It's cold here in Chicagoland. In fact, the last time I checked, it was snowing. Perhaps Father Winter has forgotten that April is a mere week away? Seriously, now. Someone needs to please go remind him. At this point, his stay here in the midwest has passed ridiculousness and driven straight into pure madness.
I will be the first to admit: it's hard not to feel a little down. Somber might be a more adequate descriptor of my mood this morning. I am trying not to mope around the office. Trying really hard, guys. Really hard. But.I.just.can't.help.it.
Do you blame me?*
All this to say: some songs are just not cutting it. For example: this song is great. But it makes me think of sunshine, and summer, and rainbows, and butterflies. And that, my friends, leaves me a bit cranky.
Consequently, my original thoughts for this second m-cubed post have flown out the window** I am going to save it for another day. Perhaps one filled with sunshine and warmth. Because, at that point, you will probably need a soundtrack to accompany your happy dance. And trust me. I will have some songs for you.
But because the weather refuses to cooperate, I am modifying my song choices. So. Without further ado: a few somber songs to go along with winter's worn out welcome. Call them lugubrious, if you will. Ok. No. Not really. These songs have actually been helping me this morning. I hope they do the same for you... And don't worry. I do believe there is hope in this grey, gloomy world! I just really liked that word.
*It's ok if you do... just know that we probably can't be friends during the months of November, December, January, Frebruary, March, and also some of April. If you are ok with that, then judge away.
** Along with all of the birds that have apparently flown back south... because they were smart enough to realize that the midwest is bonkers.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Music Mania Mon...erm... Wednesday
I want to start a tradition.
It's called Music Mania Monday.
Scratch that... let's try Monday Music Mania.
Ah. That's better.
Anyways. I would like to start it. So. I am going to start it*. I came up with the idea this weekend. It seems like a fantastic way to accomplish a few things that have been on my goal list for some time now:
- look at my blog a bit more than I currently do (which will perhaps prompt more writings?)
- find new music
- share said new music
Basically, my dear friends: Music is happiness and Mondays are, well, not. Let's combine the two to try and meet in the middle, shall we?
But then, ach!, our internet was down and things, well, kinda got away from me. And now it's Wednesday. And I can't quite figure out how to make 'music' alliterate with Wednesday. So I am not even going to try. I would apologize, but you had no idea this post was coming... so technically I am not late. AhHA!
I am not sure how many songs I will share. More than one but probably no more than five. To you, they may be new. To you, they may be old. To you, they may be the worst.songs.ever. But, haters gonna hate, I don't care. Because I am learning to be who I be and allow that to inform my identity. And as much as that last statement just rhymed, it also really hard to do. So this is one step towards living into the woman whom God has fashioned and trusting that it is good. And, finally, sharing that with my community.
So here we go. Music. Mania.
Numero uno:
Numero dos:
Numero tres:
*insert stern nod here
It's called Music Mania Monday.
Scratch that... let's try Monday Music Mania.
Ah. That's better.
Anyways. I would like to start it. So. I am going to start it*. I came up with the idea this weekend. It seems like a fantastic way to accomplish a few things that have been on my goal list for some time now:
- look at my blog a bit more than I currently do (which will perhaps prompt more writings?)
- find new music
- share said new music
Basically, my dear friends: Music is happiness and Mondays are, well, not. Let's combine the two to try and meet in the middle, shall we?
But then, ach!, our internet was down and things, well, kinda got away from me. And now it's Wednesday. And I can't quite figure out how to make 'music' alliterate with Wednesday. So I am not even going to try. I would apologize, but you had no idea this post was coming... so technically I am not late. AhHA!
I am not sure how many songs I will share. More than one but probably no more than five. To you, they may be new. To you, they may be old. To you, they may be the worst.songs.ever. But, haters gonna hate, I don't care. Because I am learning to be who I be and allow that to inform my identity. And as much as that last statement just rhymed, it also really hard to do. So this is one step towards living into the woman whom God has fashioned and trusting that it is good. And, finally, sharing that with my community.
So here we go. Music. Mania.
Numero uno:
Numero dos:
Numero tres:
*insert stern nod here
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Lessons
A list of 11, to remember ‘12.
1. When in doubt, add goat’s cheese. It will make any dish that much more gourmet-sounding. And make it seem like you know what you’re talking about. Even when you don’t. Also. Bacon is always (always) a good condiment for goat's cheese.
2. Never underestimate the beauty of a good walk. Be sure to relish the world around you, wherever your feet may take you. And. If you decide to bring a book along, don’t forget to look up every once in awhile.
3. There is nothing more soothing than a freshly french-pressed cup of coffee. Take the time, if you can, to watch the morning light reflect off its steam. It will make your day better. I promise.
(see what I did there?)
1. When in doubt, add goat’s cheese. It will make any dish that much more gourmet-sounding. And make it seem like you know what you’re talking about. Even when you don’t. Also. Bacon is always (always) a good condiment for goat's cheese.
2. Never underestimate the beauty of a good walk. Be sure to relish the world around you, wherever your feet may take you. And. If you decide to bring a book along, don’t forget to look up every once in awhile.
3. There is nothing more soothing than a freshly french-pressed cup of coffee. Take the time, if you can, to watch the morning light reflect off its steam. It will make your day better. I promise.
4. The poetry of others can act as surrogate expressions of that which you find you cannot articulate. In this vein, you may find their words impelling toward an understanding of your own depth and complexity. This is also true for music. Particularly anything written by Michael Giacchino.
5. To grow is to change. To grow up, then, requires change.... a lot, in fact. This will, of course, result in some growing pains. Thankfully, your community can act as rather adept stand-in for advil.
6. Often, what you really need is good ol’ fashion dance session. “Call Me Maybe” has never once been known to fail in this regard.
7. Mustard yellow is, hands down, the most remarkably beautiful color. It can be worn with anything. Especially bright blue pants.
8. Sometimes, you just have to bite the bullet and buy the dang piano.
9. Realize now that life is filled with vulgarity. It is why we needed Christ and why we need Him still. But. Please, oh please, don’t forget the truth of the Gospel. He has come. He is here. And He will come again. This truth can restore your hope. You idealism. Your romanticism.
10. You may be late to jump on that Ryan Adams train, but its better late than never.
11. Christ truly does play in ten thousand places. Our ability to see this truth can be found within the postures of life we construct. These must be formed through and on His grace, and His grace alone. Recognize, in humility, your propensities and their natural flaws. And, in response to this realization, ask the Lord for the energy to fight for better, rejoicing all the while that He desires to give you a new life.Friday, December 28, 2012
Les Miserables and Lessons in Advent Season
I grew up on Les Miz. I think I was about five years old the first time I heard “Castle on a Cloud” coming from the CD player above my Aunt Theresa’s desk. Perhaps it was only because I felt strong kinship with this girl who also believed in castles on clouds, but I was enamored from the beginning. I listened to the songs over and over again, minus of course, that one song about that one thing that was not really mentioned in the Manby household. My first live performance was at age 13 and, as I sat at in the front row of a small New York theater off Broadway, it took me until ‘Drink with Me’ in the second act to realize that I was silently breathing every word. Simply put, I was in love.
Now, before you get all impressed you should know one thing: it takes me a while to fully understand things. And, thus, fully appreciate them. To be fair, I am not sure the depth of Les Miserables can actually be grasped in the first viewing, or the second, or the third for that matter. And, because I grew up on it, I think in some ways it had become just Les Miz to me. It was that musical my family loved, that we sang on long car rides, that my dad cried to. I knew the story but I didn't fully understand.
It wasn't until my senior year of college, 16 years after my first exposure mind you, that I began to actually realize that the story was another telling of the Gospel. My roommate and dear friend had seen it for the first time while studying abroad the previous semester and we went together when it came to Chicago. Watching it with her reactions beside me was like seeing it afresh. For the first time, I began to see the grace and mercy infused behind the words of the Bishop and Jean Valjean. I saw the fall in Fantine’s demise. And I saw the world’s evil in Javert’s outlook. For the first time, after singing along for years, I began to listen to the words.
And now, Tom Hooper has taken his recently released rendition and hit me, plain and square, on the forehead. Sometimes you have to do that with me… I thank you, Tom. I think I may actually get it now.
Les Miserables is a story of grace, yes. It is a story of redemption. The gospel in the form of a French ex-con. But I am beginning to realize that it is also so much more. It captures, in a beautiful weaving of stories, lives, and relationships, the somewhat mystifying juxtaposition of heartache and hope that comes with a life living in, and waiting for, Christ. In doing so, I believe it also memorializes Advent season.
The movie didn't change from the musical that much. I was amazed, albeit grateful, at how true it was to the original vision, a vision that has been relatively and remarkably untouched since its debut in 1985. At the same time though, choosing film as the media to convey Hugo, Shonberg, and Boublil’s collective message allowed Hooper to provide his audiences with an experience dripping in such an acute intimacy that I found communion with the story, and its actors, almost* inevitable.
Consequently, I believe, the movie allows for a new dynamic somewhat lost in Broadway theaters: one of affinity, empathy, and relation. We see ourselves in characters so refreshingly brought into being in this new perspective and portrayal. We hear our own righteous anger in the frustration of prisoner 24601. We feel Fantine’s deep cries of loss collectively, if not personally. We hope right alongside those college aged revolutionaries, however naïve they were. And, lest we forget poor ‘Ponine’s plight, we all know what it feels like to experience unrequited love**. We have all hoped. We have all lost. The movie, with its intense angles and prolonged shots, conveys this paradox of life in an almost oppressive fashion. Christian or not, you cannot miss the undeniable stench of humanity diffusing throughout the entire film. So much so, that the movie can be a bit off putting. As one critic puts it: “By the grand finale, when tout le monde is waving the French tricolor in victory, you may instead be raising the white flag in exhausted defeat.”
I am not one to quickly avert Christian eyes from cultural mainstreams; I feel the dance between our calling as Christians and our responsibilities as cultured beings is much more intricate and complicated, but that is a story for another day. However, I believe this is an instance where Christians can and should claim a different interpretation. Because within that stench of humanity – the heart wrenching cries of Fantine, the broken hopes of Marius, the continued painful existence of the French poor - arose a sweeter story that we, as believers in a second Advent, must acknowledge, recognize, and proclaim. Things will be made right. This world, with all of its suffering, is not our home. To borrow Paul’s words, we are children of a promise who, while enduring that which He also endured, can live out of that promise and thus claim our earthly inheritance of peace and joy. Even within the hardest of times.
I have found it interesting that the film version of Les Miserables was released on Christmas. So many Les Miz fans were anxiously waiting for its arrival, their anticipation building as the time grew near, myself included. Is this starting to sound familiar? Perhaps it is the coincidental marriage of my newly found appreciations for the Advent attitude alongside the beautiful story line of Les Miz that produced such a overflowing of understanding for me. But, a brief survey of Facebook statuses is proving I am not the only one. Yay for the connectivity of social media!
I think Les Miserable’s allusion to the Gospel is incredibly powerful; I am not denying that fact. I am simply submitting that there may be even greater power in its beautiful acknowledgement of life’s blaring realities that so deeply coincide with its final proclamation of redemption and restoration. This was wonderfully characterized through incredible performances and artistry, brought to life in a more viable medium; for a girl who always lived in the clouds, this portrayal of life’s many paradoxes was tremendously powerful. Because, as I saw with such authenticity on the screen, we can really only know love with heartbreak. We only know hope with longing. We only know life with death. But our story does not end there. It should not. It cannot. We have a Second Advent on the horizon. For our King is coming to bring salvation into our suffering. A King, it should be added, who also experienced our suffering for our salvation. In Advent season, we remember Christ’s birth and anticipate His second coming. We proclaim, while waving the revolutionizing flag of our Gospel, that Freedom is waiting for us, in the same way we wait for it. Swords will be put away. Chains will be broken. Even the darkest night will end. The sun will rise.
Praise God.
* I say “almost” primarily because film critics were rather less than enthused with the numerous, and slightly exaggerated, close-up shots of the actors. I have to say that this is a critique with which I somewhat agree: you could pretty much count their pores. And it made me wonder, what if Anne had woken up with a massive zit on her nose the day they were supposed to shoot ‘I Dreamed a Dream’? What then?
** Confession… I have found that Eponine’s story to hit a wee bit too close to home over the years. I defiantly combat this affinity with a mantra along the lines of: 'unrequited love gets you killed, Ryn. Stop it.'
Now, before you get all impressed you should know one thing: it takes me a while to fully understand things. And, thus, fully appreciate them. To be fair, I am not sure the depth of Les Miserables can actually be grasped in the first viewing, or the second, or the third for that matter. And, because I grew up on it, I think in some ways it had become just Les Miz to me. It was that musical my family loved, that we sang on long car rides, that my dad cried to. I knew the story but I didn't fully understand.
It wasn't until my senior year of college, 16 years after my first exposure mind you, that I began to actually realize that the story was another telling of the Gospel. My roommate and dear friend had seen it for the first time while studying abroad the previous semester and we went together when it came to Chicago. Watching it with her reactions beside me was like seeing it afresh. For the first time, I began to see the grace and mercy infused behind the words of the Bishop and Jean Valjean. I saw the fall in Fantine’s demise. And I saw the world’s evil in Javert’s outlook. For the first time, after singing along for years, I began to listen to the words.
And now, Tom Hooper has taken his recently released rendition and hit me, plain and square, on the forehead. Sometimes you have to do that with me… I thank you, Tom. I think I may actually get it now.
Les Miserables is a story of grace, yes. It is a story of redemption. The gospel in the form of a French ex-con. But I am beginning to realize that it is also so much more. It captures, in a beautiful weaving of stories, lives, and relationships, the somewhat mystifying juxtaposition of heartache and hope that comes with a life living in, and waiting for, Christ. In doing so, I believe it also memorializes Advent season.
The movie didn't change from the musical that much. I was amazed, albeit grateful, at how true it was to the original vision, a vision that has been relatively and remarkably untouched since its debut in 1985. At the same time though, choosing film as the media to convey Hugo, Shonberg, and Boublil’s collective message allowed Hooper to provide his audiences with an experience dripping in such an acute intimacy that I found communion with the story, and its actors, almost* inevitable.
Consequently, I believe, the movie allows for a new dynamic somewhat lost in Broadway theaters: one of affinity, empathy, and relation. We see ourselves in characters so refreshingly brought into being in this new perspective and portrayal. We hear our own righteous anger in the frustration of prisoner 24601. We feel Fantine’s deep cries of loss collectively, if not personally. We hope right alongside those college aged revolutionaries, however naïve they were. And, lest we forget poor ‘Ponine’s plight, we all know what it feels like to experience unrequited love**. We have all hoped. We have all lost. The movie, with its intense angles and prolonged shots, conveys this paradox of life in an almost oppressive fashion. Christian or not, you cannot miss the undeniable stench of humanity diffusing throughout the entire film. So much so, that the movie can be a bit off putting. As one critic puts it: “By the grand finale, when tout le monde is waving the French tricolor in victory, you may instead be raising the white flag in exhausted defeat.”
I am not one to quickly avert Christian eyes from cultural mainstreams; I feel the dance between our calling as Christians and our responsibilities as cultured beings is much more intricate and complicated, but that is a story for another day. However, I believe this is an instance where Christians can and should claim a different interpretation. Because within that stench of humanity – the heart wrenching cries of Fantine, the broken hopes of Marius, the continued painful existence of the French poor - arose a sweeter story that we, as believers in a second Advent, must acknowledge, recognize, and proclaim. Things will be made right. This world, with all of its suffering, is not our home. To borrow Paul’s words, we are children of a promise who, while enduring that which He also endured, can live out of that promise and thus claim our earthly inheritance of peace and joy. Even within the hardest of times.
I have found it interesting that the film version of Les Miserables was released on Christmas. So many Les Miz fans were anxiously waiting for its arrival, their anticipation building as the time grew near, myself included. Is this starting to sound familiar? Perhaps it is the coincidental marriage of my newly found appreciations for the Advent attitude alongside the beautiful story line of Les Miz that produced such a overflowing of understanding for me. But, a brief survey of Facebook statuses is proving I am not the only one. Yay for the connectivity of social media!
I think Les Miserable’s allusion to the Gospel is incredibly powerful; I am not denying that fact. I am simply submitting that there may be even greater power in its beautiful acknowledgement of life’s blaring realities that so deeply coincide with its final proclamation of redemption and restoration. This was wonderfully characterized through incredible performances and artistry, brought to life in a more viable medium; for a girl who always lived in the clouds, this portrayal of life’s many paradoxes was tremendously powerful. Because, as I saw with such authenticity on the screen, we can really only know love with heartbreak. We only know hope with longing. We only know life with death. But our story does not end there. It should not. It cannot. We have a Second Advent on the horizon. For our King is coming to bring salvation into our suffering. A King, it should be added, who also experienced our suffering for our salvation. In Advent season, we remember Christ’s birth and anticipate His second coming. We proclaim, while waving the revolutionizing flag of our Gospel, that Freedom is waiting for us, in the same way we wait for it. Swords will be put away. Chains will be broken. Even the darkest night will end. The sun will rise.
Praise God.
* I say “almost” primarily because film critics were rather less than enthused with the numerous, and slightly exaggerated, close-up shots of the actors. I have to say that this is a critique with which I somewhat agree: you could pretty much count their pores. And it made me wonder, what if Anne had woken up with a massive zit on her nose the day they were supposed to shoot ‘I Dreamed a Dream’? What then?
** Confession… I have found that Eponine’s story to hit a wee bit too close to home over the years. I defiantly combat this affinity with a mantra along the lines of: 'unrequited love gets you killed, Ryn. Stop it.'
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
pure beauty.
i have been watching this scene over and over... and over again.
the story, the music, and the images are all so... so beautiful. sometimes, i cry.
but only sometimes.
it's breathtaking, really. i find myself drawn, in appreciation, by the beauty and emotion it conveys. for all my reservations about technology, media, and the likes, i cannot help but swoon over such things when i see a film like this.
p.s. i should note - beethoven's 7th is probably one of my favorite pieces of music.
ever.
the story, the music, and the images are all so... so beautiful. sometimes, i cry.
but only sometimes.
it's breathtaking, really. i find myself drawn, in appreciation, by the beauty and emotion it conveys. for all my reservations about technology, media, and the likes, i cannot help but swoon over such things when i see a film like this.
p.s. i should note - beethoven's 7th is probably one of my favorite pieces of music.
ever.
Friday, December 2, 2011
generations upon generations.
my grandma introduced me to this hymn a few years back as one of her favorites. it has been meaningful to our family for generations, playing in weddings and funeral; in many ways, i have grown up with it. but it wasn't until i matured that i really begun to love it as my own, it's words so often providing a soothing balm to my aching fears and struggles. i have found it's truth so encouraging these last few months and have been hoping to obtaining the sense of peace it proclaims.
Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Thursday, December 1, 2011
experiencing love and shakespeare
i look a creative writing class my last semester of college and absolutely loved it. i have always been timid when it came to my writing. something has always held me back from fully exploring my passion for it.... perhaps it was the fear of creating duty out of something that i loved. but, if i am being honest, it was probably more due to my deep and intense fear of lack - lack of potential, lack of skill, lack of growth.
so taking a writing class was a big step* and while i am still not sure i am good enough to pursue writing, i appreciated the challenge and encouragement i found.
during the poetry unit, we had to write a sonnet and my professor encouraged us to play with a sonnet that we found accessible, try to mimic its flow, wording, and style. i chose shakespeare's sonnet 18 and while i didn't stick with the theme whatsoever, i forced myself to keep some of his original wording; i made sure to keep the last words of each line the same. it proved to be rather difficult, maintaining the sonnet's form while respecting shakespeares brilliancy, but it was fun.
here is the result (i am cringing right now... i am quite pathetic at sharing, must have been sick the day they taught that in preschool):
Can love be lost if birds invite the day?
If new spring grows beneath the temperate
Breeze and we, with ease, believe even’tual May,
Then surely love can free its heart from grate.
Yet when the birds do sing to dewy shine,
We still know that morn drags on to dark dimmed
Night; and by noon we see our hopes decline
Like warmth that’s withered raw by chill untrimmed.
But though the dark abounds ‘round that which fades,
Still grief withdraws to mend. For winter owes
To spring a hope refreshed, restored while shades
Of cold do fade and careful flowers grow.
So long as spring returns and birds I see
So long as hope renews will I leave thee.
*sharing my writing with others proved to be a much bigger step. consequently, i am still not sure i am going to post this...
so taking a writing class was a big step* and while i am still not sure i am good enough to pursue writing, i appreciated the challenge and encouragement i found.
during the poetry unit, we had to write a sonnet and my professor encouraged us to play with a sonnet that we found accessible, try to mimic its flow, wording, and style. i chose shakespeare's sonnet 18 and while i didn't stick with the theme whatsoever, i forced myself to keep some of his original wording; i made sure to keep the last words of each line the same. it proved to be rather difficult, maintaining the sonnet's form while respecting shakespeares brilliancy, but it was fun.
here is the result (i am cringing right now... i am quite pathetic at sharing, must have been sick the day they taught that in preschool):
Can love be lost if birds invite the day?
If new spring grows beneath the temperate
Breeze and we, with ease, believe even’tual May,
Then surely love can free its heart from grate.
Yet when the birds do sing to dewy shine,
We still know that morn drags on to dark dimmed
Night; and by noon we see our hopes decline
Like warmth that’s withered raw by chill untrimmed.
But though the dark abounds ‘round that which fades,
Still grief withdraws to mend. For winter owes
To spring a hope refreshed, restored while shades
Of cold do fade and careful flowers grow.
So long as spring returns and birds I see
So long as hope renews will I leave thee.
*sharing my writing with others proved to be a much bigger step. consequently, i am still not sure i am going to post this...
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