Beautiful calm blue-sky day with a TINY bit of moisture in the forecast. Yesterday in the wild wind, trees came crashing down, roofs went flying, and trampolines! Trampolines took flight here and there landing in ditches and in neighbor’s yards.
Now the wind is in Kansas.
I am becoming skilled at physical therapy, and it’s really helped me. I think it’s pretty boring for the therapist, though, day in and day out to watch a bunch of people riding a stationary bike, struggling with a giant stability ball, trying to stand up on a balance board, complaining about their ailments. Yesterday a young guy — an athlete was on the therapy bed next to mine. He was talking about a friend of his who was a physica therapist for a pro football team. “It can’t be all that interesting. You have to wait around all day, like from 6 am to midnight, just in case someone gets hurt.”
“Good point,” said his PT. “And the coaches are probably always calling, ‘When can he play? When can I put him in the game?'”
I just cracked up (which did not interfere at all with squeezing a basketball between my knees). My PT looked at me. I said, “That’s what you’re going to deal with after my surgery,” I said, “My coach calling you to find out when I can play again.”
The whole place was in mad guffaws. I wish it hadn’t been QUITE so funny, but, it was.
In OTHER news, I listen to music on Youtube. It makes mixes for me — most of the songs are awful — but somehow they threw in something by Big Country. It sounded like a medieval song.
I happen to love medieval music. As I listened to Big Country it hit me. It’s time to write about Michele, the artist in Martin of Gfenn who teaches Martin to paint. I’m SO ready to return to the High Middle Ages, such a kinder, gentler time than the post apocalyptic eras (apocalypse being the first most devastating onslaught of the bubonic plague and the 100 Years War) following, uh, the plague and the 100 years war. The times when peope really BELIEVED. Sure, times were hard, but they just lived in them like we live in ours…
Back in 2013 I went to the SISSI Conference (Society for the Interdisciplinary Study of Social Imagery). I gave a paper on the truth about the medieval leper and I noticed a woman, a Classics professor from Purdue, was giving a paper on the Goliards — about which I knew next to nothing. She also appeared (from the bio) to be a very interesting person. So…before my gig, I was sitting outside, drinking coffee, talking to a kid and she came up. She was going to attend my talk. I read her name tag and introduced myself, saying, “I really wanted to meet you!” She was kind of embarrassed.
“You wanted to meet ME?”
Obviously we hit it off. Anyway, when she gave her paper, I knew that Martin’s painting teacher was a Goliard. I wanted to write that story, but the damned Protestant Reformation got in the way as it has so many times for so many of us. (?)
The Goliards (if they’re known by anyone at all) are known through Carl Orff’s opera version of the Carmina Burana which is (in real life) a collection of hundreds of Goliard poems and songs put together over a period of 300 years. Many of the poems are satirical “hymns” that parody Church songs.
The Goliards were “rogue” clergy who wanted more from life than the monastery, who objected to the abuses of the Church and lived lives of various kinds of debauchery — wine, women and song — along with wandering from city to city, university to university, in search of knowledge. They were often mendicant teachers, too, tutors to rich families. Since Michele — Martin’s teacher — was exiled from his order in Verona and sent to Zürich for mysterious (salacious?) reasons, he MUST have been a Goliard, right?
I have a lot to learn, and there’s no genie who’s going to put all that knowledge into my brain, but I have my friend’s paper to start with. I read it yesterday and was struck again by her beautiful writing. ❤
I like Ray Manzarek’s “cover” of Carl Orff’s rendition of “O Fortuna” from the Carmina Burana:
|O Fortuna||O Fortune,|
|velut luna||like the moon|
|statu variabilis,||you are changeable,|
|semper crescis||ever waxing|
|aut decrescis;||and waning;|
|vita detestabilis||hateful life|
|nunc obdurat||first oppresses|
|et tunc curat||and then soothes|
|ludo mentis aciem,||as fancy takes it;|
|dissolvit ut glaciem.||it melts them like ice.|
|Sors immanis||Fate – monstrous|
|et inanis,||and empty,|
|rota tu volubilis,||you whirling wheel,|
|status malus,||you are malevolent,|
|vana salus||well-being is vain|
|semper dissolubilis,||and always fades to nothing,|
|et velata||and veiled|
|michi quoque niteris;||you plague me too;|
|nunc per ludum||now through the game|
|dorsum nudum||I bring my bare back|
|fero tui sceleris.||to your villainy.|
|Sors salutis||Fate is against me|
|et virtutis||in health|
|michi nunc contraria,||and virtue,|
|est affectus||driven on|
|et defectus||and weighted down,|
|semper in angaria.||always enslaved.|
|Hac in hora||So at this hour|
|sine mora||without delay|
|corde pulsum tangite;||pluck the vibrating strings;|
|quod per sortem||since Fate|
|sternit fortem,||strikes down the strong man,|
|mecum omnes plangite!||everyone weep with me!|