To everything there is a season

...and a time for every purpose under heaven.
Thanksgiving Day has passed, a day which was full of gratitude for life's abundant blessings... and turkey with all the trimmings. My two grown kids and my dear husband and I (and the puppy*!) rode over the highway and through the woods to the grandmothers' house, and everyone was loving and cordial and friendly and fun, and we were home in time to relax before bedtime (and let the puppy run around*).

On the way home in the dark, we saw 3 houses with Christmas lights a-glow, and one lit tree standing in a window. 'Tis the season? The stores and the national economy want us to think so. But I find that once again I am approaching the month of December with my usual stubborn insistence on letting the beauty of the dark-into-light time unfold. The days are definitely getting darker and darker; we have candles at the dinner table most nights, and we're all looking at our watches after supper and wondering what is the earliest we can get into our beds! I'm not ready for Christmas muzak, decorations, lights and greenery to infiltrate my quiet, brooding Advent.

On this first Sunday in Advent, I have gotten out the Advent candle holder, but have not yet gathered the moss or installed the candles (photo to follow when mission accomplished). As my spirituality has evolved, my love for Advent has only increased, as it so beautifully expresses the hopeful anticipation of light following the darkest time. As we light the candles one by one, they remind me by their strengthening light that no matter how dark it gets, light will return. This is also reflected in a very November-y song by Gordon Bok that I often think of at this time of year:
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.

So, let the candles slowly increase, and let the greens gradually appear. The carols on the player will ease in as well, and the tree won't arrive until the Solstice. There will be concerts, and parties, and places where "Christmas out there" will be unavoidable, and I'll participate whole-heartedly with gratitude for the joy in the faces around me. But at home, let it be Advent for the next 4 weeks!





*although this is not a blog post about the puppy, I promised to write about the puppy this time, so here you are!

Higher Learning

Yesterday Hunt and I spent a day in academia. We were invited to give a guest lecture for the Boston University ethnomusicology department, backed up by scholarship and references. What an enticing challenge! To do what we usually do, but with scholarship to back it up! So in preparation we poured over websites, looked through our own library (and discovered it was far more comprehensive than we had realized!), visited the NH Library of Traditional Music and Dance, emailed notables in the field, (Dudley and Jacqueline Laufman. Photo courtesy of Dudley Laufman)
took notes, made pdf files and posters, and off we went!

(a page from a Vermont dance prompter's book c. 1847, courtesy NH Library of Traditional Music and Dance)

...did I mention that I am an alumna of Boston University? It was eerie, walking into a classroom where I was tortured by 20th century music theory, to deliver "Dance Music, Sedition and Maple Syrup: the Musical Roots of Old New England". I was confronted by ghosts of my past- I swear I met my 20-year-old self in the hallway- yet it was all different, too. I mean, there was never even an Ethnomusicology department at BU 30 years ago! But here we were, and we gave all we could to a group of brilliant, musical, scholarly grad students who welcomed us with courtesy and warmth. I still felt challenged to live up to the impossibly high standards I always felt were just beyond my reach in my undergrad days, so I vibrated like a piano string all the way through the presentation.

We decided to drive home after dinner following the presentation, instead of staying the night in Boston. This gave us time to de-compress and evaluate the experience. We are still processing it, but one thing is certain: we are expanding our horizons, professionally and personally, and we're grateful for every opportunity to learn and grow and make connections.

Next time, I will write about the puppy. Really I will!

Nellie the Dog