Rhythm and Writing:  The Beat of Life

21 Mar 2025 Leave a comment

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

maxresdefault

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?

unnamedOn 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) 

DrumsticksIn 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?

reading-writing-rhythm

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?”

9781780231075We 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)

Good+Rhythm+Example

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?

ab67616d0000b2736a0d8ec00c6f8e9828418f5c

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.

Blog+Image+-++Seasonal+RhythmsThe 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.

rhythm-is-life-prints

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?

Imagine if I Lived in Another World?

22 Feb 2025 16 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

I woke up this morning trying to imagine what if I lived in another world in another place in another time.  What if I lived in a world where no one hated anyone else?  A world where loving others was the norm.  What if I lived in a world where everyone helped others with no thought of benefits to themselves?  What would a world be like with no greed, no selfishness and no narcissism? 

Then I thought of John Lennon’s song “Imagine.”  I can’t say I am too familiar with the lyrics from this song, but I realize I am treading on ground already imagined by many others.  Here are the lyrics from “Imagine” by John Lennon.

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us, only sky

Imagine all the people
Livin’ for today
Ah

Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too

Imagine all the people
Livin’ life in peace
You

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world
You

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one

Where could such a place be?  In a multiverse of possibilities, where could I find another world where peace and prosperity are guaranteed for all?  Surely, in a universe of all possibilities somewhere else people live in harmony with their environment and do not force others to live according to their standards.  Surely, there is some place in the multiverse where tolerance and respect for all is the norm. 

I would like to imagine a place like the planet Vulcan with the famous Vulcan IDIC.  Infinite Diversity through Infinite Combination.  I would like to imagine a place where people who talk about diversity and equity and inclusion are not treated as pariahs and outcasts.  I would like to imagine a world where sexual preferences are the norm and people are not expected to conform to simple dualities. 

I would like to imagine somewhere exists maybe over the rainbow where there is no homelessness and no starvation.  I would like to imagine a place where rape and child abuse are unheard of.  A place where anyone of any color or sexual orientation is free from abuse and threats and fear for their lives.  I would like to imagine a place where little children and women can walk freely at any time of the day or night without worrying about being murdered or assaulted. 

I am nowhere near the dreamer that John Lennon was though I think dreamers should be sacred in our world.  I would like to see a place or country where people dream more and hate less. 

I woke up this morning feeling like I am in the wrong world at the wrong time and in the wrong place. I don’t belong here anymore.  I can’t read the news or listen to the radio or watch tv because they keep shouting to me over and over and over again that I don’t belong here anymore.  I have outlived my time and my usefulness.  I can only mourn for a place that is beyond my imagination. 

I want to live in a world where kindness and compassion and respect for all human beings is the norm.  Somewhere, I keep imagining that there is a place where violence and jealousy and revenge do not exist. 

Perhaps if I go back to sleep, I can return to reality.  I can stop imagining things that only bring me tears and heartache.  Things that make me loath my own humanity.  I wonder if I can ever find a brotherhood or sisterhood of love again in this world.  Perhaps in my dreams, I can find the place I want to go to. 

 

The Rich Young Man and the Novice Nun

23 Nov 2024 2 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The following story was related to me in a much briefer format at my Jesuit Retreat in July of 2024.  The Retreat Master told this tale to show the virtue of generosity.  In the story that he narrated, it involved a beggar and a nun.  I have embellished the story by changing the nature of the characters and the activities somewhat.  I do not know where the original tale came from but if anyone has an inkling, I would love to receive the name so that I can give credit to the author. —- John P. 

Once upon a time there was a young man named Ethan who was born into a very affluent family.  Ethan was brought up with all the goodies and toys that a rich family could afford.  Ethan was an only child to an elderly couple who could not believe their good fortune in having a son and heir in their later days.  To say he was spoiled would be an understatement.  He was the epitome of the privileged child who thought he deserved everything he got.  He treated the family servants like dirt.  Servants in his mind were not deserving of any respect. 

Perhaps because of his privilege, life was very easy for Ethan.  He did not bother to try to get good grades or worry about going to college.  Ethan expected to live with his elderly parents until they passed away and then the family fortune would be his.  However, life often has other plans for us.  Both of Ethan’s parents died in a private plane disaster.  Ethan was only twenty years old but their deaths did not really trouble him very much.  He assumed that he would now be rich and inherit their fortune.  Which is exactly what happened.

Now on his own, Ethan took to wine, women and gambling.  His father’s financial advisors tried to warn him that he was burning through the family fortune at a prodigious rate.  Ethan would heed no warnings.  The more warnings he received the more women he bought.  The more whiskey he drank and the more he gambled.  He thought nothing of buying a diamond ring or a new car for a girlfriend.  The new girlfriend would be tossed out of his mansion in a few weeks only to be replaced by a new gold digger. 

Finally, the inevitable happened.  Ethan’s advisors told him that he was broke.  Everything he thought he owned, cars, mansion, and boats would have to be sold to pay off his debts.  Ethan was astounded.  It took a few weeks, and an eviction notice before Ethan realized that he had no skills, no trade, no education and no money.  Indeed, he had no real friends either as he soon found out.  Attempts to borrow money from the bank and friends went nowhere.  He was on his own. 

Ethan went to a casino one night to see if he could win some of his fortune back.  He ended up stone cold drunk and tossed out of the casino when they found out that he could not pay his poker bets.  Homeless and penniless, Ethan hit the streets.  In the next few months, he learned to live in a cardboard shack and find leftover food by dumpster diving.  He learned to beg to get extra money for the gin that he was still addicted to.  The other beggars and street people hated his guts.  Ethan treated other homeless people as though they were inferior to him. 

In the area where Ethan now lived, there was a monastery.  Each day, the nuns would serve a hot meal, soup, or sandwiches to the street people.  These meals were served between the hours of 11:30 AM and 1:30 PM.  Whenever Ethan would go there, he would try to arrive as late as he could so that he did not have to associate with any of the other homeless people.  He regarded them as bums and still saw himself as superior to them. 

One day, Ethan arrived at the monastery too late for lunch.  He had fallen asleep under a tree in a local park and did not wake up until about 3 PM.  Nevertheless, he showed up at the monastery to try to get some food.  He banged on the door until a young novice nun opened the door.  “What can I help you with,” she inquired.  “Took your own sweet time to get here,” he belligerently replied.  “I want some food.”   “I am sorry,” Sister Regina said, “but the kitchen is closed, and we have no food prepared.”  “Don’t give me that bullshit, you have food, you are just too lazy to help another human being.  I thought your Jesus said to feed the hungry.  Well, I am hungry now and I want some food now.”    

Sister Regina thought about it for a minute but just then another Sister came to the door.  “Go away,” said the other Sister and “come back tomorrow at the proper lunch time.”  “No, that’s all right,” said Sister Regina, “I will try to find something for him to eat.”  She asked Ethan to “please wait here while I fix something for you to eat.”  Ethan agreed but warned her to hurry up as he was really hungry. 

Sister Regina went to the kitchen refrigerator and found some different lunch meats.  She located some bread and mayonnaise and made a nice cold cuts sandwich.  She grabbed a small lunch bag and put the sandwich in the bag.  Just as she was headed out of the kitchen, she noticed a candy bar on a shelf.  She thought this would make a nice desert and proceeded to pack the bar in with the sandwich. 

When she arrived back at the door, she opened the door and Ethan was waiting there. She told Ethan that she had found some cold cuts and made him a sandwich.  Ethan grabbed the bag and replied that she had taken her damn sweet time about it.  He went away without saying another word. 

Ethan walked to his private place in the park under his favorite tree.  He sat down and plucked the sandwich from the bag.  He took his time to eat the sandwich which he thought was very good.  He was about to throw the bag away, when he noticed that there was something else in the bag.  He reached inside the bar and found the candy bar.  At that point, something very mysterious happened.  Ethan thought “Well, I wonder why she gave me a candy bar?  Perhaps she was being nice to me. I wonder why she would do that?”  That is when it struck him. 

She was nice to him when he was a jerk towards her.  She did not have to include the candy bar.  Maybe I have been a jerk my whole life, he thought.  The more he thought about it, the more ashamed he was of the way he treated her and other people.  Somehow, sitting under that tree, Ethan resolved to change his life.  From now on, he was going to be kind to other people and to help them out when he could.  He would start today by going back to the monastery and apologizing to the young novitiate.

It was getting late and around about supper time when he arrived back at the monastery.  He knocked gently on the door and waited.  The door opened and it was the other Sister who had told him to go away before.  “What do you want,” she asked?  “I would like to speak to the young Sister that made the sandwich for me,” he said.  “Wait right here.” he was told, “I will see if she is available.”

Sister Regina came to the door and greeted Ethan.  “What can I do for you,” she inquired? “Nothing,” replied Ethan.  He than got down upon both knees and said “I am so sorry for the way that I treated you before.  I did not even deserve a sandwich and yet you took the time to make it for me and even add a candy bar.  I want you to know how grateful I am to you for that.  You have helped me to see the world completely differently.  From now on, every day I will come here early to help make lunch for the other homeless people and to help out any way I can.”  Sister Regina recognized that Ethan was sincere, and she told him how happy they would be for his help. 

Ethan did just as he said he would.  He showed up every day early to help prepare food and left late after the dishes and the kitchen had been cleaned.  Within a year, the Sisters voted to hire Ethan as a cook and custodian.  He lived in the monastery another fifty or so years until he passed away.  Before he died, he asked to see Mother Regina who had now become the head of the monastery.  Taking her hand, he told her how blessed he was to have had her come into his life.  He had lived a life that he wanted to and had no regrets.  No amount of fame or fortune could ever equal the happiness that he had found by helping others. 

“I want a president with a record of public service, someone whose life’s work shows our children that we don’t chase fame and fortune for ourselves: we fight to give everyone a chance to succeed.”  — Michelle Obama

What is Life without a Song to Live By?

03 Nov 2024 4 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Sometimes my mind simmers with proverbs or aphorisms.  “Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow you may die.”  “The test of courage comes when we are in the minority; while the test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority.”  Hardly a day goes by when one or more of these pithy sayings does not assume authority over my daily life.

On other days, I am more guided by messages embedded in some song.  For instance, the idea of “Tradition” is a theme in the musical “Fiddler on the Roof.”

Who, day and night, must scramble for a living,

Feed a wife and children, say his daily prayers?

And who has the right, as master of the house,

To have the final word at home?

The Papa, the Papa!  Tradition.

The Papa, the Papa!  Tradition.

My blog this week is simply a mélange or medley of some of the songs that give me inspiration.  Messages that without being invited often invade my life.  There is no particular order or priority to the songs in this blog.  I don’t know why or how these musical pieces pop up;  but suddenly, some extraneous words, activities or events trigger them.   Before I know it, I am humming a refrain in my mind. (If you care to hear the songs noted below, just click on the title which is hyperlinked.

Respect: Aretha Franklin

All I’m askin’ is for a little respect when you come home

(Just a little bit) Baby

(Just a little bit) When you get home

(Just a little bit) Yeah

(Just a little bit)

Isn’t this something we all want?  Just a little respect!  Sometimes it seems so hard to find these days.  The idea of a “Righteous Person” or a Mensch does not seem to resonate with modern society.

Ambition: Wale

The time is now on everything

Took my heart away from money, I ain’t interested in fame

And I pray that never change

Ambition is priceless, it’s something that’s in your veins

What is ambition?  When is it good and when does it corrupt our lives?  The Greeks had the concept of the “Golden Mean” and it certainly should guide our ambition or we become totally corrupted.

Trouble:  Robert Preston

We’ve surely got trouble (we’ve surely got trouble)

Right here in River City (right here)

Remember the Maine, Plymouth Rock and the Golden Rule

(Our children’s children gonna have trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

A cute song but it reminds me constantly of the need to be on the lookout for politicians that use hyperbole to sow fear in the polis so that they can reap their rewards.

Dreamin:  Johnny Burnette

Well, I’ll keep on dreamin’

Keep right on dreamin’

Dreamin’ ’til my dreamin’ comes true

My entire life often seems like one big dream.  Dreaming is more of a process for me than an end state.  I like to think that I am a Realist but more often I am an idealist.  I dream of a world defined by the words of Martin Luther King.

“I have a dream that one day down in Alabama with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down in Alabama little Black boys and Black girls will be able to join hands with little White boys and White girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.”

Camelot:  Richard Burton

The snow may never slush upon the hillside

By nine p.m. the moonlight must appear

In short, there’s simply not a more congenial spot

For happily ever after in than here in Camelot

Is there a place on this earth where peace and justice reign?  Where I can live happily ever after.  Where there is no fear or evil.  I am still looking for this place.  It exists in my mind.  If only I could find its physical manifestation.

Lonely Teardrops:  Jackie Wilson

My Heart Is cryin’, cryin’

Lonely Teardrops

My pillows never dry of

Lonely Teardrops

Who among you has not felt the pain of loneliness?  James Bond said that “Boredom” was the worst curse of all.  I disagree.  Loneliness is the worst curse of all.  No physical pain is as great as the heart ache of loneliness.  No man or woman wants to do battle with loneliness.  Sadly, it must come to all of us someday.

Satisfaction:  Rolling Stones

I can’t get no satisfaction

I can’t get no satisfaction

‘Cause I try and I try and I try and I try

I can’t get no, I can’t get no satisfaction

Sounds like a whine!  But we all have those days when nothing seems to go right.  We call our insurance companies, or we call our bank, or we call our hospital and we “Can’t get no satisfaction.”  I often wonder if anyone really cares about our satisfaction.

Old Man River:  Paul Robeson

Ah gits weary

An’ sick of tryin’;

Ah’m tired of livin’

An’ skeered of dyin’,

But Ol’ Man River,

He jes’ keeps rollin’ along!

I’m sitting on the bank of the Mississippi watching the river flow or I’m watching the tide roll in on the “Dock of the Bay.”  I am sick of tryin and I am sick of livin.  Suddenly, every problem I have just melts away.  My problems are mostly in my mind.  The river doesn’t care.  The ocean doesn’t care.  The river rolls.  The tide comes in.  Life goes on.

Well, that’s all folks!  I have dozens, maybe hundreds of other refrains.  Many of them will remain hidden until suddenly the right chord is struck, and I will be humming them in my mind.

So long, farewell

Auf Wiederseh’n, goodbye

I leave, and heave

A sigh and say goodbye

Goodbye

From — The Sound of Music

 

My Final Will and Testament —Things That I Loved in Life —Reflection #1

08 May 2024 3 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , ,

last-will-and-testament.asp_FINAL-5146e68080b449f0ba84c4edbe3f15b0

Last year at my 40th Demontreville Retreat, one of the exercises that we were given by the Retreat Master included a very challenging set of thoughts.  The worksheet for the activity was labeled as “A Testament.” I took the worksheet and instructions home with me.  It had fourteen tasks or reflections to complete.  I did not desire to complete them during the retreat.  It is now almost a year since my retreat, and I have decided to make the mental and emotional effort necessary to complete this “Testament.”

I am going to complete one or two reflections every other day for the next few weeks.  I would love it if you would do these tasks along with me.  If you would like to share your thoughts, that would be great, but I am not expecting anyone to do so.  I would like to know if you find any benefit in completing these activities.

The worksheet started with these instructions:

Imagine that this is the last day of your life on earth.  In the time that you have left, you want to leave a “Testament” for your family and friends.  Each of the following could serve as chapter headings for your “Testament.”

 1.These are the Things that I have loved in life.

Wow, where to start?  The effort brings tears to my eyes.  I fear that I have loved and lost too much.  In Alfred Lord Tennyson’s famous poem “In Memoriam A.H.H.” he writes:

I hold it true, whate’er befall;

I feel it when I sorrow most;

‘Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.  —- Canto XXVII

If only I could agree with Tennyson.  My soul does cry out for remorse and forgiveness but giving it to myself seems hard to come by.  The people that loved me and cared about me that I scorned in my life are mostly shadows now of another era.  An epoch that I want to forget about.  Can we really change?  Have I really changed.  I am ashamed to list what I have loved because I was so careless and thoughtless with so much of it.  If only I believed in a God of Forgiveness, it would make this effort so much easier.

I won’t say I have ever loved a thing.  I have never loved money, cars, or possessions.  I have loved the thought of fame and fortune.  I have never completely let go of the idea that around the next corner awaits my vindication.  Fame and fortune will anoint me as the true Knight that I dreamed of being.  When I was ten years old, I wanted to be an astronaut.  I wanted to fly into space on a rocket ship years before Captain Kirk was even born (at least on TV.) I loved the idea of adventure and discovering new places, things and ideas.  But my dreams were dashed by reality.  I was too short to be an astronaut and my eyes were not good enough to be a pilot.  Biological requirements that were set by who knows and for what reasons that dashed all hope of my dreams of going to the stars.

I have loved a few people.  Similar to my relationship with God, I am an Atheist when it comes to love.  Can you really love a car?  Can you love your new house?  Love seems to me something that must be reciprocal.  Only humans can really reciprocate love.  Even pets are only capable of licking your face.   However, with humans, most of the love in the world is a misnomer for lust.  Love at first sight is the most egregious example of lust to ever exist.  I see a woman with nice legs or nice breasts, and I fall “IN LOVE.”  Another idiotic phrase that should be stricken from humanity.  Six weeks later, we are married and promise to “Love and Cherish” each other for life.  This bliss or LOVE may last for a few months or years until the lust has all but disappeared and reality has set in.

I have never ever fallen in love with anybody much less anything.  I love Karen.  I love my sister Jeanine.  I love several old friends.  Love for me has to be earned.  It has to develop over time as with the “Velveteen Rabbit”,  “It’s a thing that happens to you.  When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” — Margery Williams

Can I child really love a stuffed toy?  The logician in me says NO.  The cynic in me says NO.  The realist in me says NO.  My heart says YES, thereby negating much of what I have probably already said about love.  Love is in one sense logical and rational.  In another sense, it is emotional, illogical, and irrational.  I still question loving your car or loving your house, but I do not question the love that some people may have for their pets or even an inanimate object.  Reason tells me that a pet stuffed rabbit can somehow personify “love” much better than my desire for a Ferrari ever could.  I still can’t imagine in what warped dimension I might live where I could fall in love with a Ferrari or even cry when it was gone.

I shall add to my list of “Loves” the following:

  • Books
  • Ideas
  • Writing
  • Music
  • Food
  • Travel
  • Adventure
  • Adversity
  • Challenges

Number 2 of 14 Reflections in this Testament exercise is as follows: 

  1. These are the experiences that I have cherished.

I am posting this as a sort of “heads up” to give you some time to think about your own experiences.  I will reflect on mine in my next blog:

Here are some of my favorite quotes on love:

  • Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” — John 15:13
  •  “I hope it’s okay if I love you forever.” — Ally Maine, “A Star Is Born”
  •  “Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.” — Zora Neale Hurston
  •  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” ― Martin Luther King Jr.
  •  “Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” ― Robert A. Heinlein
  •  Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. — Aristotle

 

 

 

I Am an Inconsistent Man

10 Apr 2024 22 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

inconsistencyOver time, I have noticed that the most popular post I have on my blog site is my Home page “Who is Dr. John Persico Jr.?”  I realize that most readers want to know my credentials to see if anything I am going to say has any credibility.  Am I someone you can trust?  Can you depend upon my words or my facts?  Am I just another wannabe Guru so full of my own opinions that I have no room for other points of view?

Upon re-thinking my Home page, I realized that it really does not do justice to describe who I am.  It does not answer the questions that I raised above.  In fact, if you take it at face value, it could be very dangerous for you.  It could lead you to paradoxes and quandaries which are unsettling.  It might lead you “circulus in probando” down a path that flows around until it comes right back to where it started.

A discussion with a friend the other day led me to realize that I am a very inconsistent man.  Sometimes I say one thing, but then I change my mind.  I am a very erratic person.  Sometimes, I am very logical and at other times I am very illogical.  Many of the ideas competing in my mind are incompatible.  In fact, not only are they incompatible, but they are genuinely irreconcilable.  This creates an uncertain and unpredictable me.  If you are looking for consistency, if you want certainty in an uncertain world, I do not have much of it to give to you.  I am capricious and arbitrary.

images rrr

I am changeable and often at odds with my own beliefs.  My life is discordant.  Many of my friends would say discrepant.  I subscribe to the motto that, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.”  I prefer the incongruous and incoherent.  The fickle and dissonant are the music of my life.  Boring is living with certainty and sameness.  God, please surround me with temperamental unstable mercurial and out of step people.  James Bond said that “Boredom” is the worst curse of all.  What could be more boring than a life whose patterns show no variability?  Only sameness.  All White motifs.  No mosaics struggling with each other for our attention.

images rrrr

I have a friend who wants to be called at definite hours and with a pattern of hours that are predictable.  “Let’s set a time to talk each day.”  “No, No, I am a serendipitous caller.  Let fortuosity guide our conversations.”    The unforeseen and the unpredictable make life more interesting.  Do we want to be rats on a treadmill?  Sometimes, I walk by a health club and ten people are all sitting on exercycles facing the window and pedaling furiously to go nowhere.  In my mind, I make faces at them and tell them, “Get a real bike and go ride in the traffic.”   

It is these same people who say “I don’t like fish.  They taste too fishy.”  I try not to reply “Do you also dislike mollusks, cephalopods and crustaceans or is it just members of the  Gadidae family that you don’t like?”

imagesThose who march to the proverbial beat of a different drummer live with risk, but they also are not bored.  We only experience life when we are open to the unknown and the unpredictable.  Walk through a cemetery at midnight.  Take a train or bus to someplace you have never been before.  Read a book in a new genre.  Watch a movie that is offbeat.  Try some foods that you think you might not like.  Meet some new people.  Embrace the strange and esoteric.  Life is not a cherry; it is a seething caldron of uncertainty and innumerable possibilities.  You will never truly live if you simply stand at the edge of the caldron and wait for it to stop bubbling.

God save me from consistency, constancy, periodicity, routine, steadiness, regularity, and invariability.  Give me a life with syncopation.

download

 

 

The Persico’s Holiday and Christmas Letter for 2023

17 Dec 2023 16 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , ,

Happy Holidays to All our Friends, Relatives and Everyone Else as Well. 

John: I bring you a gift this year.  Whether you are celebrating Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or Christmas, it is the season of giving.  It is the season of happiness, joy, hope, peace, and love.  I wish these were my gifts to you, but that would be impossible.  I don’t have the ability to do that.  However, if I am not being too presumptuous, there is a secret I can share with you.  It is not a really a secret but a path to everything that you could wish for.  There are many paths in this world that will bring you to what you want but they are not always easy to follow.  Some will tell you that “loving everyone” is the path to happiness and peace.  A great idea, but in truth one that I have found nearly impossible to follow.

Some will tell you that gratitude is the path to contentment and happiness.  I have found this path easier to follow but not always appropriate.  Some things I am never going to be grateful for.  Then I realized that much of my unhappiness comes from “disliking.”  I may dislike some people, some places, or some things.  For example, I dislike ham and freeways.  I don’t think that I will ever love either one, but I don’t have to dislike them.  I can choose to simply accept a certain neutrality towards them.  I will call this the path of neutrality.  A path characterized by neither liking nor disliking something or someone.  When I stop disliking something, I have given myself power over my own life by taking control of the choices I make.  When I dislike something, I am controlled by what or whom I dislike.  Instead, we can choose a path of neutrality.  In 2024, try taking a trip down the path of neutrality.  If I make any progress, we may meet each other on the path.  As Porky Pig said, “That’s all for now folks.” Time to hear from Karen.

Karen: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year to all!

2023 has been an interesting year for us.  In February, I made a trip to Minnesota to visit my daughters Juli, Susan, and Megan with a side trip to Cornucopia, WI to stay a few days with Kevin.  We had fun together with many late-night talks and watching the deer on Kevin’s property.  However, I had asked for one blizzard while I was there, and no one provided that for me, In fact, it was warm with melting snow much of the time.  The rest of the winter was the snowiest on record.  Hopefully my upcoming trip in January this year will provide at least one good snowstorm.  On my return from Wisconsin, John and I finally caught Covid for the first time.  Not pleasant, but no lingering effects,

In June, we started off for Wisconsin in the RV and had a nice visit in Albert Lea with my cousin Jane and husband Bill.  We had made reservations for the summer in an RV park not too far from Frederic for three months—I called it the Great Experiment.  Could we really live together in a 26-foot RV with all our stuff?  The answer was “not too well”.  Mosquitos and wood ticks attacked us whenever we were outside.  John had too little space to do his exercises, and the kitchen table was the only place for the laptop.  My solution was to practice my instruments and work on my quilting in the screen house with a nice fan while John stayed inside with the air conditioning on frigid.  We took one trip in August to visit my cousin Gretchen and husband Robert in Door County on Washington island.  We had a good three days together, reminiscing and listening to Robert’s stories about his life in South Africa.  We left for our AZ home at the beginning of September.

We came back home to AZ for a few weeks, then left for a trip to South Africa.  It was a wonderful trip, and it was made more meaningful after Robert’s story sharing.  As a person who lived through the apartheid era, he has written several books about his experiences growing up in South Africa.  We stayed in Cape Town for a week.  In and around Cape town we visited some historic towns, wineries, museums, flower gardens, churches, and the famous Table Mountain.  One day we took a boat trip out to see some penguins and other sea birds.  We then flew to Johannesburg where we toured Soweto, the Apartheid Museum, Nelson Mandela’s home and several other historic areas.  Next by car we went to a Scottish resort.  We spent a day or so just relaxing.  It was then on to Kampala Game Reserve to spend three days on morning and evening “game drives” to find various African wildlife.  We have seen most of the same species in zoos, but it is nothing like seeing them up close in the wild.

Friends have asked us what we liked most about South Africa.  The scenery was wonderful.  The food was fantastic.  The history was fascinating albeit very sad.  But the best part of the trip was the South African people.  They were warm, friendly, and hospitable.  They were the icing on the trip.  No where did we find anybody who was not helpful and willing to go out of their way to make us feel at home.

That is the END.  At least for this year.     Attached are some pictures from our South Africa Trip.  

Wishing you good health, peace, love, and joy for 2024.

Karen and John

Why Do I Write?

08 Jun 2023 17 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , ,

downloadOver the years, I have noticed that I have about as many people each week who view my “Who is Dr. John Persico Jr?” profile as read my blog.  I suppose it is only natural that people would want to know something about me before believing anything I say.  If only everyone did the same thing with the politicians that they vote for.  But that is another issue.

images

I left Arizona about three weeks ago and have not posted anything since then.  We took our RV back to Wisconsin for the summer to visit some friends and relatives.  My previous record for living in this 26-foot RV trailer was 7 days.  I am now going on 16 days and have not lost my mind yet.  I have spent more time at the local hardware store looking for things that we either needed or thought we had brought with us than I have spent sleeping.  I found out over time that homes were money pits, I am beginning to wonder if the same is true of RV homes.  I have ninety more days to go to find out.

why-write-joan-didion-quote-writers-block-writing-habit

Anyway, we have most things straightened out and I started feeling the need to write something.   It was like the need to exercise; I NEED to write.  Something in my life was missing.  Dozens of topics went through my head.  Spinning around like a ball on a roulette wheel, which topic would my mind stop at.  I must write something and soon.  Spinning, spinning, spinning, it finally stopped at “Why Do I Write?”  I suppose I feel somewhat like Hank Williams Jr. sang in his famous song, “Family Tradition”:

They get on me and want to know,

Hank, why do you drink?

Hank, why do you roll smoke?

Why must you live out the songs that you wrote?

Over and over

Everybody makes my prediction,

So, if I get stoned, I’m just carrying on,

An old family tradition.

I can’t say that I am carrying on a family tradition.  More like I am starting one.  But I have done and still do my share of smoking, drinking, and carrying on.  I certainly try to live out the blogs that I wrote.  But as I started trying to answer the question as to why I write, I came up with the following reasons.  Some realistic, some not.  Some mundane, some grandiose.  Some memorable, some not. Some inspiring, some disappointing.  Like’em or leave’em, here are my reasons for posting nearly 700 blogs over the past 13 years or so.

  • To influence
  • To persuade
  • To change ideas
  • To challenge ideas
  • To share ideas
  • To titillate
  • To shock
  • To inform
  • To remember
  • To celebrate
  • To bless
  • To find peace
  • To find happiness
  • To share joy
  • To share pain
  • To share sorrow
  • To organize
  • To rally
  • To tell a story
  • To have fun
  • To be creative
  • To act as a catharsis
  • To become immortal
  • To become famous
  • To receive honorable mention someday
  • To leave a legacy
  • To leave a history
  • To set some records straight
  • To support causes that I believe in
  • To honor those who I think deserve it
  • To skewer those who I think deserve it
  • To make a difference
  • To find out who I am
  • To help others remember who I was

why-write

Well, there you have it friends.  My reasons for writing.  Many of you who read my blog are wonderful writers.  If you leave a comment, tell me why you write.  I suspect some of you will have much better reasons for writing than I have.  Notice, money was not one of my reasons.  Not that money is not important to me, but I would rather be known as a great writer than a billionaire.  Both titles have to date eluded me and probably will continue to do so.

images (1)

 

What Writers Can Learn from Music

30 Jun 2022 2 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , ,

I have always liked to use some musical links in my writing. Many of my writings deal with songs that have inspired me over the years. (Where Have All My Young Friends Gone?) A few years ago, I started wondering what I could learn from music that might infuse my writing with more elegance and passion. I tried my hand at a “musical composition.” I am not sure that it came out very well but if you are interested, you can read my piece at: ON WRITING, MUSIC, CHOREOGRAPHY, THE SEASONS AND LOVE.

Recently, in our writing class, I gave my students the assignment to come up with a 100 word writing piece that used some elements of music in their writing or that writes about the use of music in writing. It was an odd assignment made more difficult because my instructions were pretty vague. The following week students brought in their writings and shared them in class.

The discussion that accompanied our readings was very helpful. Wilma, a writer in the class, found a good article that illustrated very well what I had been trying to say and do in terms of using music to provide creativity or at least another perspective to our writing. I am adding links to Wilma’s article which was in Medium and another that I found while perusing Medium.

The first article is by Mark Benis and is titled: “Is Writing Stories so Different from Writing Music?”

View at Medium.com

The second article is by David W. Berner and is titled: “Writing is Like Music.”

I hope you will find these articles interesting and that they will perhaps inspire some use of these ideas in your own writings.

View at Medium.com

ON WRITING, MUSIC, CHOREOGRAPHY, THE SEASONS AND LOVE

02 Nov 2021 2 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , ,

Allegro

What does writing have to do with making love? Can the changing of the seasons really be compared to an overture? What if on some primal level, we all live by an unseen rhythmic law? This law says that there is fundamentally no difference between making love and writing or between a brilliant piece of choreography and the changing seasons. Does the rhythm of the universe expect a form of symmetry to all of life? A regulated succession of strong and weak elements or of opposite and contrasting conditions becomes the master of all we do. The seasons come and go. The music ebbs and flows. Our love is gentle, passionate, sublime and tired. Mornings, afternoons, evenings and nights fuse with the spring and summer and fall and winter of our lives. The harsh gales of November echo in the overtures of Stravinsky and Beethoven. All things are one say the mystics. Is my writing one with all things? Can I form, norm, storm and perform even with mere words.

Adagio

Far be it for me to confuse philosophy with art. Greater men than I have said 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. 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 down the halls of time. The most unforgettable and amazing repetitions will resonate as long as humans walk the earth. Coded in the numerous ways we have of capturing the rhythm of our lives: Some dynamic, some peaceful, some violent and some sad. We write our lyrics, pen our verses, create our stanzas and design our choreography all guided by the unseen law of rhythm. Now we are hard, then we are soft. Now we roar and now we snore.

Scherzo

Love is kind, love is considerate, love is not selfish. The waltz was a creation of times when love was more restrained. This torrent of mine was supplanted, extending my being, your 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 in the face of conspicuous sexuality. The rhythm of music often 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 movies? What if I made 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

Is it enough to alternate patterns of tenderness with patterns of inhibition? Shall I open with an allegro, then move into an adagio, followed by a scherzo and conclude with a rondo? Who would expect love to end without a crescendo? Should my love making follow the classical style or should it be more like a jazz piece?

Rondo

Whether goes my writing. I have written this in four parts to reflect my cosmic view of the rhythm of life. We form and norm and 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. Our life, our work, our art, our thoughts all finished but with a hope to be reborn perhaps by someone who sees a need to continue the rhythms that we have started. Not really finality, but continuations that started before us, and will continue long after our memorials are put up. Perhaps, my headstone will have four verses or stanzas or paragraphs or perhaps like the newest greeting cards, you will be able to press a button on my tombstone and you will see a picture of me singing and dancing to 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?

Life is just beginning

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries