The Harp at Nature's Advent....

Found these lovely lines from "The Worship of Nature" by John Greenleaf Whittier and thought that for Christmas Eve they were just so right.

"The harp at Nature's advent strung
    Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
    Has never died away."

May this Season of Light and Holiness bring comfort to you all.
Blessings,
Duncan

New Link Added

Just added the website (http://www.mtai.org/index.php) for the Music-Thanatology Association International under the Harp and Music Therapy links.

Must point out in the interests of disclosure(grin) that Sile Harriss who is the Secretary of the the MTAI is also a dear, dear friend and former harp teacher. Along with a distinguished background of teacher and many years as a Music Thanatologist herself.

Thoughts for a Cold November Day.

It's been a long month since I last blogged...lots of changes. I decided to quit my 

job at St. Joseph Hospital last Monday, the 8th November. The unit has been undergoing 

a number of changes, and for me, it had become an unsafe unit with a very hostile work

environment. Luckily, my wife Kim is still working at St. Jo's and provides me with

the safety net that many folks who lose or quit jobs do not have. 

It's a new world for me, not having a job to go to, and missing my friends at work 

who I will not be seeing on a regular basis anymore. (And even though I worked 

nights, I still had contact with many of the staff at the start of my shift and the ending thereof. 

Still, it is for the best, as I am turning once more to the harp and plans to become a volunteer once more at the

hospital so that I can bring music again to the wards.

And as I have been thinking about changes at this beginning of the Celtic New Year which began on October 31st, I find my thoughts turning to the most moving and uplifting song from Gordon Bok, entitled Turning Towards the Morning which I share below, along with his backgrounder as to the origin and meaning of the song. 

Do look up his rendition of it...it will move you to tears and bring you comfort, joy and hope as the Winter comes along on November winds.

Turning Toward the Morning
(Gordon Bok)

When the deer has bedded down
And the bear has gone to ground,
And the northern goose has wandered off
To warmer bay and sound,
It's so easy in the cold to feel
The darkness of the year
And the heart is growing lonely
For the morning

     Oh, my Joanie, don't you know
     That the stars are swinging slow,
     And the seas are rolling easy
     As they did so long ago?
     If I had a thing to give you,
     I would tell you one more time
     That the world is always turning
     Toward the morning.
Now October's growing thin
And November's coming home;
You'll be thinking of the season
And the sad things that you've seen,
And you hear that old wind walking,
Hear him singing high and thin,
You could swear he's out there singing
Of your sorrow.

When the darkness falls around you
And the Northwind come to blow,
And you hear him call you name out
As he walks the brittle snow:
That old wind don't mean you trouble,
He don't care or even know,
He's just walking down the darkness
Toward the morning.

It's a pity we don't know
What the little flowers know.
They can't face the cold November
They can't take the wind and snow:
They put their glories all behind them,
Bow their heads and let it go,
But you know they'll be there shining
In the morning.

Now, my Joanie, don't you know
That the days are rolling slow,
And the winter's walking easy,
As he did so long ago?
And, if that wind would come and ask you,
"Why's my Joanie weeping so?"
Wont you tell him that you're weeping
For the morning?
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Recorded by Bok, Trickett and Muir on "Turning Toward the
Morning", FSI-56, copyright 1975.

"One of the things that provoked this song was a letter last
November from a friend who had had a very difficult year and was
looking for the courage to keep on plowing into it.  Those times,
you lift your eyes unto the hills, as they say, but the hills of
Northern New England in November can be about as much comfort as
a cold crowbar.  You have to look ahead a bit, then, and realize
that all the hills and trees and flowers will still be there come
Spring, usually more permanent than your troubles.  And if your
courage occasionally fails, that's okay, too: nobody expects you
to be as strong (or as old) as the land." - Gordon Bok

A Busy Month

Been working at going to on-call status at the hospital...given the change of managers and the settling in of the new unit, it's been rather frustrating. But hope within a couple of days to have it in place. Starting my last rotation of 7 nocs tonight, then will be done.
The Rydecki harp had 2 strings break, finally got them back in place, but now another tuning peg seems to be rather loose. Time for the "fairy dust" to tighten it up!
And from the Farmer's Almanac newsletter that I received today:

Hail, old October, bright and chill, 
First freedman from the summer sun! 
Spice high the bowl, and drink your fill! 
Thank heaven, at last the summer’s done!

–Thomas Constable (1812–81)

Love this time of year...rich scents and lovely colours along with the nice coolness to help the sleep. 

Duncan

A wonderful quote from John Muir

I found the following quote in the blog of Phillip Carr-Gomm and just had to share it:

A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God’s first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself.  ~ John Muir
I have loved the writing of John Muir, but never saw this passage before....
Beannachaidhe,
Duncan

Synchronicity

Just looked at the current email from the Old Farmer's Almanac and found the following bit of poetry from Emily Dickinson:

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee’s experience
of clovers and of noon!

–Emily Dickinson (1830–86)

And of course she spoke to the Music of Bees far better than I did in the last post. 

Bee Music

It's been more than a month since my last posting...between settling into the new unit at the Hospital with all of the "working out the kinks" trials and tribulations, trying to keep the garden going and dealing with the heat, I have been rather preoccupied.
However, as I was watering the garden yesterday morning, I found myself missing the "Bee Music" that was so delightful in and around the gardens. It is so delightful to have the constant drone and hum of bees in the Spring and early Summer, but with the increasing heat along with the fading of the fresh blossoms, the bees have come less often to serenade one.  I have tried to encourage those plants which will bring in the bees to help keep the bee population healthy and thriving, for without bees, life would be much more drab and certainly less musical.

Beannachaidhe,

Duncan