The last apartment I lived in, while I was strung out on crystal meth, was across the street from the Boise State University football stadium. In the autumn of that year, earlier than now, mornings would often begin with the disturbing sound of the BSU marching band practice in the parking lot. Much of that season was occupied with rehearsal of “O Fortuna :from Carl Orff’s “Carmina Burana.” Disturbing. The turning of the wheel ends, in the original Burana Codex, with the words “Sum sine regno,” I am without a kingdom.
The house I live in now is half a block from the field of a middle school. Just now, as I was writing an e-mail, the marching band began rehearsal on the street right outside my front door. So surreal. So loud. In this little deciduous corner of the world as the world was meant to be. Not Carl Orff. No. George M. Cohan’s “You’re a Grand Old Flag.”
Maybe this is, after all that’s passed, “the home of the free and the brave.”
-
“Where the hell is God?” we scream, wallowing in our own private realities.
The thing is, usually, we are so busy screaming, we aren’t listening.
I think you heard Him, this morning, in that marching band. He’s a subtle type.
-DKThinker
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