Lift Up Your Hearts!

Mom knows best:  if you want to learn, you need to sleep.

A new study shows that dreaming is an important part of that process. (More)

What amazing natural phenomenon is this?

Looks to me like a NASA photo of some far-off nebula, but it's a lot closer to home.  You can find this and other photos of the erupting Icelandic volcano in this RoadRunner collection.

There's a radio show in Basel called The English Show, for English-speaking ex-pats, and last night Janet was interviewed about her upcoming recital, A Guided Evening of Medieval Music.  Stephan wrote about it, with links, and I cannot improve on what he said, so I'll quote him:

Yesterday, Janet was interviewed on the English Show at Radio X and got to explain some of what she does to the radio-listening expat community.  The entire show can be downloaded from the English Show link above or directly here.

It’s pretty large - 82 MB - but will give you a couple of on-the-air mentions of Janet’s name in various pronounciations.  At 2:15 she’s referred to as a “Gothic harpist,” which could be somewhat misleading, since she doesn’t dress in black and sport piercings, skull rings, and bullet casing belts; the brief mention after the news at about 34:00 is a little more precise.  The actual interview begins after the Tracy Chapman song at the 38:50 mark, and culminates in Janet playing a Trotto from 14th century Italy with her baby harp (”Arpa Doble”).  Her concert gets a fair bit of publicity and is mentioned again at about 55:00 in their calendar of events, alongside the Jazzfestival Basel and the Mamma Mia musical (and it’s the only free event).  I’m curious to see if extra people show up for the concert because of this interview!

I have, however, taken the liberty of extracting the parts more interesting to my particular audience.  :)  (More)

Welcome home, Discovery.  It's always a thrill; what a pity this was your penultimate flight.

Our local story of the disappearance and rescue of 11-year-old Nadia Bloom didn't stay local for long.

Mostly, I ignored it as much as possible, other than getting the occasional update for prayer purposes.  The media was going nuts.  And so were the nay-sayers, the gossips, and the fear-mongers.

To be sure, they had reason.  We've had at least two recent, high-profile cases here of "missing" children where at least one of the tearful, pleading relatives was most likely the perpetrator of a horrendous crime.  That's enough to cause a little cynicism. But cynicism and suspicion don't accomplish much, and in the end, Nadia was rescued after four days in Florida swampland by an ordinary man of faith:  faith in God, and faith that Nadia's disappearance was exactly what it appeared to be—a beloved child who adventured a little too far and needed help. (More)

Rimsky-Korsakov:  Russian Easter Overture, op. 36
Respighi:  Church Windows
Debussy:  Sunken Cathedral
Sung:  The Circle Closes

This, the last of our subscription concerts for the season, promised to be a great one.  I love the Russian Easter Overture, and the Orlando Phil did a nice job with its glorious, solemn, joyful, and triumphant Resurrection Day music.  The next two works were new to me, but I like Respighi a lot, and Debussy well enough, and they did not disappoint.  This concert was a bit different, having extra lights that projecting a lotus blossom-like image of changing colors behind the orchestra during this, the first half of the performance.  It was hardly necessary, but was simple enough not to detract from the music, and may even have enhanced it a little.

The second half of the show was another story.  This is where I was truly disappointed, because for it my expectations had been highest.  I'd loved every Stella Sung composition I'd heard, beginning with the suite she wrote for the Florida Symphony Youth Orchestra back in the 1990's.   As I said before, I've never yet met a Stella Sung work I didn't like. (More)

Can Trader Joe's be far behind?

Central Florida now has its very own Penzeys store, in the lovely Park Avenue area of Winter Park.  It opened unofficially for a few hours yesterday, and today for real; we walked through the doors an hour after opening.  I am so excited.

I know, Penzeys can be considered the Cadillac of spices, as befits the Park Avenue location.  You can certainly find herbs and spices for less money elsewhere.  But there are times when it's worth paying a little extra for quality, and quality is where Penzeys excels.  Variety, too—they have exotic herbs and spices I'd never heard of, plus a stunning variety of their own excellent blends.  They even excel in quantity, from tiny jars for the spices you use rarely, to large bags (at a commensurately lower per-ounce price) for greater needs.

It was particularly fun shopping today, as I bought only what I wanted, and in smaller quantities than usual.  Herbs and spices lose their potency after a while, but I've been accustomed to ending a Penzeys visit with a large armload, since I either (1) didn't know when I'd have another chance to get to a store, or (2) wanted to make the most of my shipping charges for an online order.  Now I can buy small amounts, and when I run out, plan a spicy date:  get to Winter Park early enough to find a good parking space, visit Winter Park Honey and other friends at the Farmer's Market, then eat breakfast at Croissant Gourmet while waiting for Penzeys to open.  Works for me.

Ever since our visit to Rio de Janiero, where we began each morning with suco de maracujá sem açúcar, out-of-this-world unsweetened passion fruit juice, I have been on the alert for passionfruit flavors.  Alas, nearly every version of passionfruit juice sold here is sweetened, which does a serious disservice to the noble fruit.

However, if you're going to adulterate the passionfruit, the Feodora Grand'Or Maracuja 75% Cacao chocolate bar is a good way to go.  Porter found this German delight for me in New York City.  At 75% cacao, the chocolate loses a little too much of its "mouthfeel" to be perfect, but the maracuja flavor is heavenly.  Don't pass this up if you get the opportunity to taste some.

In “All Religions Are the Same…” (except Where They’re Not), John Stackhouse takes on the fallacy that all religions, at heart, are basically the same and of equal value.

What needs to be argued and not just asserted is that each of the major religions really does reduce down to moralism or mysticism without a loss to its essential character. And, in my view, most religions do not so reduce. Devotional (bhakti) Hinduism (the most popular form of Hinduism) doesn’t; Mahayana Buddhism (the most popular form of Buddhism) doesn’t;  Judaism doesn’t; and Christianity and Islam, the most popular religions in the world, certainly don’t. (I recognize that there are moralistic and mystical varieties of each of the Abrahamic religions, but the majority of believers and of those religions’ formal traditions do not, I maintain, reduce to mere moralism or mysticism.)

[A]s politically useful and personally pleasant a belief as it would be—that all religions are basically the same—I continue to aver what most of the religions of the world actually do say: They’re not basically the same and one does have to choose.

We’ll have to keep investigating and thinking about what Map of Reality (which is what religions and all other forms of life-philosophy purport to offer) is the best one. We don’t have to conclude that all religions are wrong except one. More than one map can depict at least some of the territory at least somewhat correctly. But we can’t blithely suggest that they’re all equally, or even fundamentally, right, either. That would have to be shown, and I haven’t seen a good argument yet for that (unlikely) hypothesis.

The Obamas' Federal income tax return for 2009 is now media fodder.  (Another reason not to run for president.)  They made a lot of money, though it didn't come primarily from your pocket unless you bought one of his books.  But here's what I want to know:  Does our president support his words with his actions?

One of my complaints about politicians is their penchant for enhancing their reputation for generosity by being charitable with other people's money.   (See the Daley Ponderings discussion about Davy Crockett.)   Oddly enough, the more a politician is known for wanting to spend tax money on charitable causes, the less willing he seems to spend his own money in a similar fashion—a lesson not easily forgotten if one has lived in Massachusetts.  As I reported in How Much Should the Rich Pay in Taxes?,

• In 2007, President George W. Bush and his wife had an adjusted gross income of $923,807...and donated $165,660 to charity—or 18 percent of their income.
• Barack Obama and his wife, Michelle, earned between $200,000 and $300,000 a year between 2000 and 2004, and they donated less than 1 percent to charity. When their income soared to $4.2 million in 2007, their charitable contributions went up to 5 percent.

Here's the question:  In 2009, were the Obamas as generous with their own money as they want to be with ours? (More)

I try not to say too much about our current Federal administration, even though much of what they are doing scares me.  (Yes, this is restraint.  Believe me.)  So when they say something I actually like, it's fun to be able to acknowledge it.  (HT Margaret Gorodetzer via Facebook, and Joan Lowy/the Huffington Post.)

With the caveat that I haven't investigated the story at all, Transportation Secretary Ray LaHood is my current hero for his recognition that walking, biking, and public transit are important ways of getting from one place to another in daily life, not just recreation or the last refuge of losers who have lost their drivers' licenses   Talk is not action, but it's a beginning. (More)

The alarm going off at 6:15 wasn't exactly my idea of the ideal way to begin a Saturday, but it was worth it.

The occasion was as close to a trip to Europe as we get without actually getting on an airplane:  a visit to Winter Park.  Winter Park is not far from here, but has an ambiance few Central Florida cities attain.  True, Park Avenue has sadly become home to more upscale chain stores than independent businesses, but it's still a lovely place to walk on a cool, sunny morning after a visit to the farmer's market.  (By "cool," I mean temperatures in the low 70's.)

The market was the excuse for our trip, to replenish our supply of Winter Park Honey.  We came home with six bottles:  two of our favorite Blackberry Twist, one of Avocado (said to be especially good for women, but whatever, we both liked the flavor), and three of our soon-to-be-new favorite, Raspberry.  I didn't think honey could get any better than Blackberry Twist, but you've never tasted honey like this!

On the way out we picked up some almost-local (Plant City) strawberries for tonight's dinner, and a half gallon of fresh-from-the-tree, raw orange juice.  (They tried to sell us their grapefruit juice, but we like what we get from our own tree even more.)

Before leaving we walked up Park Avenue to check out construction on the Penzey's that will soon be open.  I can't wait!  And having not had breakfast yet, we decided not to resist the allure of Croissant Gourmet, sharing a strawberry crêpe at an outdoor table.

What a lovely Saturday morning!  All that accomplished, and when we arrived home it was only a little after nine o'clock.  Now we're working on the more mundane chores, like shopping and cleaning the thick blanket of green snow (aka oak pollen) off the roof and walkways.

Then we have company to look forward to at dinnertime!

This started as a comment to the Sockdolager post on Daley Ponderings, but it turned out to be long and off-topic, so I migrated it here. The article in question is a thought-provoking one, but it had one unintended consequence.

I've been having an ongoing conversation with our rector, who insists on frequent use of simple "praise choruses" at all our services, even the most traditional, so that they will stick in our heads and we'll have them handy in times of need.  I understand the motivation:  this is why I memorize Scripture, hymns, liturgy, poetry, anthems, and other useful and helpful works.

But because I know he does not set out to torture his congregation, I know his brain processes music in a different way from mine.  By this I don't mean that he likes different music from me, although that is certainly true.  The issue is not a matter of style or taste, but of processing.

Music sticks in my brain.  I wish it were only the best music that sticks in my brain, but it's not.  The simpler and more banal it is, the more it sticks.  And it won't go away.  Round and round and round it plays like a track on eternal "repeat," until I manage to kick it out—often by substituting something else—or go crazy.  So far I've managed not to reach the latter point...quite.

This can be a useful affliction, as it does help with learning choir pieces.  But it doesn't stop after we're done with the anthem.  A little of that can be enjoyable, but even my favorite anthems can get stuck, and I have to work actively to stop the process so I don't end up loathing them.  And if I don't like a song from the beginning, you can imagine what I think of it by the 455th repetition.

The more complicated the work, the less likely it is to annoy me, which is why the simple praise choruses are more than usually troublesome.  But complex music is not exempt:  the other day I had part of Mozart's g minor symphony stuck on "repeat" and it was driving me nuts, even though I really like the piece. Fortunately, I know enough of that one that I was able, by effort of will, to kick it over into the next section.

It's not only music that does this to me, but words—though usually only if I'm writing them.  I tend to compose paragraphs while walking—often they later become letters or blog posts.  That can be an efficient way to think, but sometimes I'll get stuck going round and round with the same phrases and thoughts, and that's when I know it's time to pull out the mp3 player and let someone else's words into my brain.

Does anyone else share this blessing/affliction?

But the point of all this is what happened after I read the article, which is about Davy Crockett and the Constitution.  So far, writing this post has been the only thing able to stop my endless mental repetitions of The Ballad of Davy Crockett.  I never saw the movie, nor the television show, but as a child I had a record of Disney songs, of which that was one.  Despite 50 years or so having passed since I last heard that record, I could still sing it to you.

I won't, though.  You can watch this instead.

A friend of mine likes to clean out her files periodically, and when she does I know to expect an envelope in the mail.  She's very much into recycling.

Some of the articles she sends are from years back, so when there's one I'd like to share it's not always possible to locate it online.  Thanks to Google News archives, however, you too can read this Lori Borgman column from 2002. 

Maybe when all's said and done, the greatest perk of staying for the duration is knowing and being known.

Lori is both wise and funny, a healthy combination in any era.