Opus 131, Covid Time
From Mark Nepo, in The Endless Practice; Becoming Who you Were Born to Be:
“Being deaf, Beethoven could hear the music of the Universe, unheard by the rest of us
...Completed in 1826, Opus 131 (String Quartet No. 14 in C# minor) was considered groundbreaking, offering seven movements instead of the traditional four....
...it mirrors the non-stop demand of life to have us make music with what we’re given... inevitably, having to play seven movements without pause, the instruments will go out of tune.
With no time to re-tune their strings, musicians have to adjust and improvise within the structure of the music. In this piece, Beethoven insists on allowing both the harmony and discord of life to be present. He challenges musicians to see the movements through, even out of tune.”
I read this in the middle of last week when reality was setting in that Covid 19 was definitely moving in, slowing parts of life down, ramping others up. By the end of last week, my 8 year old daughter, Ajah, had been home from school for days since she had a cold and by then, kids with symptoms of the cold or the flu would not be allowed into school. Being the extrovert- social-being that she is, Ajah thrives on school schedules and friends and struggles being at home all day. She and I and the rest of the household were going out of tune. Lots of wild and wooly music coming out of Loewehill.
When I read this piece from Mark Nepo, about Beethoven’s quartet, I decided to reframe our situation and start accepting that even though we were in that 5th or 6th movement and our instruments were going out of tune, we were still being asked to make the music. I/we needed to look for ways when we could improvise, to work with what was, and to listen more intently for the new and unusual sounds from those around us. I also listened to Opus 131 and decided that between the 2 violins, the viola ad the cello, I am most like the viola (in the middle of things).
I wondered if, with the help of the string quartet, I could find a structure with which to place our out of tune household song. For my first movement, I began with the strings of “my instrument”, the viola: C, G, D, and A
Opis March 2020: 1st movement of Life on Loewen Hill Farm; the beginning days of Covid 19:
C is for Coyote, our daughter’s most important activity. Coyote is the name for our farmyard’s version of tag. 1. it happens on the snow hill. 2. Adults are the mama or papa coyote. 3. The adults are always it. 4. if the mama or papa coyote get close enough to the baby, she can always go “T” with her hands, giving her more time to run away. Mark told me this morning that from now on, when he plays coyote, he runs and leaps for as long as it takes to get his heart rate up until he needs to tap out and then he makes his “C” (for coffee time).
G is for Ground Grain and Goats. Julie, our daughter-i-law, has decided to grind wheat from one of the bins for all of her sour dough explorations: sour dough banana bread; sour dough ginger bread; sour dough rye/almond butter/maple syrup cookies. She makes all of these ground grain goodies as farmyard and community gifts. FYI, yesterday afternoon, I found Julie reading her book to her goats and I wondered, since they looked so happy, if she had fed them some of her cookies.
D is for Dangerous Disdane for Doing Duties as sent out by the eDucator. Needless to say, the little bumps along the way (like the eraser at home doesn’t work like the eraser at school) can be chaotic ground in this kitchen. But music we are making: Like quicker and longer shifts to recess which can include an hour when Ajah helps Mark fork straw in the barn. Like FaceTime School with her 11 year old friend, Juno, who walks Ajah through her entire daily math page.
My particularly Out of tune A is for Accepting (or trying to) that it’s been said, by the wise ones, that a life in need of grace is the life worth living. These days, that’s the most regular and also the loneliest sound I seem to be making in this house. I’m soaring and then stumbling; I’m irritable and then profoundly grateful; I’m cabin fevered and then loving this yard, I’m amazing at parenting and then seriously not. Along the way I have to decide to whisper words of love and gentleness instead of shame and despair into my weary soul. You are enough, Bonnie (as long as you remember those around you). Especially when you are completely out of tune, when your music sounds downright ugly. Even when the world’s music sounds both scary and when listening carefully, oddily hopeful. Together with others in your life, with the blue/gray sky above, with a good night’s sleep and freshly made bread, and and and....new music will be made. A new movement of song will come of all of this. I am listening.