{"id":3923,"date":"2005-06-28T18:58:21","date_gmt":"2005-06-28T22:58:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/formerlyknownas\/2005\/06\/28\/listening-to-the-music-in-me\/"},"modified":"2011-08-05T14:57:36","modified_gmt":"2011-08-05T18:57:36","slug":"listening-to-the-music-in-me","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/ethicalesq\/2005\/06\/28\/listening-to-the-music-in-me\/","title":{"rendered":"listening to the music in me"},"content":{"rendered":"

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I had hoped to post my Music Baton<\/A> by now, but other things keep<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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interfering.  I’ve also been trying to articulate why I listen to so much <\/FONT><\/DIV>
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less <\/EM>music now than I did in the first 50 years of my life.   It may indeed <\/FONT><\/FONT><\/DIV>
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be the influence of haiku — the desire to focus on one thing at a time, <\/FONT><\/DIV>
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to be receptive to enjoying and appreciating the small moments of life, <\/FONT><\/DIV>
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and (please excuse the <\/FONT>Kiki Dee<\/FONT><\/A> reference, <\/FONT>Evan<\/FONT><\/A>), to listen to the <\/EM><\/FONT><\/FONT><\/DIV>
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music <\/FONT><\/A><\/EM>in me<\/FONT><\/A>,<\/FONT><\/EM> rather than someone else’s recorded music. <\/FONT><\/DIV>
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<\/FONT> <\/DIV>
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<\/FONT><\/A> <\/DIV>
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\"juke   John Stevenson and Peggy Lyles would understand (and <\/FONT><\/DIV>
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say it better):<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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his power out,<\/DIV>
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my son calls to talk about<\/DIV>
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nothing special <\/DIV><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE>
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 <\/DIV>
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morning sun enters<\/DIV>
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   the sleeper’s <\/DIV>
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      ear<\/DIV>
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border of sleep<\/DIV>
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   the sound of nearby breathing<\/DIV>
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   . . . mine<\/DIV>
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a deep gorge . . .<\/DIV>
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   some of the silence<\/DIV>
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      is me<\/DIV><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE>
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applauding <\/DIV>
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the mime<\/DIV>
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in our mittens<\/DIV>
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dawn<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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before there is any<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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tune in my head<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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John Stevenson<\/FONT><\/A> <\/DIV>
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“his power out,” & “dawn” –  <\/FONT>Upstate Dim Sum<\/EM><\/FONT><\/A> (2005\/I)<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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“applauding the mime” – <\/FONT>Quiet Enough<\/EM><\/FONT><\/STRONG><\/A> (Red Moon Press, 2004)<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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“morning sun enters” & “some of the silence” & “border of sleep” – <\/FONT>Some of the Silence<\/STRONG><\/FONT><\/EM><\/A> (1999)<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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New Year’s Eve —<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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the harpist’s hands<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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still the strings<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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distant jazz<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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a calla lily<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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catches the rain<\/FONT><\/DIV><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE>
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 <\/FONT>
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Peggy Lyles<\/FONT><\/A> <\/FONT><\/FONT><\/DIV>
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“distant jazz” – <\/FONT>To Hear the Rain<\/EM><\/FONT><\/A> (Brooks Books, 2002)<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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“New Year’s Eve –” – <\/FONT>Upstate Dim Sum<\/EM><\/FONT><\/A> (Special Guest, 2005\/I)<\/FONT><\/DIV>
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<\/FONT> <\/DIV>
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<\/FONT> <\/DIV><\/FONT><\/DIV><\/DIV><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/BLOCKQUOTE><\/FONT>
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<\/FONT><\/FONT><\/FONT><\/FONT><\/EM><\/STRONG> <\/DIV>
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