Fencing Bear at Prayer

A curious thing happens when you announce to the world that you are learning to play a new musical instrument. Nobody (or almost nobody) asks the more practical questions: "Where are you taking lessons? Private or group? Did you have to buy your own instrument, or were you able to rent? What was the first thing you had to learn?  What is it like?  How is it different from other instruments you already play?  Do you have to read music?  What inspired you to want to learn to play?" Rather, almost immediately, family, friends, and acquaintances begin to regale you with one of three things: Tales of their own experience learning (or not learning) to play your musical instrument; Lists of expert musicians who play the instrument you are just starting to learn; Lists of other people whom they know who play the same instrument and whom they expect that you would like to meet. Well-meant as they are, am I the only one who finds these kinds of things hard to hear?*...

I'm learning the fiddle!  I know, I know, what is it with me and things that you do with pointy sticks?  What can I say?  It's an aesthetic. But, seriously, I have always wanted to learn to play the fiddle--or, as they introduced it to us in fourth grade, the violin.  I don't remember the details terrifically well, but I know that there was some kind of assembly or such in which the kids in the orchestra played each of the instruments and the teachers invited us to choose one that we would like to learn to play.  I know I asked my mother if I might try violin, but she was already fed up with me for not practicing my piano (or words to that effect), so that was that.  It was piano or nothing. And so I stuck with the piano--through the tears and frustration and teasing and embarrassment.  Through the scales and the new teachers and always feeling like I really couldn't play.  Despite the fact that I could read music, quite well, in fact.  D...

All I can say is, "Thank goodness for iTunes!" These are songs that I haven't listened to for over twenty years. I think I could probably find the cassette tapes if I dug around in the closet a bit, and I still have my old Radio Shack cassette player somewhere around here. But it's not the same listening to tapes as playing the songs on your iPod. Plus, we don't have a cassette player in the car anymore. But these are just excuses, not really reasons. Why haven't I listened to this music in such a long time? These are the songs of my youth, the songs that I used to listen to over and over and over again, so much so that even now, decades later, I remember not only all of the lyrics, but even the music, not, of course, so as to be able to play it (sigh), but it's there, deep in my memory, a part of my soul. Pretty corny, eh? Have you noticed that I'm not telling you which songs I'm actually listening to? I want to, very much, but what if yo...

It may be hard to believe from what I said yesterday , but I am actually feeling quite hopeful again today. This, I am hoping, is one of the benefits of sharing these reflections with you on a blog. When I am writing for academic purposes, too much of the day-to-day experience of learning about prayer is subsumed into an overarching, polished argument. Under such circumstances, it is easy to forget the days on which hope seemed impossible, just as on those hopeless days, it is difficult to remember reasons for joy. What is it that gives me hope today that I could not remember yesterday? Well, it isn't just that I am rested after yesterday's practice because I actually woke up feeling just as angry with myself as I had been when I went to sleep last night. Nor is it that I started to recall the strong actions I made in yesterday's bouts, despite the final scores. I could remember those at the time, but they did not offset the sense of frustration and lack of control ov...