Overturned Stones, 8/17/14

stones

Second installment of awesome stuff that I share with you!

Music:  This song is one of my new favorites, by one of my new favorite artists, Sleeping at Last (whom I mentioned in my previous post).  He is a multi-instrumentalist named Ryan O’Neal, who produces beautiful music that pairs well with hot tea.  Seriously, it’s the perfect thoughtful, chill-time music. In fact, his was the music in that peaceful moment at the end of my post Gypsy Chronicles.

Here is a post in which the artist tells the song’s story.

Collaboration: The Liturgists, in their own words, are “a collective of creators working together to make thoughtful liturgical work.”  Included in their number are Gungor (another favorite band of mine) and–guess what!–Sleeping at Last.  Their work is so beautiful, holistic, and thought-provoking.  I love that they explore the idea of creative pursuits that go beyond mere self-expression into the singularly sacred.

The Liturgists’ website

Poetry: This time, we’re going back a couple centuries to one of my favorite American poets, Edgar Allen Poe.  I don’t have a particular reason for this selection.  Seriously, who needs a reason for Poe?  His work is exquisite.

The Bells

I

Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells

Ideas: This is the text of a sermon by Norman Wirzba (who edited and wrote the introduction for a Wendell Berry essay collection that I love).  His thoughts on God as gardener have transformative implications concerning our emulation of God and interaction with Creation.

Norman Wirzba: The Gardening Way of God’s Keeping

New Pursuit: Swing dancing!  I hadn’t danced much, except for a jazz dance class last semester, but I’d always wanted to.  After the recommendation of several friends, I tried out Pensacola Swing this summer, and I’m hooked.  Swing dance is so fun! And hey, if you’re going to learn a new skill, one that involves music and a community of awesome people is great, right? So, anyone who lives in or near Pensacola, I want to see you there, okay? Okay.

Movie: At the recommendation of a friend (soon-to-be relative), my sister and I watched Cloud Atlas.  *brain overload*  It was beautiful, rich with meaning (much of which I do not yet comprehend), confusing, complicated, sophisticated, intense, brilliant, and many other adjectives, but I’m not Faulkner, so this sentence must come to a close.

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