Nothing new – reorganizing reality
This morning I am indebted to Krista Tippett, the host of the NPR program, On Being, and her August 25, 2016 guest Gustavo Santaolalla for reminding me:
· We reaffirm or relearn what we already know. There is nothing which is essentially new.
· Each of us organizes or reorganizes reality making reality very personal.
· The space between the notes or the silence between the notes is often what gives the notes their power. Mr. Santaolalla says, “So, there’s all those spaces. I mean, I love that moment where you’re kind of suspended. And it’s not the silence that occurs at the very end of a tune, but it’s the silence that occurs between two notes. I like to think that playing a lot of notes is something that is easier to achieve. You just practice a lot, and you get to play a lot of notes. Not playing, it’s a little bit more difficult sometimes, you know.”
I have previously written on all of these topic before, but I am blessed that very often – daily or many times a day – someone or some part of nature reminds me of each of these “truths.” Despite the fact that my commitment is to question everything and to be very deliberate about opening myself to a new way of viewing or organizing reality, if not careful, I see or hear what I expect to see or hear and do not open myself to a new reality. I can also easily start attending only to the notes and miss the possibilities between the notes.
Gustavo Santaolalla “has composed film scores for over a dozen features including Amores Perros, The Motorcycle Diaries, Brokeback Mountain, Babel, On the Road, and Wild Tales. He also composed the opening score for the hit Netflix series Making of a Murderer. His latest solo album is called Camino. In 2015 he was inducted into the Latin Songwriters Hall of Fame.”
I was surprised to hear him say: “And since I'm not an academically trained musician, I don't know how to read or write music. My way, really, to learn, is by doing it, playing it, or listening to it, or being close to somebody that is a master so I can learn something from that way…
Yeah. I mean, when you think about music — the scale. It’s twelve notes. I mean, seven notes with the semi-tones and stuff. Basically, it's the way I organize those notes that will be my melody, and the way the other guy will organize those will be his melody, and the way you organize three notes, it will be a chord, or four notes a chord. And so a painter that decides that he interprets a sunset in a particular way. But it's really putting reality in a peculiar way of looking at reality. It’s reorganizing it in a very peculiar way. That peculiar way is what gives you the tag, the brand. It’s like Picasso. He has a particular way of reorganizing reality and the vision of reality, his vision of reality.”
Mr. Santaolalla poignantly reminds the listener that it is not enough to attend to the space between the notes. One has to be open to the possibility of speaking one’s truth – of organizing reality to reveal one’s truth. No, I am not suggesting that one organize a “truth” based on what is most politically expedient or which allows one to attain a short term reward at the expense of the health, happiness or needs of another person. That is not speaking one’s truth, but merely playing a note which is dictated by a goal rather than opening oneself to an eternal truth.
Music or any form of art (dance, music, poetry) are universal languages which often reflect a particular cultural and very personal history while, at the same time, reflecting a truth which is as old as the universe. If, for example, I again consider the axiom of Heraclitus, “You cannot step into the same river twice.” I may discover a new way of organizing or revealing this reality, but the essential truth remains the same. All is indeed in a state of perpetual flux. That does not change. Yet, each of us has to continue to uncover ways of incorporating this truth into the way we are organizing, living and sharing reality. As Mr. Santaolalla points out, “It’s like Picasso. He has a particular way of reorganizing reality and the vision of reality, his vision of reality.” And I would add it was his vision of reality at that point in space and time. Picasso’s work is a great example of an artist that forces one’s eye to the space between the lines.
I was intrigued by the fact that I “assumed” that such a talented composer would know how to read and write music. I assumed that his reality had to include the actual written notes rather than allowing the organizing of the notes to first make their appearance via the instrument he is playing or imagining in his mind. Actually, not being a musician I have no real idea of how one can create such complex scores without being able to write them down in traditional note form. Yet, create he does. Via the language of music, he wraps a reality in such a way that it seems new or as if it is expressing new truths rather than a reality or which is organized from his personal experience.
This morning I was listening to a person express views about how best to help a person move from homelessness to “a full and productive life.” This person sounded very sure that their approach to be helpful was “the way” and anyone with a different opinion or reality was clearly wrong. At times I have envied those who are so sure of the answers which, of course, must mean that they are sure of the questions. I am often not sure of either and I am not convinced that I can always put myself in the reality of another person. I recall a homeless person who had lost both his legs and was in a wheelchair. My reality was that he clearly would be better off staying in the homeless shelter at night. His reality was that he was better off staying in his wheel chair on my office building open porch even though I would often find him lying on my porch floor because he had fallen out of the wheelchair trying to get up enough to urinate during the night. This man seemed to satisfy all the legal criteria for determining sanity. In other words, his mind was working well enough to make his own decisions. Yet, I would often get someone to push his wheelchair to the homeless shelter. He would wait until I left the office and reclaim his space on my porch for the night. His reality was even when it was cold he was better off on the exposed porch than in the homeless shelter.
I needed the reminders of Mr. Santaolalla and Ms. Tippett. I often seem to fall into the trap of thinking that the truth I posit from my reality is “the truth” or a new truth. I also often confuse the image or the note with the space between the notes. I rush from note to note which forces me to pull up formerly learned or perceived “truths” and then self-righteously proclaim them as new truths or the possible truths. Perhaps this is the origin of most disputes and ensuing violence on all levels of human existence.
Today, I can choose to focus on the space between the notes and limit myself to organizing reality out of my experience and not insist that I am experiencing the only possible reality.
Written August 27, 2016
This morning I am indebted to Krista Tippett, the host of the NPR program, On Being, and her August 25, 2016 guest Gustavo Santaolalla for reminding me:
· We reaffirm or relearn what we already know. There is nothing which is essentially new.
· Each of us organizes or reorganizes reality making reality very personal.
· The space between the notes or the silence between the notes is often what gives the notes their power. Mr. Santaolalla says, “So, there’s all those spaces. I mean, I love that moment where you’re kind of suspended. And it’s not the silence that occurs at the very end of a tune, but it’s the silence that occurs between two notes. I like to think that playing a lot of notes is something that is easier to achieve. You just practice a lot, and you get to play a lot of notes. Not playing, it’s a little bit more difficult sometimes, you know.”
I have previously written on all of these topic before, but I am blessed that very often – daily or many times a day – someone or some part of nature reminds me of each of these “truths.” Despite the fact that my commitment is to question everything and to be very deliberate about opening myself to a new way of viewing or organizing reality, if not careful, I see or hear what I expect to see or hear and do not open myself to a new reality. I can also easily start attending only to the notes and miss the possibilities between the notes.
Gustavo Santaolalla “has composed film scores for over a dozen features including Amores Perros, The Motorcycle Diaries, Brokeback Mountain, Babel, On the Road, and Wild Tales. He also composed the opening score for the hit Netflix series Making of a Murderer. His latest solo album is called Camino. In 2015 he was inducted into the Latin Songwriters Hall of Fame.”
I was surprised to hear him say: “And since I'm not an academically trained musician, I don't know how to read or write music. My way, really, to learn, is by doing it, playing it, or listening to it, or being close to somebody that is a master so I can learn something from that way…
Yeah. I mean, when you think about music — the scale. It’s twelve notes. I mean, seven notes with the semi-tones and stuff. Basically, it's the way I organize those notes that will be my melody, and the way the other guy will organize those will be his melody, and the way you organize three notes, it will be a chord, or four notes a chord. And so a painter that decides that he interprets a sunset in a particular way. But it's really putting reality in a peculiar way of looking at reality. It’s reorganizing it in a very peculiar way. That peculiar way is what gives you the tag, the brand. It’s like Picasso. He has a particular way of reorganizing reality and the vision of reality, his vision of reality.”
Mr. Santaolalla poignantly reminds the listener that it is not enough to attend to the space between the notes. One has to be open to the possibility of speaking one’s truth – of organizing reality to reveal one’s truth. No, I am not suggesting that one organize a “truth” based on what is most politically expedient or which allows one to attain a short term reward at the expense of the health, happiness or needs of another person. That is not speaking one’s truth, but merely playing a note which is dictated by a goal rather than opening oneself to an eternal truth.
Music or any form of art (dance, music, poetry) are universal languages which often reflect a particular cultural and very personal history while, at the same time, reflecting a truth which is as old as the universe. If, for example, I again consider the axiom of Heraclitus, “You cannot step into the same river twice.” I may discover a new way of organizing or revealing this reality, but the essential truth remains the same. All is indeed in a state of perpetual flux. That does not change. Yet, each of us has to continue to uncover ways of incorporating this truth into the way we are organizing, living and sharing reality. As Mr. Santaolalla points out, “It’s like Picasso. He has a particular way of reorganizing reality and the vision of reality, his vision of reality.” And I would add it was his vision of reality at that point in space and time. Picasso’s work is a great example of an artist that forces one’s eye to the space between the lines.
I was intrigued by the fact that I “assumed” that such a talented composer would know how to read and write music. I assumed that his reality had to include the actual written notes rather than allowing the organizing of the notes to first make their appearance via the instrument he is playing or imagining in his mind. Actually, not being a musician I have no real idea of how one can create such complex scores without being able to write them down in traditional note form. Yet, create he does. Via the language of music, he wraps a reality in such a way that it seems new or as if it is expressing new truths rather than a reality or which is organized from his personal experience.
This morning I was listening to a person express views about how best to help a person move from homelessness to “a full and productive life.” This person sounded very sure that their approach to be helpful was “the way” and anyone with a different opinion or reality was clearly wrong. At times I have envied those who are so sure of the answers which, of course, must mean that they are sure of the questions. I am often not sure of either and I am not convinced that I can always put myself in the reality of another person. I recall a homeless person who had lost both his legs and was in a wheelchair. My reality was that he clearly would be better off staying in the homeless shelter at night. His reality was that he was better off staying in his wheel chair on my office building open porch even though I would often find him lying on my porch floor because he had fallen out of the wheelchair trying to get up enough to urinate during the night. This man seemed to satisfy all the legal criteria for determining sanity. In other words, his mind was working well enough to make his own decisions. Yet, I would often get someone to push his wheelchair to the homeless shelter. He would wait until I left the office and reclaim his space on my porch for the night. His reality was even when it was cold he was better off on the exposed porch than in the homeless shelter.
I needed the reminders of Mr. Santaolalla and Ms. Tippett. I often seem to fall into the trap of thinking that the truth I posit from my reality is “the truth” or a new truth. I also often confuse the image or the note with the space between the notes. I rush from note to note which forces me to pull up formerly learned or perceived “truths” and then self-righteously proclaim them as new truths or the possible truths. Perhaps this is the origin of most disputes and ensuing violence on all levels of human existence.
Today, I can choose to focus on the space between the notes and limit myself to organizing reality out of my experience and not insist that I am experiencing the only possible reality.
Written August 27, 2016
RSS Feed