Happy Birthday, Elton

Elton John was born on this day in 1947.

Debut album. Side One. Track One ...

Mott The Hoople, "Rock and Roll Queen"

Williams, "Raiders March"

Vividly.

It is important not to be caught short. It is my private opinion that many of our failures in politics, art, and domestic life come from our failure to eat vividly.

Jim Harrison

Happy Birthday, O'Connor

Dear God, I cannot love Thee the way I want to. You are the slim crescent of a moon that I see and myself is the earth’s shadow that keeps me from seeing all the moon. The crescent is very beautiful and perhaps that is all one like I am should or could see; but what I am afraid of, dear God, is that my self shadow will grow so large that it blocks the whole moon, and that I will judge myself by the shadow that is nothing.

I do not know you God because I am in the way. Please help me to push myself aside.

I want very much to succeed in the world with what I want to do. I have prayed to You about this with my mind and my nerves on it and strung my nerves into a tension over it and said, 'oh God, please', and 'I must', and 'please, please'. I have not asked You, I feel, in the right way. Let me henceforth ask You with resignation--that not being or meant to be a slacking up in prayer but a less frenzied kind, realizing that the frenzy is caused by an eagerness for what I want and not a spiritual trust. I do not with to presume. I want to love.

Oh God, please make my mind clear.

Please make it clean.

I ask You for a greater love for my holy Mother and I ask her for a greater love for You.

Please help me to get down under things and find where You are.

I do not mean to deny the traditional prayers I have said all my life; but I have been saying them and not feeling them. My attention is always very fugitive. This way I have it every instant. I can feel a warmth of love heating me when I think & write this to You. Please do not let the explanations of the psychologists about this make it turn suddenly cold. My intellect is so limited, Lord, that I can only trust in You to preserve me as I should be.

Flannery O'Connor, born on this day in 1925

Mozart, Fantasia in D Minor, K. 397

Nikol Bóková performs ...

Forever.

Tintoretto, The Annunciation, 1587

Luke 1:26-38

26 And in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth,

27 To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary.

28 And the angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.

29 And when she saw him, she was troubled at his saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should be.

30 And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God.

31 And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus.

32 He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest: and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of his father David:

33 And he shall reign over the house of Jacob forever; and of his kingdom there shall be no end.

Value.

The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existence. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day.

Never lose a holy curiosity. Try not to become a man of success but rather try to become a man of value. He is considered successful in our day who gets more out of life than he puts in. But a man of value will give more than he receives.

Albert Einstein, from LIFE, May 2, 1955

Haydn, Piano Sonata in E-flat Major, Hob. XVI/49, L.59

Alfred Brendel performs ...

Merely.

We shouldn't forget, as we learned in school, that normalcy is merely the psychosis of the majority.

Steve Layman

This will be framed and hung in my classroom.

Imagine.

Constable, Brightwell Church and Village, 1815

Every spring

I hear the thrush singing

in the glowing woods

he is only passing through.

His voice is deep,

then he lifts it until it seems

to fall from the sky.

I am thrilled.

I am grateful.

Then, by the end of morning,

he's gone, nothing but silence

out of the tree

where he rested for a night.

And this I find acceptable.

Not enough is a poor life.

But too much is, well, too much.

Imagine Verdi or Mahler

every day, all day.

It would exhaust anyone.

Mary Oliver

Sammy Hagar, "Rock Candy"

Eternal.

Schiele, House with Bell Tower, 1912

I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds.  Art cannot be modern.  It is primordially eternal.

Egon Schiele

Andy Summers & Robert Fripp, "I Advance Masked"

Well-Born.

JOHN BARLEYCORN

Although I knew they’d laid him low, thrashed him, hung him out to dry,

Had tortured him with water and with fire, then dashed his brains out on a stone,

I saw him in the Seven Stars, and in the Plough.

I saw him in the Crescent Moon and in the Beehive.

In the Barley Mow, my Green Man, newly born, alive, John Barleycorn.

I saw him seasonally, at harvest time, in the Wheatsheaf and the Load of Hay,

I saw him, heard his laughter in the Star and Garter and the Fountain and the Bell,

The Corn Dolly, the Woolpack and the Flowing Spring.

I saw him in the Rising Sun, the Moon and Sixpence and the Evening Star.

I saw him in the Rose and Crown, my Green Man, ancient, barely born, John Barleycorn.

He moved through Britain, bright and dark, like ale in glass.

I saw him run across the fields, towards the Gamekeeper, the Poacher and the Blacksmith’s Arms.

He knew the Ram, the Lamb, the Lion and the Swan,

White Hart, Blue Bull, Red Dragon, Fox and Hounds.

I saw him in the Three Goats’ Heads, the Black Bull and Dun Cow, Shoulder of Mutton, Griffin, Unicorn.

Green Man, beer-born, good health, long life, John Barleycorn.

I saw him festively, when people sang for victory, for love and New Year’s Eve,

In the Raven and the Bird in Hand, the Golden Eagle, the Kingfisher, the Dove.

I saw him grieve and mourn, a shadow at the bar, in the Falcon, the Marsh Harrier,

The Sparrowhawk, the Barn Owl, Cuckoo, Heron, Nightingale.

A pint of bitter in the Jenny Wren for my Green Man, alone, forlorn, John Barleycorn.

Britain’s soul, as the crow flies, so flew he.

I saw him in the Holly Bush, the Yew Tree, the Royal Oak, the Ivy Bush, the Linden.

I saw him in the Forester, the Woodman.

He history: I saw him in the Wellington, the Nelson, Marquis of Granby, Wicked Lady, Bishop’s Finger.

I saw him in the Ship, the Golden Fleece, the Flask

The Railway Inn, the Robin Hood and Little John.

My Green Man, legend-strong, reborn, John Barleycorn.

Scythed down, he crawled, knelt, stood.

I saw him in the Crow, Newt, Stag, all weathers, noon or night.

I saw him in the Feathers, Salutation, Navigation, Knot, the Bricklayer’s Arms, Hop Inn, the Maypole and the Regiment, the Horse and Groom, the Dog and Duck, the Flag.

And where he supped the past lived still.

And where he sipped the glass brimmed full.

He was in the King’s Head and Queen’s Arms. I saw him there:

Green Man, well-born, spellbound, charming one, John Barleycorn.

Carol Ann Duffy

Solitude.

Thomson, Canoe Lake, 1917

For we fishers at dawn are not ordinary men.

We embrace the food of solitude,

trolling back and forth, back and forth,

until a sound strikes our mouths with the taste of grace.

Jim Lenfestey

Meant.

Morris, Trellis Wallpaper, 1862

Patience.

Kent, Pelagic Reverie, 1920

The OLD ASTRONOMER to HIS PUPIL

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, I would know him when we meet,

When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;

He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how

We are working to completion, working on from then to now.

Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,

Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,

And remember men will scorn it, 'tis original and true,

And the obliquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,

You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,

What for us are all distractions of men's fellowship and wiles;

What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles.

You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,

But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant's fate.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;

You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.

I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.

You "have none but me," you murmur, and I "leave you quite alone"?

Well then, kiss me, -- since my mother left her blessing on my brow,

There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;

I can dimly comprehend it, -- that I might have been more kind,

Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

I "have never failed in kindness"? No, we lived too high for strife,

Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;

But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still

To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,

To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;

And remember, "Patience, Patience," is the watchword of a sage,

Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

I have sown, like Tycho Brahe, that a greater man may reap;

But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep

So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;

See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;

Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:

It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,

God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

Sarah Williams

Beethoven, Trio for Two Oboes and English Horn, Op. 87

The Ditirambe Trio performs ...

Produce.

Apart from the desire to produce beautiful things, the leading passion of my life has been and is hatred of modern civilization.

William Morris, born on this day in 1834

Top-Down.

Excellent.

Journey released their last excellent album, Departure, on this day in 1980.

"Where Were You"...

Happy Birthday, Ocasek

Ric Ocasek was born on this day in 1944.

"Touch and Go"...

Benefit.

Curtis, Edward S. Curtis Self-Portrait - Field Attire, 1899

The passing of every old man or woman means the passing of some tradition, some knowledge of sacred rites possessed by no other.  Consequently the information that is to be gathered, for the benefit of future generations, must be collected at once or the opportunity will be lost for all time.

Edward S. Curtis, from Visions of a Vanishing Race

Heading.

Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore.

Ray Bradbury, from Fahrenheit 451

Savall.

Jordi Savall and Hespèrion XXI perform a program of music from the European Renaissance and Baroque ...

Guided.

Rothermel, Patrick Henry Before the Virginia House of Burgesses, 1851

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. 

Patrick Henry, from his speech given before the Virginia Provincial Convention on this day in 1775.

Ever-Enduring.

As I ponder'd in silence,

Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long,

A Phantom arose before me, with distrustful aspect,

Terrible in beauty, age, and power,

The genius of poets of old lands,

As to me directing like flame its eyes,

With finger pointing to many immortal songs,

And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said;

Knowest thou not, there is but one theme for ever-enduring  

  Bards?

Walt Whitman, from “Inscriptions” in Leaves of Grass

Simply.

Strong, C.S. Lewis at Magdalene College, 1947

It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind. 

C.S. Lewis, from Mere Christianity

Thanks, Pop.

Released.

Yes released Talk on this day in 1994.

"The Calling"...

Power.

A popular Government without popular information or the means of acquiring it, is but a Prologue to a Farce or a Tragedy or perhaps both. Knowledge will forever govern ignorance, and a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power knowledge gives.

James Madison, from his letter to W. T. Barry, 4 August, 1822

Survival.

James Angleton interviewed in 1976 ...

In the West it is almost inconceivable to be able to deceive, when the very people who are your lawmakers are the ones who destroy your secrets.  The very people who profit from living in a Democratic institution are the ones who denigrated the word national security, until it has no meaning.

I believe there are inherent rights in the President of the United States to advance national security, it's inherent in his election ... 

There is always a question whether a democratic country is capable of having an intelligence service of any great merit, simply because of the built-in inhibitions.  It usually takes a national crisis or a Pearl Harbor for people then understand what survival means, but you don't have to be a great, or large, or wealthy country to have a good intelligence service.  As long as you have the norms, as long as you have the disciplines, as long as you have the motivation, singleness of purpose, you can be a small service, have one great penetration, then you can move the world.

Bach, Cello Suite No. 5, BWV 1008

Hille Perl ...

Rule.

Schiavonetti, William Blake, 1808

The errors of a wise man make your rule, 

Rather than the perfections of a fool.

William Blake

Habit.

The modern habit of saying "This is my opinion, but I may be wrong" is entirely irrational. If I say that it may be wrong, I say that is not my opinion. The modern habit of saying "Every man has a different philosophy; this is my philosophy and it suits me" – the habit of saying this is mere weak-mindedness. A cosmic philosophy is not constructed to fit a man; a cosmic philosophy is constructed to fit a cosmos. A man can no more possess a private religion than he can possess a private sun and moon.

G.K. Chesterton

Judgment.

John F. Kennedy's remarks at Amherst College, October 26, 1963 ...

A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.

In America, our heroes have customarily run to men of large accomplishments. But today this college and country honors a man whose contribution was not to our size but to our spirit, not to our political beliefs but to our insight, not to our self-esteem, but to our self-comprehension. In honoring Robert Frost, we therefore can pay honor to the deepest sources of our national strength. That strength takes many forms, and the most obvious forms are not always the most significant. The men who create power make an indispensable contribution to the Nation's greatness, but the men who question power make a contribution just as dispensable, especially when that questioning is disinterested, for they determine whether we use power or power uses us.

Our national strength matters, but the spirit which informs and controls our strength matters just as much. This was the special significance of Robert Frost. He brought an unsparing instinct for reality to bear on the platitudes and pieties of society. His sense of the human tragedy fortified him against self-deception and easy consolation. "I have been," he wrote, "one acquainted with the night." And because he knew the midnight as well as the high noon, because he understood the ordeal as well as the triumph of the human spirit, he gave his age strength with which to overcome despair. At bottom, he held a deep faith in the spirit of man, and it is hardly an accident that Robert Frost coupled poetry and power, for he saw poetry as the means of saving power from itself. When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses. For art establishes the basic human truth which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment.

Whither leadership? 

Excellent.

An excellent album ...

Forming.

Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are incapable of forming such opinions.

Albert Einstein

Question.

Right, as the world goes, is only in question between equals in power, while the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.

Thucydides, from History of the Peloponnesian War

Overcome.

Firchau, Self-Portrait, 1971

A few years ago, my Dad sent me an e-mail after we had a discussion about "the world today" ...

Dwelling on and blaming every day can take a physical and mental toll and eat up one's time. There is too much of this stuff along with other things in this world that are negative. This again is part of the problem(s) in this day and age. If it's on the internet in anyway, shape or form, it has to be true ... that's false ... but that is what "some are into" today.  Common sense says that some of this topic may be correct, but more data has to be generated and discussed on topics "in open discussion," not, "If you don't believe me, you are against me," etc.!!!

At this point, hate and blaming DOES destroy good days and DOES give many people headaches and loss of sleep and this is TRUE, this we know, we must try to overcome or be above it, which is VERY, VERY hard to do! 

These are some of my thoughts ... Dad.

Thanks, Pop!  I hope the Amish lady came today.

Treasures.

On the following morning, the sun darted his beams from over the hills through the low lattice window. I rose at an early hour, and looked out between the branches of eglantine which overhung the casement. To my surprise Scott was already up and forth, seated on a fragment of stone, and chatting with the workmen employed on the new building. I had supposed, after the time he had wasted upon me yesterday, he would be closely occupied this morning, but he appeared like a man of leisure, who had nothing to do but bask in the sunshine and amuse himself.

I soon dressed myself and joined him. He talked about his proposed plans of Abbotsford; happy would it have been for him could he have contented himself with his delightful little vine-covered cottage, and the simple, yet hearty and hospitable style, in which he lived at the time of my visit. The great pile of Abbotsford, with the huge expense it entailed upon him, of servants, retainers, guests, and baronial style, was a drain upon his purse, a tax upon his exertions, and a weight upon his mind, that finally crushed him.

As yet, however, all was in embryo and perspective, and Scott pleased himself with picturing out his future residence, as he would one of the fanciful creations of his own romances. "It was one of his air castles," he said, "which he was reducing to solid stone and mortar." About the place were strewed various morsels from the ruins of Melrose Abbey, which were to be incorporated in his mansion. He had already constructed out of similar materials a kind of Gothic shrine over a spring, and had surmounted it by a small stone cross.

Among the relics from the Abbey which lay scattered before us, was a most quaint and antique little lion, either of red stone, or painted red, which hit my fancy. I forgot whose cognizance it was; but I shall never forget the delightful observations concerning old Melrose to which it accidentally gave rise. The Abbey was evidently a pile that called up all Scott's poetic and romantic feelings; and one to which he was enthusiastically attached by the most fanciful and delightful of his early associations. He spoke of it, I may say, with affection. "There is no telling," said he, "what treasures are hid in that glorious old pile. It is a famous place for antiquarian plunder; there are such rich bits of old time sculpture for the architect, and old time story for the poet. There is as rare picking in it as a Stilton cheese, and in the same taste—the mouldier the better."

Washington Irving, from "Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey"

Introduced.

The world was introduced to RUSH on this day in 1974.

"Working Man"...

Live.

I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.

Jack London

Pierre Bensusan, "Fils de la Rose"

Happy Birthday, Crespi

Crespi, Assembly of the Gods with the Parcae, 1703

Giuseppe Maria Crespi was born on this day in 1665.

Excellent.

An excellent book ...

Action.

In one way we think a great deal too much of the atomic bomb. “How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.”

In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors—anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.

This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.

C.S. Lewis, from “On Living in an Atomic Age”