Tagging Thyme Meme: 11 Random Questions

It seems that Raewyn Hewitt was tagged in a meme, but as she is sensitive to the fact that some folks don’t like being tagged (I don’t like being tagged for memes, for the record) she left it up to volunteers. The questions amuse me, and I have nothing else in line for this week, so here you have it! If you want to check out Raewyn’s answers, they are here.

1. What is the strangest thing you have ever eaten in public?

Um… this is a harder question than one might think. I ate a penny, once, but that was an accident. If only things eaten intentionally count, it depends on what one considers strange. I’ll leave it up for a vote. The candidates are:

fried scorpion

jellyfish

air potatoes

Spicebush berries

Syrup made from hickory bark

2. If you had to go on an adventure, with elves, dwarves, or hobbits, who would you take and why?

Most of you might expect this to be a no-brainer for me. In truth, though, it’s not as easy as it might be.

Despite the fact that “Thyme” is in the title of this blog, elves (even my own elves) would be my last choice. Even in the best of circumstances, I would feel isolated.

Dwarves would be my second choice because, as much as I have in common with them, I am not a Dwarf, and they can be insular. I hope I would be able to break into their good-graces eventually, but that cannot compete with Hobbits.

Hobbits, though not usually adventurous, have a good track-record for not giving up and for rising to the occasion. I have not seen many reckless hobbits, and they share my love of sleep, food, and natural beauty. Also, on the whole, they are more personable and accepting than the other races.

Ideally, of course, it would be nice to have a mix of traveling companions. Can you get a nerdier answer than that?

3. You are at a rural retreat lodge somewhere deep in Wisconsin or Canada. You are approached by a taxidermist who hands you a stuffed badger and asks you to put it in your lap. What do you do next?

I think my first reaction would be to ask why…

4. If you were given biscotti, would you prefer it with coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

It depends… is it a good biscotti or a cardboard-like one? If the former? Tea. If the latter, then coffee.

5. In your opinion, who is the funniest man or woman alive today (comedian)?

Tough one. I don’t watch a lot of comedians, but I really like Tina Fey and Stephen Colbert.

6. If you were given thirty seconds on television to say something, what would it be?

I’d probably either ignore the camera or attack its operator…

7. What is your idea of the most romantic date setting ever?

Either the Walls of Jericho or Miller’s Cove on a spring night when the blue ghost fireflies come out beneath the hemlocks like will-o-the-wisps.

8. If you could go on one date with a movie or television star, who would it be and why?

I hate questions like this. The thought of going on a date with any film or television star on whom I actually have a crush is horrifying, so that’s out. Once my brain stopped reeling from that unpleasantness, the first thing that came to mind was Hugh Laurie because he seems to have a high regard for one of my favorite authors of all time (P. G. Wodehouse) which would give us something fun to talk about. Also, I grew up on his Bertie Wooster, and I’d like to thank him for that. Obviously, for multiple reasons, this would be a purely platonic date.

9. What is the worst song you have ever heard?

There are a lot of contenders, but my brain collapses in abject horror every time I encounter this one: Friday  .

10. If you could live anywhere else, where would it be?

Three or four hours’ drive east of where I live now. If I ever find a place that sinks into my bones the way the Appalachian Mountains do, I will be very surprised. I’ve seen some lovely places across the world. Nothing has come close.

11. Who - in your opinion – was the greatest person to ever live?

Jesus, but he is a given, considering my faith. Other than him?  Hm… there are too many contenders. I would really love to meet George MacDonald, though. ;)

As Raewyn, before me, I am not going to tag folks, but if any of you want to join in, please do!

Crossroads

Parallel lyrics from Les Misérables, the Musical.
Valjean’s “What Have I Done” and Javert’s “Soliloquy”
by Herbert Kretzmer.

Yes, there are spoilers here if you don’t know the basic plot.

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Valjean/Javert
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What have I done?/Who is this man?
Sweet Jesus, what have I done?/What sort of devil is he?
Become a thief in the night,/To have me caught in a trap
Become a dog on the run/And choose to let me go free?
And have I fallen so far,/It was his hour at last
And is the hour so late/To put a seal on my fate,
That nothing remains,/Wipe out the past,
But the cry of my hate,/And wash me clean off the slate.
The cries in the dark that nobody hears,/
All it would take was a flick of his knife.
Here where I stand at the turning of the years?/
Vengeance was his and he gave me back my life!
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If there’s another way to go/
Damned if I’ll live in the debt of a thief.
I missed it twenty long years ago./
Damned if I’ll yield at the end of the chase.
My life was a war that could never be won./
I am the Law and the Law is not mocked.
They gave me a number and murdered Valjean/
I’ll spit his pity right back in his face.
When they chained me and left me for dead,/
There is nothing on earth that we share.
Just for stealing a mouthful of bread./
It is either Valjean or Javert!
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Yet why did I allow that man/How can I now allow this man
To touch my soul and teach me love?/To hold dominion over me?
He treated me like any other./This desperate man that I have hunted,
He gave me his trust./He gave me my life.
He called me brother./He gave me freedom.
My life he claims for God above!/I should have perished by his hand.
Can such things be?/It was his right.
For I had come to hate the world,/I was my right to die as well.
This world that always hated me/Instead I live – but live in hell.
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Take an eye for an eye!/And my thoughts fly apart.
Turn your heart into stone!/Can this man be believed?
This is all I have lived for!/Shall his sins be forgiven?
This is all I have known!/Shall his crimes be reprieved?

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One word from him and I’d be back/
And must I now begin to doubt,
Beneath the lash, upon the rack./
Who never doubted all these years?
Instead he offers me my freedom./
My heart is stone and still it trembles.
I feel my shame inside me like a knife./
The world I have known is lost in shadow.
He told me that I have a soul,/
Is he from heaven or from hell?
How does he know?/And does he know
What spirit comes to move my life?/
That, granting me my life today,
Is there another way to go?/
This man has killed me even so?
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I am reaching, but I fall,/I am reaching, but I fall,
And the night is closing in/And the stars are black and cold,
And I stare into the void,/As I stare into the void
To the whirlpool of my sin./Of a world that cannot hold.
I’ll escape now from that world,/I’ll escape now from that world,
From the world of Jean Valjean./From the world of Jean Valjean!
Jean Valjean is nothing now./There is nowhere I can turn.
Another story must begin!/There is no way to go on.

Christmas Song 2012

Hubblesite.org

[Thanks to Deanna for introducing me to this one!]

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Balulalow

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I come from hevin heich to tell
The best nowells that e’er befell.
To you thir tythings trew I bring
And I will of them say and sing:

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This day to you is born ane child
Of Mary meik and Virgin mild.
That blissit bairn bening and kind
Sall you rejoyce baith hart and mind.

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Lat us rejoyis and be blyth
And with the Hyrdis go full swyth
To see what God in his grace hath done
Throu Christ to bring us to his throne.

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My saull and life stand up and see
Wha lyis in ane cribbe of tree.
What Babe is that, sa gude and fair?
It is Christ, God’s Son and Heir.

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O my deir hart, yung Jesus sweit,
Prepair thy creddill in my spreit!
And I sall rock thee in my hart
And never mair fra thee depart.

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O I sall praise thee evermoir
With sangis sweit unto thy gloir.
The kneis of my hart sall I bow
And sing that rycht Balulalow.

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I come from hevin heich to tell
The best nowells that e’er befell.
To you thir tythings trew I bring
And I will of them say and sing:

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This day to you is born ane child
Of Mary meik and Virgin mild!
That blissit bairn bening and kind
Sall you rejoyce baith hart and mind!

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Hubblesite.org

A Song for the day

I apologize in advance for this disconnected ramble, but I need to get it out.

It’s too easy to forget, with the swirl of contention and alienation in this world that, ultimately, we have more in common with each other than we have differences.

This morning, someone nearly caused a wreck with me. I think I was in his blind spot and he didn’t look. For a brief instant, right after my fear and the hard breaking, I was angry. Then I recalled that, two days ago, I nearly did the same thing. The only difference was that I checked my blind spot in time to correct myself.

I remember the look of the woman in the other car. She looked angry, and that hurt. I had made a mistake and I wanted to tell her that I knew it. I wanted her forgiveness.

Maybe the man who nearly hit me felt the same. Maybe he didn’t.

By the will of my Lord, I am not a slave to guilt anymore unless I take up the shackles myself. But I do desire forgiveness from my fellows, and I am constantly learning and relearning what it is to forgive them and myself.

Somehow, taking a quiet, still moment to remember how much I must share with the person in the world most different from myself helps put it all in perspective. I value differences, but when they polarize us, when they make it easy to judge and hard to forgive, it helps me to consider our common ground.

Shout Out

Reader’s warning: angst follows, but at least it is neither purposeless nor self-focused angst.

As the title would suggest, this is a shout-out to my fellow Book-Meme contributors, David and the Multifaceted Muses.

There has been some discussion among us, lately, on J.R.R. Tolkien’s Silmarillion, surrounding the role sorrow, grief and tragedy play in the book and its various related stories. Tolkien, we know, was no stranger to grief, pain or even the horrors of World War I. As a writer, he does not shy from tragedy, and yet there is a powerful, indestructible hope that runs through his work, as it seems to have run through his life. He understood a truth that someone like me, who has suffered very little in comparison, has no right to speak of: that from sorrow, strife and pain can come a rich harvest. As Gandalf observes, “not all tears are evil.”

On a seemingly unrelated note, the muses of the Egotist’s Club have produced some very intriguing answers two the second 2012 Book Meme question. Perhaps reading their posts opened a previously unexplored avenue of thought in me, because I usually do not match music with books.

This morning a song came up on my mp3 player and, as I listened, its relation to the Silmarillion hit me. I have never thought, nor am likely to think again, of Tolkien and Emmylou Harris at the same time. However, here are the lyrics for Harris’s song, The Pearl, for Urania, Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, Calliope and David.

The Pearl, by Emmylou Harris

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Oh the Dragons are gonna to fly tonight.

They’re circling low and in sight tonight.

It’s another round in the losing fight

Out along the great divide tonight.

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We are aging soldiers in an ancient war

Seeking out some half-remembered shore.

We drink our fill and still we thirst for more,

Asking “if there’s no heaven what is this hunger for?”

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Our path is worn our feet are poorly shod.

We lift up our prayer against the odds,

And fear the silence is the voice of God.

Of God, of God.

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And we cry allelujah, allelujah,

We cry allelujah.

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Sorrow is constant and the joys are brief.

The seasons come and bring no sweet relief.

Time is a brutal but a careless thief:

It takes our lot but leaves behind the grief.

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It is the heart that kills us in the end,

Just one more old broken bone that cannot mend.

As it was, now, and ever shall be, amen.

Amen, amen.

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And we cry allelujah, allelujah,

We cry allelujah.

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So there’ll be no guiding light for you and me

We are not sailors lost out on the sea

We were always headed toward eternity

Hoping for a glimpse of Galilee.

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Like falling stars from the universe we are hurled

Down through the long loneliness of the world

Until we, behold the pain, become the Pearl.

The Pearl. The Pearl.

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Cryin´ allelujah allelujah
We cry allelujah!

And we cry allelujah allelujah
We cry allelujah!

We cry allelujah allelujah
We cry allelujah!

Cue Music

Book Meme 2012

Question 2: Books I’d give a theme song to

Now this is a weird one for me. Perhaps, as much as I love and live through music, I have not a musical mind, for I never think of such when it comes to books. As a result, I have had to put a great deal of thought into this, and I have only come to scattered conclusions.

Thought #1:

Some texts are like dead leaves without music. Allow me to state the obvious and then expound. Songs are almost always more powerful when sung than when spoken. Why this is, I do not know, but several years back I had a revelation. I grew up with the poem “The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes, and I never liked it. Then I had the honor of hearing Loreena McKennit’s rendition. Suddenly I loved the piece. For me, it took music to give the story vitality.

J.R.R. Tolkien (will I get through any book question without mentioning this man?), Bryan Jacques, and George MacDonald often have songs written out within their texts, and I have amused myself by trying to sing them. My only vaguely successful attempt was my childhood habit of singing the Misty Mountains song from The Hobbit to the tune of Greensleeves.

Does this sort of thing count as a soundtrack? I do not think it does, but it is worth noting.

Thought #2:

Soundtracks seem to serve two purposes in films. My friends who know more about film and film critique may know of more, but I am rather ignorant in this. Anyhow, one purpose is to influence the mood of a film, to sway the audience with the music. How I wish I could do this with my stories! If I could inflict music on the reader… aw, who am I kidding? I would probably irritate the poor folks and drive them away.

The second purpose of a soundtrack is to give aural cues. Hear that creepy theme? Be prepared for something jumping out at the protagonists! Hear the quickening pace of the music? Here comes the chase-scene. Even characters have their own themes, and so the viewer knows, often unconsciously, what to expect.

How to apply this to books… I cannot think of any book that tells a story where this could not conceivably be useful. Perhaps, though, the more conventional books, the books with patterns that we recognize, would benefit the most. I have a harder time thinking of George MacDonald’s Lilith with a theme song than I do Brian Jacques Mossflower.

Thought #3:

Music can be a hindrance. I have watched films where the music distracted from the story. I have also seen films where I, personally, did not like the music, and therefore it irritates me. I had a recent discussion with a fellow blogger on the soundtrack of “Ladyhawke,” because that is one that grates on me, but that she enjoys. If I liked the story of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, but it was accompanied by music I disliked, my appreciation for the book might be damaged.

I mention this simply to suggest that adding a soundtrack to something is not always positive. At this point it should be clear that I have thought far too seriously and too long on this topic. Onwards!

Thought #4:

By now you are wondering if I am ever going to answer the actual question.

If I could get a skilled, thoughtful and versatile composer (preferably Bear McCreary), I would give a soundtrack to Tales of the Brothers Grimm.

 

All About the Tuning

How does this make you feel? :)

Time for rambling on an extended metaphor.

George MacDonald once wrote: “If there be music in my reader, I would gladly wake it.”

He has certainly stirred my soul to music many times, yet I know there are those in which he only strikes a discord. Does this mean they have no music in them?

I think not. It is all about the tuning.

I came to this metaphor while driving one night and I have been turning it over in my mind ever since. The existence of the phrase “strike a chord” tells me that I am only now catching on to an idea that has existed for centuries, if not millennia. I wonder if the thought occurred to the first human ever to play an instrument.

Literature, music, art and people are often associated with this kind of melody and discord in the soul, but it is every experience that plays on us. Places, smells, colors, and even noises in nature and the world around us create “sound” in this way. Unlike instruments, however, humans are not passive in this process. It is here that the metaphor breaks down, though not completely.

It would be senseless to argue that I can only react a certain way to something because of my predisposition. I do not speak of simply changing my mind, as that can be a subconscious process or be based on a change in circumstances which changes my tuning (an my tuning changes ceaselessly).  I am speaking of awareness of my reactions. The music or discord retains its instinctual nature, but it does not rule me.

Why does the scent of reindeer lichen stir my soul to depths of joy? Why does the sight of corrugated steel make me a little ill? The reasons, or even understanding that there are reasons, give me power to explore my own feelings and avoid being hurt or judgmental when the feelings of others contradict my own. This also allows me to hold an opinion that is not based on my feelings. This kind of understanding seems often to be missing from many current political arenas and social conversations. I am not a relativist, but I do believe that attempting to understand the “other” point of view is vital for civilized discourse.

How this ties into storytelling:

What resonates with people in a story has a marked instinctual quality. The persistence of cliches, archetypes and tropes is a symptom of this. Tropes would not exist if they did not play certain chords on a segment of people and this makes them handy tools in storytelling, but tools that require careful use. But that is a post for another time. :)

Details, description and theme are also powerful influences on a reader. My personal philosophy of writing, at present, demands that I balance effect on the audience with my own preferences, while the integrity of the story itself trumps both. I have very little control over  what chords I strike in an individual, as authors I read have little control over my reactions to their work. That is something that every writer should accept for the sake of sanity. No matter how good a job we do in writing, some people are not going to like what we create.

In speaking with the inspiring blogger BeKindRewrite, I realized that the musical metaphor has some bearing on my reaction to beloved books turned into films. I have discovered that the key, for me, is tone. One cannot expect a film and a book to strike exactly the same chords in a person. However, differing details between the works may be acceptable if the tone of the film is similar to that of the book.

Examples:

“Lord of the Rings” trilogy: Peter Jackson’s film interpretation of the story differs from the books in many respects. He changes characters, plot devices, and lines, sometimes to good effect and sometime to bad. So why do I like the films as an interpretation of the novels? I resonate in much the same way when I read one of Tolkien’s sweeping scenes and when Jackson pans in on Meadowseld with the strings-heavy Rohan theme playing. The same is true of the new “Tintin” movie, the “Princess Bride,” and the 1995 film “Persuasion.”

Then there are the films that strike a very different chord in me from the books on which they are based. It does not follow that they are bad films or that I dislike them (though some I dislike very much). Examples of this include the new “Sherlock Holmes” films, the 2005 “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe,” the 2005 “Pride and Prejudice,” and horror of horrors, the 1978 “Watership Down.”

I have rambled all over the place with this idea, and could ramble still farther, but I think I should draw to a close. I have come to a two-fold conclusion in this exploration:

1. An awareness of the music and discord within us all can make me more tolerant of the opinions of others. I may still have views regarding the quality of an artistic work, but I can easily accept and respect the fact that what makes music in one person, may make dissonance in another without the need to devalue the opinion of one.

2. To anyone who transfers a work from one art form into another: Heed the tone. If you can get that right, you are more than halfway to your goal.

Echo in my soul

I never know when my soul will sing, nor always why it does.

The feeling is one of contradiction. It calls for weeping and laughter mingled. Bittersweet is not the right word, as there is no bitterness in it. Perhaps “sharp-sweet” will do.

One thing is clear. When my soul sings, it invariably sings to its Maker. That may be the reason for the sharp and the sweet, as lifting its voice to God requires my soul to look upon what it cannot apprehend. It is the spiritual equivalent of stretching muscles.

My soul is stretching.

Another image comes to mind, repugnant to some, but not to me, as I like the legless silken creatures. A snake, when it grows, seeks release from the bonds of its old skin. For the freedom to grow, it must break out of itself. I am constantly needing to break out of myself. Every time I  break, I grow. Every time I break my freedom increases.

Whether my soul sings desire, strength or Joy, or all co-mingled with many other songs,  it always has the same effect on me. I am full to overflowing, and I must either raise my own voice in song, or find means of praise in other ways.

Thankfully, there are as many ways to praise God as there are hearts that desire to do so. Living, itself, can be an act of praise. Of course, it does me good to literally lift my voice as often as I can.

My life flows on in endless song
Above earth’s lamentation,
I hear the sweet, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation!
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds and echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

What though my joys and comforts die?
The Lord my Savior liveth.
What though the darkness gather round?
Songs in the night He giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that refuge clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,
How can I keep from singing?

I lift my eyes, the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway smooths,
Since first I learned to love it.
This peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever-springing.
All things are mine, since I am His.
How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,
And hear their death-knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile,
Our thoughts to them go winging;
When friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing?

(lyrics attributed to Pauline T. and Doris Plenn)