Laughing at yourself

I've been on a George MacDonald fairy tale reading kick this year. Recently, this meant reading his fairy tale The Light Princess. [Note: This is your chance to stop and read the fairy tale before I discuss an unexpected element of the story.]

Learning what to ignore

I learned today that one of my pastors has started a blog. His post for today, On Ignorance and Imagination, is great and got me thinking. You should follow the link and read it. However, instead of discussing ignorance or imagination, I want to discuss the power of ignoring.

Since I'm a working pianist/organist, I have to learn new music every week. Sometimes it is just a hymn or two, and sometimes it is a sizable stack of music. I also help my piano students in the process of learning their music every single week. Today, I was teaching a student working on a Bach fugue that sometimes the best route to learning something thoroughly is to purposefully ignore parts of it at first.

How often do people put off starting something because they are intimidated by the size of the project? How often do people get in their own way with worry over messing up one of a myriad concerns they are mulling over?

I'm constantly reminding myself and my students that it is better to find ways to practice that allow you to fully process and properly execute what you are trying to do. Sometimes you have to practice one hand at a time. Sometimes you have to figure out and focus on only the framework while ignoring the other notes. Sometimes you have to not even push keys down, but simply walk your arms through the choreography of how they'll move to get your hands and fingers in the correct places at the correct times. Sometimes you simply play the piece through in your mind to become comfortable with how it flows and fits together. Sometimes you have to practice only the rhythm. The trick is to identify how to break the project up into many steps small enough that you can be successful at each step until you run out of steps.

I'm reminded of a phrase from one of my favorite literature quotes from The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky:

To achieve perfection, one must first begin by not understanding many things! And if we understand too quickly, we may not understand well.

It is better to admit that you do not understand something and break it down to learn step-by-step, than to exhaust great effort yet never understanding well. It is better to know what to ignore for a time than to never see it as its own component to be pondered individually.

I have seen it again and again that what is first thought of as next to impossible can be achieved if you know how to ignore properly--if you know how to ignore in a way that keeps you working and stepping forward. If you ignore the finish line, but keep moving forward, you will eventually be surprised to see when looking back to review your progress that you have crossed the finish line you thought was out of reach.

If you can ignore that you can't do the impossible.....you may just end up doing it.

[Last chance to go back up and follow the link to my pastor's blog post if you haven't already]

"The fruit of the Spirit is...gentleness..."

 There seems to be a misconception in parts of society that gentleness is a bad thing, or gentleness equates to weakness. I hope I'm wrong about this conflation, because we need to remember that hidden behind gentleness is strength--strength that is laid aside or unused.

We often forget when enjoying a gentle breeze the power of the wind unleashed in a tornado. We often forget when enjoying the gentle lap of waves at the beach the power of tsunamis and flooding. We implicitly understand that these instances of gentleness are beneficial. We understand that untempered strength can be horrifying and destructive. We need to recognize the strength behind gentleness, and retain our appreciation for gentleness.

You've probably already noticed that I enjoy children's books. Not children's books in the modern, board book/picture sense, but children's book in the tradition of Narnia, The Hobbit, Fairy Tales, etc... The sense of gentleness as strength laid aside is not hard to find in these books. Some quick examples:

After he held her to his heart for a minute, he spoke to his white horse, and the great beautiful creature, which had been prancing so proudly a little while before, walked as gently as a lady--for he knew he had a little lady on his back--through the gate and up to the door of the house.

                              --From The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald

 The Lion shook his mane and clapped his paws together ("Terrible paws," thought Lucy, "if he didn't know how to velvet them!")

                              --From The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

Without gentleness in these instances, we would have a little girl thrown off a horse too powerful for her to handle riding, and the fierce claws of a lion. We would have fear, injury, and death.

But where I'm most grateful for gentleness is in how God shows his strength to bring justice to the nations. We read in Isaiah 42:1-4:

Behold my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my Spirit upon him;
    he will bring forth justice to the nations.
 He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice,
    or make it heard in the street;
 a bruised reed he will not break,
    and a faintly burning wick he will not quench;
    he will faithfully bring forth justice.
 He will not grow faint or be discouraged
    till he has established justice in the earth;
    and the coastlands wait for his law.

 This is the gentle, suffering servant of God, Jesus Christ, who establishes justice not by trampling his enemies under foot or extinguishing them as strength could have easily allowed, but by bearing their sin and facing the full wrath of God in their stead. In this gentleness is the strength that overcomes sin, death, and the power of the devil. He was mocked for this gentleness so I probably shouldn't be surprised some do not appreciate gentleness now. I pray that those who don't appreciate gentleness now will ultimately gain this appreciation and be spared from facing untempered strength they cannot withstand.

Irene, Lucy, and an Homage

C. S. Lewis did not hide that he drew inspiration from George MacDonald. I'm a huge Narnia fan, so as I was reading The Princess and the Goblin, it didn't surprise me much when reading about Irene that I was made to think of Lucy and Narnia. I always find it interesting how well done homages are not mere formulaic copies--they can be expansions and can even reverse details or outcomes--but have a unity between the source and homage. In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, two of my favorite scenes pay homage to a fleeting scene in The Princess and the Goblin. Have a look! 

From Chapter 22 of The Princess and the Goblin by MacDonald:

And from somewhere came the voice of the lady, singing a strange sweet song, of which she could distinguish every word; but of the sense she had only a feeling--no understanding. Nor could she remember a single line after it was gone. It vanished, like the poetry in a dream, as fast as it came. In after years, however, she would sometimes fancy that snatches of melody suddenly rising in her brain must be little phrases and fragments of the air of that song; and the very fancy would make her happier, and abler to do her duty.

 From Chapter 10 of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by Lewis:

On the next page she came to a spell "for the refreshment of the spirit." The pictures were fewer here but very beautiful. And what Lucy found herself reading was more like a story than a spell. It went on for three pages and before she had read to the bottom of the page she had forgotten that she was reading at all. She was living in the story as if it were real, and all the pictures were real too. When she had got to the third page and come to the end, she said, "That is the loveliest story I've ever read or ever shall read in my whole life. Oh, I wish I could have gone on reading it for ten years. At least I'll read it over again."

But here part of the magic of the Book came into play. You couldn't turn back. The right-hand pages, the ones ahead, could be turned; the left-hand pages could not.

"Oh, what a shame!" said Lucy. "I did so want to read it again. Well, at least I must remember it. Let's see . . . it was about . . . about . . . oh dear, it's all fading away again. And even this last page is going blank. This is a very queer book. How can I have forgotten? It was about a cup and a sword and a tree and a green hill, I know that much. But I can't remember and what shall I do?"

And she never could remember; and ever since that day what Lucy means by a good story is a story which reminds her of the forgotten story in the Magician's Book.

And from Chapter 16 of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by Lewis:

And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterward. Lucy would only say, "It would break your heart." "Why," said I, "was it so sad?" "Sad!! No," said Lucy.

I may not have noticed the connection between these passages if the above Narnia quotes weren't some of my favorite passages in the series. In all three instances, there is a message or moment that is valued but not quite comprehended. It has come and gone, yet, while remembered however vaguely, is a formative moment. Irene's moment is ever valued as encouragement, and when Lewis pays homage the appreciation has deepened to a longing. Longing for those fleeting moments of eternity in the now. Longing for peace, calm, wholeness, completeness. Longing for heaven. In MacDonald, the rest of heaven encourages and enables completion of labor required on earth. In Lewis, the weariness of earth creates a longing for the rest of heaven. Lewis understood this moment of not-quite-comprehended eternity in MacDonald, and the echoes are heard in Narnia.

If Lucy and Irene were to meet, they would surely be friends and would understand each other, even when what is understood is, paradoxically, inexpressible and beyond comprehension.

Princesses in Pretty Pink Books

I finally got around to reading  The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald. The edition I read, Looking Glass Library, has a beautiful pink cover. It's pretty obvious whose eye they are trying to attract with the cover design. I'm such a rebel, I not only read the book, but read it openly in public! Maybe people stared, but I was too busy reading to notice. This will most likely be the first of multiple posts prompted by the story, but I'm going to start with a discussion of princesses. (Sorry, goblins).

Every time a new princess movie comes out, the internet is inundated with more discussion about how the stereotypical princess is ruining girls' self-reliance and view of the world, and either blasts or praises the movie for reinforcing or shattering the princess mold. Sometimes I wonder how this "stereotypical princess" mold even came about based on a number of stories I've read, but I'll give my thoughts on this later. Now, let's look at how The Princess and the Goblin deals with what princesses should be like as a specific case study.

Here are some quotes from the story on the topic of princess characteristics:

She did not cry long, however, for she was as brave as could be expected of a princess her age [8 years old]. After a good cry she got up and brushed the dust from her frock. Oh, what old dust it was! Then she wiped her eyes with her hands, for princesses don't always have their handkerchiefs in their pockets, any more than some other little girls I know of. Next, like a true princess, she resolved on going wisely to work to find her way back.

~~~~~~~

Not to be believed does not at all agree with princesses; for a real princess cannot tell a lie.

~~~~~~~

"Nurse, a princess must not break her word," said [princess] Irene.

~~~~~~~

She never forgot Curdie, but him she remembered for his own sake, and indeed would have remembered him if only because a princess never forgets her debts until they are paid.

~~~~~~~

Some little girls would have been afraid to find themselves thus alone in the middle of the night, but Irene was a princess.

~~~~~~~

Lootie had very foolish notions concerning the dignity of a princess, not understanding that the truest princess is just the one who loves all her brothers and sisters best, and who is most able to do them good by being humble toward them.

~~~~~~~

Here I should like to remark, for the sake of princes and princesses in general, that it is a low and contemptible thing to refuse to confess a fault, or even an error. If a true princess has done wrong she is always uneasy until she has had an opportunity of throwing the wrongness away from her by saying, "I did it, and I wish I had not; and I am sorry for having done it."

Let's summarize the character traits a true princess shows according to these quotes:

• Bravery
• Resolve
• Resourcefulness
• Honesty
• Trustworthiness
• Responsibility
• Morality
• Independence
• Selflessness
• Humilty
• Compassion
• Honor

Isn't that a horrifying list? We definitely can't have girls acting like princesses and showing those traits! If we look past the quotes about princesses at princess Irene's actions, including holding her resolve in the face of mockery and rescuing Curdie, the male hero in the story, we can also add these traits.

• Leadership
• Initiative
• Faith
• Confidence
• Lovingness
• Kindness

It just keeps getting worse doesn't it! She's out of control!

How can we go from heroic princesses to a stereotype of helpless, destructive princesses? I think the answer lies in the concept of duty. In The Princess and the Goblin, Irene understands that being royal comes with demands. This sense of duty instills deep senses of responsibility and morality, which require her to be able to act independently, resolutely, and strongly when doing good is the hard or unpopular choice. If we lose this sense of duty, this sense of responsibility, this sense of morality, we are left with superficiality. Princesses are left with nothing they are obligated to do, so society makes them pretty objects to envy and desire. And without duty, society has replaced selflessness and responsibility with selfishness and self-absorption. When the right to be a privileged princess is demanded while avoiding being demanded of, it's no wonder morality disappears along with duty.

I mentioned before that it is obvious the book cover designer was not trying to appeal to males in its design choice. I find this to be too bad. Sure the title has "the princess" in it, but what we have is a fairy tale with two heroes: the princess Irene, and the miner Curdie. There is absolutely no reason the heroism of both of these characters can't be appreciated by both boys and girls. But I'm a man who likes princess books, so what do I know?

Reading Again: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Chapters 1-3), An ordinary Rabbit with an extraordinary waistcoat and watch.

[Alice] was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!" (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet [. . .]

Oh, Alice. Alice the naive and, at least so far, cat-obsessed. Alice the hesitant to exert the simple effort to pick flowers, but Alice the quick to chase after Rabbits at the simple look of a watch.

Right off, Alice forces one to confront the age old question: If a talking Rabbit with a waistcoat and pocket-watch ran by, how long would it take before I noticed something out of the ordinary was happening? Another way of asking this question might be the following: How perceptive am I?

Thinking about this question makes me confront how I often exert minimal effort in perceiving my environment. Often, I focus my perception only to what I consider useful at that given time and largely ignore everything else. I filter out background noise or I ignore details of buildings/signs with no direct bearing on my safe driving. I suppose this is a necessary and useful skill since I can only process so much stimuli at one time, but I sometimes wonder if it makes me miss out on Wonderland in the moment.

If I really payed attention, how many more wonder-filled moments would I find everyday? Responsibility and real life require me to filter, but Alice helps remind me to remember to perceive both the ordinary and the extraordinary. Sometimes, like Alice, it will take thinking back and reflection to fully grasp some of what happens, but my Adventures in Fort Waynederland are happening whether I perceive them or not. I should probably pay attention before it's "too late."

Lord Jesus, Think on Me

I was a reader before I started working to be a writer, and I was a listener before I started working to be a musician.

I want to be a hymn-writer. I guess you could say I already am one, but, much like I'm still working on becoming a musician, I'm still working on this writing thing.

I want to be a hymn-writer because, as a hymn-lover, I find within hymns a clear confession of faith and a great source of comfort. So, while I'm working on the writing part with failing thoughts, I'll take comfort in reading of the One whose thoughts do not fail.

~~~~~~~~~

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               And purge away my sin;
               From worldly passions set me free
               And make me pure within.

"Pastor! There's a sick call to be made. You must go to Sjöstugan. [. . .] It is Frans, a heart attack, they think. You'll have to hurry, Pastor."

               Lord Jesus, think on me,
               By anxious thoughts oppressed;
               Let me your loving servant be
               And taste Your promised rest.

Fridfeldt saw at once that there was little he could do here. The old man was obviously already paralyzed and entirely unconscious. Now and then he spoke a few incoherent words.
[. . .]
Fridfeldt sat down on the edge of the bed. He tried to talk with the sick man, but there was no sign of recognition. He bent over and shouted in the man's ear, but received no recognizable answer. Occasionally they could make out what the old man said, but he spoke of far-away, distant things, about rock blasting and oxen.

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               Amid the battle's strife;
               In all my pain and misery,
               O be my health and life.

"Father was always such a good man," said the weeping daughter. "I know, of course, that he will have it better now, but it is so hard to part with him."

"When I got here," she continued after a moment, "I said, 'You are are thinking about Jesus, are you not, Father?' And he answered me, 'I am not able to, Lena. I can't think any longer. But I know that Jesus is thinking of me.'"

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               Nor let me go astray
               Through darkness and perplexity
               Point out Your chosen way.

The pastor sat in silence. The truth that Jesus is thinking of the sick one seemed to him a comforting pillow on which to rest one's head when death is near.

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               That when this life is past,
               I may the eternal brightness see
               And share Your joy at last.

~~~~~~~~~~

Quote sources:

The Hammer of God by Bo Giertz, (pp. 163-65)

"Lord Jesus, Think on Me." Lutheran Service Book 610