Tag: Culture

LEARNING FROM THE MONGOLIAN REINDEER HERDERS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 5 Comments

With my plunge into yoga discipline early in my adult years, I came to an appreciation of non-Western ways of perceiving the world around us. For someone rooted in scientific, empirical , Aristotelian logical thought, this came as a jolt. Or, as Gary Snyder has argued, every poet must have an appreciation of some archaic system of awareness, be it astrology, I Ching, tarot, palmistry, well, you get the picture. Just listen and look.

What I’ve come to appreciate is the alternative wisdom carried by Native American elders, gurus of all sorts, and the range of those labeled shamans, East and West.

And so, at last summer’s sessions of New England Yearly Meeting of Friends, I was intrigued by an opportunity to view a movie on Mongolian shamans. It’s a remarkable work, by a registered nurse who has worked for two decades with nomadic reindeer herders in Mongolia. Having earned their trust and respect, and realizing their own vulnerability in the face of global changes, the shamans allowed her to film their healing ceremonies.

As I viewed the documentary, I was struck by how much of what she observed leads into Tibetan Buddhism, too.

This is remarkable work. What is healing, anyway? From a Christian point of view, I can say healing can differ from a cure. So just what happens in a shaman ceremony? And where can Eastern and Western health care interact? How much of our physical state is a reflection of our emotional and spiritual conditions.

We might wonder, too, how the Nativity stories would appear from the world view of the  herders, how much their insights would inform us about shepherds and angels. Would a stable be that much different from the homes where the shamans enact their rites? As for the Magi? Or the heavenly wonder? Or even an oppressive political and economic presence? As the Gospel message insists, the world needs healing, no doubt about it.

To learn more of the reindeer herder perspective, go to Nomadicare.

HOMAGE TO OTHERS IN THE ARTS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

The tradition of art inspiring art is a long one. Perhaps we might even see a redundancy there and shorten the sentence to “Tradition inspiring art is a long one.” Or more accurately, “Traditions inspiring art are long.”

At the moment I’m reflecting on my poetry collection, 50 Preludes & Fugues, which springs in part from Dmitri Shostakovich’s 20th century homage to Bach. There are, we should note, two sets each with 24 preludes with fugues. I became acquainted with some of these piano pieces in college, via a budget LP recording apparently with the composer at the keyboard. (Memory had a young American pianist, as it is, but now I think it was the composer himself at the keyboard.)

And then these engaging, sometimes haunting, works disappeared from general public awareness.

Decades later, a Naxos CD set of the complete cycles by Konstantin Schebakov allowed me to rediscover their range – the discs were often playing as I drafted and revised the new poems. Still later, through a Christmas gift from my younger stepdaughter, I gained the opportunity to closely examine Keith Jarrett’s exploration on the ECM label, after hearing selections of his performances on public radio broadcasts.

What continues to amaze me is how different the two interpretations are. The Russian Schebakov is crystalline, restrained, centered on each chord and its ringing. The American Jarrett, in contrast, develops the phrasing – these pieces sing. Which version do I prefer? Or which is, in some way, “better”?

I can’t say. Instead, I’d argue that each is a counterpoint for the other, both springing from the same root. And that as a consequence, we’re all richer for their advances.

In the arts and if faith, we all build on deep roots that have come before us.

WHAT A GANG

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

Some of us of a certain age remember a weird black-and-white Saturday morning children’s show starring Andy Devine, a rotund, raspy-voiced former cowboy movie sidekick. I never knew quite what to make of the show back then, but each week essentially had three individual adventures bridged by the host and an audience of screaming kids. The same ones, in the close-ups, each week.

When the topic of Andy’s Gang comes up – along with a singing of its theme song, “I’ve got a gang, you’ve got a gang, everybody’s got a gang – ANDY’S GANG!” – what I’ve noticed is the utterly perplexed look on the faces of those who’ve never seen it. In short, nobody can describe it in a way that comes across. The cartoons came on afterward and ran till noon or so.

Thus, when a recent Google search turned up some Andy’s Gang videos from the ’50s, we started watching. Let’s just say the show hasn’t aged well. After a few shots of the host, the mother in the room said she’d never allow her kids around that character. Ahem. And that was before his classic “Pluck your magic twang-er, Froggie,” which she declared had obviously Freudian meaning. (She was, in fact, more graphic.) And then we got a mini-episode with two bare-chested boys in India, who were rescuing monkeys. Another friend points out the blatantly racist undertone of the stories in Africa. Do your own analysis there, if you want.

I think the third regular adventure had a goat-cart in Ireland.

And then there’s an ad where Andy’s telling a friend he has a big date lined up. He gets all spiffed up for the event. Let’s just say, when she shows up (to eat cereal with him), she’s not age-appropriate.

It’s supposed to be cute, I know, but these days it’s just creepy. The word, in fact, just kept returning.

At least each week’s show ended with a reminder to be good boys and girls and go to Sunday school the next morning.

 

LIMITATIONS AS A FOCUSING LENS

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The old strictures sought to keep Quakers focused on their religious calling. As Damon D. Hickey explains (The Southern Friend, Volume XXVII, Number 2, 2005) them, “This cross, this obedience that was called for, was in the broadest sense the death of self-will and obedience to the inward Christ. … Thus, worldly amusements, especially dancing, were a waste of precious time and unfit the mind for devotional exercises. Music was the devil’s instrument. The Lord called his people to leave the world’s friendships, vain fashions, … sinful amusements, which would include the movies, the theatre and the dance. Perhaps this part would not much apply to our readers, but … in nearly all the so-called Quaker Colleges and Preparatory Schools dancing is practiced.”

He continues to quote 1943-44 writings by North Carolina Wilburite Anderson M. Barker, who argued that by yielding to Christ the Ruler

He will rule out all hurtful reading, and preserve all from putting too much time upon the news, and other such readings, to the neglect of the Bible and other good books, which have to do with our eternal interests.

Then there’s the quotation, “We Quakers only read true things,” told by a boy returning three novels he’d borrowed from a neighbor. Or what is erroneously sometimes called a Quaker hymn from North Carolina, which is usually heard these days in folk music circles, “How Can I Keep From Singing?” Or the recorded ministers who dragged me to an apple barn in Ohio for my first contradance, only to hear the next morning an elderly friend wearing a bonnet rise and wag a finger into the air, warning us of “that evil amongst us known as folk dancing” – while others looked down, sheepishly, trying to suppress a grin.

From the beginning of the movement, we have Margaret Fell’s objection to the strictures of a “silly gospel” that took hold, all the same.

Or later Quakers who accepted things that bind and pinch, as long as they’re chosen.

Or the struggle to keep a vibrant faith and intellect, rather than a barren one.

Always, the tension, in Scripture, between one world, “And God saw that it was good,” and another, sometimes called the ways of the world or even the wayward world.

So the challenge is in keeping a focused life that avoids becoming simply barren.

Let me point to the proportions of the classic meetinghouses – elegance as simplicity – plus the emphasis on philanthropy. Poetry as prayer.

So here we are, with our love of movies, music, theater, visual arts – and a tad of guilt?

I hear an echo of my father, with his passion for big-band music and some of the old hymns, “It would be a lesser world without music.”

I think, too, of a couple who lived without electricity as part of a strict economy that allowed them to focus full-time on calling and playing for country dances.

So here we are, with a visitor asking after the rise of worship – “Are you the pastor?” Before I could say anything, a voice behind me: “He is, he just doesn’t know it.”

Look, I want everyone to sit on the facing bench (elders gallery) at least once a year. “Her turn – next, a child.” Facing each other across history.

~*~

Elders 1

For more on my poetry collection and other reflections, click here.

Light 1

REAMS OF CORRESPONDENCE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

She wanted to review our email exchanges from our days of courtship but couldn’t find copies of what she’d sent me. Hoped I had printouts.

I’ve been downsizing, so some things weren’t where I expected to find them. Knew I had a loose-leaf binder somewhere.

Nowhere in my studio, though, the one in the attic. No, not the bookshelves or even the remaining filing cabinets or the knee-high closet under the roof. Nor in the first sweep of the loft of the barn. Not in the drawer of surviving correspondence there, either.

Naturally, I was perplexed.

One more round, though, and I came across a crate of binders. Aha! First one had Quaker letters, back before Internet. Second one, other letters. And then, a three-inch thick binder, our nine months of emails. My first emails, actually. How embarrassing … and fascinating! So long ago, it now seems.

Has me reflecting on how much times have changed, too – amazed, on one hand, how much I actually sent out in the postal system and received in reply. Where did the time come from? And reflecting, on another side, at how much today would be a click and later delete … and thus lost. (Printouts? Too tedious, most of the time.)

Another question even has me pondering how much of my poetry and fiction would have simply been shot off as blog posts rather than tediously typed and retyped, revised and condensed into literature, had another option existed?

If my small-press acceptances letters fill three filing drawers, as they do, the rejections would take up 20 times the space. Where would I put them? Or why?

Now, back to the juicy stuff …

WHAT MAKES A POEM, ANYWAY?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Even poets will often have difficulty defining exactly what a poem is. As if there’s a single measure for poetry to begin with.

To call it “slow prose” seems to me to slight both poetry and prose. Robert Bly once faulted traditional English-language poetry for the way it’s commonly functioned in the role of sermons, with any inherent wildness diluted or tamed. How much politeness can a poem contain, anyway?

One distinction might arise in parallels to music. There are good reasons composers set poetry and not prose to a score – and not all of them have to do with metrics or form. A good poem has much of the indefinable emotional sensation of listening or performing music, apart from any linear explanation. Both somehow take us into the darkened recesses of our soul.

Maybe I’ve come too much under the spell of what Bly instead calls “leaping poetry,” which can be found throughout the oral traditions of so-called primitive peoples or in many pages of Scripture, including the Bible, or in the visions of Asian, Latin American, or French poetic seers.

Not that it’s easy to veer far from our roots in linear composition, or at least speech. Many contemporary poems obviously arise as a strand of journaling or even confession – and I’ll plead guilty there, too, though hopefully I’ve compressed, distilled, and transformed my material into something, well, full of imagery and free flight that makes a particular become universal as well.

There’s also the continuing struggle of just how far a poem can run from the very basis of language itself and still communicate some underlying sensation or experience. Choosing pieces to read before an audience, as I’ve found, can lead to a much different selection than I’d have for on-page presentation, where more linguistically fragmented work might be more engaging.

Could it be, then, that the question then isn’t so much what a poem is but rather what it are? And then, how many of those elements exist in this work or that?

A DARK CLOUD OVER THE HIGH-TECH ERA

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

Back in college, I encountered the argument that the more people were engaged in long-range planning, the less possible long-range planning became. In other words, as they put their assumptions into action, the entire field shifted.

Or, put another way, the fewer givens could be counted on ahead. That farm where you wanted to build a mall may already be a housing development or the interest rates may have soared out of sight or malls themselves may have given way to Amazon.

It was also all part of a recognition of the rapidly changing social world ahead, as we’re seeing in our high-tech era. Just where do people get together nowadays, anyway? As for dating?

Over the summer, I sat in on a workshop trying to look at some of the ethical issues we Quakers face in adapting to the use of Internet/social media in maintaining our faith communities, including the possibilities of online committee meetings rather than sitting down in one space together.

There are other issues the greater society faces, such as the rewiring of the human brain as a consequence of early-childhood online time or our “multitasking” activities. The ability to sit down and read complicated, nuanced long works is no doubt in jeopardy. As is, likely, the time for moral reflection. (Does that explain some of the latest developments in the presidential primary posturing?)

We didn’t get far in that direction, though, apart from looking at some of the pros and cons of our own Internet use. As an avid blogger and the author of ebooks, I had my own list.

The part I keep returning to, however, has to do with something at the core at what we’re using. Our screens, laptops, smart-phones, networks, and so on are all dependent on rare-earth elements, which – as their name reflects – are scarce commodities. Not just because they’re hard to find, either, but because they occur in low concentrations where they exist. It’s ecologically costly to extract them. Add to that, they’re mostly found in China – and the known sources are running out. (As the saying goes, the Mideast has oil, China has the rare earth supply.)

Remember, too, high-tech equipment is obsolete the day it’s produced – the next generation is already on the way.

Now you can add this to my neo-Luddite concerns.

I’ve long harbored suspicions about who’s paying for all of our “free” online usage. (Well, Firefox and Wikipedia are now pleading for donations after spoiling us into getting used to having something for nothing. I’ll assume most folks won’t contribute until they have to. Leave the voluntary donations to others.)

I remember the joys of hitchhiking, as well as how quickly it all ceased.

So here we are, all the same. Let’s see what’s around the corner.

STRENGTHENING WITH AGE

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The output of some artists sometimes falls into an arc of Early, Middle, and Late – and nobody exemplifies this more than Beethoven. For others, it’s often just Early and Mature periods, which can be quite satisfying in its own way – think of the continuity in the evolving symphonies of Mahler and Bruckner, in contrast.

As I, too, have grown older, my appreciation for Beethoven’s late works – the string quartets and piano sonatas, especially – has grown, eclipsing the charming classical period influences of the early work or the relentless drive and passion of the stretch that followed and continues his fame. In contrast, the late works are thorny, cerebral, introverted, brooding, even surprisingly contemporary in their affinity. He sometimes seems preoccupied with the intellectual puzzle – immersed in theory – turning his back on the audience. And, for years, these were considered pieces musicians tackled in private. Fortunately, that part has changed, especially for connoisseurs.

It’s not just Beethoven, of course. You can look at your own preferences in reading or music or painting or theater – take the list where you will. How has your focus shifted or your tastes changed?

Think, too, of your life aspirations, especially if the children have left the home or you’ve entered retirement.

I once desired to learn to fly and to hike the entire Appalachian Trail, but never seem to have the time or money. Now that I have the time, those aren’t among my priorities or maybe even my skill sets. And the writing efforts have taken center stage, in addition to gardening and similar projects here at home.

Think, too, of possessions – for me, collections of books and recordings, especially, I’m now thinning, along with the clothing, since I no longer have to dress for the office.

In some ways, it’s all part of the flesh turning bony. A unique approach of simplifying. You can hear that, too, in Beethoven’s late works – an emerging new strength given voice, even as the muscles weaken.