--and then listened to Bach. With animation.
I hope I got the version without the ad... if not, sorry. You know what to do.
I don't know why that kind of stuff fascinates me. Multiple, distinct voices (shown in the animation as color)... sometimes playing their own melodies....
There was a time when I didn't want to play, hear and think about anything but Bach. Joel wept as he listened --and when it was over said, Or, we could make a bomb and it could go boom.
And, yesterday, in the school auditorium during the funeral, when I got up to speak, I was well composed when I climbed the stairs, but was holding back the tears by the third sentence.... my multiple, distinct voices did not play in concert with each other.
Even this morning.
Remembering how we stood in the dusk, in 20 degree weather, and the fancy vault wouldn't fit down in the hand-dug hole on the hill-top, so the crane had to be ordered out, lifting the whole vault and coffin out and the hole re-dug. Just when everyone expected to be weeping the most, they were all laughing at T's last joke....
And this morning, without a chance for reflection and dusting off, I am off to Rapid --taking an elder to visit a dying friend.
At prayer this morning (beginning at Zechariah 11:4)
Thus said the LORD my God: Be a shepherd of the flock doomed to slaughter. Those who buy them kill them and go unpunished; and those who sell them say, “Blessed be the LORD, for I have become rich”; and their own shepherds have no pity on them.
There we are. Off I go.
--dragging anachronisms and parachronisms and catachronies (I just made that one up, we haven't talked about that one... yet) along with me.