In memory of song


In memory of Edna (age 90) and Inez (age 95) – 2 artists at the organ, who both passed over this week.

The Organist in Heaven
by T.E. Browm (b 1830)

When Wesley died, the Angelic orders,
To see him at the state,
Pressed so incontinent that the warders
Forgot to shut the gate.
So I, that hitherto had followed
As one with grief o’ercast,
Where for the doors a space was hollowed,
Crept in, and heard what passed.
And God said:—
” Seeing thou hast given Thy life to my great sounds,
Choose thou through all the cirque of Heaven
What most of bliss redounds.”
Then Wesley said :—
” I hear the thunder
Low growling from Thy seat—
Grant me that I may bind it under
The trampling of my feet.”
And Wesley said:-” See, lightning quivers
Upon the presence walls—
Lord, give me of it four great rivers,
To be my manuals.”
And then I saw the thunder chidden
As slave to his desire ;
And then I saw the space bestridden
With four great bands of fire ;
And stage by stage, stop stop subtending,
Each lever strong and true,
One shape inextricable blending,
The awful organ grew.
Then certain angels clad the Master in very marvellous wise,
Till clouds of rose and alabaster
Concealed him from mine eyes.
And likest to a dove soft brooding,
The innocent figure ran ;
So breathed the breath of his preluding,
And then the fugue began—
Began ; but, to his office turning,
The porter swung his key;
Wherefore, although my heart was yearning,
I had to go ; but he
Played on; and, as I downward clomb,
I heard the mighty bars
Of thunder-gusts, that shook heaven’s dome,
And moved the balanced stars.

As I’ve blogged before, when something comes up twice in a short period of time, it’s appropriate to take notice of what the universe would like me to hear or learn. These 2 ladies had great influence in my early passion to play organ. Not because they were my teachers, but because they inspired me with their passion for sharing their music. I’ve played all my life, but the last few years other things have taken precedence, and sometimes weeks go by without the feel of ebony and ivory. There is no balance in my life, and I feel like I’m not whole without my music. Thank you for the memories, dear friends, and for leading me back to my center.

Twitter quitter

I just deleted my Twitter account, and I feel great. I’ve made a valiant attempt to Twitter for well over a year. I’ve been a fairly early adapter in almost everything 2.0, and I have found many tools very useful. Other tools I’ve cast aside, but my judgment has pretty much paralleled that of others. However, while the world is ga ga for this Twitter thing, it just isn’t me. I’ve tried – honest. But every time I get another E-mail that someone is following me (most of them, other Twitterers with sleazy sounding names) I get the creeps.

My daily life is pretty dull, a lot of the mundane stuff of management. Other more interesting stuff that I could write falls under privileged information that I don’t even tell my walking partner, and she’s a furry yellow lab. And as for my daily life, it’s just plain boring. . . bought flowers, planted flowers, tried to run over rabbit that ate my flowers.

I’ve tried following some people. During the political campaigns (were they only a year ago?), I tried following candidates to learn something about them. All I got in my Twitter collector was well-crafted sound bites, probably written by staff members. And tweets from other lesser known folks are definitely TMI! As for other tweets, at best, I just plain don’t care. While I’m looking for something professionally, or even culturally enlightening, I find out that “the cat threw up.” Ewwwww.

So, I guess for now I’m just not one of the hip or cool kids. But, just in case I have a change of heart, I followed Twitter’s directions for preserving my name ;^) And maybe I’ll be back.

Now, if I could just find a support group for casting off Twitter guilt.

I Quit – and it’s OK

April 2008 will go down in my personal history as memorable not because of something I accomplished, but because of something I quit. I’m a high-energy person, thriving on conquering challenges. But I’m also a nurturer to those around me, advocating for taking care of yourself, all things in balance, setting reasonable limits, yada yada yada.

I even wrote about quitting (or not) last August, when I reviewed Seth Godin’s book The Dip. So, it was to that blog post I returned when I found that my latest journey to 23 Things on a Stick wasn’t working out the way I planned. In the book, Godin talks about slogging through the long dip between the excitement of starting and the triumph of finishing. He talks about the light at the end to which you power toward when you’re in the Dip.

So it was in January, when I signed up for the 23 Things along with over 1,000 other library folks in Minnesota. I pumped it up and was overjoyed when many of the staff in our regional library took the journey with me. There were warning signs that this was destined to be my first big failure (oh, there have been others I suppose, but I forget). In the first place, I wasn’t willing to garbage up (my perception) this, my real blog, with 23 Things posts. So I created another blog. Secondly, I barely signed up in time to participate, and only managed 3 Things for the month of February. Thirdly, I should have known I was a little too over-zealous when others around me didn’t want me to know that they were doing the program, lest they disappoint me. What a crock!

Well, that inner voice inside me kept getting louder and louder. Real life intervened as I moved into a new house and learned how to install baseboard trim (including staining and finishing). Days at work were long: dark in the morning, dark at night. And I only did 3 Things. And frankly, my posts about those 3 were way below even the *good enough* standard I promised myself I’d satisfy for.

So, I dug out the blog post. This is one book I didn’t buy, and boy, am I sorry. Here are some of the review points I wrote with my very own paws, and my personal eye-openers as they related to my lack of success with 23 Things:

  • If you can’t be #1 or #2, get out (ala Jack Welch) yup, my posts weren’t #1 or #2 in quality or quantity
  • It’s easier to be mediocre than it is to confront reality and quit. Mediocre is not part of who I am or ever will be – and I like it that way.
  • If you’re not able to get through the Dip in an exceptional way, you must quit. I neither had the strength or desire to get through the Dip. The light was invisible to me.
  • The opposite of quitting isn’t waiting around, it’s rededication. There was plenty I should be excelling at, and 23 Things wasn’t one of them. (Stop by some time and see my baseboard, curtains, etc.)
  • It’s OK to quit if the project isn’t worth the reward at the end. I anticipated 2 rewards: new knowledge (I knew most of this stuff) and a flash memory stick from the sponsoring organization (I have gazillions of them around the house.)
  • Pride is the enemy of the smart quitter. yup that hit me where it hurt. Especially when other librarians across the state e-mailed me about my lack of posts. ouch.
  • Decide in advance when you should quit. While I hadn’t done this, my lack of commitment was certainly evident.

April 16th was the last day to win a prize. About the 1st of the month I thought about ramping it up, like some of my friends did. Just about then 2 events in my family climaxed and sapped my attention and energy. So, here it is today, April 17th, and I’m a 23 Things quitter. Ugh.

But wait . . . . I may be a quitter, but I’m not a failure. I started the program, so did lots of others. I did learn one new thing – I created an avatar. It never interested me, and I’m sure I’ll never do it again. Lots of people didn’t get to magic #23. But everyone tried something new and acquired familiarities with something different and potentially valuable. There’s the value.

I’m fairly bursting with pride for the 8-10 librarians in my region who did finish (haven’t got the final report yet). Hip hip hooray. And I fairly whooped when I opened our library blog this morning, and saw one of my colleagues’ appropriately used new trick. She said it was one of her 23 Things. No, she didn’t finish either. And we’ve agreed that we’re going to walk through it together on our own time, recognizing our successes and forming our own support group. Anyone want to join us?