Being at Peace

I wasn't exactly sure where I wanted to go with the blog this evening before I turn out the lights and call it a day.  Indeed, a busier than usual day was still weighing heavy on me--it was one of those days when we ask, "Why do I choose to do this?"  The answer to that question, of course, is never too far away from the dedicated heart.  We need only look as deep as our hearts.

I believe there is a truth in saying that a day's work bears a similarity to a life's work--especially when the struggle is such that we can feel it pressing in: when we can literally sense age being added.  There has to be a place to turn where we find perfect peace.

The Psalmist says, "In God alone is my soul at rest; my help comes from him."  Of course, as Christians we certainly believe that being in Christ is the only source of rest for our souls--this I would never deny, but I think that often our being at rest--that is, our being at peace--finds expressions in the things that point us to an intrinsic peace in the world and a rest that becomes clearly visible with only a little uncovering.

Earlier this summer I was fortunate to have acquired a guitar.  I have always loved the sound of classical guitar pieces--for me, music has the power to go beyond the ordinary world where often meanings conflict if they are to be found at all.  This morning in the Morning Prayer, the Canticle from Isaiah read, "we shall sing to stringed instruments in the house of the Lord all the days of our life."  It came as a little affirmation to me.

I have never really tried to learn to play an instrument with any seriousness, but now as I am only a year away from turning 50 I have decided to dedicate a good portion of my spare time to finding oneness through the vibrations of nylon strings--not to sound too far-fetched.  After all, I'm not attempting to make a doctrinal statement of any kind, nor am I commenting on one.  I'm just commenting on something I see after looking deeply.

Many years ago as a university student I studied the philosophy of art.  When we came to Picasso's El Viejo Guitarrista the prof didn't say anything, which was surprising for a fellow who was in the first place a knowledgeable musicologist.  Some things just go beyond words and still manage to express all the meaning in the world.  A work of art is like that, whether the medium is oil or nylon.

Recently, I told my guitar teacher that my goal for age 90 is to resemble Picasso's guitarist.  What I see in it is an expression of peace, harmony, and oneness with everything.  If something like satori can really be achieved, I think it has to do with frequently returning to the idea that life--complete with it's struggles and hardships, with it's no easy answer days--always has something to give and something to say, though meaning expressed in words may or may not be part of it.

Comments

[Pia]

I've been thinking about this piece since you posted it, DD. I took guitar lessons in High School after several years of piano lessons at parrochial school (never learned to read notes, would play by ear..too scared out of my whits to learn). Guitar was much easier and fun. Then I "grew up" and left my guitar behind when I moved to Italy. It's one of the things I brought back with me when I was in the States for my brother's funeral, and I was amazed that I was able to remember so much when I'd "play" it. The music wasn't too good, but those notes soothed me so, and for a good long time. As long as it took for the grief to become tolerable. Last year I decided to get serious and take lessons. My goal, more than to learn to play the guitar, was to learn to read music. When I got to that point by the end of the year, I was satisfied, and haven't taken a lesson since. I still fool around with it every once in a while, when the mood hits me. It really calms the spirit, though if I should ever play for anyone, they'd probably end up looking like viejos guitarristas without guitars... :-)

BTW, we're the same age.

[Gabrielle]

"...finding oneness through the vibrations of nylon strings--not to sound too far-fetched." Not far-fetched at all.

"If something like satori can really be achieved, I think it has to do with frequently returning to the idea that life--complete with it's struggles and hardships, with it's no easy answer days--always has something to give and something to say, though meaning expressed in words may or may not be part of it." Absolutely.