Soul music

Saturday, January 27, 2018
Breakfast is late: I'm in the mood for lentil soup and that takes a while. I put in smoke flavor since we try to be pork-free at the house. After an hour, the lentils still aren't mushy but they taste great.

After I wash my soup bowl, I fill a mug with hot water for tea. EEEEk. The third big spider I've seen this week is sitting in the sink. That's it! I splash the boiling water on it. Gone. (I refill for tea.)

W killed the first spider last weekend. The second showed up dead on the bathroom floor last night. (I debated leaving it there but tossed it out.) And then this morning, another. There must have been a new hatch of spiders. As long as they don't bother me at night, I'm ok.

The yard dog has an ear infection. We've been putting meds into its ear for a week, but it's still sore and inflamed. The kids grow up, and suddenly you're taking care of animals. What's the matter with us?

Never mind. Gypsy's the perfect dog. He lives outside and barks when someone looks over the fence or comes to the gate. He sleeps on the porch or at the neighbor's. When the gate's open, he doesn't run away. This morning I walked to the Little Free Library to post a notice, and he came right back into our yard when I whistled. Good boy. Looks mean but likes us. He'd protect me if someone attacked.

Curled up on the sofa upstairs, the storage area glares down at me. Supplies, suitcases, and boxes are stacked in the loft above the sitting room. There's a long stretch of rail: do I have a batik or something to hang over the rail? Let's go see.

On my office shelf, I find a long piece of upholstery fabric, a gift from my friend Sumathi over a year ago. I drape it over the railing and it fits end to end with an inch to spare. Hey, I couldn't have found a better piece if I'd gone to a shop. It reminds me of her. (Win.) It hides the clutter. (Win.) And it's beautiful. (Another win.)

In the evening, 3 friends and I head via Uber to my first concert by the Philharmonic Orchestra of Bandung. Traffic is not bad as we have left the neighborhood before the supper rush. We are at the venue in plenty of time. There's no concert hall with convenient access in Bandung, so the orchestra has set up in the Hilton ballroom.

The lobby is beautiful, the circular marble staircase perfectly sculpted, and the quiet buzz of a classical concert audience is the same worldwide. Five of us sit in the courtyard with a cup of tea or coffee, waiting for the doors to open. And then we have our picture taken, with dramatic uplighting, of course.

We chat with a lot of people and make introductions all around. Dr Hanna knows everyone and I greet people I have met in other venues. What a great place to network. I introduce a journalist friend to someone and am happy for the evening: connection made.

I have a total flaw that makes me nervous about going to concerts: I get the giggles if the music is bad. Maybe the musicians think they're better than they are and try something out of their reach. Sometimes the score itself is awful, in my opinion. Or an oboe or clarinet squeaks and the violins can't synch their notes.

Do I giggle because I used to hate playing in recitals? Because I heard so many bad variations as a music teacher?  I don't know. But regardless, I can't help myself. Occasionally, I've bitten the inside of my cheeks raw, gouged holes in my palm with my fingernails, and pinched my sides. (Doesn't help.) If this performance is not good, I'll be an embarrassment to my friends. I have no idea what to expect.

"Are they supposed to be this loud?" asks my neighbor, listening to the orchestra warm up. They're practising on stage.

No. Most times, the musicians are tuning, taking a few breaths. We may hear some toots or swipes of the bow, but normally the musicians have warmed up backstage. This is a full-blown racket, including percussion, but maybe there's no backstage here. I take a deep breath. (And exhale with relief. The comment doesn't set me off.)

The bell rings in the lobby. A brass ensemble serenades from the back of the room as the last attendees are seated. When the orchestra tunes, I'm more tense than ever. Some instruments are starting really far from pitch ... and not everyone sounds on target when they're done.

The US ambassador greets the musicians on this joint project

Peer Gynt and Bald Mountain are classics everyone knows and likes. It's a bit of a shaky start with the first two pieces, but the performance gets stronger.

As the orchestra reconfigures for the third selection, many in the audience go out to the lobby. We stay put for a local premiere: Old Man Hauling Bamboo. Its lively harmonies describe an old porter carrying bamboo sticks, earning funds to support his family. Families are close-knit and work together in this society.

During intermission, someone snaps my picture with the American ambassador to Indonesia. Becoming a recent citizen, that's more of a surprise to me than to others. (I've never heard of the Canadian ambassador showing up anywhere I go.) In the break, I also get a chance to congratulate Fauzie Wiriadisastra, one of the "Bamboo" composers (already introduced to me before the concert by Dr Hanna.)

I close my eyes for the second half and am sucked into the music of another premiere, a viola concerto. Krakatoa describes an active Indonesian volcano that has had four significant eruptions in less than 200 years.

Acoustic "teeth" help balance the sound

The music describes the rumblings, hissing, and tumult. The viola pushes us and pulls us and the kettle drums and bass violins drag us into the growling earth. I'm scared, in awe, and riveted to the music. When it's done, all I can think is, "Oh, I want to hear it again." But I'm glad it's not the last piece because ... well, could I sleep tonight, living within miles of active volcanos?

Before we leave, I talk to Stacy Garrop, the "volcano" composer, the organizer ("Would you like to come to our fundraiser?" she asks. "Thank you for asking me, but sadly we have too many other projects"), and the viola soloist, Michael Hall. I come away with 3 stories and a glimpse of their passions and motivations.

My heart is pumping, my blood flowing. How could I have forgotten how much I need music? Raised in a family of musicians, it's easy to take for granted the swoop of melody and the feeling of being surrounded by harmony and rhythm. It's good to be immersed again.

We get home in rough traffic, about 11pm. The dog tries to jump on me but my knee comes up so he gives up. He brings a leaf (his sign of happiness) instead. I fall into bed and am asleep in 4 heartbeats.

Sunday
Reza asked me earlier this week if I'd lead a church service. I've been thinking about how the loose liturgy of a Protestant service can lull the participants into familiar routines. This morning, it's too late to hunt down the notes I made about changing things up a little.

Before the meeting, when the leaders pause for prayer together, I encourage the worship leaders to project joyful energy. They've chosen such marvelous music. Sure enough, the congregation becomes energized by them - and fully engaged.

Found in the yard: a 30" stem

We have only one announcement. I ask attendees to close their eyes if they're willing, to hear the scripture, and consider its meaning. This morning when I woke, I read Luke 15 = Jesus' parable of the lost sheep. After I read it aloud, we pause quietly for a few minutes to reflect on the passage.

Whew, we have a lot of guests this morning, including some from the USA, Burundi, Australia, Japan, and Indonesia. We take 5 minutes to say hello. Finally, Reza suggests a whistle; everyone settles into their seats again.

Sheila is speaking. Based on the story of God's promises to Abraham and Sarah, she encourages us to rely on God's faithfulness, his understanding of our doubts, his competence, and his miraculous intervention.

In closing, the congregation offers their takeaways. First, I hand the mike to a few of our study participants for a brief synopsis of what they heard. Others jump in. (This is the part of our weekly studies where I learn the most.) And then the congregation is blessed and dismissed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

A good group stays to visit for nearly an hour afterward, talking, sharing life, praying for each other. I've been invited to lunch but by the time I'm done, the women are long gone. My orange shoes walk me home to a relaxing afternoon.

The lizard who lives in our bedroom is now 7" long. I eye him apprehensively as he jerks himself up the white plaster to the ceiling. How I dislike these wall-running amphibians. What if one falls on me in the night? (It's happened to many friends.) Yuck.

Yet how lucky am I? There may be no lizards in the houses in the Canadian city where I was born but it's -21C/-5F there today.  In contrast, this morning, we were shivering at church because it was windy and 22C/72F. Friends exclaim how cold it is and that we really need our jackets today. True. I'm considering putting a hot water bottle in the bed tonight.

Read more:
*Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! Psalm 27:14

*The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. Psalm 111:10

*You have heard of the endurance of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful. James 5:11

Moravian Prayer: Merciful God, in times of turmoil and distress we pray for the patience and courage that we sometimes need just to make it through the day. Provoke us to ask for help from you and from those around us. Amen.