Nietzsche on Music and Learning

“One must learn to love.— This is what happens to us in music: first one has to learn to hear a figure and melody at all, to detect and distinguish it, to isolate it and delimit it as a separate life; then it requires some exertion and good will to tolerate it in spite of its strangeness, to be patient with its appearance and expression, and kindhearted about its oddity:—finally there comes a moment when we are used to it, when we wait for it, when we sense that we should miss it if it were missing: and now it continues to compel and enchant us relentlessly until we have become its humble and enraptured lovers who desire nothing better from the world than it and only it.

But that is what happens to us not only in music: that is how we have learned to love all things that we now love. In the end we are always rewarded for our good will, our patience, fairmindedness, and gentleness with what is strange; gradually, it sheds its veil and turns out to be a new and indescribable beauty:—that is its thanks for our hospitality. Even those who love themselves will have learned it in this way: for there is no other way. Love, too, has to be learned.” 

Musician's Creed

A little music humor...

http://www.billkeeven.net/Musician's%20Creed.htm

Home Alone

Great pictures of me playing the role of insane babysitter. It was a great weekend, though. As for the photos, no editing, just straight-up, natural craziness. 

Catullus and Infatuation

"I look no more for her to be my lover
As I love her. That thing could never be.
Nor pray I for her purity––that's over.
Only this much I pray, that I be free.
Free from insane desire myself, and guarded
In peace at last. O heaven, grant that yet
The faith by which I've lived may be
       rewarded.
Let me forget."


– Catullus

What Is A Teacher?

     “So, who learns more? You or your students?” Many teachers half-jokingly ask this question of each other, expecting the same answer every time: “Sometimes, I’m not sure whether it’s me or the kids doing the teaching in my class. My students teach me things I would never have dreamed of.” It seems that instructors in all fields encounter new experiences and challenges every day. The competent ones learn to adapt. Quickly, they begin to understand that their days of study have not ended, but, instead, have just begun. So, who learns more?
     Most would indignantly argue that the entire purpose and definition of a student is to engage in the exercise of learning. After all, if a pupil is not gaining anything from his or her studies, he or she must be a very poor learner! However, the abilities of an instructor are certainly reflected in the aptitude of his or her students. Significantly, it is only possible for students to learn from material and lectures that they have read or observed, either directly or indirectly. Because the teacher generally regulates what is presented in class, his or her choices vastly impact  potential to understand the topic at hand. If pupils desire to effectively complete all that is required for class, they will be influenced by the methods their professor uses to teach. Studying what is assigned in class is a common-sense way to pass tests. However, is studying the best way to learn?
     Essentially, the act of teaching is the sharing of knowledge. When students sit down in class, they naturally expect the instructor to have some level of familiarity in the subject being taught. For instance, most students would be astounded to discover that a professor of economics is teaching their music theory course! Immediately, the instructor loses credence in the eyes of his or her pupils. To some degree, all teachers must possess the capacity to impart knowledge. But, where does this ability come from? It only comes from a genuine understanding of the subject being taught. In fact, all instructors must find some way to gain the necessary experience.
     The truth is, a teacher must learn in order to teach. Academia is dynamic. Ideas, theories, and preferred techniques are always responding to new discoveries and research. How can an instructor cope in this ever-shifting environment? Qualified instructors can only survive through continuous learning. And, unlike students, who can only learn through observation, capable teachers are presented with the invaluable opportunity to learn through teaching. Students can only read pertinent material, listen to offered lectures, and utilize methods practiced by their teachers. Instructors can and should do all of this as well, in order to become familiar with their subject matter. However, they also spend time delivering lectures, choosing material, and designing the methods used by their students. These practical applications effectively reinforce the teacher’s understanding of his or her field.
     What do students and instructors have in common? Both are professional learners. In order to excel at what they do, both must become effective at studying. Both must continue to read, write, and research. In a way, are not teachers students, too? Ultimately, any person who wishes to teach must also be willing to learn.

"The Poor Need It More" by Andrew Dawes

  Not so long ago, in a land not too far from here, there once lived a happy, hardworking carpenter.  Contentedly, he lived in a humble country cottage, kindly caring for his beautiful wife and two playful daughters. Although the carpenter was poorer than some, he was certainly well-off enough to adequately feed and clothe his own family. Four times a year, at the end of every season, he would trek to the nearest town in order to buy meat, to replace his tools, and to mend his family’s clothes. And, without fail, each one of these trips was more successful than the last.

     One year, however, everything changed. The town often visited by the carpenter spontaneously implemented several new welfare measures. The town’s officials suddenly concluded that the poor and impoverished in their land, both citizens and non-citizens, hardworking and non-working alike, required immediate financial assistance. Therefore, they declared, the rich must be taxed in order to feed the poor. Their reasoning was simple: “The poor need it more!”

     That spring, the unsuspecting carpenter fell prey to these new ordinances. The town’s officers were lurking in the streets, waiting for a decently-fed citizen like him. Spotting the carefree carpenter, they stopped him and began to search his person. He feebly attempted to protest, but the officials only responded by patronizing him with haughty sermons on the betterment of society, and smugly lecturing him on the dangers of the wealthy accumulating too much wealth. Before the carpenter could open his mouth once more, they deftly plucked the money bag right out of his hands. Enraged, the carpenter demanded to know why his hard-earned money should be taken from him in this way. After all, without his wallet, how would he manage to feed his family? Loudly, and with feigned surprise, the officials answered this apparently thickheaded fellow’s question with what could only be the most plain, obvious answer: “The poor need it more!”

     After this, the carpenter only made two more trips to town. During the first, at the end of summer, the carpenter did not bring any money with him, but instead brought his carpentry tools. After his previous encounter with the town’s officials and their new ordinances, he wisely decided to offer manual labor in exchange for the goods and services he and his family so desperately needed. However, those cunning officials, after once again apprehending this hardworking man, proceeded to mercilessly snatch his entire toolbox! Dumbfounded, the carpenter, struggling to speak, began to inquire as to how he might work and feed his family without saws, hammers, or nails. The officers did not hesitate to answer him. They informed him that there had been an unusual amount of unemployment around the town as of late, and that any spare tools would assist the impoverished in their search for sustainable income. Then, they departed from him, cheerily singing, “The poor need it more!”

     The last time the carpenter visited town, in the the late chill of fall, he arrived as a much poorer man. In fact, he only traveled to beg for food and to seek a benefactor who might offer to patch his hole-torn coat for the winter. The officials found him anyway. Seething, he remained silent while the the officers roughly tore that ragged coat from his back. In stark contrast to his stillness, they spoke plenty, babbling to him about the sickness that had spread among the town’s poor, possibly because of the fast approaching winter. As they ran off to find another unjustly prosperous capitalist, who would also be strongly encouraged to donate in such a time of need, they flippantly reminded the carpenter, “The poor need it more!”

     That winter, the hardworking carpenter caught sick and died. Perhaps it was because he could not afford the medicine needed to recover. Perhaps it was because there had not been enough food for him or his wife or his two daughters. Perhaps it was because he had come home half-frozen, night after frigid night, after scrounging for bits of kindling in the forest surrounding his shabby cottage. His beautiful wife and two playful daughters wretchedly mourned his passing. His last act in life had been to construct a coffin out of extra materials left over from his career of carpentry. This way, he had reasoned, his family would not be forced to sell themselves to properly bury his remains. By now, the officials had taken to roaming the countryside too, searching for unwilling benefactors. Most likely, they would have taken the coffin too, in order to bury the perished poor among them; however, they had not yet located the small country cottage.
     Three days after the carpenter’s burial, a harsh knock sounded on the door of the neglected cottage. The carpenter’s widow screamed and almost fainted when she recognized the very officials that her husband had vividly described time and time again. As she lay on the dirt floor, pleading for mercy, promising that she had nothing more to give, the officials glanced at each other, genuinely bemused and not recognizing this soiled, impoverished woman. They were not come to do any harm, they proudly assured her. Instead, they were bearers of great news and glad tidings. With that, the head officer violently spilled a bag of various odds and ends on the mean, cold floor. Silenced, the wife stared at the soil-spattered contents of the upended sack. There was a small bag of coins. Next to that was a familiar yet well-used toolbox full of saws, hammers, and nails. Finally, there was a long, weather-worn coat desperately in need of patching. With a trembling lip, the carpenter’s widow numbly gazed at the floor, questioning the officials with her silence. The officers smiled in smug satisfaction, and, glancing around the hovel, lightly commented on her obvious poverty. These things on the floor, they loftily intoned, had been acquired from some nameless woodworker who was guilty of hoarding wealth, thereby forcing the poor to suffer. Now, in true generosity, they, the heroes, had come to bring these items to her and to her meager household. After all, they proclaimed, “The poor need it more!”

"34 Words" by Andrew Dawes

     In 34 words, such bleak concepts as death, grief, and eternality are expertly examined and exposed. Filling the space of approximately two written sentences, Emily Dickinson’s poem “The Bustle in the House” perfectly illuminates these sombre, murky issues. Although Dickinson wrote this concise yet powerful piece in 1866, it was not published until after her death (“Emily Dickinson: The Poetry Foundation”). This poem is still as passionate today as when it was first penned. For modern readers, “The Bustle in the House” closely relates to those who are currently wrestling with grief and loss. In a comforting fashion, its solemnly warm tone radiates consolation and sympathy while brashly fingering the freezing emotions connected with death. Both painful grief and healing hope underlie this short poem’s intriguing message, tone, and themes.

     Although it is concise, “The Bustle in the House” still manages to masterfully explain life after loss. Describing events that take place after the death of a friend or family member, this poem pictures the tumultuous flurry of activity that inevitably follows:

  The bustle in a house

  The morning after death

  Is solemnest of industries

  Enacted upon earth. (quoted in “RPO -- Emily Dickinson: The Bustle in the  House”)

The “bustle” referred to in this first stanza paints dreary images of melancholy funeral preparations. Although the work is bitter, preparations for the deceased must be seen to, even if such proceedings are the “solemnest of industries.” The tone is immediately gloomy and dark, and the first stanza is largely overwritten by the theme of death. However, the second, and last, stanza of Dickinson’s poem subtly injects a foreign contaminant of hope into the corpse of depression:

  The sweeping up the heart,

  And putting love away

  We shall not want to use again

  Until eternity. (quoted in “RPO -- Emily Dickinson: The Bustle in the  House”)

While the emotional texture of the poem remains thick with sorrow, the last two lines lighten the mixture considerably. The word “eternity” implies a life-after-death situation, one in which the individual who has lost a loved one can eventually restore this relationship and love the deceased once again. Even though that love must be temporarily stowed away, it will be retrieved for use at another, more distant time. This theme of hope stands in stark contrast to the first stanza’s despondent bustle and mindless industry. In a mere 34 words, Dickinson navigates from the deepest shades of sorrow to the loftiest heights of hope.
     A powerful message lies underneath. Mourning the mortal end of a close relationship can strenuously tax an individual’s willpower and faith. In the midst of the dismal activity and unhappy adjustments, it is easy to lose sight of the person who has been lost. However, though it is impossible to love the deceased in exactly the same manner as when they walked the earth, glistening hope remains for those who can wait until eternity. Love shall be used again. It is this final guarantee of hope that defines Emily Dickinson’s poem as more than aimless ramblings. Although grief destroys, love yet remains. In this way, “The Bustle in the House” is truly death brought to life in 34 words.