Above and below posts by Classical Fm
This is a marked-up score of a conductor. It is for a piece by Mahler. This is interesting as most people think of a conductor as just waving his baton around to a score he knows. It’s a bit more complicated than that. While I am not personally a fan of Mahler, his skill and abilities can certainly be seen—or rather, heard. Below is the artist as a young man.
Mahler, posted by Google
The sun is shining and the air is fresh, clean. Ahhhhh, a wonderful day to enjoy.
Amazing World
Mother’s Day ended up being a Mother’s Week, the few days of writing became a frenzy, and last night was an emergency. The emergency was a friend’s mother, and at least now she’s in the hospital and settled a bit. It is, my mother would say, the end game. (And she meant that in good spirit, applying it to herself as well as others.)
And we lost Tom Wolfe. Who had to die before anyone saw him in anything other than a white suit.
Berfrois
So we breathe, sit, and listen to wind chimes.
Now the catching of breath can be done in different ways, while still the anchor of grief tugs beneath the surface, breaking through the current of the river as we tow it beneath ourselves.
The Four Reliances
First, rely on the spirit and meaning of the teachings, not on the words; Second, rely on the teachings, not on the personality of the teacher; Third, rely on real wisdom, not superficial interpretation; And fourth, rely on the essence of your pure Wisdom Mind, not on judgmental perceptions.
~ Traditional Buddhist teaching ~
Starting at the beginning—the novels, fiction beginning with A, according to author. In the living room. Simplify, simplify, simplify.
And the sorting, and placing, and replacing…the culling of the library, one room at a time. And it is time, I suppose, to be sensible about this. Going from carpet to wood floors is a project of itself. Having to move the many books in order to do such a thing creates a bit of a hurdle. And to be reasonable about it, there are many books that are not necessary to my life. Books I’ll never read, ones I’ve read and have no fondness for, books of lost authors—the ones I’ve outgrown or left behind. This is why there are used-book stores.
You see how I talk myself into this? I coach myself along, with each book I pick up. It’s time, I tell myself. It’s time to let go.
And that’s the way things are. Right now, tonight. I’m letting go.
Writers Ink—Writing and Stuff 