How is it that we seek peripheries in order to find the center?

Life is hard. We draw the scarf tight around our heads, fold close our arms, and struggle against the windy howls: responsibilities, relationships, survival, and the pleasure we stack against the darkness. Few observe the landscape or feel the stony ground; fewer let the streams' whispers trickle the ears.

I have seen the cosmos in the reflection of a pool. I have seen the end of the world, and those who stand against it. I have seen the fall, and traced its descent. I have come back running.

But always, though fire, stone, or slicking mire lay before me, I hear the soft, patient voice of crystal waters. For wherever I roam, they gently whisper, "I love you."

I steel myself. Shrunken peels wobble in the breeze. A gust, a fall, and all is clean.

"You are a strong one," he said.

Am I a stone in the forest, my rough crags filled with lichen, slumping, immovable? Does the sedentary rock of the soul, with its layers and layers of dirt and bone, lay compressed: impermeable, alone?

In the forest, a tree leans in the arms of its companion and moans deeply. They sway in the wind together. Is this sorrow? Or desire?

Sometimes, I want to be a tree: first a sapling, shooting down playful roots which dance their deep, entangled song. Then, branches bud, and leaves spread. I embrace the sun and wind, the rain, the moon, and evening stars. On cool, silver nights, the toads sing baritone to the gentle rustle of my drowsy limbs and leaves.

Near my home, across a stream and up a hill, well beyond the footworn path, a flat boulder sits beneath an aging tree. I could lay there all day long. And yet the counsel of the forest is not toward immobility. The tree does not embrace the Sun just out of love. The warmth, the breeze, the spring melodies of birds and waterways, the scurried footfalls of tiny friends: these are the sounds of progress and the causes of life. The sun is needed for life. The streams are needed for life. The storms are needed for life. The tree is needed for life. Even the stone is needed for life.

And the poet? He too is needed for life. So standing up at last, he strides back from the forest to the human world, where he will try to cling to solid ground, stand tall, reach out, make shade, and embrace the sky.

Can you blame me for being serious about life when my birthday falls on the anniversary of the Chernobyl disaster? It occurred (almost to the hour) three years after my birth. Every one of my birthdays is a sobering reminder of the full reality of the human experience: such beauty, and such pain.

But it is no use playing chess with Death. I use my will, choose life, and reject its opposite: nothingness.

This Sunday, I enter the woods-- a time for prayer, meditation, and study.

I have been longing for this as long as I can remember. Too bad it will only be a week.

As you know, fiction is usually not my habit, but you may appreciate the following paragraph I wrote to illustrate the difference between reporting detail and storytelling:

A good DM fills in the details, makes the world more real. But you don't want a DM who is like those crazy minimalist adventure games:

That just won't do. Something like this would be much better:

(click to enlarge)

For the last 2.5 years, I have been threatening to use Tinderbox, from Eastgate Systems, to manage a PHP database-driven website. This site will be the first example. If my client chooses to use the Tinderbox solution, he will be able to manage the regular site's content -- blogs, information, etc...-- and the online store from the same easy interface.

How does it work? Simple. I created a template which allows Tinderbox to export the product lists to a PHP hash of objects. This is my database. To display the store, the site just loads the hash and builds the pages. A hack? Sure. But this is a read-only database. I don't need anything fancy. By using Tinderbox, I saved time and made my web app more reliable:

• I didn't have to write an administration tool. Tinderbox works fine.
• Without an RDMS, I have one less point of failure.
• Since I talk to Paypal, I didn't need code to process credit cards.

This whole solution took about 10 hours to develop. Since I used Tinderbox, most of my work went into user interface design rather than backend code.

This year, the St. John's College Choir is audio-streaming a number of services leading up to Holy Week and Easter. This means that people all over the world can now hear their beautiful harmonies.

• Program for: A Meditation on the Passion
• Listen online to: A Meditation on the Passion

I have a particular appreciation for the way they combine readings with music in these meditative services; their music also ranges widely in period and style. I like this technique. Overly-similar style can put worshippers into a mental lull. By keeping a consistent theme while changing style, the service centers listeners' thoughts on the message and worship.

Now that I am learning Latin, motets such as Purcell's "Jehova, quam multi sunt" bear greater significance for me. The Poulenc pieces -- "Timor et tremor" and "Vinea mea electa" -- were also quite good. Until this point, I had only heard or played brass arrangements of his music.

From the readings:

During the Easter time, I find that there is no single attitude or response which can adequately summarize the fullness of Christ's gift of Himself, its significance to the world, and His impact on my own life. This, I think, is one reason why people have used so many creative forms and media to express a spiritual reality which cannot easily be portrayed.

If I didn't have a respect for tradition and art, I could become cynical. Certainly, the truest depiction of the life of Christ does not reside in the Broadway-style play I saw Monday night. That evening, upper middle-class Americans unveilled quality amateur skill in acting, singing, and choreography, as they depicted people who were changed by Christ --smiling, laughing, crying, and dancing for joy. I was struck by the incongruity of rich people acting the part of beggars and prisoners so they could explain the gospel to other rich people.

And yet the performance moved me, as do the recordings from St. John's. But I, not unlike Judas, sometimes wonder if our worship would be better spent among the condemned, the rejected, the poor, than in expensive buildings, with performances which demand great preparation from those who participate. As George Herbert, onetime orator of Cambridge, noted:

Andrew Marvell expresses a similar view in "The Coronet." And yet the performances move me. And these poems themselves are also art.

This post defines a question; the answer is more involved than can be answered in a single post. But I feel compelled to describe my own working hypothesis on the topic of remembering Christ during Easter:

• We have been given one sure way to remember Christ's story. It is not elaborate, nor is it intrinsically magical. Its simplicity gives it power and universality. The Eucharist, with its emphases on death, nourishment, sharing, merriment, solemnity, personal sin, universal salvation, and new life, converges much of the theological palette into a single meal. It should be the centerpiece of our Easter celebration.
• Worship to God is never in vain, and Beauty smiles when people use their best talents for worship.
• Christ cared about the needy, condemned, and rejected. We worship Him when we care for those around us, and when we go to places where those around us need care. In fact, the best depictions of Christ go beyond detail that can be captured in skilled brushstrokes or the shivery tingle of a well-balanced Picardy third. The best depictions of Christ come from those who know and love Him so well, that we glimpse His spirit in their lives.

Can you imagine the Olympic games without ceremony? The anthems, fireworks, and flags are also for the athletes. Celebration and pomp are never culminations. They spur us onward.

This Easter season has certainly done so for me. I trust that your own reflection and rejoicing also encourage you to run the race you have been given, that you will soon find yourself among the condemned and rejected, not with the tears of desolatated hope or glances of askance, but with the tears of love, and with Christlike enthusiasm and resolve for the race ahead.

One of the other PA/Delaware Rhodes Finalists (and winner of the Marshall Scholarship), Shadi Hamid recently started to blog at DemocracyArsenal. I'm intrigued by the site's name, since it's sponsored by a group called the "Security and Peace Initiative."

I have not thoroughly investigated their efforts yet, but I expect them to be intelligent and considerate, qualities I noted in Shadi's collected, incisive manner.

Absolutely right, Mark. But you're wrong. But you're right.

Ak.

I think Mark could ask a better question. In my experience as a software developer and a marketer, I have realized that quality deliverables are necessary. But I have also noticed that marketing does much more than get people to buy. Marketing exerts a profound influence on the nature of people's interaction with your deliverables.

Marketing defines the consumer. But the effect of marketing doesn't stop there. Because it guides expectations, it also frames the consumer experience. Since the engineers listen to consumer requests and complaints, and since marketing selects and influences consumers, marketing also has a profound effect on the engineers. In turn, the engineers' work must influence the marketers. All good organizations need a strong feedback loop of this sort as well as outliers who broaden perspectives and keep the organization from spiraling inward, out of control.

I have written this from a marketing perspective. A reciprocal, engineer-centric description could also be written.

I have not mentioned designers. This is intentional. Mark's dichotomy of engineers and marketers is pretty standard. But it's not the only way to slice the job descriptions. Good designers are both the engineer and the marketer. They are interested in building things that work well, but they are also aware of the human factors. They create the systems and frame the experience at the same time.

This should be obvious.

As I've noted before, this also applies to architectural design. Mark even wrote an article about this.

In my mind, Mark is a very good example of this sort of person. In fact, his ideas led me down this path myself. His own Tekka manifesto includes this sentiment:

Optional digressions for nitpickers and geeks:

(clearly, the differences and similarities in the job descriptions are not so tidy. But job descriptions are never tidy. They're round holes we try to fit onto things which may not have pegs. I reiterate: if you define the consumers and frame the experience, you are bound to have a profound impact on the users, the engineers, and the future of your organizations. Long live the marketers. May they be honest. May they listen to the engineers. Long live the engineers. May they build good things, but which also are usefully beautiful. Long live the designers. May they continue to confuse us by not fitting into any categories we devise.) (note: I have not read Seth Godin, to whom Mark is responding, mostly because I can't find a transcript of his talk at Google)

Addendum: I just watched part of Seth's talk. I can see why Mark would respond the way he did. Now, Mark must have missed the part where Seth contrasted MinuteMaid and Google and noted that Google's primary necessity is having good technology. But Seth is wrong about the web. He talks about cat food and juice and computer hardware. He doesn't seem to understand the world of web services. Loyalty is fickle, and information spreads rapidly. If there is a really well-engineered, useful product, people will find it in less time than it took Seth to finish his speech. Online, it's just as easy to give someone the product as it is to tell them about it. This is an important distinction.

Furthermore, Godin totally misses his own point: marketing on the web is about users picking things that work for them, not about companies teaching users what they ought to buy. The most depressing part of this is that Seth's slide about marketing as teaching comes right after his slide about personalization. Sigh.

My generation believes in nuclear weapons like it believes in God.

The idea that humans could destroy all life within a few minutes seems so implausible, so far-off. And yet, during Christmastime 8 years ago, the French detonated 6 nuclear bombs in the South Pacific. As recently as 1998, India and Pakistan together detonated11 nuclear weapons underground.

From "God's Grandeur," by Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Update: I should play fair and include the final stanza. Does it matter to you that Hopkins died a dejected man, deeply bitter about how his own life played out? Does it matter that I have a neat explanation which allows me to believe half of the following stanza?

What can I say?

All Your Memes are belong to us!

Last semester, Ihad the good fortune and pleasure to perform the Tenor recorder with the Elizabethtown College Early Music Consort. Aside from providing incidental music for numerous events on campus, we played in the college's performance of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. It was a lot of fun up in the stage's balcony. In the play, the actors interact with the musicians; while we didn't have speaking parts, we were truly part of the production.

One of our signature pieces was "Pastyme with Good Companie," reputed to be written by England's King Henry VIII himself. Last night, on a whim, I opened up Garageband, and recorded it on my trumpet: Pastyme with Good Companie.

I think I am in love. And I do not think it ill befits my good mistress Trumpet to have so cordially welcomed such a noble Recorder as the Tenor into our cheerful company, to take a place akin to that most beloved friend Guitar in service to my occasional fancies.

In regards to that instrument, I present the following links to recordings and ensembles which I have thoroughly enjoyed.

Fontanella is a marvelous Recorder Quintet. Their tight harmonies and clear tone make this much maligned instrument truly sing. You can listen to recordings on their site.

The Dionysius Consort performs marvelous Renaissance recorder music. Take the time to listen to some of their skilled yet deeply-expressive period performances. Virtuosic quality.

I also like the Flanders Recorder Quartet. They exhibit a sense of talent and musical professionalism which isn't often ascribed to such ensembles in the US. Their samples show the quality of their cohesive musical performances. They have some great vocalists. And they play equally with clear, sweet vim and strong feeling. Truly beautiful.

The Flautadors strike a strong impression, and people seem to love them, but I can't find any audio samples.

Flauto Dolce is a fine Swedish recorder group. Their website contains an extensive list of flawless performances of traditional recorder music.

The Hampshire Recorder Sinfonia is a massive group of 20-30 recorder musicians. They manage to stir up a full sound not found in smaller ensembles, while still staying rather tight. Their extensive Recordings page lists equally-extensive music, from Sousa to Mussorgsky to Elgar to Handel.to someone more expected, like William Byrd.

England has a National Recorder Youth Orchestra. I wish I could hear them online.

Royal Wind Music, based in the Netherlands, looks very smart, young, and modern. They have a true sense of flair, and their vocals are said to be as astounding as the rest of their music. Unfortunately, I can find no excerpts online.

Denmark also seems to be the home of many good recorder artists. Sirena is amazing. They perform stunning, cutting edge music on recorder, but they also excel at more traditional pieces. And sometimes, they tie the two together. As one writer remarked, "How artistic they are, these four girls, and with a vengeance!"

The Early Music Chicago site lists many fine performances of Renaissance music, including recorders. They have a great live recording of one of my favorite songs, "Tobacco is like Love."

Of course, I should mention the artists of Magnatune, my favorite music label. There's the fabulous Farallon Recorder Quartet, and make sure you don't miss Da Camera, which is new to me. Remember to run a search for "Recorder." DaCamera performs spirited renditions of Carolan's Concerto, John Come Kiss Me Now, and other works of recorder, harpsichord, and strings. I have, of course, always enjoyed Farallon's faithful, fun renditions of Renaissance and Baroque music.

Magnatune is the original download-and-buy music label. They treat their artists fairly. They are not evil, to artists or to customers.

I could hardly mention Magnatune without mentioning Edward Martin, Lutenist extraordinaire. His album, "Virtues and Vices," is a lot of fun. Tracks like "Can She Excuse May Wrongs with Virtue's Cloak?" are oh so Renaissance. I much prefer his rendition of "Tobacco is Like Love," by Tobias Hume.

Fab.

And while I'm linking to outstanding musical groups, make sure you check out The Gentlemen of St. John's. "Nine out of ten angels recommend it."

And I can't believe I didn't go through a post on Renaissance music without actually linking to any. Here's the SCA's marvelous resource and also a link to the folk music transcriptions of retired computer music pioneer Eric Foxley.

Last week, we obtained copies of Giant's somewhat-recent organic cereal in the Nature's Promise brand line. It's clearly a competitor to Kashi's line of marvelous organic foods.

It's not quite the same, but I like it. The Nature's Promise soy products are also quite good. If you're a first time soy drinker, I highly suggest their "vanilla" flavored soy milk. The twinge of vanilla blends nicely with the fresh, green scent of the soy to make a beverage which is cool and light.

But I must admit. Good friends are unparalleled.

No matter how hard I try, how much effort I expend, there always seems to be someone there to point out how I am inadequate, how my efforts are misdirected, how my talents are limited, and how I don't spend enough time on (x).

On days like this, I know they're right.

"But I use my will, choose life, and reject its opposite, nothingness.

Where does the power come from, to see the race to the end? From within.

Update: I had trouble finding the second half of the quote from the movie. But I finally found the full quote: