I had envisioned this as some sort of deeply artistic and philosophical platform where our minds can meet in cyberspace. However, as mentioned in my "breakout" blog I usually do this around the other duties of wiving, and mothering and friending. (and I mean that in positive connotation. Duty is not a four letter word. O.K. so it is a four letter word, but you know what I mean). In addition, if you want to go really deep, call my husband. Deep is his speciality.
Music, however, now that I would love to talk about all day long. Music and beauty particularly catch my fancy. Music embodies for me a sort of artistic creed about beauty. I was talking with my friend, John, the other day who is reading John Eldridge. Whether you like Mr. Eldridge or not is irrelevant. Just don't come 'round here if you don't. kidding! In the book, the author John, was talking about how after the death of his friend, Brent, nothing helped assuage the empty ache left behind after his friend died. Nothing helped--not church, not words of comfort from friends. Nothing. Nothing except sitting in his wife Stasi's flower garden. Something like that happened to me recently. I got to sit in a garden in Tennessee at the Art House after making my C.D. And this garden helped to heal something in me that was broken. Or rather it stood in graceful opposition to it. I have been railing questions about evil in the world and in my life for over a decade now. This garden didn't offer a single counterargument to my accusations. It did not shout back or quote me a scripture. It just sat there and stared at me with it's delicate flowery eyes...and slayed me. By it's essence, it' very nature, it pierced my armor and where it pierced, the tears flowed.
This is what beauty does. And it's so underrated, or worse, it is assaulted and twisted, but true beauty longs to be admired and in the admiring it offer us something better than ambitious ambitions and demanding demands. Beauty bypasses something in our defenses and disarms us. It takes the issues to an entirely new level, and says, "I'm not playing your A-B-C logic game. I'm going to hit you over the heart with poppies and queen anne's lace. And I'm going to follow it up with a roundhouse kick of your baby working her rose-bud lips around her thumb in her sleep, and to finish you off, I'm going to infiltrate your psyche with sunsets and dew glistening on the grass as you leave for work in the morning. Take that!" And beauty wins again.
I'm really glad it wins again. If I can write just one song that does to me or someone else what the beauty does for me... oh if!