Come to the table and enjoy.
http://sites.google.com/site/chimneyswiftsongs/
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About Me
- Chimney Swift
- Songs are made from two basic ingredients: craft and muse. Muse without craft is interesting for about one minute. Craft without muse for maybe 30 seconds. I've been writing songs for half of my life now. It took a long time for the muse and I to become friends, but once we did, we've been pretty close--long walks in the evenings hand in hand, the whole bit. A couple years later craft caught up and started tugging muse and me by the arms down busy streets, along ancient dusty roads, and now, to the rooftops. Here are my thoughts, like my nightly roost in your chimney, about both ingredients as they play out in my life.
I have been trying for several days to arrive at a response worthy of your offering. If one is invited to dinner, one can offer presence, conversation, laughter, thoughtful silence. But in this case, where we're all at a distance as we listen, none of those can be properly offered in gratitude and return. And besides I do not play an instrument.
ReplyDeleteThen I was reading The Supper of the Lamb, by Robert Farrar Capon--a cookbook--and he has a whole chapter on feasting with friends. It's a chapter on a formal dinner party, actually, but I do believe it applies to feasting at a rough-hewn table with thick steins of beer, or jugs of wine~or resting across floral couches late, late into the evening, wine in hand, records on the record player, letting whatever pretenses just go.
And so, in response and listening and thanks, I offer you a few small selections from that chapter:
"From this point on, a well-made dinner party is on its own. With only minor nudging from time to time to prevent its running aground in the shoal waters of disagreement or bad taste, it should come, with flags flying and bands playing, to a happy berth. I wish you well...May we all sit long enough for reserve to give way to ribaldry and for gallantry to grow upon us. May there be singing at our table before the night is done, and old, broad jokes to fling at the stars and tell them we are done.
"We are great, my friend; we shall not be saved for trampling that greatness underfoot. Come then; leap upon these mountains, skip upon these hills and heights of earth. The road to Heaven does not run *from* the world but *through* it. The longest Session of all is no discontinuation of these sessions here, but a lifting of them all by priestly love. It is a place for *men*, not ghosts--for the risen gorgeousness of the New Earth and for the glorious earthiness of the True Jerusalem.
"Eat well then. Between our love and His Priesthood, He makes all things new. Our Last Home will be home indeed."
Thanks, friend. You are a true man!
ReplyDeleteNow there's a compliment I've never received before!
ReplyDelete