Author Archives: thegreatknock

I awoke from some interesting dreams this morning–strange, too, since I had thought with a purpose last night about the fact that the human brain does much of its concrete learning while the person sleeps, taking knowledge gained right before bedtime and converting it into lasting memories while you and I slumber peacefully away (smile).  So right before bed I thought on a number of interesting things PBS and the news had discovered for me.

My dreams weren’t about any of those subjects, however.  Instead, in my dream I was walking about what I knew to be a small Christian middle school where I was considering teaching eight grade language arts.  Apparently, I was playing hooky from wherever I had been assigned to teach with WhyKnow so that I might check out this possible alternate job.  I spent some time with students in one classroom, and then, as they all went into a very deep auditorium (almost like a great well), I stepped outside the building debating whether I should take this job, whether I should call WhyKnow, and so on.  I remember taking out my cell phone.  I also remember thinking how, in visiting the students at this school (although they were very nice, as were the teachers I’d met), I would prefer to stick to my guns with the abstinence program rather than get back into teaching literature.  In my dream decision-making, I debated the drop in salary such a move might mean, and also considered the fact that there may be fewer people able and equipped to teach literature than those able to teach the abstinence stuff, and how I might not squander any talents by going back to it…

In all, I awoke with clarity and sobriety.  I hadn’t received any confirmation about staying with the abstinence program this year, but this seems closer to it than anything else I’ve had (smile). 

Oh, and in the dream the Lord also reminded me to fill out my mileage reports this afternoon, for the many schools I drove to the past two months.  So I shall.

Would anyone care to come over for a little “Office” marathon this evening? (smile)

As I was driving along the highway tonight I observed one billboard painted bright green with the message above scrawled frighteningly across it.  “Meth destroys,” just in case you didn’t know.  This message brought to you by Governor Phil Bredesen and some other very bright bulbs in the Tennessee legislature, I suppose.

To be humbly honest, I have seen this billboard no small number of times and thought practically nothing of it.  But tonight my immediate mental response was something along the lines of, “Well, no kidding!”  Duh…methamphetamines certainly destroy brain cells, various inner workings of the human body, relationships, ambitions, and so on.  But assuming that this billboard is meant as a deterrent to those who are about to engage in this substance, or those who are already engaging, I cannot believe it will prove very successful in this task.   The chief reason it will fail is because I greatly doubt that anyone is turning to meth because they believe it is good for their health!  Do those involved in this disgusting stuff really care that it destroys?  Isn’t destruction, in some small way, the very thing they desire?  Destruction of their loneliness or boredom, destruction of the circumstances they cannot face any longer, even destruction of their own bodies might be their aim in using it.  To such a person, the confirmation that “meth destroys” is likely seen as a blessing, and responded to with a wan smile.

How different things might be!  What if the billboard instead read something like the following:

“The Almighty God who crafted the heavens, every star and moon, the seas and everything in them, the plants and trees and birds on wing, the mountains large and looming–this same God created also you.  Would you then dare to take the body He has formed for you and damage it by unholy instruments?  Use of methamphetamines means to reject the good things a gracious God has given you in brains and a body.  Meth destroys, and does not honour your Maker.  So instead, love your Maker (who loves you as He loves Himself) by living rightly!”

Okay, so it’s a bit long for a billboard, but if this message were commonly reported in other venues, ‘twould be an easy task on the billboard simply to say: “Honour God with your body–don’t do meth.”  I guess I just wish we could get to the deeper reality which must necessarily lie behind such pseudo-moral statements as these…

It’s true.  While lounging at my parents’ house yesterday, I noticed an advertisement for Circuit City which screamed in print that they were selling a number of movies for only $9.99, among which was the above Pride and Prejudice.  Now, before any of you girls start teasing me or throwing your well-worn sets of the BBC version on DVD in my general direction, let me explain that I have been charmed by the music in this film.  The scenery is lovely, yes, but the music won me over (and, I’ll include, the dancing scenes, because I do so love to dance).  That is all we need say about that.

But I was struck while watching the flick, with the sense of propriety and decorum in that age, the guarded speech which occurred between men and women, the “understandings” they may enter into, the very clear non-romance until certain words were spoken between them, the rightness of action until then.  Nowadays men and women jabber on toward each other, no?  I noticed it even tonight at a small birthday party for a friend–guys and gals coaxing and teasing and making merry with each other, without the same force or intentionality of conversation which existed in the Victorian era.  In fact, talk between the sexes may grow easily perverse beyond flirtation in our day, or at the very least may grow overly deep and personal to the point of emotionality which ought not be.  “Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires”–but we do our very best to provoke just such affections, don’t we? 

I’m in earnest of learning better habits regarding interaction with young women.  “Love must be sincere,” and so clarity in discourse is a must (smile).  We’ll see how I do…

For a very long time now I have toyed with the notion of writing a musical. I hadn’t any theme or storyline, really, I simply thought it would be enjoyable to compose some pretty songs for people to sing. It probably grew first from my aspiration to try my hand at composing some sweet orchestral music–I have always enjoyed classical music, listening to records of the “1812 Overture” since I was a little boy, and my grandfather composed a number of pieces for the organ (which he played), so I supposed the composing gene must run in the family. I think fuel was added to this fire a few years back when I attended my first opera: Madame Butterfly. So beautiful. I was stunned that humans could create such a thing.

Well, yesternight while driving home from something I began singing to myself the words of a questioning love-song, and it was then my mind fastened upon a potential story for my musical attempt. I thought of Psyche and Cupid, and especially the retelling in Lewis’ Faces. Tell me, would that not open all kinds of beautiful, wondrous doors for exploration in song? I began playing with some of the questions and the dramatics involved, and jotted down a few lines toward a song (though by no means complete or certain):

(the woman lies next to her lover, a god who is shrouded in darkness…she has never been allowed to look on him, yet she longs to see him…she is holding a shaded lamp, debating whether she ought to break his command in order that she might see him…)

And how shall I adore a beauty I shall never see?
O, though my lover be a god, yet not enough for me…
I long to love him and in pledge to give my body free
But shall a heart be given where no loving gaze can be?
O light! Possess my love
O eyes, now make him mine
And may his beauty cast away all doubt within my mind!

(she breaks the lamp and light bursts across her sleeping husband and lover)

O god! My heart! My love! I cry–
I cannot look the more!
Such beauty here would dim the light which flows from heaven’s door!
What wondrous locks curl at thy crown,
What fair and noble brow–
My mortal heart collapses, my breathing quickens now–
O god! Possess thy love
O master, make me thine
I am yours…

This part, of course, where Psyche breaks open her lamp to reveal the god sleeping beside her–the god she is about to lose. The story is marvelous and deeply dramatic, and I think would make a beautiful tragedy in song, not to mention some powerful spiritual meaning in it. Any thoughts from you all?

I believe I have found, at long last, the theme of my would-be musical.  Oh, you don’t recall how, many months ago now, I stated with confidence my desire to compose a musical?  Well, perhaps you weren’t there when I said it, but trust me, ’twas said!  And I for one will let my “yes” be yes…

So, yes, I’ve discovered the theme of my musical.  It struck my mind as I was driving along the highway this evening–I had a melody lurking deep within, and the haunting question, “What is love?” seemed a phrase too near to be ignored yet too far to simply ponder or perceive.  This question must be sung.  So I began singing it to myself, and found myself singing some rather grave answers in reply, and then the old story came to mind upon which I might build something to rival “Cats” or even that wretched old “Phantom.”  (With such alternatives as these, I trust my labour of love will have your full support.)  But what is the old story, you might ask?

And well you might (smile).

::Edit::  Some of you are sceptical, so let me tease you with some clarity.  This would not be a musical along the lines of Wicked or Producers or any such foolishness (smile).  It would be more solemn, thoughtful, rich in meaning where these other shows certainly lack.  I cannot conceive why we have relegated the musical form to giddy, foolish comedies; mine will be more a drama, a lovely drama with small pieces mixed in to make one smile.  For example, the lyrics of one more moving song may flow as follows:

(the woman lies next to her lover, a god who is shrouded in darkness…she has never been allowed to look on him, yet she longs to see him…she is holding a shaded lamp, debating whether she ought to break his command in order that she might see him…)

And how shall I adore a beauty I shall never see?
O, though my lover be a god, yet not enough for me…
I long to love him and in pledge to give my body free
But shall a heart be given where no loving gaze can be?
O light!  Possess my love
O eyes, now make him mine
And may his beauty cast away all doubt within my mind!

(she breaks the lamp and light bursts across her sleeping husband and lover)

O god! My heart! My love! I cry–
I cannot look the more!
Such beauty here would dim the light which flows from heaven’s door!
What wondrous locks curl at thy crown,
What fair and noble brow–
My mortal heart collapses, my breathing quickens now–
O god! Possess thy love
O master, make me thine
I am yours…

p.s. Does anyone know what story this shall be? (smile)  I’m sure you must.

Okay, so I’m a bit behind, but I just finished watching the final episodes of 24 on videotape (yes, that archaic invention) and I just have to say:

Jack Bauer versus 1.6 billion Chinese.  Sounds like a fair fight.

To the driver of the car I observed on the highway last night:

Let me guess–you have a wife, maybe a couple of children, but when you went shopping for a new family vehicle and you contemplated purchasing a minivan, something within you screamed, “No! That’s way too domestic!” You’re a rebel, right? You were born to be wild, or something like that. You felt the primal voice within rage against something so bulky and common and uncool as a minivan. And so, to silence that voice, you looked elsewhere.

I know, you still wanted to be hip, to be young, to drive something gruff and manly which recalled wilderness days of the hunter-gatherer lives of men. I understand completely. You’re a stallion, man, and not even a family can tame you down. If you can’t ride a motorcycle, you want everyone to know you would ride one.

But, my friend–and I hate to break this to you, truly I do–I have to say that no amount of Vols, Harley-Davidson, or “Fear This!” stickers, and no, not even the flames painted along her panels, will ever bestow upon your PT Cruiser the title of “cool.”

To the driver of the car I observed on the highway last night:

Let me guess–you have a wife, maybe a couple of children, but when you went shopping for a new family vehicle and you contemplated purchasing a minivan, something within you screamed, “No!  That’s way too domestic!”  You’re a rebel, right?  You were born to be wild, or something like that.  You felt the primal voice within rage against something so bulky and common and uncool as a minivan.  And so, to silence that voice, you looked elsewhere.

I know, you still wanted to be hip, to be young, to drive something gruff and manly which recalled wilderness days of the hunter-gatherer lives of men.  I understand completely.  You’re a stallion, man, and not even a family can tame you down.

But, my friend–and I hate to break this to you, truly I do–I have to say that no amount of Vols, Harley-Davidson, or “Fear This!” stickers, and no, not even the flames painted along her panels, will ever bestow upon your PT Cruiser the title of “cool.”

The Musician weds the Actress (smile).  You sly fellow, you!

(Just thought this would cheer your romantic sensibilities, my friend.)