Pensees

I. Horse Dreams
Yesterday afternoon I had a striking and sudden daydream--not sure if that's even the right word--that would have lead me straight to a soothsayer if I had been a Roman. Even now we'd be looking at bird entrails.
I imagined us stabling horses behind our house. I imagined walking out to a barn in black rubber boots and pulling down harnesses, reins, and saddles from large iron nails and leading out a beautiful old mare that was well past mothering years and was going to spend her old age in our care. I imagined little boys growing up with the sound of hooves and snorts and whishing tails in their ears, and thought about all the hundreds of years that humankind and horsekind were in partnership. In the daydream there were vines planted behind the house on a gentle hill that had been dug up just for that purpose.
Next, just as vividly, I imagined crouching down over the kitchen floor and pulling back the old laminate so that I could put in some new tile. I imagined rented tools in the garage, and the stove and refrigerator looking out of place while they waited in the living room for the job to be done. I had no help--I had graphing paper and measuring tape on the kitchen table, and I could smell the old house smell under the section of floor that was already ripped up.
It was mildly terrifying.
I'm not sure where the horse daydream came from, but as soon as I think about it I can remember the smell of my parent's old couch where Sam, Pax, and I would stand looking out through the big living room window that faced south and watch the horses that were pastured across the road. Sometimes we'd get walked over across the road and try to screw up the nerve to offer one of them a handful of clover. (Between the possible nip of the electric fence and the smell of their breath and the peril of the teeth, I'm not sure that I attempted this terribly often.) There certainly is something beautiful about a little boy watching a horse in wonder and fascination.

II. Roasting Coffee
I get Yirgacheffe coffee about every other order, because it's a good bit more expensive than the other varieties. I'll get something cheaper, and then by the time that I'm halfway through the bag I've realized that it simply isn't as good as the Yirgacheffe and that I'm willing to pay for the top-quality bean the next time I order. This time I wanted to save a little money and ordered the Tanzanian Peaberry. The first time I roasted it I burnt it badly--it doesn't crack nearly as audibly as any other coffees I've worked with, and I ended up stopping the roast at the burnt smell instead of the usual timing by listening. Yesterday I watched the roast (and sprayed empty husks everywhere) but came up with a much better tasting result.

III. Food in Company
Last night J got up from her book, went into the kitchen, and came back with a bowl of chips. Guess what I was doing five minutes later? Yes, eating chips and salsa. (Supper was a bowl of soup of 5 PM...we were both hungry.) But I never would have left the warmth of my blanket if she hadn't gotten up first. I think that social context is an underrated factor in eating choices. How many times do I have seconds if no one else at the table is having seconds? How many times do I turn down second helpings if everyone else is reaching in? When I eat with 90 lb vegetarian friend, neither of us are likely to finish all the food on our plate. When I eat with the trombone section of the orchestra, I'm very likely to finish my plate and have an extra half a beer as well. When I eat with J, we eat healthy and we usually don't have extra helpings. And eating with the tuba player is maybe the most impressive/disturbing thing you've ever seen.
N.B. J says she felt disgusting after eating chips at 9 PM and is never going to do it again.

IV. Food in the Iliad
I'm in Book 24 of the Iliad, the greatest and most beautiful chapter ever written. How many hero stories do you know of where the two mortal enemies (if you could consider Priam to the the "enemy" of Achilles...Achilles is really everyone's enemy, including his own) reach the climactic moment by grieving together over their losses, neither softening nor changing from their purposes, but sharing tears, honor, and then sharing a meal together? Bread, meat, and sleep...good gifts from the gods.

V. Maps
I love the map of the Mediterranean in my study. I think James gets his love of maps from me. I'd love to put some more maps up, and I know that somewhere out there is a devoted reader of this blog who used to subscribe to National Geographic and now has, sitting in a pile somewhere, a stack of old maps that they are hoping to give away for semi-educational purposes. Dear Reader, if you have maps of England, France, the Levant, or New York, I am especially interested.

VI. Florida
As far as I know my Mother and Father are still in Florida. (I'm not exactly sure when they left or are planning on coming back.) Florida is such a beautiful name for a state. (It means Flowers in Latin). It sounds even more beautiful when you look out on muddy sidewalks, piles of gray snow, and a bleak, colorless sky. I hope they're having a great time.

VII. Darwin
Reading the whole Darwin book is going to be an exercise in concentration--there are certainly sections of interest, but these only develop gradually as a punctuated variation from long passages of extremely technical biological details. (See what I did there?) One redeeming feature--he was a man (and a writer) intensely and infectiously interested in everything that he wrote about. When someone enthusiastically loves their subject, even if that subject is the tailfeathers of domestic pigeons (a species much-loved and cultivated) they are highly readable.

Recently Reading

Homer-
The funeral games of Patroclus in Book 23, which are an excellent way of consuming classical literature and sports drama. Speaking of sports drama, J and I successfully stayed awake through and ENTIRE movie last night, and I highly recommend Moneyball. It sort of reminded me of the Iliad, actually, when Antilochus boasts before the foot-race of his fleetness of foot, whereat Achilleus son of Peleus arose and to the Achaians made address that the son of Nestor was indeed fleetest of foot among the young men, but could he get on base?

Martial-
Clever writing, but it's all either really filthy or horribly sycophantic. I guess that's kind of what sells epigrams in first century Rome.

Dickens "American Notes-"
Lux, if you're looking for your copy of this book, I guess I have it. (I don't remember borrowing it, but your signature is inside the front cover. So far it's delightful, although he's showing far too much preference to Boston. I particularly enjoyed the account of the steamer journey across the ocean and how the various members of his company dealt with seasickness. His comedic timing and voice are wonderful...I get the sense that Mr. Dickens would have been hilarious company on a long journey, even if you were dealing with seasickness. His recounting of the deaf-blind Laura Bridgman is also particularly touching. Dickens had a remarkable ability to find and appreciate the humanity in the most marginal of fictional characters, and I'm enjoying his compassionate interest in a real-life invalid as well. Her physical handicaps were no deterrent to him at all--the only thing he cared about was whether she could get on base.

THIS WEEKEND:
-Mom and Dad will be wonderful and let me move back home with the boys temporarily while J goes to Vegas Charlotte for a weekend with Jess.
-The music of Revueltas and Copland tonight with BPO, a Broadway show with George Costanza Jason Alexander tomorrow night, and a Halloween show on Saturday in which I will fulfill my lifelong goal of getting paid to wear a toga.
-I will be the lone parent responsible for getting up with Owen in the middle of the night. Currently we both have nasty colds, so I expect to see a lot of him.

Recently Reading, Preachy Advice, and Style Points

I. Recently Reading

Arnobius-The Seven Books of Arnobius Against the Heathen
You just can't publish books with titles like "Against the Heathen" anymore. Too bad, although I don't think Arnobius would have had much success in the modern world anyway. His arguments are all carefully directed against the paganism of the early fourth century. They hold some interest as cultural signposts of his time, and I came away from his text with the impression that he was a careful thinker and widely-read, but not particularly philosophical--his arguments are the sorts you might find in tractarian literature against the "evils of our time." The question was raised in the prefatory notes to his section whether he might not have been a Christian at all--just a sympathetic pagan who thought very little of the Greco-Roman religions. This would seem to agree with the noticeable absence of any positively argued Christian philosophy. Thus ends my tour through Volume VI of the Ante-Nicene Fathers. I need something else to put in my "religious reading" category when I get back home, and am thinking about exploring some Niebuhr? Post-20th century Christians need to be conversant with Niebuhr, right? I'm welcome to other suggestions.

Redwall, by Brian Jacques
Cluny the Scourge is coming! I had fun re-reading this for the first time in years. I don't remember the books being so violent when I read them as child, which hopefully means that some of it went right over my head. There are so many characters! Even in the third part of the novel, you're still meeting new characters who have time to develop, play a role in the story, and find a fitting place at the end. James isn't ready to hear these books read aloud yet, but I'll look forward to introducing him in the next few years.

Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
My only experience with Little Women was seeing the high school adaptation C&B were in. (I think this made me predisposed to like Professor Bhaer.) I didn't love the book--and I can't say that I'm in any hurry to read any of the sequels. The best part was the first third, and even if the girls were a little unrealistically distinct they were delightful characters. What happened to Laurie in the second and third books? He's up and down, but when he "grows up" it happens in about two chapters and he's completely unrecognizable? Charming parts, though, and it's understandably a classic.

II. Preachy Advice
We've had several pairs of friends get engaged in the last few months, and J and I are just weeks away from our 8th anniversary. This means we are one year closer to officially becoming one of Those Couples that dispenses unasked for advice upon all of our soon-to-be married friends. (And don't worry, recently engaged friends...when you get pregnant in a few years we'll be ready and willing to share unsolicited birth-horror stories as well.)

Seriously, it isn't ever our place to prescribe universal solutions based on our own limited experience. But the fragility of marital happiness has been on my mind quite a bit recently...it's hard to think of anything else in my life that can gloom up your whole life so entirely when it's going poorly or warm up and beautify everything else in your life when it's going well. It's a slippery venture to share with another human being a bank account, a kitchen sink, a child, a bed, a laundry machine, a bathroom, a calendar, and a mortgage. Here's what I know after 8 years...

1) Listening is an extremely underrated skill. Not only listening, but listening without immediately coming up answers/retorts. Not just listening to the other person's words, but having the creative capacity to put yourself truly in their place and imagine what's prompting what they are saying to you. Not merely hearing, but listening with active interest and questions in mind to further draw out and better understand what the other person has to say. In any argument, listening with a listening spirit instead of an argumentative spirit tends to immediately cool down the disagreement.

2) It's incredibly helpful to know how the other person perceives the world to be. This isn't important for the purposes of correcting or sorting out how the real world actually works--how many times the average couple actually gets out per month, how much the average pair of shoes costs, how many nights a week a young person in a new job stays and works late--but it's important because it gives you access to the lenses through which your spouse sees the world habitually. The real facts aren't nearly as important as the subtle impressions, because it's the subtle impressions that reinforce a sense of injustice, uneasiness, or displeasure.

3) Generosity begets generosity. If all of your marital interactions take the form of negotiations, bad compromises, and swaps, chances are your next disagreement will quickly fall into a negotiation. You'll stake out territory, use battle tactics, and set aside to yourself (whether you admit it or not) some standard by which you might "win" the dispute, or at least avoid losing it. If you consistently choose to act generously (or charitably or graciously, whatever you want to call it), even if you really lose out on something from time to time, chances are your spouse will be much more inclined to be generous towards you. Not only that, but acting generously gets easier with practice, and everyone feels better afterwards.

III. Style Points
I'm already thinking about winter in Western New York, and I've decided that our house needs more color throughout. I'm welcome to suggestions from any and all parties, but here are some ideas:
1) Scarves, hats, and mittens. There's no need for plain black gloves, except maybe when I'm on my way to a concert and wearing my tux. But even then, wouldn't it be more fun to have bright red gloves? Also, I wouldn't lose them as easily.
2) Area rugs. Because they'll make the floor pop and you won't be stepping barefoot onto cold hardwood
3) Food. This will be the year of purple cabbage, oranges, lemons, limes, and anything else that isn't plain brown or gray or off white.
4) Phone case. Julie has a pink one, I would take suggestions for something new as well.
5) Window ornaments. Christmas stickers, ceramic pots, plastic flowers, anything to get a little color.
6) Underwear. Tis' the season. Although, to be honest, 'tis always the season.
7) Coffee mugs. The privilege of winter is that you'll never enjoy a hot cup of coffee so much as when you come in from shoveling the driveway. Why not have it be in a fun mug?
8) Kid's artwork. We already have all the materials, we already have the blank walls. I think we need to devote a whole wall to his bright scribbles. (On the paper, of course, not the wall)
9) Blankets and sheets. Not something neon, of course, because you have to be able to get to sleep once you turn the lights out. But something fun.
10) Children. I probably can't wear bright orange to rehearsal, but James can look like a traffic cone all day long and no one will say boo. Plus, he already pretends to be a traffic cone.

Recently Reading

Shardik, by Richard Adams

It isn't as good as Watership Down, but it's making me really want to read Watership Down again. For one thing, Adams doesn't write about human people in the same captivating way he writes about animals, and for another, he doesn't write about made-up fantasy kingdoms with the same skill that he writes about rural England. Still, it's excellent work and I've been enjoying making my way through it during my considerable tacet periods of Mahler 1 this week.

The Naked Public Square, by Richard John Neuhaus
I've been trying to read political discourse as a philosopher. I'd almost say as a logician, but really, when you get down to it, almost anything that's put forward in modern political language coheres logically. It's when you boil down the propositions to the meaning of their words and terms that you start to see what an idea is made of. What are you supposed to do, for instance, when someone writes that "everyone" has been misled by the idea that "the past is past and the future is not yet and the present is all we have."? What you end up doing (or at least what I've ended up doing) is going through the pages with a pen and putting a mark next to every proposition that could be demonstratively proved or disproved. (So far I haven't made very many marks.)

Ezra (from the Vulgate)
I finally finished reading Kings I-IV in translation, and I'm entering that literature in the Old Testament which I couldn't say for sure I've ever actually read in English. If I have, whether in some fit of responsibility in my youth or in Old Testament class as homework, I passed through quickly and without taking much notice of what I was reading. It all goes much better when you have to go at a slower, translated, pace.