DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME
The perhaps heavy title is from a set of books by Anthony Powell I have
not read or from a painting by Nicolas Poussin
But here it is just four photos from this weekend...the first, also at the end
of this post is of of trees seeming to sway between sky and river and reflections
in a pool of rain water and snow melt. the second of a priest reading the Gospel
to a few people and perhaps ,or so it is represented, some others, the third is of
the Chris Byars sextet at Smalls Jazz Club and the fourth is of a boat on
the Hudson and a bank of mist. Perhaps this title which comes to me is
a good one for these ...
The images with some notes added
" There is no hard way where there is a simple heart, nor barrier for
upright thoughts, Nor whirlwind in the depth of the enlightened thought.
Where one is surrounded on every side by pleasing country, there is nothing
divided in him. The likeness of that which is below is that which is above.
For everything is from above, and from below there is nothing, but it is
believed to be by those in whom there is no understanding.
Grace has been revealed for your salvation. Believe and live and be saved.
Odes of Solomon 34
Fr.Kyril Rigs reads the Gospel at a little church in Spring Valley.
There are few present.
it is a warm hearted parish of good people but few.
welcoming,yet perhaps not much sought out.
it seems that the Angelicals are represented as being present.
Fr Kyril speaks then briefly of light as the sign of the Holy Spirit...
Chris Byars Sextet. Their music, the conversation of sax and trombone and
bass and drums, sends me into reverie...
"Men's curiosity searches past and future
And clings to that dimension. But to apprehend
The point of intersection of the timeless
With time, is an occupation for the saint—
No occupation either, but something given
And taken, in a lifetime's death in love,
Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender.
For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts..."
You are the music while the music lasts...
rain comes and goes .... mist and fog rise and clear...in an ebb and
flow from moment to moment . The city and the river are not one fixed
image but an unending series of which one could never tire yet which one
can never fully take in... seeing one cannot process the sight and fully
know what one sees and knows,
On the Poussin painting let us addthis reflection by Anthony Powell
"the Seasons, hand in hand and facing outward, tread in rhythm to the
notes of the lyre that the winged and naked greybeard plays. The image
of Time brought thoughts of mortality: of human beings, facing outward
like the Seasons, moving hand in hand in intricate measure, stepping
slowly, methodically sometimes a trifle awkwardly, in evolutions that
take recognisable shape: or breaking into seemingly meaningless
gyrations, while partners disappear only to reappear again, once more
giving pattern to the spectacle: unable to control the melody, unable,
perhaps, to control the steps of the dance."
In this Powell's character focuses on the circle of Time below and
leaves out the movement of the divine world above which too is part
of the dance of Time maybe...