Deja Vu All Over Again

I learned something again.

I mean that in all possible ways: another learning experience, a re-learning of something, knowledge once known but lost, a learning of something new, having an epiphany, or any other way you care to parse it.

I am fascinated by how our knowledge of a subject colors our view. When I was first learning to land an airplane, the single thing that grabbed my attention was exactly how quickly the world was getting bigger in the windscreen. The view was mesmerizing. What? I'm supposed to be doing something here? As I became more and more familiar with the process, I learned to make the decisions and perform the actions required to ensure that the arrival was less than earth-shaking.

When I began to play a musical instrument, my first pieces had only two or three notes, then they began increasing in complexity as my skills and knowledge increased.

My point is this: when I first see something unfamiliar, I am often so overwhelmed by the event that it is impossible for me to really absorb the details. When my experience increases, I begin to see things in a different light. I can start to appreciate the nuance and subtlies in greater depth.

This leads to other questions. When do you know enough? Is there always a deeper layer of understanding, always more to learn if you are willing to invest the time? I think perhaps there is.

I had a small epiphany of my own last night. I was transcribling (Not a typo…well, it began as a typo until I saw the truth of it) some music.....the Halelujah Chorus (and believe me, that is some music), anyway, as I was entering the notes for the organ part in my MIDI staff, I could hear the pitches at the same time. I knew on a logical level that the grouped notes formed chords and chord inversions, but listening to them caused me to think about them in a different way.

In my novice naivety, I had always assumed that the keyboardist read every note and figured out which finger went where each time. What I suddenly saw was that each chord could be read as a word, the notes analogous to the letters, and performed by the fingers as a unit as easily as we pronounce a word after we have learned to speak. Wow.

We don’t learn to speak in full sentences, and we don’t learn to play in complete passages. My first instrument was the Cornet, followed by the Saxophone, both instruments that normally form only one note at a time. When I learned guitar, I learned chords, but I learned them individually as hand and finger positions, not as discrete notes. The big deal is thus: if I know a chord, say a C major, and I need to play a C6, unless I have learned the C6 I can’t do it. I have no clue which note(s) I am playing in my chord is(are) the one(s) that need to be modified to change the chord. I just know that when I do this it makes a C.

So…one thing I have not done is to really learn to play melody lines on my guitar. I can read music Ok, I just never took the time to learn where to find the notes on the guitar, There are a lot of places to find the same note on the fret board – some are more useful than others.  I’m taking the time now…crap….if I was only half a century or so younger…this would be so much easier!

The Gift of Storytelling

I met a young lady the other day. I was in one of my favorite restaurants, enjoying my lunch and reading an e-book on my kindle. The young lady in question is on staff at the restaurant. She asked how I liked my e-reader, and a brief conversation ensued. Turns out that she is an aspiring author, but it goes deeper than that. The lady is tee-totally in LOVE with writing and all things writerly.

I asked if she participated in NaNoWriMo 

http://www.nanowrimo.org/ 

(if you are not familiar, this is an organized challenge, open to anyone who cares to play. The month of November is designated ‘National Novel Writing Month,’ and the goal is to write a novel of at least 50,000 words between the beginning and the end of the month.

She admitted to having won (you win by completing the task) 4 times, and last year doing a double……yep, 100,000 words! I certainly admire her ambition and sticktoitiveness. She has a website and a blog and she is all about writing. All about Writing. I read several of her blog entries, the comments and replies to comments many from friends and supporters, other writers offering encouragement. All about writing. I attempted to have a meaningful conversation. After all, I'm an avid reader, but I quickly realized that my experience as a reader did not qualify me to speak with any knowledge about the craft of writing.

Now, I love to read, always have, and I obviously enjoy writing or this meager blog would not exist, but I’m not in LOVE with writing. But…there exists a whole community of folks out there who are. Many also love to read, but their passion, yea their addiction, is writing. If they aren’t writing they aren’t happy. They study writing and writers. They attempt to master the craft of storytelling. They are fascinated with plots and characters, genres and styles…..and how and where to get published. They are fascinated with being authors.

I have no hard facts to back this up, but based on my knowledge of superstars in other endeavors, for every really successful artist or athlete there are literally thousands of individuals who want to be just as successful, rich or famous. And, as fame and success rarely alight on beginners, so must aspirants often support themselves by doing something other than painting, playing second base (or second fiddle) or writing. Hence the staff position at the restaurant. A filler job until the novel takes off.

This underscores for me just how lucky I am. I could not put together 50,000 words that anyone would pay to read if my life depended on it. The only subject I can paint well is a house, but it will look best if someone with a better eye picks the color. I could never hit major league pitching or drive a golf ball 300 yards. I can, however, design things mechanical, things that function and do their jobs with efficiency and beauty. I can imagine the way a thing needs to be made and then build it or communicate my design to those who can build it, I LOVE doing it and I get PAID to do it.

I didn’t sign a 25 Million Dollar, 6 year contract. I won’t read my works to throngs of admirers, or sign copies to become treasured heirlooms. I won’t be chatting with Dave or Conan on late night television. But I will go home at the end of my day knowing that I enjoyed my job today…knowing that I used my God-given talent to do something special. I’ll be pleased with what I have done today and I’ll look forward to tomorrow’s challenges. I am a lucky man.

So write on, dear friend. Let your passion guide you and put everything you have into what you LOVE to do. Do what pleases you with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might, and the Universe will find a way to reward you. Be Happy.

A Little Melancholy

I was listening to the news today. I don’t really advise it. As my old friend Sam Clemmons once said, “Those who don’t read the news are uninformed, those who do are misinformed.”

Any road, the discussion I was eavesdropping on revolved around the nuclear issue in general, and Iran and Israel in particular. The question seemed to be whether or not Israel’s eminent action to interrupt Iran’s Nuclear Programme would result in War, Cyber or Shooting, and if Iran would target sites in the US for terrorist attacks in retribution.

That got me thinking about my family, how war would affect them, be it a shooting war, an economic war, cyber war or whatever. Seems to me that we are so fragile right now, teetering on the edge of the abyss, it won’t take very much to seriously disrupt our way of life.

As I thought about these things, my mind did a zoom out in space and time. As I got farther and farther from ground zero. I saw other families in other places at other times. I had a bit of an epiphany as I realized that there really was no difference between me and mine and you and yours no matter where, or for that matter, when you are.

You don’t love your kids and grandkids any more or any less than I do. Their futures are or were or will be every bit as promising as mine, yet, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t make any difference. They will either live to be full of years and full of memories, or tragedy will overtake.

Live in a quiet little town in Alabama. Save and build your entire life, then one day a tornado reduces all to zero. Time to start over. Then ten months later, go to jail, go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200 as another random act of Nature clears the works of man from the Alabama countryside.

It has always been this way and always will be.

From Dust you came, and to Dust you shall return.

Can you picture a family living in a small town on the coast of Italy? It is August of ’79, and people are involved, as people usually are, in the mundane activities of everyday life. The kids are running through the house yelling, mom is getting ready to do the laundry. The small earthquakes have been rumbling for a few days. When the eruption begins in earnest, a cloud of super-heated gas rushes down the nearby mountain at a speed that defies the imagination. The strong quake that signals the start of the eruption frightens the children, who rush to their mother, just in time to die together. The year? 79 A.D. The town? Pompeii

Love those you care about with everything you have. Savor each moment and treasure every sunrise. Live each day as though it is your last. 

One day you’ll be right.