Relentless

After watching the new Casino Royale for the 2nd time, I tried to decide why I enjoyed this particular film so much. I am no longer an avid movie fan, having become averse to much of the content that takes place in contemporary film including violence, sex humor, profanity, excessive special effects, and generally liberal themes. Yet, for some reason, I still occasionally find particular movies entertaining or especially rich in content or, in this instance, demonstrating a philosophy of which I find profound and imminently significant. You see, James Bond is relentless.

In the 2nd scene of the movie, Bond is completely committed to acquiring a cell phone that contains a phone number he needs to decipher who or what is behind the latest espionage situation, the latest potential world dominance, the bad guy doing bad things, the evil lurking in the in the foreground, the meaning and human behind the activity. Bond sets out to discover the truth, and he does so relentlessly and spares no part of himself in doing so, he appears willing to sacrifice his own life as he dedicates himself to the quest for the cell phone. By the same token, the antagonist is equally determined to prevent Bond from having the phone. What follows is a scene of cat and mouse that ends with the phone in the hands of James Bond.

In another scene, Bond again shows the same relentless determinacy to prevent a bomb from destroying a new state of the art airplane. Bond's ingenuity, intellect, and remarkable physical prowess is put to the limit as he runs, jumps, strikes, falls, and never hesitates to reach his goal of stopping the bomb. He may have had moments of insecurity or self-doubt but he did not let that deter his purpose nor did he allow his own human frailty to prevent him from doing what was right. He was intentional, proactive, and relentless in pursuing excellence, which, in this case, was preventing the explosion of the airplane.

But this essay is not about Casino Royale or even James Bond. It certainly is not a movie review and I do not consider myself any kind of film critic in any sense of the word. What we glean from James Bond is the value of being relentless in the quest for truth and for arriving at our stated objective. I once asked a choir director whose choirs were consistently precise, expressive, and known for their musical and emotional content, choirs that embodied excellence in every sense, choirs that made other choirs pale in comparison, how he achieved such magnificent musical results. He answered that he imagines hearing the finest choir on the planet and then teaches relentlessly to that goal. He allows nothing to stand in the way of that monumental dream.

When Beethoven composed his 5th symphony, he had trouble deciding how to end the 1st movement, and wrote three different ideas before settling on the one we hear today. Each ending was appropriate and each ending worked, but Beethoven could not settle for average, for passable, for unexceptional, or common, instead, he relentlessly sought the perfect ending to his remarkably powerful work.

In Hemingway's rich novel of human spirit and strength of will, The Old Man and the Sea, Santiago fights to land the Marlin amid overwhelming odds including his own weakening body in a strong testament of personal dedication to a difficult or seemingly impossible goal. In the book of Exodus, we find Moses, after resisting leadership, becoming committed to his God-ordained task of leading and delivering the Israelites to the promised land. Nothing will stop him as he encounters one challenge after another.

It is the attitude and practice of relentlessness that leads to excellence in achievement. In Plato's oddly nebulous but pointedly urbane allegory The Cave, we find a group of people whose concept of truth is the shadow upon the wall, people who are comfortable not knowing the cause of the shadow, and whose world-view is narrowly discerned from their limited experience. Sadly, they only know what they see and almost prefer the existence of the shadows with an acceptance of their delectation of life being based on their own myopic and falsely understood world, resulting in contentment to live in a state of mediocrity, ignorance, and darkness.

In returning to the James Bond example, his pursuit of justice was unmarred by his own personal restrictions, and he did not allow himself to be governed by those many self-imposed weaknesses that tend to affect all of us. It may be just a movie, and it may have little to nothing to do with reality, but there is hidden philosophy to which I wish to subscribe: to be relentless in pursuing excellence to the best of my ability and, unlike James Bond, I furthermore wish to honor God in all my efforts.

Learning

Learning,
there is always more to
learn, learn, learn, learn,

new information,
new things,
new ideas,
curious about it all, all,
wonder if
I
can learn it all, and
knowing
that I cannot, not, not,
but

I

pray

God
will allow
me
many, many, many, many
more years
to
try
try try try try try
to
learn
as much as possible
and,
more importantly
to
make
a
difference.

The Horn Player--Neurosis

We are all a little bit neurotic. This is partly or mostly due to the nature of the beast. You see, we are horn players. For this blog, I am going to use the nomenclature horn to designate what most people call a French horn since it is not really a "French" horn but in fact is an instrument with influence from several countries including Germany, England, France, and Italy. It is usually a flawed and sometimes dangerous practice to generalize personality traits or make judgments based on limited data and doing so can result in misunderstandings, but in this case, I am going to try. The life of a horn player playing his instrument is one of fear, joy, and occasionally sorrow.

The Horn is a difficult instrument requiring the courage of a lion and the sensitivity of a gentle lamb. The musical demands on the horn player are physically, emotionally, and musically exhausting. Yes, there are wonderfully exciting and exhilarating moments, moments to be loud, heroic, noble, commanding, strong, and muscular and these are balanced by the tender moments, those quiet, sensitive places that make the horn the most beautiful and touching of all the instruments. Its very diversity and magnitude make it treacherous for even the finest players, similar to walking a tightrope, or making that important and momentous move in a chess tournament, or hoping for your first kiss on a date, or awaiting your test results to pass your qualifying exams for your Ph.D., or skiing down the hardest slope, or eating a potentially poisonous piece of sushi, or making a speech to thousands, playing the horn is among the most stressful and rewarding experiences a person can have.

The rewards for excellence are numerous including accolades, frequent performances, recording contracts, specially composed works, and most of all the opportunity to play great music by the world's finest composers from solo to chamber to orchestral works. Even in my own mediocrity, I have been blessed to perform much of music's finest literature in many outstanding ensembles.

Equal to the rewards, however, comes the fear. The fear of the upcoming high, soft entrance. The fear of the look from the conductor. The racing of the heartbeat as a difficult solo gets nearer. The feeling whether real or perceived that the other players doubt your ability to play it well. The question of the possibility of letting the section or the orchestra or the conductor or even the audience down by playing something wrong. Or at another level, the fear of not being in tune or being too loud or too soft. The hours and years in the practice room will either find successful fruition or be recognized as a gross waste of time and effort. Which will it be?

That high note, just one note, not even all that important gets nearer and the measures move along steadily through various orchestrations and sonorities. It is only one note but it happens to be by itself. To hit it correctly is to win the game, right through the goalposts of musicball and become the champion, but to miss it is to wear a stigma on your forehead screaming loud and clear for all--LOSER. It is that last necessary free throw that will live forever in the minds of the players and the audience. It is the one opportunity for greatness, a life in the musical palace of excellence, or a life in the mudtown of substandard performance. You are mighty Casey and this is your last at bat. You will either become President of the horn success club or become Yertle the Turtle, king of nothing.

The note gets closer and closer and you wonder if you will survive. Your heart rate is fast and you begin to see lights spinning and feel weakness throughout your body. Shaking and quivering begins quickly to overtake your limbs and adrenaline threatens to implode your frail physiological self. The note is two measures away as you lift your horn for that treacherous moment. You place the horn on your face, breathe deeply, place your tongue carefully, hear the note in your mind, you know where it is and where it will be. Suddenly, almost shockingly, the orchestra drops out, the conductor glances your way, raises his baton, and signals the note...

After the concert, you get in the car, drive home, rest in the easy chair, and reflect on the evening. The note was played beautifully with precision, poise, sensitivity, and expression. Your palace is your home and the joy of the moment is past. You spend some time laughing at yourself and realize for the thousandth time in your career that horn players are neurotic for a good reason. Once again you wonder if it is all worth it...and you conclude without a doubt it is. As you turn in for the evening, you remind yourself to hide your neurosis from the rest world and attempt to be normal. But when you meet another horn player, there is no pretending. We are an odd but special breed. Such is the life of a horn player. Another day, another 50 cents!

Imagination--Pt. II

I had imagined my doctorate and had put the steps in place to make it happen, but I needed that extra spark, that electric charge, the dream that can become a reality, the mental elevator that moves easily to the top, the warp drive Scotty sets in motion to move the enterprise from one galaxy to another. I wanted to beam myself to the end but needed a transporter! That transporter came in the form of Dr. Scott Huston, my theory teacher at the University of Cincinnati, College-Conservatory of Music where I was working on my Master of Music.

As I was watching Star Trek, following Dr. Huston's stunning revelation that he had composed music for the show, I began to listen carefully. One show in particular had a beautiful, haunting musical theme, a theme of nostalgia and meditation, a gentle but poignant theme of purity. This particular music had that unusual quality of being personal yet collective in the way that magic seems to block out the rest of the world and resides in the mind of the observer. This theme was set in the phrygian mode, a mode often reserved for Spanish style music, but in fact, is a mode of pacifism and sweet beauty. A mode that is neither happy nor sad, nor powerful, nor weak, a mode that belongs in the hearts of the listener, a mode I memorized, a mode and a theme I can recreate even today. As I listened, I became convinced this was written by Dr. Huston.

The next day I ventured down the hallway where his office was located. Although the door was open, it was understood that a student did not go in unannounced. His office was unusually large with his desk near the back window and a grand piano occupying much of the space just inside the doorway. He sat at his desk working solemnly on grading papers and grunting harsh sounds probably intended for some poor unsuspecting student unaware of his disdain for poor work. I walked in softly, unlike Teddy Roosevelt I was without a big stick of any kind, and sat at the bench and began to play the theme I had heard the night before. As I played, Dr. Huston never looked up but he did stop writing. I finished the theme rather cautiously but also confident I was playing the notes correctly and Dr. Huston said, "Whoever that is, gets an A!" He then raised his head and asked me how I figured it out. I told him that I remembered his love of modes and how he had written for Star Trek.

We began an odd mentor-friend relationship that day that lasted until I moved from Cincinnati. We would stop each other in the halls and discuss perfect music, or the golden mean, or a new orchestration technique, or the worth of a particular composer. He was quite opinionated about music and felt free to criticize music he did not deem quality. At the same time, he would glow when talking about music that contained warmth, beauty, and expression. While he sometimes continued his irritating practice of meanness, which turned out to be a facade, I also knew he truly cared about me and wanted the best for all his students. He was a brilliant musician, intellectual, emotional, passionate, with a heart of gold for people.

As I finished my studies with Dr. Huston in that particular theory class, he gave me a gift that keeps on giving to the present time. He gave me a gift reserved for me. I know not whether I was one of many to receive the same gift or, as I like to think, the only one to ever receive it. In order to get our final test back, we had to give Dr. Huston a self-addressed stamped envelope. I went to his office and handed him my envelope. He looked at me and said, "NO" in that angry tone I had come to both dread and to love. It was a tone with a touch of humor, a roughness that could not mask the genuine compassion he felt. It was a tone of a gruff grandfather or of a father stopping the dangerous behavior of a child.

He said, "NO," gave it back to me and said, "Put Dr. in front of your name." I quickly disagreed stating that I had not even quite finished my Masters degree. He smiled, a smile of kindness, a smile of knowledge, a smile that spoke of wisdom and goodness, and looked at me directly in the eyes and said, "Put it on the envelope and one day it will be true." These few words spoken directly to me and for me entered my being and resided there, never to leave. These few words led to my placing Dr. in front of my name, and although at the time I may have questioned their validity, ultimately Dr. Huston's words became true.

I cannot complete this story without acknowledging my thanks to Dr. Huston. I feel the tears welling up in gratitude for the prophetic gift, a gift that kept on giving, and still gives today. To Dr. Huston I owe so much: for making me see music specifically and comprehensively, for teaching me to hear all that happens in music, for giving me tools in which to judge music, for helping me love music old and new, for showing me how to be demanding of myself and my students but at the same time to love them, and mostly for inspiring me to do my best and complete my task of getting my PhD. Thank you Dr. Huston for helping my imagination become a reality. Your music, your words, and your life continue to have a profound affect on thousands.

It's all in the Imagination--Pt. I

As I continue to examine goals, challenges, and results, I remain convinced that imagination is one of the most important characteristics that we need to invoke in our daily lives. Whether one is a laborer, plumber, educator, doctor, politician, city employee, or lawyer, imagination ultimately led to the profession in one form or another. Imagination is that creative mental and emotional application formed and fabricated purely in the mind with or without foundation in reality. The imagination can be visual and colorful, sad and frightening, entertaining and thrilling, or filled with the complexities found in everyday life.

Some people have an imagination worthy of a Dean Koontz novel or a Robert Jordan fantasy while others limit their imagination to attainable realities such as immediate or purposeful goals that can be set in motion through pragmatic application. The imagination comes before goals and the imagination defines parameters of excellence or acceptable judgments. It is the imagination that envisioned cities, buildings, highways, symphonies, sculptures, books, relationships, improvements, computers, shoes, clothes, institutions, philosophies, medicines, churches, movies, and restaurants. All of these and more began with a dream in someone's mind. It is the dreamers who make a difference, it is the dreamers who imagine a better world.

Yet even the dreamers often need a little help, a little prod, or a moment of encouragement, encouragement from a friend or a teacher or passing event, that moment that seems to relive frequently in the mind as an event worthy of a greater goal, a moment locked in time forever that reminds us to keep our imagination alive, a moment that transcends the challenges and walls found along our journey, a moment that is more than a moment and instead becomes foundational to success.

During the stress of pursuing my Doctor of Philosophy degree, I often wanted to give up and emphasize something else. While the Ph.D. had been a long time dream and I often imagined being Dr. Tucker, the time away from my family was difficult, the workload excessive, the environment, though stimulating, not always to my liking, and the financial hardship became burdensome and unfair. Fighting mild depression, loneliness, and self-doubt were normal mental activities that melded with the exciting intellectual and musical pursuits. Yet, the many encouraging words from friends and family members took a back seat to a striking memory of an event that happened many years before.

In a theory class in Cincinnati, Ohio at the College-Conservatory of Music, there taught a professor whose demeanor was equal to his reputation. He was mean or so I thought at the time. He had little to no patience with "dumb" questions, which he felt free to express the quality of the question in class, and he had little regard for those who did not understand or those who did not see or hear music in the correct way. He was often unkempt, rough in language, passionate in delivery, and aggressive in criticism, while maintaining a seemingly dispassionate aloofness and antipathy toward all his students. He had no interest in our names, our backgrounds, our abilities, or our situations. He was only interested in imparting the information regardless of the results, regardless of our feelings, and regardless of our reactions to that information. The end, that is knowledge, was superior to the means, that is the process. He was easy to hate, and I discovered years later, easy to love.

I was partially afraid of him, fear I would be called upon, and fear I might not know what was expected, but also found myself entranced by his ability, his musical instincts, his earthy yet lofty philosophy of learning and of life, his bold unapproachable brilliance, and mostly the mysterious, edgy aura that surrounded him. One memorable day, Dr. Huston sat at the piano yelling at us to learn our modes, that each mode has significance, and each mode sounds unique, that each mode sets a tone of emotion. While most of the class, a graduate class devoid of opinions and only concerned with how to get an A in the class, intensely wrote all he was saying, I was busy trying to interpret exactly how each mode altered the emotions of the music. While he was playing, singing (his singing was strangely harsh, tuneful but unpleasant, accurate but similar to an amplified mosquito on its way to attack some poor soul), and yelling, I heard a casual reference that he had composed some music for the television show Star Trek.

I was shocked and amazed and found myself curious about this man who seemed to love music but hate people. A profound musician who had composed music for a television show. Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps he had both a deeper, and lighter side we had not seen yet. My quest for the truth and partly for his affirmation had begun.

It's a God Thing

The other day, as I lined up for commencement, I was concerned about being placed on the left side of the procession rather than the right so as to be near the choir. Since I was playing my horn with the choir, this would provide fewer distractions and quick access to my designated performance spot. I went to the person in charge to look at the line up and she pointed out with excitement that indeed I was on the left side and even near the choir. I said, “Thank you, that worked out well.” Nearby I heard someone say, “It must be a God thing.”

I have heard that phrase frequently the last few weeks and have decided to address it. As my readers know, I do believe in angels and I also lean on the Calvinistic side of predestination. I have formed a type of hybrid philosophy that melds Arminianism with Calvinism, a blending of free will to act out our daily lives, God governed control over major events and ultimate destiny. With this, I believe God gives us freedom to make mistakes and conversely freedom to honor and serve him with acts of goodness and in worship. I sometimes wish for less freedom but in the end I am comforted to know that to an extent I control my own daily life.

Yet, there is no doubt that sometimes things just plain old happen over which we have no control. While God certainly has the right and the ability to manipulate, plan, and implement the events we read about each day, He also has the right and ability to allow humans to make their own mistakes. It also seems that sometimes things go well and sometimes they don’t. At what point do we claim that God is the author and illustrator of every event that happens? As I sit in this coffee shop writing this blog, I wonder if God decided where I would park, what I would drink, what I would think, write, whom I would see, and what events would happen today.

While there is no doubt that God could have planned that my location in the procession would easily allow me access to the choir, I wonder if He really did. Is God really concerned about these mundane events? Could it have been simply a nice coincidence? What if, hypothetically speaking, I had been placed at the end of the procession on the wrong side? Would this also have been a God thing at an effort to learn humility? What if, as we were processing down the long aisle, I looked down and saw a $1000 bill (which might cover our quickly growing gasoline bill). Would this be a God thing? What if my fortune at being placed near the choir resulted in sitting in a broken chair where I fell and bruised my lip and did not get to play my horn? Would this be a God thing?

Is there a time where we simply admit that things go wrong or things go right? Or do we look around and see the raging battle between God and Satan as they work to make small differences in the minute events that accompany us each day? But is it really fair to God to attribute His hand in things like lining up for a procession or getting a good parking spot at Walmart? Conversely, should we blame Satan for a stomachache or a flat tire or for running out of toothpaste?

As you can see, I have more questions than answers on this issue, but I also have to wonder if we are overusing that expression to an extent. Yet, whether or not that is true, there is no doubt that each of us finds comfort in knowing God is looking out for our well-being. While I might be a touch cynical about His involvement in our daily activities, I have little doubt that He wraps his arms around us and guides us through our life, lifts us out of the mire, and fills us with His abiding and steadfast love. Is he the orchestrator of every little event that occurs minute by minute? Maybe. Is He the guiding light and does His word give us a system of truth for our own decisions? Absolutely.

Censorship of the Arts in Private Institutions

I was recently asked my position on censorship in the arts and decided to write a series on this major issue. There are several complex levels that affect this issue including public perception, perceived Christian values, personal impressions, creative license, societal decency, personal expression, and financial support for the arts. As a college administrator in the arts it often comes to my attention and even my decision to allow or disallow questionable language, events, scenes, or images. Fortunately, in the traditional music curriculum, censorship rarely rears its ugly head, but at the same time, we as musicians need to be aware of the higher implications of censorship as we continue to progress in quality and creativity. This issue does, however, directly affect visual and theater arts.

How do I (we) make these decisions? Are there specific criteria that help us determine right from wrong or offensive from acceptable? Do we often find ourselves in the Supreme Court decision that says, “I cannot define it, but I know it when I see it.”? It is easy as a Christian to rely on scripture for our definition of cultural morality, but unfortunately scripture does not always give us a recipe for goodness. God has apparently given us a free will to an extent to make our own decisions and determine our daily moral behavior. In reality we have two external documents that give us guidance as we make these decisions—one is the Bible and the other is the law. In many instances, the rules are the same. For example, scripture says do not kill and so does the law. But scripture does not say do not paint nudes. The law does not say do not paint nudes. Yet, as Christians we are uncomfortable in the presence of art that emphasizes nudity. So our decision is based partly on societal norms and partly on our own prescription and definition of right and wrong. This then makes the decision wildly subjective and reliant on assumptions, feelings, and reactions.

Having read several articles on the ratings system in Hollywood, I remain convinced that it is very difficult to apply objective mandates on what is ultimately human reaction. For me, personally, I am generally more offended by violent images than I am relationship themes or language, although I do sometimes find undue emphasis being placed on sexuality in the arts. I also wonder if we have become somewhat desensitized to the use of profanity in films. I do expect always to be offended by profanity in one form or another. On the other hand, as a parent, I enjoy protecting my children from all worldly content whenever possible, but as an academic dean, I want to be true to the discipline of the arts and honor the creative license of the artist. In truth, I have yet to meet someone entirely consistent on this issue. Each of us approaches morality in slightly different ways and each person draws the line in the sand so to speak in a different spot. I would refer you to: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MPAA_film_rating_system.

As a musical artist myself, I want the rights to interpret music according to my own training, knowledge, and personal expression. Furthermore, as a composer, I enjoy composing music that is in my heart and in my thoughts. It is my opportunity to create without having to answer to anyone or without the typical restrictions imposed by leaders. Writing music is my chance to create that which is within me. An artist should have a right to create the art that exists in his imagination without fear of reprisal. Yet if an artist's rights interfere with another person's right not to experience or see the work, then rights have been violated. In this respect, it is the reaction of other person which determines the objectionable content.

Since there seems to be no clear cut solution to the issue of what is acceptable and what is not, it stands to reasons to look to a council comprised of people seeking truth. If in fact there are difficult decisions to be made, I believe the wisdom of many can often determine objectionable content in a sort of representational way similar to how our government ideally operates (a frightening thought for sure!). According to Emmanuel Kant, the combined opinions of experts in a particular field provide enough evidence to support a particular view. To that end, I am first going to seek scriptural support for any censoring of artistic materials, secondly, look to the law for governance, and finally build consensus through the council of several. It is my goal to create, honor, and support the arts in a wide variety of media, but it is also my goal never to offend anyone as we continue to expound and express the powerful emotions that surround all the arts. Is this too lofty of an expectation? Perhaps, but is it also worth the effort? A resounding yes!

Medea Today

I just had the pleasure and the pain of experiencing a Greek drama--the tragedy known as Medea. This ancient story is of a deep, profound love that produced two beautiful children; but alas, the man betrayed the woman and married someone else. In her anger, she murders the man's new bride, the bride's father, and then her own children. Her hatred and her selfishness grew greater than her love for her children. Her desire for revenge overruled her compassion. In the end, she could not love with as much passion as she could hate, and her hatred infested her soul, seeping out of her pores in a wicked display of contentiousness and unbridled evil.

The hurt in her heart tortured her veins with pain and manifested itself in a hate so engrossing and so complete as to destroy any and all humanity that resided within her. She was captive to her own self execration and malediction. Although there were moments of hope of forgiveness and tenderness particularly as regards her own children, she did not allow those emotions to govern her actions, instead she squelched the good and exacerbated the negative which in turn transformed her into a hate monger with desire to inflict pain on those around her. She acquired a mental disease that infested her.

How often do we allow this to happen? Are we ruled by hatred or by love? What can we do to end the hatred in ourselves and others and replace it with love and gentleness? What are the causes of abhorrence, self-loathing, and violence? Is it possible to end the hate and emphasize the love individually and collectively?

When Medea murdered her children in order to exact revenge upon her scandalous husband she murdered a major portion of herself. When we hate, we are destroying our own soul and we decide whether to love or to hate, to forgive or to seek revenge, to eradicate circumspection, or to practice apostasy. Medea teetered on the brink of insanity, and historically may have crossed the line earlier, but in her lucidity and compassion she nearly conquered her hatred:

And you will nevermore your mother see,

Nor live as ye have done beneath her eye.

Alas, my sons, why do you gaze on me,

Why smile upon your mother that last smile?

Ah me! What shall I do? My purpose melts

Beneath the bright looks of my little ones.

I cannot do it. Farewell, my resolve,

I will bear off my children from this land.Why

should I seek to wring their father's heart,

When that same act will doubly wring my own?

I will not do it. Farewell, my resolve.

Yet, in the end she was unable to keep her self-respect and her dignity by avoiding the ultimate destruction of herself and the ones she loved. She uncontrollably resolved to extinguish all love and in a sense all humanity.

Fortunately, Medea does not represent "Everyman" but she does represent the potential for evil that may lie within us. While she may have relinquished her hold on her powerful evil emotions, we do not have to do so. We, the collective we, do not have to fall into barbarism and selfishness. "Moral action is never automatic; it presupposes intention, free choice. And intention inevitably either begins or must pass through the mind."--Jacob Needleman in Why Can't We Be Good. We can choose to be evil or choose to be good.

It is the preponderance of love in our hearts that prevents the events of Medea. Perhaps God's greatest gift is love. As God loves us, so also should we love others, applying love unequivocally and unconditionally. Art, theater, visual, or music, can teach, train, and guide our behavior both positively and negatively, but in the case of Medea, we learn how not to act and how not to resign ourselves to evil. We gain from the mistakes of others. I hope we apply the lessons well.

Why Teach Music?

Why should we teach music and why should music be included in the curriculum? Related to this question is a general discussion on the role of the arts in education and in culture at large. I believe it is time to consider an integration of the arts in a multitude of dramatic, intellectual, and appealing ways. The old model of separation of the arts into basic disciplines may no longer have the market value of reaching people myopically. Our eclectic world is beginning to demand a creative blend of artistic elements. Those willing to take the step into arts integration are the ones who will make the difference.

Meanwhile, the education of music continues with a myriad of methods, priorities, and results. We teach music because there is a demand to do so. People want to know more about it. We do not teach music simply to provide entertainment at games, events, or movies. We do not teach music because it makes us feel good or meets some kind of emotional need. We do not teach music because we are called to be musicians and we do not know what else to do nor do we teach music because we have a selfish agenda to mold others into our own criterion of musical excellence.

We teach music because we are demanded by culture to do so and because we love it and sense that it makes a difference in people's lives. We teach music because humans need it, respond to it, and those with the knowledge and skills have an obligation to teach it. While there is no question that aptitude in music exists and that talent, to an extent, is innate and difficult to understand, there is also no doubt that music and music making can be educated and can grow through knowledge and effort.

We can all name those who seem to be born with musical gifts and conversely we can all name those who do not seem to have "it." How often have I heard the comment, "I can only play the radio and cannot do that very well." Or "I do not have a musical bone in my body" or "You don't want me in the choir, I would ruin it" or my personal favorite, "I can hardly blow my nose, much less a musical instrument!" Yet, I do not subscribe nor accept any of these views (keep in mind, that I often find myself in the age-old dilemma of respecting the rights of all people to express themselves even though I often disagree with their assessment).

As Shinichi Suzuki says, "Talent can be educated." Music skills can be taught and with knowledge, love of music grows. In college curriculum for music, we teach music theory, music history, performance styles, ensemble experience, and various performance media. We work to encourage the frequent practice of the skills, seek to develop further skills, and impart specific and general knowledge about music to our students. Ultimately we, as teachers, hope to see musical independence with regard to performance and musical communication.

While we tend to teach a narrow concept of music and music literature in the college curriculum, we also desire that the skills gained can be used to communicate a wide variety of music to a wide variety of people. We recognize that all types of music have a place in the human experience but we choose to use the fundamental knowledge of music to lead us to a pathway of excellence in performance and music literature (I realize I just opened Pandora's box with my weak rationalization for why we prefer certain types of music! But let's wait until another day to discuss that one).

Music exists dramatically in culture both globally and individually. Its collective benefits are what makes music universal, social, and vastly communicative. For the individual, however, music takes on a personal design that reaches inside the soul and finds those unspoken emotions and feelings that round out our personal makeup. The human spirit requests music for greater sensitivity to beauty, to experience depth of thought and emotions, and to seek more compassion, gentleness, and gain a greater appreciation of life. In short music improves us and helps us be better people.

Although I hesitate to turn music making into a commodity, in a way it is that very thing for it is traded, sold, and processed as an invaluable tool for all of us. We teach it because we need it and we teach it because we owe it to ourselves and to music itself to be the best musicians we can be. Let us treat it well and let us continue to gain from music as it washes us thoroughly in its magic and its goodness.

Minimal Glass

Pulsing, repetition, subtle changes, static harmonies, unusual orchestrations, vocal inflections, dramatic interjections. All these things and more characterize the music of Philip Glass, a composer of renown whose popularity, sophistication, and musical substance are rare in today's dichotomous musical and entertainment world.

Born in 1937 to a family of music lovers, Glass was eventually formally educated at the Juilliard School and studied with Vincent Persichetti, Darius Milhaud, Nadia Boulanger, with influences from the music of John Cage and Morton Feldman. Further study of the music of Ravi Shankar and Indian rhythms combined with the minimal art of writer Samuel Beckett ultimately led to a development in music often called Minimalism (although Glass does not use that term to describe his music).

His "breakthrough" into success occurred with a collaboration with Robert Wilson in Einstein on the Beach, an opera that experiments with sound and communication through repetition of text and musical concepts with analogies referencing concern with nuclear arms and other modern themes. Einstein led easily to a film trilogy including Koyaanisqatsi, Powaqqatsi, and eventually Naqoyqatsi. All works for film with background music of Philip Glass.

In addition to 8 symphonies, concertos, solo works, quartets, and theater works, Glass has collaborated with Paul Simon, David Bowie, Lou Reed, and Linda Ronstadt. In recent years his growing popularity finds him more involved in film scoring including Hamburger Hill, Hours, The Illusionist, Undertow, Roving Mars, and Notes on a Scandal. Glass continues to make remarkable strides in an industry often steeped in searching for music to entertain the popular masses. His unique musical language is mesmerizing, enchanting, mysterious, dramatic, and difficult to define.

On the surface, his "sound" seems devoid of melody and direction and often harmonically static. Yet, careful listening reveals subtle changes, engaging energy, coloristic orchestrations, stunning drama, and musical depth not often found in film music of today.

What both confuses and intrigues me is that Minimalism was once considered an experimental, avant garde style of music reserved for college study with quasi-peripheral performances in little known concert halls specializing in performance art and improvisation. But, defying the odds, Glass has become immensely popular, prolific, influential, and profound. Minimalism or process music as it has been called, may have originally been a creative tool for a few composers and performers seeking a new form of expression and ingenuity, but it has now become a part of main-stream musical thought with a wide and quite appreciative audience. The people wanted it, the market needed it, and the musicians responded. Leading the pack is Philip Glass.

Give it a try sometime. It could drive you crazy or you may just love it. Whatever your reaction, do not doubt that minimalism and the music of Philip Glass is here to stay. For more information, go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_Glass or http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001275/

I am not sure which of his works to recommend above the others but consider Koyaanisqatsi or Undertow or perhaps one of the symphonies. It is all worth hearing. Approach it openly and emotionally and you may just discover the world of Philip Glass and you may just like it!

The Great Debate

There was a vital feeling of restless anticipation in the room before the debate began. Who would win? What would the discussion entail? Were they enemies or friends? These were just some of the questions in the minds of the audience as they entered the room, found a seat, and tried to avoid staring at the two gentlemen in the corner who were attired in Revolutionary costumes from 18th century America. One man wore a robe and looked quite the clergyman with a white wig and a serious expression and the other in more casual yet regal garments that spoke of opulence yet acceptance of common man. Sort of an "everyman" look but in a distinctly arrogant manner. No, the debate was not between Lincoln and Douglas but, instead, was between Jonathan Edwards and Benjamin Franklin, aka Jay Smith and me, Robert Tucker.

We began with some biographical information followed by a brief discourse on general thought and philosophy. Then the fun began. I, Ben, asked Jay, Jonathan, what good he had accomplished in the world? He responded with pious statements of spirituality and theology, mentioning man's depravity, man's need for God, and various Calvinistic tenants drawn from scripture. He delivered his lines with great passion, frequently mentioning the value of a spiritual life and reaching man's inner being.

After admonishing him for his excessive emotions and reminding him that a man of reason should always act in moderation, I proceeded to outline my position on man's role in the world as being obligated to help each other. I mentioned my deism and what that entails and he talked about the need for a God centered world and the value of spiritual matters, worship, and commitment to Biblical teachings and specifically the teachings of Christ. I said that I valued the teachings of Jesus as well but also valued Socrates as an equal (please remember this is Benjamin Franklin talking not me!).

I extolled the virtues of my inventions, my curiosity, my status as a gentleman, and my far-reaching contributions to improving the human condition. Unfortunately, I reminded the audience that I was a poor husband and not even a very good father to my children. I believed in morality, the greater good, and philanthropy, but not necessarily a spiritual relationship with God. I also frequently reminded the audience that I, Ben Franklin, became a wealthy man through my inventions but also from my involvement in the publishing world.

In the end, Benjamin Franklin was a remarkable inventor, humanitarian, public servant, statesmen, and diplomat. However his Christianity was that of Deism and he often displayed a lack of commitment to his marriage and his family. Edwards found that hole in Ben's life and emphasized that with great passion! Ben, of course, reminded him to calm down and use his reason rather than his emotions.

Who won the debate? Probably neither, but we certainly had great fun!

A Blessing

Her pain was extensive as she fought the cancer that would eventually take her life. The dreams they had made together had been altered upon hearing the news from the doctor about the leukemia that had invaded her body. While the ultimate prognosis was not good, there was hope for at least a temporary and comfortable life. Unfortunately, she needed surgery in order to prolong her life and give her a more pain free existence. In any normal situation, the surgery would not be a problem except in this case, it was cost prohibitive. All their savings was depleted and the surgery would cost $25,000.

He had quit work a couple of years earlier in order to spend time with the love of his life in her last few years, but having no resources in which to help her, he was nearing the end of his emotional strength as well as his financial ability. The small farm he owned would need to be sold with the hope he could keep the house. The time neared to make the decision to sell the land which would allow for the surgery. Did he for one second consider keeping the land, avoiding the surgery, and let her life end? The answer, of course, was no. His love was enduring and complete. He would be willing to sacrifice it all for her comfort and happiness.

Years before, when he had purchased the small farm, he had also purchased a strip of land by the highway that was worthless but part of the original deal. It was just a couple of acres with no value and in fact he had almost forgotten that he owned it. Traffic noise, excessive rocks, and little vegetation rendered the little strip virtually useless. Nevertheless, he did own it.

As the time neared for the decision to sell the farm, he received a call from a power company asking about the small strip of land by the highway. He said he did own it but in all honesty it had little to no use to anyone. The power company quickly offered him $25,000 for the land saying they needed it to complete their power connection to the area. The transaction was completed the next day and he took the money to the hospital.

The surgery was successful and she lived several more years in comfort and they were able to spend their time marveling at the miracles and blessings God had sent their way. She is gone now and he spends time on his farm. Everyday he drives by the strip of land he sold and thanks God for the blessing.

As he told me the story, I found myself choked up and unable to respond. It was one of the most beautiful stories I had ever heard. God's love and care is boundless and shows itself in so many remarkable and special ways. Thank you, my friend, for sharing your story with me.

The Family Angel

As I surfaced, she cried out in desperation, "I can't find Jordan." I dove down to the bottom, in panic, and looked through the weeds, brush, and in the rocks, but came up empty-handed and out of breath. I took a quick breath and went down again to continue my wild search for my youngest son who could not swim. This time my search included an inconsolable fear that I was too late. I clawed through the murk, mud, and darkness reaching out to feel a human form, my 3 year old son. But I search in vain and felt an impending despondency that threatened to rule my every being.

Angels do come in different forms at different times and can be found within your own family. In our case, our oldest son became an angel at a crucial time. We decided to vacation at a camp and experience the outdoors--hiking, sightseeing, swimming, and perhaps even some canoeing. Although experienced in boating and comfortable in the water, I have spent very little time in a canoe and was not entirely at ease with the process of getting in and out of a canoe.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed our time of hiking and playing outdoors and it became time for all of us to enjoy a little canoe trip down the small river. I steadied the canoe and the family got in as I held the side of it. I recall the words from 9 year old son, Jacob, as he reminded us to put on a life jacket. I confidently stated we could put the life jackets on once we were all settled in the canoe. Fortunately, Jacob decided to go ahead and place the jacket around his body. The rest of the family gently got in the canoe and it was my turn.

I stepped in the canoe the way I normally get in a boat, but the canoe began to shake and weave and within seconds flipped over and everyone ended up in the water. As I fell in the water, it occurred to me that the small river was in fact deep with fast moving water beneath the surface. As quickly as possible, I surfaced and my wife who was having a little trouble staying afloat said, "I can't find Jordan." Jordan was about 3 years old at the time and had not learned how to swim.

Upon my second return to the surface as my lungs and heart neared the breaking point, I saw our oldest son, Jacob, holding Jordan by his arms and paddling toward the bank. Jacob had seen the need, grabbed Jordan, saved his life and took him to land where the rest of the family had safely arrived moments earlier.

I learned many lessons that day including hold onto your glasses when you go under water, put on life jackets before entering the canoe, enter the canoe from the bow not the side, and most of all be grateful for the times when an angel enters the scene in the form of a person. Thank you, Jacob, for being you.

Amaranthine Angels

My position on angels and their existence was asked of me the other day. I answered that I believed in them but did not understand them. Being of a somewhat cautious, suspicious nature with leanings toward cynicism, believing in angels does not come lightly nor easily to me; yet there are events that seem to be undeniably guided by unseen forces and shaped by mystery and magic that is difficult to label and impossible to define. Acknowledging such forces that operate outside the realm of the sensing reality that encompasses our perception is antithetical to the power philosophy we love to embrace. In other words, we like to think we are in control of all facets of our life. But in truth, we are not. There are simply too many unexplained events that demonstrate how little control we actually have.

This does not mean that we are devoid of free will or that the concept of choice and human experience is all predetermined, but it does mean that overt and external circumstances cannot always be planned or ordered in advance. It has been said that we are shaped by events and that our reactions define our character and that life happens when we are making other plans. Be that as it may, superior minds have dealt with the concept of free will without any kind of conclusion and it is my contention that our daily activities belong to us to an extent but our destiny is not our own. I am comfortable in this hybrid zone of free will and choice versus predeterminacy and lack of free will. A theologian (which I am not) would say it is Arminianism versus Calvinism. For me, a utilitarian (at least for now until I find another term to describe my oddly eclectic philosophy of the world), I prefer to accept those strange but joyous events as being glorious yet sporadic divergences exhibited and practiced by angels with some sort of higher functional and pragmatic application.

We, the Tucker family, have kept them busy over the years, maybe even to an exhaustive level. One rather dramatic incident occurred when our son Joel, autistic since birth, was 3 years old. He was dropped off at a friend's house while my wife, a viola player, was at a rehearsal. The house was a new construction of two stories including a children's game room on the 2nd story. Because of fire code, windows are required to be easily opened from the inside. Unfortunately, this means that a firm push on any window will result in that window opening. As the children were playing, Joel pushed against the window, which caused it to open, and he went falling from the window all the way to the ground 2 stories below.

All the children and neighbors heard the cry for help and rushed outside only to see Joel lying on the ground crying. Because of the potential disaster, everyone was afraid to move him for fear of adding problems to any broken bones. Clairissa coincidentally drove up a few minutes later, saw the crowd gathered and asked what was wrong. Upon hearing her voice, Joel got up and ran, yes ran, to her sobbing. She embraced him and in a broken voice, the owner of the home said tearfully he had fallen from the 2nd story window. Clairissa immediately put him in the car and took him to the hospital for x-rays. Aside from a scratch on the back from the window sill, there were no other injuries. He was not hurt at all and within a short time was back to being his same rambunctious self.

As I reflect on this incident, I remain convinced that an angel's hand gently lowered Joel to the ground and offered him protection and comfort. He is surrounded by angels who often have to work diligently to keep him safe from harm. And that is why I believe in angels. I do not understand them, I cannot see them, I do not know if there are many or few of them, or whether they are large or small, male or female, or anything about them, but I am comforted to know that they watch out for Joel. We will do our part to keep them from having to work too hard, but in those rare cases, I appreciate their willingness to step in. I do know this, they are timeless, eternal, ever present, and amaranthine with a beautiful forever quality that defies explanation.

Music--A Human Need, Pt. IV

We continue our journey with the conclusion that music deserves its rightful place in the curriculum standing proudly and boldly beside all other subjects. In our justification, we have established: 1) the human need for music, 2) the comparison to other subjects, 3) the academic discipline of musical knowledge, and now we will discuss emotion and economics.

Addressing the emotional benefits of music is difficult due to its inherent subjectivity and personal abstract properties. When we discuss emotions, we tend to relegate the discussion to our own selfish inclinations of reactions rather than attempting to deal with emotions in a broader, collective sense. But rather than trying to separate the two, let us assume that individual emotions can be transferred to group emotions. The idea being that the way a person reacts to a certain sound would be at least similar to how many people react to the same sound. This makes music and the study of emotions to be market driven to an extent. An unwanted sound would not be sought after and therefore would have no consumer interest; whereas, a desirable sound is embraced by the collective whole and takes on a level of mass interest.

This ultimately makes music, just like any other endeavor, to fall into the age old theory of supply and demand. Let us look at a specific example: the serpent--a defunct musical instrument from the Renaissance period. Although it has made a revival of sorts in the past few years, for the most part this instrument did not withstand the test of time. Time did not embrace it and the people did not demand it. It was replaced with a superior instrument--the ophecleide which was eventually replaced by the modern tuba. And it stands to reason, that at some point in the future, another new and better instrument may indeed replace an instrument currently in use. This means that music making in its multitude of forms is pliant and dependent at least to an extent upon the masses that demand it.

But let us return to the emotional benefits. Although Plato may indeed have rejected music for his city due to unwanted emotions, in contrast Aristotle encouraged the study of music for the benefits of the complete person. Further, Aristotle believed that humans needed to purge themselves of emotions and that music provided an outlet for this catharsis. Catharis is process of cleansing of the emotions that pervade and threaten to overtake us in a multitude of ways. Much has been written about emotions and their role in the human psyche and it would require an excursis of considerable length to explain how music becomes not only the arm but in fact the repository of emotions. Even that, however, is not enough, for music also serves as the manifestation and voice (often literally) for the individual disposition that make up who we are and who we can be. Music then is not only an outlet in its cathartic role, but is also a necessary instrument for the broadening and application of the human spirit.

I am often both chagrined and joyous at the tremendous amount of styles and types of music that exist on our planet in so many multifaceted ways. It is difficult to codify and then educate a topic that is infinite in its components and comprehensive in its delivery; but as music educators, that is the very thing we attempt to do. Then we apply the elements meaning and use that meaning to cleanse, charge, and communicate expression, feelings, and finally all those unspoken and misunderstood but certainly real and alive emotions.

The market, whether for better or worse, determines the value through the human response to the sound. In the end, while music may indeed be a natural occurrence and sound, no matter how it is organized may be inevitable, it is the response to the sound and to the music that gives it meaning. Globally, musical is universal and collective, far ranging with wide application. Individually, music is personal and intimate, with benefits for the spirit and the soul. Music makes us weep, makes us laugh, makes us angry, joyful, elated, meditative, aggressive, passive, and music makes us who we are and who we want to be. We may not always treat it right, and we may not always understand it, but thanks be to God for the existence of music.

Music--A Human Need, Pt. III

In Part I, we discovered how sound exists in nature, how sound articulates into music, and how humans need music for existence. In Part II, we discussed the role and challenge of music in the curriculum as compared to other subjects. Now let us deal with why music should be in the curriculum.

As a basic human need, music is not quite as necessary as food, clothing, shelter. Little argument there for sure. Yet, as has been established, it is still a vital human need and a regular part of everyday life. But college curricula does not educate the basic human needs. There are no classes on building houses, or cooking, or making clothes. Those skills are acquired through practice and perhaps through some sort of craft oriented class. The college curriculum may allude to the skills needed for successful farming or the economics of the clothing industry, or maybe the ecological conundrum of shelter or perhaps the architectural properties of buildings, but a person attends college to develop his mind and sharpen his thinking skills.

So if music is considered a human need and all needs are skill driven, then music should in fact not be a part of the city (excuse the Platonic reference; Plato recommended that artisans not be included in the city since they generally brought out unwanted emotions and emotions do not have a place in cultured society!). Music, then does not need nor deserve scholarship or cognition, but rather requires craft development and perhaps apprenticeship with the goal being acquired skills to serve the greater societal demands for music. And, whether good or bad, this is in fact true of music. It does use skill and craft and does require practice and experiential application.

Based on music as purely a craft that requires skill and practice, music is certainly worthwhile but probably not meritable as having a valued place in the college curriculum. This makes music similar to auto mechanics or home building or cooking or gardening. All great subjects and all certainly necessary and even special endeavors, but none of which is normally found as programs of study in colleges and universities. But does this really define music? Is this all it requires? Of course not.

Cognition, scholarship, and discernment are some of the goals of the college curriculum and we, as teachers, like to teach students to think and give them the tools to make their own decisions. Many of those decisions involve career choices and career training to an extent. Recall that education is a process of moving from the concrete to abstract. As already established, music is a human need, and is also an abstract art, but in many ways, music is an objective art form as well. In a concrete form, music is a sensing experience similar to taste or sight, and in addition, written music, like the written word, is a concrete, visual application of sound. The sense of sound identifies music objectively and tangibly and gives it a concrete image that includes the human element of performance. While this sensory requirement of music certainly is part of the picture, that alone does not move it easily into a higher role worthy of study.

Because music is its own unique language, it requires deliberate systematic learning to speak and write using symbolic notation. This means that music, like Math or English, is a layering of knowledge that builds upon itself. For example, in music theory, beginning with a Schenkerian theoretical practice for analysis of a Beethoven symphony, skips too many steps for success to occur. We, therefore, begin with the basics of notes and rhythms, and build the knowledge into a more complex and abstract formal structure for music.

While the study of theory is integral to music knowledge, so also is the study of Music History with its cross-discipline examination of culture, sociology, world history, psychology, and of course art. Taking music out of the area of skill alone and adding theory and history moves it easily into the college curriculum, similar to the study of science, math, or general history. Music requires skill and music requires knowledge and the need for knowledge demonstrates its rightful place in the education curriculum.We have arrived at our destination with the advent of theory and history. This should be enough, but in fact there is more--emotions and economics. We will consider these important traits later.

Hot Springs--A Literal View

We decided to take a short vacation to Arkansas where we stayed at DeGray State Park in a lodge right on the lake that allowed us to bathe visually in the sheer and glorious beauty of tall pine trees, and an abundance of water glistening with light from the sun as it gently touched every particle of water within its reach. It was a relaxing and enjoyable time.

On Sunday, we headed to Hot Springs National Park to experience the Hot Springs! A few days before, we had discussed the Hot Springs with Joel partly to get him excited about the upcoming event and partly to educate him about the park. Little did we know, however, that the park and the springs were actually a set of abandon broken down bathhouses near a charming spring that happened to be very warm but also appealing to touch. While there was definitely historical value in seeing the bathhouses, and I was somewhat curious as to who participated in the bathhouses and why, in the end, I was slightly disappointed that the park was not the kind of park I expected. But I was excited and encouraged to see the commitment and effort to restore the old bathhouses. The walk along the path conjured up anachronistic visions of people seeking hot baths, massages, and other valuable self-improvement healing methods. Best wishes to Hot Springs as it embraces the past and progresses forward in the future. This illustrious city obviously takes pride in reclaiming the glory of the bathhouses and blending the old with the new.

But about a week before the vacation, Joel did not seem thrilled as we talked about our upcoming trip. For two days I noticed an odd look on his face that I could not seem to decipher. This was hard to understand since Joel normally loves to swim. Finally, the night before we left, I mentioned to Joel that he did not seem excited about the Hot Springs, and he once again got a nervous look on his face. After several minutes, he asked me if the springs would hurt? I said no and he proceeded to ask me how they heat the coils! Suddenly it hit me that Joel was imagining springs as in coils. Maybe he visualized lying down on a hot set of bed springs.

Joel takes things literally and visualizes the literal interpretation of what he hears. I smiled with him and explained that a spring comes from the ground and is made of warm water. He then got excited and asked me several questions about the water. His initial confusion led to a special moment of learning and love as I explained about rainfall, water tables, rivers, lakes, and springs and God's gift of water. We also discussed how words can often mean more than one thing and that context can usually help us define the meaning of words.

As many things in my fatherhood with Joel, it was a special time--touching in many ways, revealing in some, and mostly charming in that it reminded me not to assume that Joel hears what we think he hears. Even with the many challenges we face teaching Joel, the special moments far outweigh the difficult ones.

Music--A Human Need, Pt. II

As we discovered earlier, music results from vibrations which cause sound, and, by my definition, music is simply sound whether organized or not. While we may prefer a certain systematized organization of sound for our music, and we may find aesthetic beauty in melody and harmony, it doesn't change the fact that all sound is music in one form or another. Since sound exists in nature and is further expanded by humans, it cannot be, nor would we want it to be, obliterated. It, then, becomes a human need by virtue of its omnipresence in the world.

But the question arises, how valid is the study of music for the school curriculum? To answer this requires an examination of what education is and how subjects are selected for further study.

The process of educating is to supply the necessary tools for improvement of life's situation. Education, in a nutshell, is moving from the known to the unknown and from the concrete to the abstract. We use a variety of experiences to teach people something new and special that will give them the knowledge for reaching beyond the obvious to the sublime. In the case of math, we begin simply with concrete examples--we all remember adding and subtracting apples--to multiplication and onward to calculus and further. Someone recognized the need for mathematical knowledge for improvement of the quality of life. So the study of math becomes a standard subject in schools and for the educational process. While discussion continues over how to teach math and how much is needed, little discussion takes place over its worth in the curriculum. The difference is that math (although advanced math is flexible and creative) is quantifiable. It is easily assessed and easily measured. It is black and white, right or wrong, and objective.

While curriculum in schools tends to be reactive to societal trends (take the recent position in obesity studies at a major university as an example), there are some subjects that remain timeless and always required such as English, History, and basic Science. Knowledge of these subjects is expected and will not change. These subjects are necessary and valuable in educating the whole person, and therefore are needed in the curriculum at all ages. Like music, these subjects cannot be abolished and they exist in the world in a multitude of forms. They are a human need.

But what makes the subject of Music different from Math or English? Is it the subjectivity or cross-disciplinary traits of music--since music involves some math, science, history, and language--or is it the aptitude factor that is admirable but equally frightening? Meaning that we wonder how it is that some seem to have a greater aptitude or talent level than others in regard to music? While an interest in history can propel and hasten a person to a comprehensive level that seems unusually gifted, it is still the interest not the aptitude that led to the knowledge.

Music, however, requires interest, knowledge, and unfortunately for the discipline, at least to an extent, aptitude. At this point, one could and should argue that aptitude without interest leads to limited results and that interest in music without aptitude is a prescription for mediocrity (although, in my mind, mediocre music making is preferable over no music making, and in fact, is why music is the discipline for everyone), although mediocrity is a subjective judgment at best. Music, as a subject may suffer from the odd psychological difficulty of understanding how and why some are talented and others are not. Since we have trouble academically describing talent, and have trouble applying scholarship to aptitude, it becomes easier to simply reject it. Further adding to this challenge is that there are countless examples of unusual aptitude without any kind of formal training. This then brings to mind the talent question--is talented educated or natural? But that is an off-shoot discussion for another time.

The question to be answered is why does music jockey for position in the curriculum when other subjects do not? Because ultimately, no matter how much objectivity we may apply to the study of music, the end result moves from the cognitive to the emotional. This makes music's benefits primarily intrinsic and difficult to measure. Does this truth then demand music's extraction from the educational process or does it prove its inherent worth? Let's discuss this further in the next section.

Music--A Human Need Pt. 1

Music, I posture, is a human need. We have to have it in some form or another. Because it exists naturally around us and because music is an extension of vibration and because vibration demonstrates the energy of matter in motion, music is a practical result of external stimuli that modulates smoothly into a metaphysical art. In other words, music exists apart from the human element but is improved (debatable) by human interference.

Now many would say that music is by definition "pretty sounds" or "organized noise" or filled with melody, rhythm, and harmony, or some might take a more personal approach and say that music reaches the intrinsic sublime of the human spirit and creatively or in some cases, dangerously, lifts the eidolon of man to another world. Of course, in many ways all this is true, but it does not tell the whole story for music has collective properties, personal properties, and a diversity that is difficult, and perhaps impossible, to label and categorize.

For me, music is all sound resulting from vibration. I like certain sounds more than others and I prefer an organization of the sound into a prescribed musical system, but I also recognize that all sound has musical properties. Now, before going further, I admit that such a broad definition is frightening to those who have narrowly placed music into a small box for personal pleasure. In this box, most people open it and take out that which appeals to their own taste. While I begrudgingly respect this myopic view of music, I myself cannot abide by such a tiny, prejudicial view of what music is and or what music should be. So I widen my scope to include all of sound as being musical.

Imagine for a moment, a world without any sound. Imagine the complete absence of sound in our society. How long would we last before sound crept in, before sound invaded silence, before we begged for the vibrations to create noise? Even a person who is hearing challenged participates in internal sound and is aware of vibrations. John Cage, the iconoclastic experimental composer of the 20th century, in his effort to experience zero sound, discovered that his own blood and heart had sound. We cannot get rid of vibrations, we cannot get rid of sound, and we cannot get rid of music. We may reject the appeal of particular sounds, and may even seek to stop particular sounds and in particular stop certain vibrations, but we cannot eradicate sound from the world. It occurs beautifully (forgive the descriptive adjective for now!) in the birds. It occurs violently in the coyotes. It occurs tenderly in the wind blowing through the trees, and occurs intermittently in the crickets as they chirp their aria at night. The great philosopher Schopenhauer said, “the phenomenal world, or nature, and music [are] as two different expressions of the same thing.”

The natural musical phenomenon--music in the broad sense of sound--that results from vibration and occurs in everyday life whether man-manipulated or through entirely natural means, cannot be avoided and is in fact, both covertly and overtly, embraced in our culture, not as means to specific product, but rather as an intrinsic psychological and emotional requirement. In other words, we need music. We may not be consciously aware of this need, but it is there. This cannot be denied.

The Altered State of Thumbness

When I awoke, I was a thumb. This condition was unusual of course, but even more unusual in that I was not a normal thumb. I was unattached, unattractive, and non-functioning. I wanted to be a person again but instead was a thumb--stubby, round, wrinkled in spots, and limited. I was old, ugly, effete, and walked in a galumph style not unlike a wounded tortoise. My senses were in tact to an extent and, sadly, my mental faculties were keen as ever, although I felt them diminishing quickly, but my reaction time was slow due to the physical impulses being stark and unrefined.

When I looked in the mirror, I almost blended in with the mirror in a doleful and colorless countenance, bland and dull and weathered, with a gray-like hue similar to an old discarded hat left outside for centuries. When I was a human, I was concerned with looking good and smelling nice, but as a thumb I realized that I was odorless. I smelled neither good nor bad. For the first time in my life, I desired to smell bad for to have an odor was to exist. And to have a pungence, whether good or bad, gave me a purpose--to improve it. But as a thumb, I had no odor for which to direct my attentions. I vowed to get rid of all cologne and wryly wondered why I had ever bought it in the first place.

At first I was somewhat hopeful since the thumb generally serves a great need on the human hand. The thumb normally aids in picking things up, typing the space bar, gripping items, hitching a ride, pushing on small items, and many other useful skills. On the surface, being a thumb is not a bad existence; except, in my case, I was unattached. The benefits of being a thumb are tremendous provided the thumb is connected to the hand. The fingers depend on the thumb and the thumb needs the fingers. They comprise a team of five that can accomplish amazing things when working together, but without each other, they individually have virtually nothing. As I viewed the situation, I realized that without being connected to anything, I was virtually and in reality nothing.

But not all was in vain in that I was not a typical thumb. I had eyes, ears, arms, and legs, but no mouth. I could think as a person but could only act as a thumb. My state of nothingness, however, was not all that unique I realized, having lived for years without the knowledge that some other people around me were thumbs as well. Many thumbs, formerly humans, were walking around in a state of non-being. I found myself nodding at them, waving at them, and acknowledging them in that expected manner that thumbs without mouths normally acknowledge them. They were plentiful. Why had I not seen this before?

I wanted to know what led to their thumbness for to discover the root of their transformation might be the answer to returning to a human state. When we recognize the cause of our problems, it is a then a short step to dissolving those problems. Why are we thumbs? What can be done? Are we destined to live our lives as thumbs, accomplishing very little, and being very insignificant, having little purpose, receiving no recognition, and having little connection to the very world in which we reside? Strangely, while these thoughts invaded my cognition, I was not emotionally engaged in them. Instead, I became objective and sterile in my thinking which in many ways was more frightening than my physical state. In short, I didn't care about anything and was comfortable being a thumb. I didn't learn, I didn't grow, I didn't respond, I didn't.

Since I couldn't talk (for want of a mouth), my thoughts made no difference. On the one hand, I was unable to harm but also unable to impart anything. I could write but saw no need since a thumb should have no reason for writing. My purpose was to be a thumb without fingers, and thumb without fingers is purposeless thereby resulting in a void, a psychological black hole. I had a physical appearance and filled space, I was not invisible, but was obviously transparent since no one, not even other thumbs, acknowledged my existence. And, sadly, it was a satisfactory life--nary a care in the world.

Yet, in the deepest recesses of my mind, I sought to escape the complacency and apathy that threatened to rule my every step. I begged for release from my captured nothingness and decided to wage a war against my desire to be satisfied with my existence as a thumb. Superficially, being a thumb was easy and nondescript and benignant without joy or sorrow. Since I was no longer a human, I had no need for those kind of emotions. They were unnecessary and not a part of our lives as thumbs. Intrinsically, however, I wanted more. I wanted to rise out of my cave of shadows and into the world of feelings, fear, joy, anger, love, and subjectivity. But how?

I continued my hopeless trek through time as a thumb without a purpose and without any kind of meaning. The other thumbs assumed that I, like them, was contented and had purged myself of the desire for change or even improvement. But little did they know I was committed to returning to my human state. It would happen and only I could make it happen. I would care once again.

Suddenly, without any kind of announcement or preparation, I witnessed the event that would return me back to a human state. I saw an old disheveled thumb shaking in the gutter of a forlorn, little used street. I walked over to him and sense something familiar about him. Maybe it was his mannerism, or maybe it was the strange whorls in the center, or maybe I so desperately needed something from the past, my imagination sought him out. Whatever the case, I knew him from before my thumbness. I also knew without a doubt he was crying for me and not himself. He was a lost cause but he didn't want me to be the same. I cannot say who he was only that I knew him. My memories were abandoning me quickly, but at the same time, I knew he was someone from my past.

As I saw his despair, I vowed it wouldn't happen to me. I felt his compassion for my plight and his concern lifted me out of my state. I experienced a rushing whirlwind of psychological spinning as I was hurtled through space and eventually back to my own previous existence. I woke up in a sweat, and breathing hard, I ran to the mirror and saw the human me. With a smile, a spring, and an optimism, I walked among the other humans proudly and honorably. Occasionally, however, I will stop and glance at my thumb, glad I have it and glad that is not all I have!