Dear Friends, Family, Neighbors, and Those of You I Don’t Yet Know —
Sometime between this issue of Odd Company and the previous one, the first day of spring came and went. This year, it happened on March 19th. Usually it’s the 20th. I know this because a good friend of mine’s birthday is March 20th, which is almost always the day of the Vernal Equinox — the first day of spring. To celebrate, she balances an egg or two on end, usually on her kitchen counter. This year, she balanced her egg on the 19th rather than on her birthday. I think this weirdness had something to do with the leap year. I am also rather sorry to report that you don’t have to wait till the Equinox to balance an egg. You can do it any day of the year. It would be so nice if eggs could only be balanced when the Earth itself is balanced between day and night. There’s something beautifully symmetric about that idea, which is probably why we like it. Humans love symmetry. I learned that during my years as a graphic designer. If you’re going to design something asymmetric, do it consciously and carefully, and be aware that some people will just hate it. To my knowledge, nobody has ever figured out why asymmetry makes us uncomfortable, or why we so often confuse symmetry with beauty. Robert Sapolsky would probably say it’s biological.
As it happens, my dad’s birthday is also in March. In a few days, he’ll be 92 years old. When he was a young man, he played the piano. One of my favorite childhood memories is of Dad playing the piano, usually after dinner, sometimes after a long work day. For a large part of his life, he had jobs that fit under the broad heading of “manual labor.” That is, he liked working with his hands. He repaired and restored cars; drove trucks; built houses. And, after washing off the grease and grime, sat down and played the piano. Looking back, I wouldn’t say he played beautifully. He didn’t have time to practice enough, and his hands — broad and square — weren’t those of a natural pianist. But he loved making music. As a small child, I thought the sounds he brought forth from his inexpensive piano were magical. They were undoubtedly the beginning of my love affair with music.
I still have a lot of Dad’s sheet music. It has stayed with the piano all these years, and the piano is in my bedroom now, the only room in our house with an inside wall big enough to accommodate it. He favored jazzy tunes from the 1940’s and 50’s — “Slaughter on Tenth Avenue,” “Rhapsody in Blue,” “Night and Day,” “Bumble Boogie.” Tonight, to celebrate his birthday, I’ve chosen a quieter piece he played sometimes, “Clair de Lune,” by the French composer Claude Debussy, performed here by Pascal Rogé at Steinway Hall in New York during the pandemic. “Clair de Lune” was considered pretty wild when it was written in 1895. Debussy explored some pretty daring harmonies and orchestral combinations in his work, and these were widely derided during his lifetime, but influenced many later musicians and musical styles, including jazz. When I learned to play the piano myself, I made a point of learning this one, because…why else? Dad played it!
Before I get to the topic of tonight’s Odd Company, I want to mention a letter I got from a reader after the 3/12 issue, “The Rain.” In that issue, I mentioned Desmet’s idea that the only way to understand the world is through poetry. I then mentioned that music is another way to understand the world. This reader’s thought was that there’s really very little distinction between music and poetry, and I think he’s right. I could take it even further, and say I think there’s very little distinction between poetry, music, and good science. They are all ways of channeling that huge, ineffable thing we’re a part of, and that is part of us. I hope I can get him to put his whole letter in the comments for that issue. Wish me luck!
So…I took some time off to read something fun over the past couple of weeks — The Song of Achilles, by Madeline Miller. Miller burst on the scene a couple of years ago with her brilliant retelling of the Circe myth. Now she’s done something similar with Achilles. I very much enjoyed this novel. Miller has a gift for bringing the myths to life. Plus, reading about myths reminds me that the basic problems of human beings haven’t changed all that much. Which leads me to…
…the news, which I try to read judiciously, since we seem to be living in the second age of Yellow Journalism. It’s always been the case that journalists walk a tightrope between reporting the facts and selling their publications. The facts don’t always sell well, and the temptation to spice them up is ever present. Also, we currently have a crop of journalists many of whom see themselves first as activists. They are out to change the world. Which means they often decide what story they want to tell and then gather only the facts (or rumors and innuendos) that support it. The result is biased reporting calculated to frighten or enrage. Fear and rage, unfortunately, are great clickbait and great enemies of the truth. This is mostly human nature. As the theologian Richard Rohr points out in a recent meditation1, “Hating, fearing, or diminishing someone else holds us together for some reason.” Personally, I think this is part of humanity’s old, familiar habit of dividing the world into “Us” vs. “Them.”
Rohr is writing specifically about the practice of “scapegoating.” That is, blaming someone else for our suffering or the suffering of someone whose cause we’ve taken up. First, we have to realize that suffering is part of everyone’s life. There isn’t always someone to blame for it. Next we have to understand that blame makes compassion impossible and thereby makes it easier for us to behave abominably.
I imagine we’d all like to know how we can make the world a better place. Here’s one way. Notice this pattern in yourself when it happens, as it surely will, because we’re all human: first, we find we’re imitating someone, usually out of envy or admiration; before we know it, we’re competing with that person; the competition leads to jealousy, anger, and conflict; pretty soon we’re conspiring with others to bring down the person or people we’re upset with; once we’re openly thinking of them as our enemies, it’s natural to condemn them; and once we’ve condemned them, we feel okay doing almost anything to them. We’re particularly okay with hating someone if we’ve decided our motives are noble. We’re on the side of truth and justice, morality, our children, God…whatever. Which quickly comes to mean our enemies are unfair, immoral liars, and possibly vermin.
To paraphrase Friedrich Nietzsche, he who fights monsters should take care not to become one.
Signing off for tonight with a poem I wrote when it was still winter, about resolving not to become a monster. See you in April!
RESOLUTION
The days grow shorter.
Darkness rises from the ground
early and stays, oh it stays.
Tomorrow makes me shiver.
This poem is a prayer
for strength.
I will not lie,
though I might like to.
I will not be cruel,
though cruelty is my nature.
This poem is a prayer
in the face of winter.
This poem is a plea
for grace.
“A Painful Pattern,” Sunday, March 24, 2024, by Richard Rohr; Center for Action and Contemplation.