It has been whirlwind of conferences, since the last new moon.
I attempt to distill my experiences into a Venn diagram below.
I took away a quote (attributed to John C. Maxwell):
Everything rises and falls on leadership.
And what does healthy, effective leadership look like?
The audience numbered about 200, and the orchestra, 40. Among the former group were elderly gentlemen with walking canes, and giggling little humans who appeared to be about seven years old. And, among the audience was a member of my music-making community, an instrumentalist on the Er Hu.
“You came on the wrong night,” he whispered conspiratorially to me. “Tonight's programme focuses on the Principal Players of the orchestra. You will seldom get to see the full orchestra in action tonight.”
Pause.
“Anyway, why are you here? I thought you were only interested in the piano.”
“Life was different back then,” old people say. But Izra's life seemed to mirror mine. A vigorous young man in his twenties, Izra was poised for the next leadership position in church. However a series of events tarnished his reputation, and it would be forty years before he was cleared of his “bad name”.
I've tried using neem soap on my itching skin. It has been two nights so far, and it does seem to soothe the itch.
Why haven't I heard about it earlier in my life? I asked Jill, my friend from England, and she said that the Chinese people do not usually hear about neem because the tree simply does not grow in China.
However the medicinal effects of neem appear to be well-known – or, dare I say, even ubiquitous – in India. (according to Wikipedia: “Margo soap uses margosa [also known as neem] as its main ingredient.“)
Warning: image-heavy content follows.
Elga tossed her hair in the mirror and looked at her red evening-dress. It still frightened her sometimes, how she was alone in a hotel room, far away from home. She found herself missing her mother – how far she had flown, beyond her mother's soft lap!
Elga wistfully moved her thoughts away from her mother's gentle yet firm touch, and settled her mind on the little plushie that she had bought from this country's National Oceanarium: a penguin. Snuggled next to the moon-white pillow in her room, it'd be her companion for the remaining five days.
Looking at herself one last time in the mirror, she took a deep breath, and strode into the bar, where a waitress in red lipstick and power blazer stood to attention. “Table for one, please. I'm fine by the bar.”
Mamood tossed restlessly on the wooden floor. This abandoned shophouse lay next to a busy road, and the chatter of motorbikes, and blares of overloaded trucks, ate into his thoughts whenever he tried to focus his mind.
It was no good. He couldn't think properly, at this rate.
One moon cycle has passed, once again.
I've been disciplined about applying betamethasone cream to my eczema skin.
Weather has been pleasantly cool – albeit a little grey – and
My heart is stone The moon is silent and absent Like my mother
O Mother — Thou art dead!
My Buddhist friend, Maia Duerr, publishes a public newsletter upon every moon cycle, and I want to follow suit.
And I believe that this moon-aligned behaviour is alive in practitioners of the Jewish tradition.
Different faiths, same moon. Different beliefs, same planet.
without further ado, here are snapshots from my part of the world:
Warning: image-heavy content follows
A big Thank You to the magnificent vocalists – and distinguished instrumentalists – who have given me an education in jazz repertoire.
This list is, of course, not exhaustive.
I told my sister-in-Christ that I was reading up on the Balkan conflict and various historical tragedies. Then she said, “why do you need to read that? the Bible already has war and violence.”
So, I will now direct my attention to visual depictions of Biblical violence.
The above list is certainly not exhaustive.