Faith is Believing
“Faith is believing
And knack of perceiving
That trust is serenity
In promised divinity." JM
Artistic greatness, in any field, has a rare and uncanny quality of sensing life and the world head on and anew, without filtering it through warped beliefs, expectations or preconceptions. This 'divine essence' encompasses a field of wonder, and experiences a creative route filled with uncensored riches.
Putting this 'artistic dawning,' if you will, into words-written or spoken, or sung-allows all of us to see, read and hear with newborn vision, and experience with truly open heart.
More frequently, life in us is more strongly diminished by judgment than it is by illness. The spontaneity of the natural life force becomes stifled with over scrutiny. Judgment, and or approval, is sought or practiced to please others and ourselves. It is seldom to find someone who loves us as we are, just as it is seldom to love ourselves whole.
Worry Before Placing Bets
A good rule of thumb would be, to do your worrying before you place your bets, not after the wheel starts turning.
Wagner Master Class – April 14, Met Opera Guild
Jane Marsh Wagner Master Class - Metropolitan Opera Guild, April 14
“Wagner 'Lieds' the Way,” with reference to the Metropolitan Opera's production of Wagner’s RING CYCLE, and Wagner’s Songs
Date of Master Class: April 14
Time: 6:00 PM
Location: Metropolitan Opera Guild, Rose Building, Sixth Floor, Lincoln Center, NYC
Tickets Reserved at, 212-769-7028
Passion Week & Good Friday
"Oh week that witnessed holy suffering!
You sound such a serious note in this blissful spring season.
In the rejuvenated rays of the sun,
You spread the shadow of the cross over the bright earth,
And silently lower your mourning crape.
Meanwhile, the spring is allowed to continue germinating.
The violet is fragrant beneath blossoming trees.
And all the birds sing songs of joy.
Oh, be silent, you birds in the green meadows!
All around, hollow-toned bells are resounding.
The angels are softly singing dirges.
Oh, quiet, you birds high up in the blue sky!
You violets, do not crown any maiden’s tresses today!
My pious girl is picking you to make a dark bouquet.
You will accompany her to the Virgin Mary’s house,
And there you will wither on the altar of the Lord.
Ah, there, intoxicated by mournful melodies,
And sweetly dazed by heavy fumes of incense,
She seeks her bridegroom in the vaults of death,
And love and springtime – everything is lost!" JM