The Law of Diminishing Returns

It's taken this a while to sink in. Zara Lawler notes it in The 30-minute Rule on her blog:

I find that anything longer than 30 minutes starts to yield diminishing returns—my mind wanders and my sound gets bad, usually around the 32-minute mark. I know that sounds comically precise, but I’ve been keeping track of these things in my handy practice notebook for years, so I know! In fact, every once in a while I break the 30 minute rule when I’m feeling desperate to learn a lot of music, and it ALWAYS yields the same things: more frustration and a bad sound.

And I brought it up in my comment:

Lately, what I’ve been trying to learn is to STOP when I hit that point of diminishing returns, even if I hit it before the 30 minutes are up.

There are times when I just can't seem to do anything right while practicing a particular piece or section of a piece. My fingering falls apart, my embouchure goes out the window, I fumble measures I played perfectly the day before, or all of the above. My first instinct is to keep working on the particular passage to "get it right." Following that instinct only makes things worse, until I get so frustrated I just want to throw my flute across the room. And it can even set me back in terms of being able to play that particular piece.

Instead, I've learned to do the following: Take a deep breath, put the piece of music aside and work on something else. Or, if I've been practicing for a while, I take a break and come back to something else. Occasionally, it's not the particular piece of music but just playing in general. Then I take a break and come back to it later. If I'm still having trouble, I put the flute away.

Probably something I ought to think about when things frustrate me in other areas of my life.

A Weekend Of Stories

We gathered for our annual Fall Dance Camp in Becket, Massachusetts. We have two every year, currently one at the end of April/beginning of May and one in October. This fall's camp marked the 20th Anniversary of the gathering of this community. In many ways, it wasn't much different from our usual camps. In others...

For many of us--a large majority of the "core" membership--who began this journey in our late twenties and early thirties, we now find ourselves approaching our fifties, or already there. In terms of tenure, I am one of the community's elders. In terms of age, I fall somewhere in the middle. I am dancing with folks who are old enough to be my parents and young enough to be my children. I became part of the community in 1991 through a series of gender-free contra dances sponsored by the Triangle Community Center. I went to my first camp in February 1993 (back when they were held in February and September) and have only missed two since then due to health reasons.

We are a community that preserves its history through stories and through archives. To help celebrate the 20th anniversary people brought photo albums and the "official" archives of Dance Camp. Chris Ricciotti, the Queen Mum (as we lovingly call our founder), brought a print out of the timeline project, which started a couple of years ago. It began with sheets of paper taped together with years marked on them. Chris asked us to jot down the events of our own dance histories. Every so often he will print it out, bring it to camp, post it, and ask us to continue adding our stories. It is a living document, a continuing story of our community.

Saturday night at the end of the Variety Show Chris showed a short film compiled from videos taken by various community members over the years. We saw our younger selves (I'd almost forgotten that I still had a mustache when I started dancing with this community!); we saw those who have moved on and those who have passed on. There were cameras at this camp to record it in moving pictures and still.

We shared stories around meal tables, at night around the fireplace, and sitting on the edges of the dance floor. We passed on our stories to the newer members of the community, bringing them into the community's story as they begin to add their own parts to it.

There were tears. There was laughter. There were hugs. And, of course, there was dancing.

The story continues.

Peace,
Jeff

In Memoriam Lise Mann

This evening I was poking around the Internet looking for something when I was reminded of my former flute teacher Lise Mann. A Google search revealed a few small odds and ends, so I tried Bing and stumbled across a brief mention of her death in August of 2007. Further digging revealed she'd died in Seattle at the age of 53. I hadn't realized she was only six years older than me. She was 24 when I took flute with her at Moorhead State University.

I first met Lise while on a campus visit during the spring of my senior year of high school. The admissions office arranged the appointment when I expressed an interest in flute lessons. I did not have my flute with me during the visit, so I wasn't able to audition for her until I arrived in the fall of 1978 as a freshman. I was placed in a class with three other students, though I only remember the names of two of them: Megan Thoresen and Mary Sillers.

Lise was a shock after two years of taking lessons from Dr. Cunningham at Darien High School. Dr. Cunningham was the band and orchestra director and gave lessons to those of us who were beginning instrumentalists. He gave me a VERY basic introduction to the flute. Because there weren't many flutists in our school, I was first flute second chair in the band and second flute first chair in the orchestra. Lise also auditioned the flutes for the MSU band, and I became the last chair flute. I had a lot to learn, and Lise started the process.

I pulled my journal from that time, and I found only two entries mentioning my flute class (in the context of my class schedule) and only two about Lise. The longer entry reads

Lise got really upset with our flute class today. We don't sight read very well, and we all know it, but she gets frustrated when we don't try. When someone mentions the words "sight reading" we just kind of clam up.

But she must have gotten through to us, because I definitely remember being a better sight reader when I continued lessons with Mrs. Leeson in Rockford. Lise taught us to look at a piece of music in terms of interpretation. She introduced us, or at least me, to intentional work on skills. During my year in her class I played in my first recital, even though both pieces I played were ensemble pieces. I also stage managed the program.

Lise took an interest in our whole lives as students. She was one of the very few people at MSU with whom I talked about my interest in Science Fiction.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of a flutist I'd be if I'd stayed at MSU for all four years of college. Lise was tough, but I learned more from her about what it means to be a flutist than from any of my other teachers.

Off to Dance Camp

In a few hours I'll be off to Becket, MA for the Lavender Country and Folk Dancers' 20th Anniversary Dance Camp. The Fall leaves should be pretty close to their peak in that part of the Berkshires, and, in spite of the rain forecast for tomorrow, we should have a great time.

It never ceases to amaze me that I can go to Ireland for two weeks in a carry on, but I fill the trunk of my car for a weekend dance camp. Of course, it is Fall in New England, so I have to pack for weather that ranges from sun to rain and from 70 to 35. Bedding, lots of shirts, a costume for Saturday night, and let's not forget my flute.

Sometimes there will be a musicians' workshop. Sometimes the band will let us sit in with them--especially on Saturday night. From time to time a group of us will play one dance on Saturday night, which means the band members get to dance. This weekend there is an opportunity for a group of us to play for dancing regularly. I'm guessing that it will probably be for the English Country dancing, but I won't know for sure until I get to Becket.

So, here's what I'm taking: Flute, Whistles, Recorders, Tune Books, Music Stand, Clothes Pins (for holding music in breezy situations), Pitch Pipe, Tuner (which I remembered to add in after I took the picture), and My "Practice" Music

And here's what it looks like all packed up in my music bag, which is actually a tote I bought from LL Bean or Land's End a number of years ago. There's even room for some other odds and ends like my camera, flashlight, travel clock, journal, etc.

And away we go!

Weekend Away

Tomorrow afternoon I head up to Becket, Massachusetts for the 20th Anniversary Lavender and Country Folk Dancers Dance Camp. I've taken tomorrow and Monday as vacation days. Four days away from the office, and I won't be traveling for business purposes!

I'll also be leaving my computer at home. I have been tempted to take it so that I could check in on the diocesan convention and the election of our next bishop. I've decided I'm not going to worry about it. The election results will still be there when I get home Sunday evening.

No responses, charges, and countercharges about Pope Benedict's recent announcement about providing a "home" for disaffected Anglicans.

No Integrity mail list.

No Episcopal/Anglican blogs.

No Church Center restructuring (term number 3 for the same process!).

No bishops behaving badly.

No walking dead and walking wounded at the office.

No making sandwiches.

No Worship for All People.

Not that things religious won't be discussed over the weekend. Many of my Dance friends will check in with me about my ordination process. One friend and I have an ongoing conversation about rediscovering religious and spiritual roots. And handful of us from different Christian denominations will probably gather for Morning Prayer Saturday and Sunday mornings. Heck, there might even be a circle Saturday night.

Quite frankly, there are days when I can see very clearly how little the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion mean in the larger scheme of things--and even how very little in the smaller scheme of things. Sometimes a reality check is in order, and Dance Camp is the perfect place for that.

Peace,
Jeff

Balance

Why do I play the flute?

I like to make music. I enjoy playing in a group with others. I like the challenge of learning new music (well, most of the time). I enjoy playing for dancers. I'm sure most of you have a similar list and could add to mine.

Different reasons at different times.

There have been times being able to pull out my flute and play some dance and pop tunes has helped maintain my sanity. It is so different from anything else I do. It taps into the right brain creative capacities, yet it involves the logic and method of left brain thinking. It involves balance for someone who can get stuck in his left brain.

Balance is important in life as well. Playing the flute provides some of that balance in my own life. I rediscovered that when I attended the National Flute Association Convention in August. Since then I've been very intentional about incorporating time for practice in my schedule--almost daily, but not quite. The discipline of making that time has also shown me that I can incorporate time for other important things.

I've pulled out a craft project that's been sitting in a box in the storage closet for months and started working on it. I've pulled out the list of books I want to read and started reading them. I'm being more intentional about staying in touch with friends AND getting together with them. I'm being more diligent about keeping the boundaries between work and personal life--hard to do when you work for the denominational headquarters of your church.

Have I been successful at all of this? My closet perfectionist would say, "No!!" But I'm learning that success can be measured by the small steps made toward a goal.

All that from a metal tube with holes and keys.

Odds And Ends

Yesterday I went to the Verizon Store to check into a wireless connection for my notebook computer. I'd done a lot of research online and talked to some people who have different types. I had pretty much decided I was going to do it when I got to the store, but I had a couple of detail type questions to ask.

I've had very few complaints with Verizon in terms of my cell phone, so they were the obvious choice for a computer connection. I was impressed with the sales rep because he did not lead me to the more expensive options. For my needs and my computer, he recommended what turned out to be the least expensive in terms of the hardware I needed. In fact, once I receive the rebate, the USB device will have cost me only the tax I paid on it. I selected the more expensive usage package, because I know I will probably use that much data transfer during a month. If it turns out I'm using less, I can always change it. Once I'm sure this works the way I think it will, my next step will be to cancel my AT&T land line phone and modem service, which now runs me about $72/month. In the long run I'll be saving about $20-$25/month.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

This morning on the train I think I startled my seatmate, which is hard to do on a commuter train. People mostly try to mind their own business.

I had some writing to do, and I finished it about halfway to the City. Then I took out my crossword puzzle book, switched my pen from my right hand to my left and began doing the next puzzle in the book. They guy in the next seat stared at me for few moments and kept looking at my hands off and on for quite a while. How did I know? He'd put his paper down every time he looked.

I've been doing crossword puzzles using my left hand to write for several months. From time to time I also do some writing with my left hand. It's supposed to be good for your brain. And since the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, it might just help me get out of my left brain--the logic side.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The Fall Ladybug infestation has begin. There were several flying around my back door when I stopped home before going to Fairfield for EfM. I found my first one inside on the mantelpiece. I have no idea what they feed on, but they seem to survive for most of the Winter inside.

Peace,
Jeff

The Sounds of Music

I made three purchases at the NFA Convention in August: two pieces of music and a tuner. I've never owned a tuner before, but the leader of one of the workshops for amateurs that I attended said a tuner was an absolute must. It came home and sat on my shelf for two months.

Thursday I finally pulled it off the shelf, took it out of the box, put the batteries in, placed it on my music stand, and turned it on. And stared at it. Now what? Of course, I've tuned my flute before, but that was always in the context of playing with other musicians. So what good is it really in terms of individual practice?

So I tuned my flute to the standard A440, and tuned the A in all the octaves. Not bad. It took only minor adjustments to bring the A's into tune. Now what? Play long tones, the teacher said, so that's what I did. And I started to learn some things.

First, my flute tends to be a little sharp once it's warmed up. That means I have to pull the head joint out about an eighth of an inch. Second, I need to be more deliberate about rolling the flute in or out, depending on which octave I'm playing. Third, I need to work on my embouchure, especially in the low octave. I always understood the effect of rolling the flute and my embouchure, but for the first time I can actually SEE what that effect is.

I've been spending five minutes at the start of my practice time playing long tones with the tuner. It's a very different headspace than working on the Taffanel-Gaubert exercises or a piece of music. Focusing on the intonation of one note at a time is both easier and more difficult than working on the technical exercises. To use a trite phrase, it's almost Zen-like.

Over the past couple of days I've noticed that during the rest of my practice time I have trouble playing notes here and there. Some of it is simply introducing new elements into my playing, but there was something more I couldn't quite put my finger on. Finally, Sunday afternoon, as I was putting my flute together, I realized what it was. Pulling out the head joint makes the flute longer. Of course, I know the basic physics involved in how a flute produces sound. I just didn't understand how much difference even an eighth of an inch makes in the mechanics of producing sound. It's getting to know my instrument all over again.

It's becoming a better flutist.

When News Intersects With Fiction

Yesterday I finished reading S.M. Stirling's The Sword of the Lady, the most recent of his novels set in North America after "the Change." The first three novels--Dies The Fire, The Protector's War, and Meeting at Corvalis form a trilogy that follow five communities that come into being and survive during the ten years after the Change eliminated technology (electricity, gunpowder, and even steam power above a certain pressure) from the world. This latest volume is the third in a series that follows Rudi Mackenzie, son of leaders of two of the communities, and his friends in a quest across the North American continent.

In some ways I was frustrated by the fact that the story line did not reach an end with this book. In addition, because of the mythic elements that are clearly becoming the shape of the story, there is no way to avoid what part of the conclusion will be. And since it took three books to get Rudi and his friends from the former Pacific Northwest to the former New England, it will probably take at least one to get them back. And then at least one more to take this particular tale to its inevitable conclusion.

I suppose it gives me something to look forward to.

One of the "bad guy" groups in this changed world is the Church Universal and Triumphant, which holds sway post-change Montana. It totally escaped me that this particular theocracy had its roots in a real cult of the same name. Until I saw an obituary in yesterday's New York Times online. The headline read, "Elizabeth Prophet, 70, Church Founder, Is Dead." Her name rang a bell. Something about survivalists in the West somewhere. And there it was in the first line:

Elizabeth Clare Prophet, the retired leader of the Summit Lighthouse and the Church Universal and Triumphant, a New Age religion, who called on her followers in the late 1980s to prepare for nuclear Armageddon, died Thursday at her home in Bozeman, Mont. She was 70. (Emphasis mine.)

Stirling also made Cardinal Ratzinger Pope before Ratzinger was actually elected in 2006.

Cue the Twilight Zone theme!

Religion plays a large role in these books. Stirling, a former Episcopalian, talked a bit about the role of religion in his post-Change world in a conversation held in the comments of this blog. It makes for interesting reading for those of us interested in the Change novels, speculative fiction, and science fiction.

Just some musings and ramblings on a chilly Saturday night.

Peace,
Jeff

Frustrated

All week I've been working on the same two measures of Frederick the Great's Daily Exercise #7. I've slowed them down. I've broken them down and played the same interval of two notes over and over again. I've played them using a variety of rhythms. I get to the point where I can play them without a mistake. Then I try to play through the whole Exercise and fall apart on the same two measures.

So I put it aside before making myself crazy and spent some time working on The Margravine's Waltz before picking up the Bach Partita. Today I decided I'd play the whole Allemande first and then spend time working on two measures. For the past month I've been picking two measures at random to practice and get under my fingers. You'd have thought I hadn't been working on any of the Partita in that time.

I was so frustrated I almost resorted to Lise's penny pushing. Lise was my flute teacher when I attended Moorhead State University in Minnesota. She told us a story of sitting with her father when she was practicing as a child. He kept a stack of pennies. Every time she played the piece she was practicing correctly, he'd move a penny to a second stack. If she made a mistake, a penny went back to the first stack. When all the pennies were in the second stack, she could stop practicing. Except that I figured I'd be up all night.

Maybe tomorrow I'll move on to the second movement of the Partita. Or maybe I'll pick up one of the Telemann Fantasies.

Or maybe I'll just play dance tunes for half an hour.

I Will No Longer...

While I have not always agreed with Bishop John Shelby Spong's answers over the years, he does ask the right questions. He is also one of those who moved from being an opponent of lbgtq folks to being a supporter--a major, very vocal one. I first saw this manifesto by Bishop Spong on one of my email lists early this afternoon. Since then I have been watching it spread through the blogosphere. It's worth reading and thinking about.

Peace,
Jeff

A Manifesto! The Time Has Come!

I have made a decision. I will no longer debate the issue of homosexuality in the church with anyone. I will no longer engage the biblical ignorance that emanates from so many right-wing Christians about how the Bible condemns homosexuality, as if that point of view still has any credibility. I will no longer discuss with them or listen to them tell me how homosexuality is "an abomination to God," about how homosexuality is a "chosen lifestyle," or about how through prayer and "spiritual counseling" homosexual persons can be "cured." Those arguments are no longer worthy of my time or energy. I will no longer dignify by listening to the thoughts of those who advocate "reparative therapy," as if homosexual persons are somehow broken and need to be repaired. I will no longer talk to those who believe that the unity of the church can or should be achieved by rejecting the presence of, or at least at the expense of, gay and lesbian people. I will no longer take the time to refute the unlearned and undocumentable claims of certain world religious leaders who call homosexuality "deviant." I will no longer listen to that pious sentimentality that certain Christian leaders continue to employ, which suggests some version of that strange and overtly dishonest phrase that "we love the sinner but hate the sin." That statement is, I have concluded, nothing more than a self-serving lie designed to cover the fact that these people hate homosexual persons and fear homosexuality itself, but somehow know that hatred is incompatible with the Christ they claim to profess, so they adopt this face-saving and absolutely false statement. I will no longer temper my understanding of truth in order to pretend that I have even a tiny smidgen of respect for the appalling negativity that continues to emanate from religious circles where the church has for centuries conveniently perfumed its ongoing prejudices against blacks, Jews, women and homosexual persons with what it assumes is "high-sounding, pious rhetoric." The day for that mentality has quite simply come to an end for me. I
will personally neither tolerate it nor listen to it any longer. The world has moved on, leaving these elements of the Christian Church that cannot adjust to new knowledge or a new consciousness lost in a sea of their own irrelevance. They no longer talk to anyone but themselves. I will no longer seek to slow down the witness to inclusiveness by pretending that there is some middle ground between prejudice and oppression. There isn't. Justice postponed is justice denied. That can be a resting place no longer for anyone. An old civil rights song proclaimed that the only choice awaiting those who cannot adjust to a new understanding was to "Roll on over or we'll roll on over you!" Time waits for no one.

I will particularly ignore those members of my own Episcopal Church who seek to break away from this body to form a "new church," claiming that this new and bigoted instrument alone now represents the Anglican Communion. Such a new ecclesiastical body is designed to allow these pathetic human beings, who are so deeply locked into a world that no longer exists, to form a community in which they can continue to hate gay people, distort gay people with their hopeless rhetoric and to be part of a religious fellowship in which they can continue to feel justified in their homophobic prejudices for the rest of their tortured lives. Church unity can never be a virtue that is preserved by allowing injustice, oppression and psychological tyranny to go unchallenged. In my
personal life, I will no longer listen to televised debates conducted by "fair-minded" channels that seek to give "both sides" of this issue "equal time." I am aware that these stations no longer give equal time to the advocates of treating women as if they are the property of men or to the advocates of reinstating either segregation or slavery, despite the fact that when these evil institutions were coming to an end the Bible was still being quoted frequently on each of these subjects. It is time for the media to announce that there are no longer two sides to the issue of full humanity for gay and lesbian people. There is no way that justice for homosexual people can be compromised any longer.

I will no longer act as if the Papal office is to be respected if the present occupant of that office is either not willing or not able to inform and educate himself on public issues on which he dares to speak with embarrassing ineptitude. I will no longer be respectful of the leadership of the Archbishop of Canterbury, who seems to believe that rude behavior, intolerance and even killing prejudice is somehow acceptable, so long as it comes from third-world religious leaders, who more than anything else reveal in themselves the price that colonial oppression has required of the minds and hearts of so many of our world's population. I see no way that ignorance and truth can be placed side by side, nor do I believe that evil is somehow less evil if the Bible is quoted to justify it. I will dismiss as unworthy of any more of my attention the wild, false and uninformed opinions of such would-be religious leaders as Pat Robertson, James Dobson, Jerry Falwell, Jimmy Swaggart, Albert Mohler, and Robert Duncan. My country and my church have both already spent too much time, energy and money trying to accommodate these backward points of view when they are no longer even tolerable.

I make these statements because it is time to move on. The battle is over. The victory has been won. There is no reasonable doubt as to what the final outcome of this struggle will be. Homosexual people will be accepted as equal, full human beings, who have a legitimate claim on every right that both church and society have to offer any of us. Homosexual marriages will become legal, recognized by the state and pronounced holy by the church. "Don't ask, don't tell" will be dismantled as the policy of our armed forces. We will and we must learn that equality of citizenship is not something that should ever be submitted to a referendum. Equality under and before the law is a solemn promise conveyed to all our citizens in the Constitution itself. Can any of us imagine having a public referendum on whether slavery should continue, whether segregation should be dismantled, whether voting privileges should be offered to women? The time has come for politicians to stop hiding behind unjust laws that they themselves helped to enact, and to abandon that convenient shield of demanding a vote on the rights of full citizenship because they do not understand the difference between a constitutional democracy, which this nation has, and a "mobocracy," which this nation rejected when it adopted its constitution. We do not put the civil rights of a minority to the vote of a plebiscite.

I will also no longer act as if I need a majority vote of some ecclesiastical body in order to bless, ordain, recognize and celebrate the lives and gifts of gay and lesbian people in the life of the church. No one should ever again be forced to submit the privilege of citizenship in this nation or membership in the Christian Church to the will of a majority vote.

The battle in both our culture and our church to rid our souls of this dying prejudice is finished. A new consciousness has arisen. A decision has quite clearly been made. Inequality for gay and lesbian people is no longer a debatable issue in either church or state. Therefore, I will from this moment on refuse to dignify the continued public expression of ignorant prejudice by engaging it. I do not tolerate racism or sexism any longer. From this moment on, I will no longer tolerate our culture's various forms of homophobia. I do not care who it is who articulates these attitudes or who tries to make them sound holy with religious jargon.

I have been part of this debate for years, but things do get settled and this issue is now settled for me. I do not debate any longer with members of the "Flat Earth Society" either. I do not debate with people who think we should treat epilepsy by casting demons out of the epileptic person; I do not waste time engaging those medical opinions that suggest that bleeding the patient might release the infection. I do not converse with people who think that Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans as punishment for the sin of being the birthplace of Ellen DeGeneres or that the terrorists hit the United Sates on 9/11 because we tolerated homosexual people, abortions, feminism or the American Civil Liberties Union. I am tired of being embarrassed by so much of my church's participation in causes that are quite unworthy of the Christ I serve or the God whose mystery and wonder I appreciate more each day. Indeed I feel the Christian Church should not only apologize, but do public penance for the way we have treated people of color, women, adherents of other religions and those we designated heretics, as well as gay and lesbian people.

Life moves on. As the poet James Russell Lowell once put it more than a century ago: "New occasions teach new duties, Time makes ancient good uncouth." I am ready now to claim the victory. I will from now on assume it and live into it. I am unwilling to argue about it or to discuss it as if there are two equally valid, competing positions any longer. The day for that mentality has simply gone forever.

This is my manifesto and my creed. I proclaim it today. I invite others to join me in this public declaration. I believe that such a public outpouring will help cleanse both the church and this nation of its own distorting past. It will restore integrity and honor to both church and state. It will signal that a new day has dawned and we are ready not just to embrace it, but also to rejoice in it and to celebrate it.

-- John Shelby Spong

A Wedding In New Haven

Paul Woodrum's account of the marriage of his friends that took place in New Haven. Shared with permission.

Peace,
Jeff

Tuesday: This morning Victor and I accompanied fellow Brooklynites and friends Fr. Howard Blunt (D of NY) and Donald Beckman to New Haven, CT, to formalize with civil marriage their union of over twenty years. The drive was about two hours under a gray sky.

We arrived at the Department of Public Health, Vital Records Section, at 11:10 a.m. and they completed the paper work, ceremony, and issuance of two certified copes of the marriage certificate by noon. It helped that before arrival Don and Howard had filled in information forms downloaded from the internet.

After the application process, a justice of the peace was called and we went to a large, second floor stair hall in the beautifully restored Victorian portion of New Haven's City Hall. Our justice of the peace, a lovely West Indian woman, offered use of a white, metal arbor covered with artificial greens and flowers as a prop to frame the ceremony and kindly granted me permission to bless the rings and the marriage at which she officiated and witnessed.

For the blessing of the rings, titanium and enamel bands, I used the BCP form on p. 427 changing only the words "this man and this woman," to "these two men." No changes were required in the gender-neutral blessing of a marriage, BCP, p. 431.

(How simple it can be! In the interest of full disclosure and as evidence for my deposition that will no doubt follow this wild disregard for church order, I am resident in the Diocese of Newark, live and am licensed in the Diocese of Long Island, and did not ask permission of the Bishop of Connecticut to say a couple prayers in that diocese.)

We all noticed the JP cross herself as I blessed Howard and Donald in the name of the Trinity. As we chatted, she mentioned being an acolyte and involved in the Girls Friendly Society. When I asked what church, she replied, "St. Luke's Episcopal." Kisses all around. Then the JP who had officiated for Victor and I came through and more greetings.

As we were leaving City Hall under a now bright sky, a woman carrying rolls of architectural drawings asked if we were heading across the green to be married at the UCC church that stands in the center flanked by Trinity Episcopal to the its right and another UCC church to its left, saying many gay marriages were performed there. (Trinity Church, take note.) I guess our suits and ties gave us away. We confessed to being Episcopalians who had just done the deed. Profuse congratulations and good wishes.

New Haven is centered on an 18th century town green. City Hall on Church St. is to the south, Yale University to the north and the three aforementioned churches in the center of the green. We cut diagonally across the green and proceeded up Chapel Street to Scoozi's, next to the Yale Repertory Theater, the restaurant where Victor and I had our wedding breakfast back in June.

Scoozi's is a chic, modern restaurant/wine bar with white tablecloths, heavy hotel plate silver, fresh flowers on every table and discretely attentive, very friendly, eye-candy wait-staff. The Italian menu embraces local produce. This being October, pumpkin and squash from the Brown farm were highlighted. It being Tuesday, all bottles of wine were half price. It being a wedding celebration, desert -- moist pumpkin cake topped with pumpkin puree and a side scoop of whipped cream -- was on the house.

Afterwards we sauntered through a collegiate-Gothic corner of Yale and back across the green to the modern parking garage next to the brick and stone striated, high Victorian Gothic City Hall. Victor and I caught the Metro-North commuter train back to Grand Central Terminal and Donald and Howard began their week-long honeymoon touring central Connecticut.

I highly recommend New Haven as a place for gay couples getting married. The folks are friendly, the process simple, the setting beautiful and the price (not counting Scoozi's) under $100.00 including the JP's fee and the documents.

Tuesday Is Study Night

Tuesdays I co-mentor an Education for Ministry seminar group, so I get home at 10:00 or later in the evening. Since I do not practice after 9:00 p.m. out of respect for my neighbors, Tuesdays have become study nights. I'm still working on my flute and improving as a flutist. I just don't play it Tuesdays.

So what is a study night?

If I'm going to start working on a new piece, I'll take some time to look through it. Where are repeated phrases and themes? Where are breaths that ought to be marked. What are some of the potential trouble spots in terms of my skills--do I need to look up the fingering for the third octave B flat?

When picking up a piece I haven't played in a long time, I go through a similar process. I've learned new skills, so a problem area the last time I played the piece might not be a problem area now. Or perhaps I need to breathe in different places. Maybe there's some ornamentation that could or should be done differently.

And I'll look at things I'm currently practicing. Sometimes I'll need to mark beats in a measure where I'm having trouble with rhythm. In the case of the Margravine's Waltz, I took Zara Lawler's advice and marked left foot and right foot steps on specific beats of each measure.

Sometimes I'll pull out a straw and "play" through a piece to work on articulation. Every little bit helps.

Tuesdays are the only night during the "school year" that I have a regularly scheduled meeting that gets me home too late to practice with my flute. However, there are times when meetings at work run late, or I socialize with friends, and I end up getting home too late to practice. Over the past couple of weeks I've missed a couple of nights each week. At first I worried about missing a day's practice--or two--during a week. I don't want my routine to fall apart. What I realized is that even missing a day here and there, I'm still practicing regularly.

I play the flute because I enjoy it, not to make myself crazy about missing a day's practice.

Fall Festival At Caer Leon

On a beautiful, if chilly, Fall day Sir Thomas

and Lady Eleanor

took their annual trip to Caer Leon to attend the Fall Festival hosted by King Arthur and his court. Before the King's guests could even enter the village, there was a melee at the gate.


This year's festival was complicated by the arrival of Princess Whiny (aka Princess Elaine of Carbonek) chasing after Sir Lancelot. The Princess and her father appealed to Queen Guenivere


and ultimately lost their case, which resulted in all sorts of mayhem throughout the day.

Meanwhile, guests patronized a variety of merchants plying their wares at the festival. Here is the line at the cider & donut booth. Note the variety of garb.

Half garb?

Here's a closer look at milady's footwear:

Obviously, she was not alone in her choice.

Visitors had the opportunity to test their skills at the Smite the Knight ring. This Scot had a terrific way with kids, much to the delight of the young knights in training and their parents.

Here's a closer look at the Scot's more appropriate garb, a Great Kilt:

Of course, the Scot himself is easy on the eyes!

Some of the merchants we visited included:
Black Swann Masques (The site seems to be temporarily down.)
Elan Pottery
Foresight
Mystic Images by Rook
Old Earth

Sachs & Byrne
Travel Clothing by Half Moon

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The Connecticut Renaissance Faire was the only Renaissance Faire Rachel and I attended this summer. This year the town of Ansonia renovated the large park where the Southern Connecticut Renaissance Festival is held, so Penniforth did not make an appearance in July (and their web site seems to be down at the moment). Between our schedules and the weather, we did not make it to the Shire of Sterling at the New York Renaissance Faire in Tuxedo, New York. Work schedules will also prevent us from making a visit to King Richard's Faire in Massachusetts.

And it's not too late to start planning for next year!
The Silver Kingdom Renaissance Festival
The New Jersey Renaissance Kingdom
The Southern Connecticut Renaissance Festival
The New York Renaissance Faire
The Connecticut Renaissance Faire
King Richard's Faire

Peace,
Jeff

Fall Festival At Caer Leon

On a beautiful, if chilly, Fall day Sir Thomas

and Lady Eleanor

took their annual trip to Caer Leon to attend the Fall Festival hosted by King Arthur and his court. Before the King's guests could even enter the village, there was a melee at the gate.


This year's festival was complicated by the arrival of Princess Whiny (aka Princess Elaine of Carbonek) chasing after Sir Lancelot. The Princess and her father appealed to Queen Guenivere


and ultimately lost their case, which resulted in all sorts of mayhem throughout the day.

Meanwhile, guests patronized a variety of merchants plying their wares at the festival. Here is the line at the cider & donut booth. Note the variety of garb.

Half garb?

Here's a closer look at milady's footwear:

Obviously, she was not alone in her choice.

Visitors had the opportunity to test their skills at the Smite the Knight ring. This Scot had a terrific way with kids, much to the delight of the young knights in training and their parents.

Here's a closer look at the Scot's more appropriate garb, a Great Kilt:

Of course, the Scot himself is easy on the eyes!

Some of the merchants we visited included:
Black Swann Masques (The site seems to be temporarily down.)
Elan Pottery
Foresight
Mystic Images by Rook
Old Earth

Sachs & Byrne
Travel Clothing by Half Moon

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The Connecticut Renaissance Faire was the only Renaissance Faire Rachel and I attended this summer. This year the town of Ansonia renovated the large park where the Southern Connecticut Renaissance Festival is held, so Penniforth did not make an appearance in July (and their web site seems to be down at the moment). Between our schedules and the weather, we did not make it to the Shire of Sterling at the New York Renaissance Faire in Tuxedo, New York. Work schedules will also prevent us from making a visit to King Richard's Faire in Massachusetts.

And it's not too late to start planning for next year!
The Silver Kingdom Renaissance Festival
The New Jersey Renaissance Kingdom
The Southern Connecticut Renaissance Festival
The New York Renaissance Faire
The Connecticut Renaissance Faire
King Richard's Faire

Peace,
Jeff

When the Word on the Street is RESIST

At Inclusive Church's residential conference Word on the Street, Retired Bishop of Worcester (England) Peter Selby gave an address titled When the Word on the Street is RESIST. Do go and read the entire address, but here is the next to last paragraph, to which I immediately responded "BINGO!"

Above all what we need is not to take our eye off the issue, that of the treatment to be accorded to LGBT people and the ways in which they have - over many generations, not just in the last few decades - sought to live lives obedient to the gospel within the cultures in which we all, sexual majorities and minorities alike, seek to do just that. To leave that issue behind in favour of the worthy but secondary issue of how to keep the Anglican Communion together will stunt our discernment - and not keep the Anglican Communion together either. The Archbishop says the enterprise is 'becoming the Church God wants us to be, for the better proclaiming of the liberating gospel of Jesus Christ'; but that means engaging in the search for the truth together, not settling for the stalemate which is what his paper actually advocates.

Peace,
Jeff

Fun with Whistles

Or, anything can be an instrument.

Musical Stairs

Peace,
Jeff

Time To Learn New Skills

I have a stack of books in my office on Christian Formation and children. Some of them are classics, and some of them are recent. The one I just finished is Postmodern Children's Ministry: Ministry to Children in the 21st Century by Ivy Beckwith. The publisher's web site says it

Presents a new paradigm for children’s ministry in the emerging church of the 21st century and explores current ways churches are putting that vision into practice.

Yet Beckwith quotes John Westerhoff's 1976 Will Our Children Have Faith? and Gretchen Wolff Pritchard's 1992 Offering the Gospel to Children. Essentially, what she has to offer forward thinking Christian Educators and Formation Leaders have been saying for 30 years or more.

Basically this tells me is that the Emergent Church is even less aware of how children learn than I thought. It also tells me that not much has changed in the last 30 years in the area of Christian Education/Formation.

However, Beckwith does give one of the best explanations of the transition from modern to postmodern that I have encountered so far.

But these kinds of cultural shifts are never easy--or quick. When the world was moving from the Middle Ages to the Age of Reason, not everyone got there at the same time. People didn't wake up on January 1, 1700, look at their calendars, and say, "Goodness! Look at that! We've moved into the age of modernity." These cultural changes, while tumultuous and significant, are gradual.

And that's where we are now. We find ourselves in a world slowly leaning toward postmodern but still populated by a lot of people who hold a modern worldview. This leads to conflict and to at least one popular misconception about postmodernism. Lots of speakers and writers like to use the word postmodern and generational monikers like Generation X or millenial interchangeably. They treat the postmodern worldview as a life stage that one will likely outgrow as maturity settles in. (p. 21)

Not only has she pinpointed our culture's challenge, she has highlighted the problem the church finds itself confronting today. Some 400 years after the fact, the church has finally adapted to modern age only to find itself in a world very much like the one in which it was born. And it doesn't have the skills to cope.

Obviously, our culture has a very different understanding of the physical world, genetics, and a host of other things about which the ancient world had little or no knowledge. Governments, churches, and other social institutions cannot ignore those changes, as much as the Taliban or the Southern Baptists might wish otherwise. You can't put the genie back in the bottle.

However, we now live in a world where Christianity is a minority religion, or soon will be. In some places in the world Christians are persecuted. Yet the church--especially in the "West," but even in the so-called "Global South"--is still operating from a place that assumes Christianity is the social norm.

Our Christian Formation programs must begin to help us see the world around us realistically and equip us to live in it graciously and productively.

I'm not holding my breath, but as I Christian, I live in hope.

Peace,
Jeff

The Memorial Service

I woke up this morning worrying about this afternoon's memorial service. I was tempted to skip church so I could get in some more practice time. At some point, however, you just have to trust that you've practiced enough. That and a little prayer. It may be trite, but "let go and let God" is sometimes the only thing that keeps me calm.

Besides, it was Saint Francis Day, and Bishop Laura Ahrens was visiting our parish. I didn't even have to duck out of the service early to get to the church in Seymour where the memorial service.

I arrived about 40 minutes before the service was scheduled to begin. That gave me the opportunity to meet Sister Cecilia for any last minute instructions, figure out where to set up, set up, and warm up. Trinity Episcopal Church has that "New England church" feel to it. As soon as I stepped into the worship space, I knew I would not need the microphone Cecilia offered. I set up by the organ behind the pulpit and spent a few minutes warming up, which highlighted a couple of rough spots. I marked some of the trouble notes and wrote "SLOW DOWN" at the top of one of the pieces I planned to play.

I was actually more nervous warming up than I was during the service itself, and perhaps it was a good thing that there were only 15 people there. I made it through the rough places without a problem but bobbled a couple of places in pieces I know really well. Fortunately, my inner perfectionist stayed put, and I didn't come to a complete stop when the mistakes came. I kept going and managed to recover from a measure of wrong notes ("E FLAT, Jeff, E flat!), surprising myself by being able to get back in a way that at least had some semblance of musicality.

Reflecting on that during the drive home, I realized that the technical exercises I've been practicing really do make a difference. My friend Jonathan, quoting a jazz teacher he knows, said that practicing the technical stuff raises our "lousy level," the place we default to when we aren't playing well.

All in all, I feel pretty good about my playing. Decent tone, not too many flubs, the music I chose fit the mood of the memorial service, and people seemed to appreciate the music.

Jitters

I haven't performed in public since my friend Rob's ordination to the priesthood almost three years ago. Well, I suppose playing in the world's largest flute ensemble at the NFA convention in August was performing in public, but I was one of some 2,000 flutists that day! Sunday I will be THE only musician for the memorial service. I don't remember the last time I did that.

Coming home on the train this evening, all I wanted to do when I got home was go to bed. However, with a gig on Sunday, and having missed a two days of practice this week, I knew I had to practice this evening. I know I have a tendency to never feel like I'm really ready for a performance, but the "I haven't performed in public in three years" anxiety started to get the upper hand.

Take some deep breaths and do this week's scales and daily exercise. So far so good. Pull out the program Sr. Celilia sent to plan where I'm going to play what during the service.

PANIC.

Not enough music.

More deep breaths. Pull out the book of Taize tunes and play through some of the variations. But I don't want too much Taize for the service. Pull out folders of music to see what else I've played in the past that could work for Sunday.

More deep breaths.

I practiced for about an hour-and-a-half. At that point it it was enough for today. I piled up the options for Sunday, and I'll go through them tomorrow. No sense making myself crazy or getting so tired that playing any more would do more harm than good.

More deep breaths.

I'll have enough music.