Allegro: a brisk lively tempo
What does the beating of my heart have to do with my writing? What does writing have to do with making love? Can the changing of the seasons be compared to a concert overture? What is the relationship between T. S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets 2: East Coker” poem and Stravinsky’s “The Rites of Spring?” What does musical rhythm have to do with writing?
On some primal level, we all live by an unseen law of rhythm. The rhythm of the universe controls an eternal dance between the atoms and molecules that make up our existence. This natural rhythm imparts an inexorable symmetry to all of life. A regulated succession of strong and weak elements of opposite and contrasting conditions that becomes the master of all that we do. Buddhists call it the Yin and Yang of being.
Springtime is upon us.
The birds celebrate her return with festive song,
and murmuring streams are softly caressed by the breezes.
Thunderstorms, those heralds of Spring, roar, casting their dark mantle over heaven,
Then they die away to silence, and the birds take up their charming songs once more. — (From Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons: Spring”, Concerto in E Major)
In countless ways, we observe that there is fundamentally no difference between writing or between a piece of choreography and the changing climate. Creativity is carved out of the passion that is in everything we do. The body and mind embrace in a never-ending minuet. The music ebbs and flows. Our love is gentle, restrained, then wild and feral. Mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights fuse with the seasons of spring, summer, fall and winter. The harsh gales of November resonate in the refrains of Tchaikovsky and Beethoven. “Summer Breeze” by Seals and Crofts ushers in the scorching days of July. Poetry rings out in the rap music of the streets while the mellow voices of choir singers comfort the soul. All things are one say the mystics. If my writing is one with all things, will the tempo of my words cool, heat, soothe or disrupt the fashions of life?
Adagio: a slow and stately tempo
Far be it for me to confuse philosophy with art. Greater men than I have acknowledged that there is a unity to life. We travel down our different paths often blind to the journeys of others who walk side by side with us. This one a carpenter, this one a computer scientist, this one a teacher, this one an artist and this one a hero. Some of us have a long journey and some of us have a short journey. For some the journey is rough and chaotic and for others the journey is smooth and predictable. There are slow times in our journeys and there are fast times. The rhythm of life is never the same for any of us.
Oh, it’s the same as the emotion that I get from you
You got the kind of lovin’ that can be so smooth, yeah
Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it — (From “Smooth”, by Santana)
For some, life is poverty and for others it is uncountable wealth. The rich man longs for the anonymity and slower days of the poor man. The poor man can be heard singing, “If I were a rich man, lord who made the lion and the lamb, would it really spoil your cosmic plan if I were a wealthy man?”
We are all dust in the wind but our rhythms echo through the halls of time. The most unforgettable and amazing repetitions will continue as long as humans walk the earth. Coded in the numerous ways we have of capturing the rhythm of our lives. Some code in music, some in text and some in clay. Some codes are dynamic, some peaceful, some violent and some sad. We write our lyrics, pen our verses, create our stanzas, and design our choreography. All efforts guided by the unseen law of rhythm. Now we are hard, now we are brittle. Now we roar and now we snore.
Scherzo: a sprightly humorous movement commonly in quick triple time
Love is kind, love is considerate, love is not selfish. The waltz was a creation of times when love was more restrained. Centuries of constrained love making has been supplanted, extending our beings, becoming our challenge. The Tango alternates patterns of space and closeness with syncopated rhythms of violence and passion. Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go. Rock and Roll ushered in a wild abandonment of morality to a tune of conspicuous sexuality. The rhythm of music exhibits striking harmonies with the rhythm of our love lives. Can I be soft and gentle like a warm breeze but also wild and unrestrained like in the pulp novels? Shall I make love to the William Tell overture or would Shakira’s lyrics work better?
Baby I would climb the Andes solely
To count the freckles on your body
Never could imagine there were only
Too many ways to love somebody — (From “Whenever, Wherever,” by Shakira)
Should my love making follow a classical structure or should it be more jazz like? Is it enough to alternate patterns of tenderness with patterns of spontaneity or should I begin with an allegro, then an adagio, followed by a scherzo and conclude with a rondo? And what of those who expect love to end with a crescendo or those who enjoy more syncopated jazz?
Rondo: a recurring leading theme often found in the final movement of a sonata
Whether goes my writing. I have written this concerto to writing in four parts to reflect the universality of the rhythm of life. We form, norm, storm and then perform. Spring is the opening that brings fresh growth to our world before the bloom of summer. Summer brings the maturity and ripeness of life. Fall brings the storms and winds that signify our frailty and insignificance to the universe. Winter ends our symphony with the closure and solace that our work is done, and our day is over.
The rhythm of life runs through our heart beats. It runs through literature. It runs through music. Great music has rhythms that exhibit great variation. Fast, slow, moderate than fast again. Interesting speakers have a sense of rhythm in their talks. Have you ever heard a lecture or a sermon without rhythm? It will put you to sleep in less than five minutes. Writing and speaking, just like music, must contain elements of rhythm. A heart without rhythm ceases to beat. Writing without rhythm is boring. Life without rhythm is death.
To feel the rhythm of life,
To feel the powerful beat,
To feel the tingle in your fingers,
To feel the tingle in your feet. — (From “Rhythm Of Life,” 1969 Motion Picture Soundtrack, Song by Sammy Davis Jr.)
Our work, our art, our thoughts, and our lives are concluded with a hope to be reborn again. We wish that someone will see the need to resume the rhythms that we have started. Never a finality to our rhythms. Only a continuation that started before us and will continue long after our memorials are put up. Your headstone may simply have one verse on it or possibly it will be like the newest greeting cards. They will walk up to your grave and press a button. You will appear with a menu of options, and your visitor can select a video of you either singing or dancing or perhaps reading one of your writings. Everything will have a four-part harmony.
Time For Questions:
Does music teach you anything about writing? Does music speak to you? Can writing be like a symphony? How do you hear music? Does it speak to you like a good poem or a good verse? What is your favorite kind of writing? Do you ever think that the writing you enjoy could be like music? What would it take to transform the music in your life into writing or the writing in your life into music?
Aging Capriciously 