Reflections on the Torah

So, this first semester in Torrey we read through the Pentateuch. And to quickly summarize my thoughts.

1) My whole conception of the first five books of the bible before this trip through the actual books was dominated by the Creation account (2 Chapters) and the ten commandments as stated in Exodus 20. I didn't even know that Balaam was in Numbers! I always thought he was in Kings!

2) I often wondered how people survived on just the OT for so many hundreds and even thousands of years. After reading through the first five books, I guess I could summarized it by saying, "Wow! There's SOOO much stuff in here!"

3) God in the OT is often stereotyped as mean, vindictive, judgmental, and harsh. Reading through the Five, I'm pretty much pat convinced that this stereotype is pretty false. The God of the OT is the same as the one of the NT.

4) Which brings me to my fourth observation, the Israelites are IDIOTS, but I'm sooo much like them. Case in point:

This thanksgiving weekend I was visiting my old elementary school and I passed by a tree. It wasn't any old tree, there was a plaque under it "September 11, 2001 - We will never forget". Flashback to when I was 9, I remember watching my teachers and my principal (at the time) planting that tree. I remember where I was during that day. But to be totally honest, I've forgotten much. The event, though huge and traumatic, has truly been pushed to the back of my mind. Could it not be the same with the parting of the Red Sea, or the Wonders of the Wilderness?

(Cummins is in the room right now and for about 5 minutes he convinced me that his skin was like superman's and he's never bled in his life. Darn. I'm gullible. =P) (We ended up talking till 2:00 am about Loving God rightly, the commandments, the Sabbath, faces, authenticity, personhood in Christ)

All in all, the Scriptures are beautiful, and in them is life. Christ is, after all, the Word.

Meta Torrey's Are Awesome!

It seems like when I enter the dialectical process with people, at the end of it, somehow, someway I come tumbling out loving the people I've gone through it with.

I realized yesterday why my closest and best friends are the by and large those whom I have dialogued deeply with.

It's because we see each other's souls in discussion, no more pretense, no presumption, it's a chance to look deeply at a thing outside ourselves and in so doing come to a greater love for each other.

Not that Philosophy's only merit is in bringing people to love one another, but for me, it is at least that.

Looking for the answer to life's big questions and then seeking to live them out.

When it's done right, people become authentic in a way that I just haven't been able to find anywhere else.

Here's to baring our souls so that Christ might somehow, someway conform us closer to His Image.

Good Day!

A Confession

Self Reflection is often a good thing.

In looking over my past blog posts, I see now how I was able to worry much less back then.

Partly it was because I didn't have as much to worry about.

But mostly it was because I spent an hour daily in communion with God.

I confess, I've slowly and imperceptibly but surely shifted my focus so that even though I'm at Biola, all this time I've been thinking, "It's by my power that I'm here", "this is my education", "this is my time to shine", etc, etc.

I haven't been talking with God as much or spending enough time in His Word as I ought to.

Besides being just downright silly, I've noticed that my personality, my way of being in the world reverts back to what I would be without Christ (It only makes sense that if you don't stay connected to the vine, you start withering!) - a craven, sick, wobbly, anxious, needy, insecure twit.

"Overcome us, Lord, that so overcome, we might be ourselves"

I don't know if it's Athanasius, or Williams, or Lewis, or the Bible, but one or several or all of them have this idea that since God is Being (unqualified), as we are restored by Christ to right relation towards God (i.e. Loving rightly) we are also being restored to our true selves, our true being. In other words, as we journey closer to the Heart of reality, we consequently become more Real, more truly ourselves than we ever could have been if we had tried to stray (See Augustine's conception of Good and Evil).

Evil is literally negative - that is, it negates what is truly real.

But then again, what do we mean by real?

All this is to say,

He truly is the Person in whom we "live, move, and have our being".

Lord God have mercy on me, a sinner.

All that I am and ever will be, I owe to God.

I'm going to start living out that fact again.

Under His Mercy,

Gabriel

When Books Grow Limbs...

I love books.

In fact, the main decor of my room is books.

Every inch of desk space is covered with them.

and it's beginning to overflow my room...

And that is the point when Books actually begin to become lost.

Before I could easily find a book that I wanted because *looks* there it was on the corner of the third shelf on the left side of the room.

But now when I'm looking for The Writing Life (Annie Dillard) I look around, smile at the ocean of books surrounding me, shrug my shoulders, and decide that it'd probably be easier just to buy another copy from Amazon. ;)

Now, finding the Odyssey is a Quest! (Not Ironic at all!)

I may have a problem....but just maybe.

*sniffles*

While most of my Friends will be at Wheatstone...

I'll be at an Evangelism Camp.

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

*breathes* *sniffles* sigh

I'll be okay...just barely. (Heh, if it wasn't anything less than saving souls I doubt I could've been herded into going!)

But you guys had better post pictures and tell me all about it when I get back.


Promise? ;)

And there's always next year! =D =D =D And I'm only 17!!! (Age limit is 19!)

What Loving a Woman can do to a Man

If all I've said about her until this
were comprehended in a single praise,
now it would be too little to suffice.

I saw her beauty passing all our ways
of understanding, and believe indeed
that He alone who fashioned her enjoys

Its fullness. From this pass I must concede
myself more overcome than ever was
tragedian or comic at the peak

Of difficulty: as the sun in eyes
that tremble weakly, so my memory
of her sweet smile now robs the intellect

And leaves me at a loss. From the first day
I saw her face until this vision now,
my road to song has not been cut away,

But here, as every artist, I must bow
to my last power, and cease to follow on
her loveliness by signs in poetry.

Such beauty I must leave to a clarion
more brilliant than my trumpet to unite
clear words and arduous truth...

(Canto 30.16-34)

"Lady in whom my hope is green anew,
who suffered for my healing, and who deigned
to leave your footprints in the lands below,

It was your power and excellence that sustained
my pilgrimage to see all I have seen;
to you I owe the grace and strength I've gained.

I was a slave; you brought me liberty,
through every road I walked, by every means
you had within your power to succor me.

Preserve in me your work's magnificence
so that my soul, which you have healed, one day
will please you when it slips the body's bands."

I prayed - and she, who was as far away
as she appeared, yet smiled and looked at me;
then turned again to the eternal Spring.

(Canto 31.79-93).

I tear up every time. ='P
The greatest monument ever created for any woman.
That last line is the most important...by the way.

Poi si torno a l'etterna fontana

Stuff I'm Watching and Listening To

A Transcription of a movement from Rachmaninoff's 2nd Symphony.

Then the Real Thing.

And if that wasn't enough Romanticism, I'm watching bits and pieces of Love Actually, courtesy of a recommendation by Mr. Leigh.

=3 Poor thing. ;)

This baby.

Here's a quote:

Where did you meet your love, young man?
Where did you meet your love?
'I met my love in a noisy room
With a carven roof above.'

What did you say to your love, young man,
With all your mother wit?
'"How hot it is!" or "How do you do?"
And there was an end of it!'

Who was beside you then, young man?
Who was beside you then?
'Gaspar, Melchior, Balthazar,
And a crowd of shepard-men!'

What did you say to them, young man,
Silently, through the din?
'"Princes, when ye come in to her,
I pray you, lead me in."'

-"In the Land of Juda," from Poems of Conformity, 1917

I think Dante and Charles Williams and Sayers would have liked that scene. Especially with the Incarnational themes.

I like being named Gabriel.

Heart Song

If my life were a piece of music

I'd want it to sound like Rachmaninoff.

In other words, I'm back from Russia and I love being home.

=]

Gratitude

Gabriel Choo
Torrey Academy Banquet Speech
Delivered Friday, May 29, 2009

*Deep Breath* Torrey Academy – the final Frontier, these are the voyages of some overly intellectual students, their 3 year mission, to explore strange, unheard of authors, to seek out ancient truths and age old questions, and to boldly Read, what no normal person has ever read before!

(Joycelyn, you owe me 5 bucks)

Haha, that’s what Torrey Academy would sound like on TV.

But in all seriousness, I just wanted to express this evening, all the Gratitude and Joy I feel. If you asked me what the best thing about my education was, my answer, without a Doubt would be Torrey Academy. How can I narrow down all the wonderful, Wonderful things Torrey is to me? There are the little things: the blinking cursor on an blank screen write before you start the reflection essay that’s due tomorrow morning, the countless inside jokes and references built over hundreds of hours of discussion together, or even the time when our tutor made us go hug a tree! Then there are the big things: that first day of class, when you come out of session knowing that you don’t know anything, or that “ah hA” moment, when the concept you’ve been struggling with as a group suddenly clicks and EVERYTHING makes sense, or the Wondrous moment when you look around the room and you realize, I Love these People.

And when it comes down to it, perhaps the greatest thing the Torrey has given me is Love. Love for the deep friendships I’ve made, Love for the Breathtaking joy of being a part of this academic Community, and best of all, falling deeper in love with the Love that moves the Sun and the furthest Stars. These past 3 years have just been an Endless Chain of Goodness, Truth, and Beauty.

I suppose the best way to describe Torrey Academy would be to compare it with a stained glass window. In those piercingly beautiful sheets of structured light, I see so Many colors of glass form a Wondrous and structured whole. And as the light of the Sun is filtered through that glass and shines through it, beautiful Images of grace, redemption, and Love are silently told. Yet, these individual bits of colored glass never lose their uniqueness but find their greatest fulfillment by being a part of a greater whole. That is what Torrey is like. For in the same way that the light of the sun shines through a stained-glass window, the Light of the Son of God shines through this Community, illuminating our Hearts and our Minds with the thoughts and writings of great thinkers and Christians - of ages past.

These years have been the best of my short life and for these experiences, I will always be grateful. So thank you my friends and colleagues, Thank you Parents, Thank you Tutors, thank you Administrators, but most of all, thank you God for making Torrey Possible. I hope you all have a wonderful, wonderful evening.

"To Boldly Go Where..."

Today was (I think) the official beginning of farewell to senior year.

So many memories.

So many happy memories.

So many beautiful memories.

Lest you think I shall be stuck in the past, I assure you, I look to the future with a stout heart and good cheer.

But I guess I just wanted to remark that if this was it -if tonight I (by God's grace) were called to enter Christ's courts, I would not think this life ill spent -because I have known you my friends.

If today my life were demanded of me, I would have no regrets.

It has been one of my greatest joys and privileges to come to know you all over the years (how few and short they seem!).

Many were the times when I'd look around at everyone and think to myself, "This truly is, a wonderful life".

And so it is, it truly, truly is a wonderful life.

How many can say that?

"We few, we happy few..."

You Know You're Over the Deep End When...

You went ahead and pre-ordered this book six months ago. =D

It CAME TODAY!!!

YEAAASSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!

I Love you Amazon. =D

Silence in the Sun

ooooh. Artsy title. ;)

This afternoon I decided to sit down on a small plot of grass. The morning had been cold and so it was good to feel the sun on my body. Lying down felt even better because it reduced my exposure to the wind and maximized the amount of sunlight I could absorb.

I've forgotten how wonderfully relaxing that is. Just sitting and being silent and listening to people talking (with no obligation to answer since they think you're sleeping). Apparently, I cut quite a haiku-y figure. =P

Opening my eyes again, everything was sort of white washed. My eyes were adjusting so the world took on a blaring blue-rinse like color tone. It felt like I was in a movie...

Spring Break has started. It's good to relax. It's good to love and be loved. It's good to live. It's good to Affirm things.

God Bless you all, my friends. Let us pray for one another, always.

What Music Means to Me

The following is a something I wrote for a recital in the program notes. Questions, comments, critiques are very welcome:

I have been asked to write down some thoughts about what music means to me. I shall begin then, with a short account of my own experience with music. My love of music began (I am almost ashamed to say) from selfish reasons. When I was 10, I read an article about how classical music makes ones IQ go up. Being a snobbish little boy I threw myself into my parent’s Mozart collection which amounted to about 10CDs. All the while, I constantly chanted this mantra to myself: “this will make me smarter, this will make me smarter” add infinitum. Like a musical moron I would vigorously nod my head up and down with the rhythm of the symphony or when the music became grand and exciting I’d wave my hands around frantically as if I were conducting an invisible symphony. Can you imagine what I must’ve looked like? In fact, I would look into the mirror sometimes and practice my I-am-deeply-in-musical-thought look and try to seem very profound, I mostly ended up looking constipated. Thank God something good came of this egoism! As I became more and more familiar with the pieces, I found that I actually enjoyed listening to them for their own sake. I didn’t really even know why yet, I just liked listening. My initial enjoyment began to spill over into a liking for other composers. In addition to Mozart’s music, I began listening to Elgar, Dvorak, Beethoven, Puccini, and then it hit me: I had discovered the Second Piano Concerto of Rachmaninoff. Diane Ackerman, a poet, describes this piano concerto as one that is:
…
full of tenderness and yearning,
beguiling melodies, raging passion,
and long sensuous preludes
to explosive climaxes,
frenzy followed by strains
of mysticism and trance.

Loaded with starry melodies,
it was a map of his sensibility,
and a wilderness rarely known
-the intense life of an artist
seen in miniature, with rapture expressed
as all-embracing sound.

But words do not come close, I think, to describing what it is like to listen to that music. How can I describe that aural experience which ravishes my entire being and makes me weep to hear such beauty? The answer is, I think, that we wouldn’t have music if we could fully describe it in words. Descriptions of Rachmaninoff can only go so far, you will have to listen to it yourself.

If I thought that discovering Rachmaninoff was something, imagine how it must have shaken my world to find Bach! Oh Bach! What a colossal syllable! I shall not even try to tell you the love, humility, and goodwill that his music inspires in me. This is what Leonard Bernstein says, “…once you do get to know Bach well enough to love him, you will love him more than any other composer. I know this because I went through the same process myself.” Further on he states,

And what is it that holds all these pages together, that makes it all inevitably the product of one man? The religious spirit. For Bach, all music was religion; writing it was an act of faith; and performing it was an act of worship. Every note was dedicated to God and to nothing else…Every last cello suite or violin sonata, every prelude and fugue from The Well-Tempered Clavier praises God…Bach…was a man of God, and his godliness informs his music from first to last (The Joy of Music, 237-277).

And with that, I come to my point. The fundamental value of music is in its ability to make us better people. Rather than just a hobby or something we teach children because it will make them “smart” (which it will). Classical music is an education of the heart. It is a vital part of forming a person’s character for the better. Now realize that I am not saying that you need music to be a good person, after all, the Nazis also listened to Schubert, but music makes it that much easier to love God and to love your fellow man. While the music lasts, I am in wonder and awe before its beauty. It’s almost as heady as being in love with someone, and perhaps it is just that – love – I mean. I do love music. And though my fingers stutter and mumble across the keys trying desperately to incarnate that love, I still do it; rather, I play because I love. In the last act of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, we are given a very good model of what all our praises to God are like when the King of Athens comments on the bumbling and ridiculous play of the builders is put on in the King’s honor,

Our sport shall be to take what they mistake,
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practiced accent in their fears,
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I picked a welcome,
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most, to my capacity (Act V.90-105).

If you skipped over that long quote, don’t worry about it, I mostly put it there to sound smart. The point is that the king took the stuttering praises of his servants and accounted those jumbled and messy attempts as eloquent speeches because of their love for him. In the same way, God will take our intention and count it as the act. If we will commit the time we spend in practicing and playing this music (like Bach) as a form of worship towards God, then it will mean something; otherwise, recitals are simply mutual admiration societies. We have mechanical piano players to do that. We come here not just to listen to those we know and admire the talent and hard work that has been put into these pieces, we come here also to participate in and experience beauty, beauty that at its root is from God. Life itself becomes more wonderful because such beauty exist. That’s what music means to me, it is one of the ways in which we are led to God. Where would I be without music?

In Gratitude

"Through all this ordeal his root horror had been isolation, and there are no words to express the abyss between isolation and having one ally. It may be conceded to the mathematicians that four is twice two. But two is not twice one; two is two thousand times one. That is why in spite of a hundred disadvantages, the world will always return to monogamy."

-G. K. Chesterton, The Man Who Was Thursday

Wentworth is the diabolical counterpart of Dante. I shall have to read Descent into Hell again in light of this fact. Charles Williams makes so much more sense now.

After all of it, I do think that Dante got it right. "poi si torno a l'etterna fontana" She turned again to the eternal Spring.

"'Have I your permission?' said the Angel to the Ghost.
'I know it will kill me.'
'It won't. But supposing it did?'
'You're right. It would be better to be dead than to live with this creature.'
'Then I may?'
'Damn and blast you! Go on, can't you? Get it over. Do what you like,' bellowed the Ghost: but ended, whimpering, 'God help me. God help me.'" (The Great Divorce 110).

God is full of severe mercies.

Where did it all go?

Why is it that something begins and then when it ends it's so hard to re-apprehend the experience? For example, when I experience a beautiful piece of music it only stays with me for so long. The rightness, the goodness, that desire and ardor that is the stuff of rash vows --can it last? Perhaps this is what corresponds to "the death of Beatrice". In the Vita Nuova, Dante describes his experience and vision of Beatrice when he saw her for the first time. Fifteen years later, she died. And Dante goes on to write, "what has never been written in honor of a lady before". Romantic Theology...

Lewis is characteristically lucid:

"A romantic theologian does not mean one who is romantic about theology but one who is theological about romance, one who considers the theological implications of those experiences which are called romantic. The belief that the most serious and ecstatic experiences either of human love or of imaginative literature have such theological implications ,and that they can be healthy and fruitful only if the implications are diligently thought out and severly lived, is the root principle of all his [Charles William's] work" (Introduction to "Essays Presented to Charles Williams").

How do we stay true to the image of the beloved?

Whatever that image may be, nature (think Wordsworth), the city (Virgil), or a girl (Beatrice), or music (Bach? Rachmaninoff?) how do we affirm and love it in such a way that it is neither blasphemous nor destructive?

In short, how do we love rightly?

This is sort of the question I'm starting with for my paper. I'm pretty sure Dante can help me. =D But what he has to say isn't at all easy. At least for me, I don't think of this as just a paper, for me, what Dante is saying and how I interpret him has real and significant implications. Perhaps Dante is wrong and crazy, if not wickedly lustful...

I sure hope not.

"He who has ears let him hear, he who has eyes let him see."

"This is thou, this also is not thou."

"...lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..."

In Ecstacy

I just bought Taliessin through the Logres, The Region of the Summer Stars and the Arthurian Torso by Charles Williams.

Yup.

It's 1:00 something AM.

Here are my reasons:

1) Dante.

2) This oh-my-goodness-my-mind-just-got-blown-open-in-a-totally-good-way-by-Charles-Williams (He tends to do that) book.

3) This beautiful essay (I consider it one of my favorite essays alongside "The Weight of Glory").

4) This response to the essay above.

5) This random (or perhaps providential) review of Logres. "Gold" indeed.

6) And one more thing, if people are willing to spend upwards of $70 dollars for an Abercrombie and Fitch(TM) shirt, why can't I spend $55 dollars to buy a rare and beautiful book by one of my favorite authors?

Sigh. Of course, this means that I won't be buying any more books for a long time...then again, I do have that gift card I haven't used...but here's the thing: I promise that (unless it's for school) I will not buy another book for 3 months. Starting today. (So this ends April 29th...if I'm wrong please correct me) =]

Another thing, how do I express strong emotion without looking like a fool? Is being a fool necessarily a bad thing? (Or so Shakespeare would have me ask).

Currently, I am overwhelmed and more in love with Charles William's writing than I previously was. I only pray that his insights into the Christian life will lead me to love God like Dante did. "This also is thou; neither is this Thou".

But remember, dear reader, that Dante, Williams, and all of Western Civilization are but dust without Christ. "You can find Dante and miss Christ" Let us not be Gammaliels. Let us pray for one another, always.

O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me, a sinner.

Of Bibliophilia and Bookworms

I have found that many people kindly but still quite condescendingly laugh at my bookishness. Which got me to thinking, is there an inherent problem with reading too many books? What is the purpose of reading? And what of Plato's argument against it in the second half of Phaedrus? Therefore, kind readers, I entreat you to help me diagnose myself.

Here are some of my symptoms:

1) I have a 10-page-long wish list on Amazon.com (Still growing!).

2) I read more often then I exercise.

3) I read about as much as I sleep.

4) I feel odd ('naked') if I do not have a book in my hand or at least in close proximity to myself.

5) My ideal room would have all four walls lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling and a large, wide spacious desk and a comfy chair and automan. Well-lit.

6) My room is the library of my house.

7) My main expenditure is on Amazon (curse you shipping costs!).

8) Saying the word "D-A-N-T-E" in my presence will induce an assortment of reactions (depending on the context in which it is said):
a) An odd squeal (yes, like a piglet).
b) I'll fall to my knees and start yelling.
c) I'll get that mad glint in my eye that says "You'd better take that back!"
For example: When the inestimable Mr. Gross informed me that the Rodin sculpture known as "The Thinker" was, in fact, Rodin's sculpture of Dante, I did indeed fall to my knees and pump my fists skyward and yelled at the top of my lungs-directly underneath the Biola belltower. ....yeah.

9) This painting warms my heart.

10) I find that I have to exercise much self control in order to not buy this. They don't even have a picture of the thing! 50 some dollars! AHHHHH!

So, dear friends, be honest, how bad do I have it?

=D

(After Taliesin)

The beauty of the Word made flesh,
Beautiful too that God has made me.
The beauty of wisdom from ages past,
Beautiful too the sound of a turning page.
The beauty of a tree in autumn,
Beautiful too a bare branch against the stars.
The beauty of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto,
Beautiful too a single note of Bach.
The beauty of a mansion with many stories to tell
Beautiful too the library where new worlds are found.
The beauty of the ocean in its sun-lit splendor,
Beautiful too skipping stones across the water.
The beauty of a joyous wedding anniversary,
Beautiful too the shy glances of those in love.
The beauty of a lively fire against a rainy night,
Beautiful too the glow of a dying ember.
The beauty of silently falling snow,
Beautiful too the melting flakes upon the tongue.
The beauty of a stained glass window in its church,
Beautiful too the smile of a saint.
The beauty of a compassionate teacher in his classroom,
Beautiful too reading under a maple tree.
The beauty of a well-tempered blade,
Beautiful too the moment of “Aha!”
The beauty of sunlight streaming through a window,
Beautiful too the silence of a prayer chapel.
The beauty of mother driving her children to school,
Beautiful too the prayers of a father for his little girl.
The beauty of the hushed awe before the concert starts,
Beautiful too silencing the cell phone.
The beauty of a birthday letter given in love,
Beautiful too the experience of the wise.
The beauty of a conversation with beloved friends,
Beautiful too the last drop of coffee in the cup.
The beauty of vast and starry expanse of heaven,
Beautiful too finding a lost contact lens.
The beauty of cottage covered in snow,
Beautiful too the lighting of a match.
The beauty of poetry read by a melodious voice,
Beautiful too the ascension of Mount Purgatory.
The beauty of prayers said in the morning,
Beautiful too God’s presence when I feel alone.
The beauty of a sturdy old chair,
Beautiful too an old joke between friends.
The beauty of well written Chinese calligraphy,
Beautiful too making the ink from paste.
The beauty of the warm sun upon my face,
Beautiful too the droplets upon the air-con vent.
The beauty of a sun-lit corner of a room,
Beautiful too the room where a holy woman died.
The beauty of a girl laughing in sunshine,
Beautiful too the shape of her hand.
But most wonderful of all is too great for me to tell:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts;
The whole earth is full of His glory!

Promise Kept

This will not be a post reflecting on the beauty of Christmas (although you may read into the title of the post however you wish). My intent for this post is more of a housekeeping issue:

I made a promise a year ago (almost to the day!) to upload a crazy wipeout I had on my snowboard on Christmas Day. =]

Today I fulfill my promise.
If you can't do it right, then fail spectacularly!

And my awesome, cool, and amazingly tech-savvy sister made our 2008Choo Family Christmas Video.

The link directly above is High-Def. Here's the normal quality.

Merry (post) Christmas everyone!

Dorothy Sayers and Bach

Keep in mind that in her youth, Dorothy Sayers was quite a talented Violinist/Pianist:

"Masters, undergraduates, visitors; they sat huddled closely together on the backless oak benches, their elbows on the long tables, their eyes shaded with their fingers, or turned intelligently towards the platform where two famous violinists twisted together the fine, strong strands of the Concerto in D Minor. The Hall was very full; Harriet's gowned shoulder touched her companion's and the crescent of his long sleeve lay over her knee. He was wrapt in the motionless austerity with which all genuine musicians listen to genuine music. Harriet was musician enough to respect this aloofness; she knew well enough that the ecstatic rapture on the face of the man opposite meant only that he was hoping to be thought musical, and that the elderly lady over the way, waving her fingers to the beat, was a musical moron. She knew enough, herself, to read the sounds a little with her brains, laboriously unwinding the twined chains of melody link by link. Peter, she felt sure, could hear the whole intricate pattern, every part separately and simultaneously, each independent and equal, seperate but inseparable, moving over and under and through, ravishing heart and mind together.
She waited till the last movement had ended and the packed hall was relaxing its attention in applause.
'Peter - what did you mean when you said that anybody could have the harmony if they would leave us the counterpoint?'
'Why,' said he, shaking his head, 'that I like my music polyphonic. If you think I meant anything else, you know what I meant.' "
-Gaudy Night pg. 499

Then it goes on and they construct this beautiful model of marriage which you should definitely, definitely go read. (But read Strong Poison first at least!)

Anyway, that was an awesome description of Bach. More than that, I read that paragraph with a sinking feeling...I've been that musical pretender...I've been that musical moron waving my hands to the beat...gaaaahhh.....

=[ Sigh. Maybe I should just stick to eating and sleeping...?

Either way, Sayers is right, it's the music that's important, not your reaction. Just like everything else.

"The best thing to do is to forget yourself altogether..."
-Lewis

Merry Christmas!