have to dig around in the dirt for some ultimate purpose – means we can throw up our hands, say “aw the hell with it,” and try again. Or not! Devoid of the suffocatingly cloying “everything happens for a reason” maxim, a fluke is just a fluke. You’re not destined for anything. We aren’t forced to give a damn. It’s kind of great.
“How come I end up where I’ve started? How come I end up where I went wrong?”
Who knows. But you get to decide whether, and how, you want to figure it out.
*Yeah, it says Luis Leon; it’s Rev. Fornea. Trust me. Also – you’ll have to trust me on this too – Rev. Fornea preached without notes. He’s amazing.
Hooray, climate change! Thanks for making the temperatures hurl themselves from the 90s to the 50s in the space of a day! Miri it is that we might get to look forward to bizarro-world weather swings like this as our new normal, and the phrase “wardrobe-planning” take on a new scope. I don’t own a car and already judicious with my energy usage at home, so I’m not sure what more I can do reduce my carbon footprint that wouldn’t equally reduce my living standards to those of our friendly English composer “Anonymous” in 1225. But at least I’d have pretty songs to sing.
—
Miri it is while sumer ilast with fugheles song, oc nu
neheth windes blast and weder strong. ei ei what this
niht is long. and ich with wel michel wrong, soregh and
murn and fast.
Merry it is while summer lasts with the song of birds;
but now draws near the wind’s blast and harsh weather.
Alas, Alas! How long this night is! And I, most unjustly,
sorrow and mourn and fast.
It’s been a long time coming, but I finally feel settled in some sort of groove these days. This is in no way synonymous with phrases like, “of course I know what I’m doing,” “please ask me for directions and/or advice,” or “I’d love to tell you where I’m going to be in five years.” Rather, what I mean is, I know what to do when catastrophe strikes, when I don’t know how to cook a squash, when my faucet is leaking, when I need to go to the E.R., when I’ve had a terrible day, and when things upset me. I call one of my people. That’s what I do.
You spend most of your 20s constructing yourself. Somewhere around age 29 or 30 you have a sense of deep satisfaction that comes from having a fuller grasp of who you are and what you’re about. And then you spend a good part of your 30s realizing that, to paraphrase President Obama, you didn’t build yourself alone. You had a lot of help. I know how to deal with the E.R. on a rainy Tuesday because a friend came with me when I hurt my knee. I know how to process my terrible thoughts because I have friends who listen to them. I know how to deal with the vagaries of my job because I have peers who can relate and tell me stories that remind me of my own issues. Creating your own family is the very best part of growing up.
—
Far from the electric floor
Removed from the red meat market
I look for a fire door
An escape from the drums and barking
Bereft of all social charms
Struck dumb by the hand of fear
I fall into the corner’s arms
The same way that I’ve done for years
I’m trapped in a collapsing building
Come find me now, we’ll hide and
We’ll speak in our secret tongues
Will you come back to my corner?
Spent too long alone tonight
Would you come brighten my corner?
A lit torch to the woodpile (aye)
Dead wood needs to ignite
There’s no spark on a dampened floor
A snapped limb in an unlit pyre
Won’t you come and break down this door?
I’m trapped in an abandoned building
Come find me now, we’ll hide and
We’ll speak in our secret tongues
Will you come back to my corner?
Spent too long alone tonight
Would you come brighten my corner?
A lit torch to the woodpile (aye)
Come find me now, we’ll hide and
We’ll speak in our secret tongues
I know. It’s the first work day after a long weekend. We’ll get through it together. Throw your shoulders back and march into the office with vigor and aplomb. Make up a story about how you got that sunburn that’s even better than the truth. No one will believe you actually went paddle-boating anyway.
Memorial Day was created three years after the end of the Civil War. Originally called “Decoration Day,” late May was chosen for its observation because it was thought that the flowers to be places by the graves of the fallen would be in bloom at that time around the country.
Patriotism and nationalism are easy to confuse and have gotten completely mixed up in recent years. To the extent you can, put politics aside this Memorial Day and honor the ideas of service and sacrifice embodied by the men and women of our armed services. Think about those serving abroad. Think about their families. Offer up a prayer for those in peril on the sea, and around the world.
This is one of the most popular mantras in Hinduism, and the most important in Shaivism, the sect of Hinduism that reveres the god Shiva.
Shaiva temple in Sibsagar, Assam, India.
These words are known in Shaivism as the panychAkshara mantra, or the Holy Five Syllables. Its loose translation is, “Adoration to Shiva,” but its essence is much more closely associated with the sublimation of the ego along with complete devotion. The mantra has been set to countless melodies but this is one of my favorites.
Today is the Sunday in church we read the gospel lesson in which Jesus tells his followers, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” As Bishop Mariann Budde, the head of the Diocese of Washington, preached this morning, it’s a deceptively difficult statement to wrestle with because it seems to imply exclusion – i.e., the only way towards the divine is through Jesus, and therefore through the Christian faith. Bishop Budde said that, to her, this is much more of a statement of love between Jesus and his disciples than it is a commandment that those who are not followers are condemned. The Holy Five Syllables is another such love song. What a wonderful thing that humans evolved so many ways of approaching the divine, and that each of them begins with love.
I like using my brain. It is my favorite thing to do. I love to spend hours thinking, turning things over in my mind, then talking about these things with people. I remember great conversations like they were trips I went on. I get the same high from intellectual stimulation as I do from my favorite physical activity, running. The rhythm of this song reminds me of both, and therefore makes me happy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iorfsFAJJsI
I have a vision of the northern Sahara at dusk. There are bare scrubby trees, and sentient-looking rocks carved by wind and sand. It looks like a place called Tassili N’Ajjer Plateau, in Algeria. This is where the Tuareg group Tinariwen recorded their 2011 album “Tassili,” from which this song comes. The album was recorded outside in the desert. I have a lot of wanderlust by nature, but this song – and the vision this song gave a tune to – makes me all but grab my passport and run out my front door.
Tassili N’Ajjer Plateau, Algeria
—
Imidiwan ma tennam dagh awa dagh enha semmen?
Tenere den tas-tennam enta dagh wam toyyam teglam
Aqqalanagh aljihalat tamattem dagh illa assahat
Tenere den tossamat lat medden eha sahat
Aksan kallan s tandallat taqqal enta tisharat
Aqqalanagh aljihalat tamattem dagh assahat
What have you got to say, my friends, about this painful time we’re living through?
You’ve left this desert where you say you were born, you’ve gone and abandoned it
We live in ignorance and it holds all the power
The desert is jealous and its men are strong
While it’s drying up, green lands exist elsewhere
We live in ignorance and it holds all the power
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gqFbCXzjiQ0
It’s gonna be a big week this week, Tune-Up fans. Work is picking up, a dear friend is moving across the country to start a new chapter in her life, another dear friend is interviewing for a new job – the list goes on. This is a good song to boost morale and energy levels.
The Daily Tune-Up 