“The tumult and the shouting dies;
The captains and the kings depart.
Still stands thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget.”
-Rudyard Kipling, English Writer, born in Bombay, India

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Word. It’s Wednesday, My Dilettantes.

I discovered this word recently and was very intrigued by it’s meaning. Why have I never heard of it before? It seems to describe the subconscious way I’ve been going about life recently.  I genuinely want to become this skilled Renaissance woman , someone who’s serious about becoming a  master of many arts and knowledgeable of many ways of life. I do in fact take strong interest in various different fields, and subjects and art forms, and it’s not just in a “desultory way” (had to look that up). I’m passionate about my interests, that’s why they are my interests; but it is a sort of a fleeting passion. There’s so many things to learn about, places and people to learn from, that I end up falling into the “Dilettante’s Dilemma,” as I just decided to call it. I’ve become an unfocused dabbler.

dil·et·tante

[dil-i-tahnt, dil-i-tahnt, -tahn-tey, -tan-tee]

noun

1. a person who takes up an art, activity, or subject merely for amusement, especially in a desultory or superficial way; dabbler.

2. a lover of an art or science, especially of a fine art.

Do you know an attempt-able cure for my indecisiveness? Or can you relate to this description?  Am I getting this term all wrong? Do you think being a dilettante is a honorable thing, and I shouldn’t worry too much (C’est va lie)?
Much love,
Rai
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Makers of Music Mondays: Keaton Henson-Live

Last February, a year ago, on a whim (well because I can count on Youtube’s Mahogany Sessions never to fail in the presenting of lovely musical artists) I watched this (almost unbearably) heart-wrenching  song. I feel like the term “song” though, misrepresents. It was something quite deep for me. Sung by (and again, “sung” seems to undermine the reality of his distinct vocal quality) the exquisitely candid, (though very much to himself) Keaton Henson, the performance struck me, and I was enraptured. Unexpected tears fell down my face at the phrase “I’m truly alone…and I like it.” Whoa. Suddenly I am reminded of the quote of Charlie’s (I JUST REALIZED HE HAS NO LAST NAME!) of Perks of Being a Wallflower fame, “we accept the love we think we deserve.”

How profoundly sad.

If you must weep, do it right here in my bed as I sleep…

If you must speak, speak every word as if it were unique.

Much love and good night,

Rai

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“Keep plowing on everyone, I guess that is the message for today.”

-Elder Jake Glen Kershisnik, a Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

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Word. It’s Wednesday’s Vagabond Vocab.

It only seems fitting that I should begin with my main word-choice of this blog’s title in my first “Vagabond Vocab” -ulary definition, yes? Thanks for agreeing…you get me.

vag·a·bond

[vag-uh-bond]

adjective

1. wandering from place to place without any settled home; nomadic: a vagabond tribe.

2. leading an unsettled or carefree life.

Much love,
Rai
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Makers of Music Mondays: Widower-Live

This morning, earlier than usual, I watched a live radio station performance on Seattle’s KEXP. It was of a band called Widower who seem relatively unknown (at least no lyrics were available on el google, nor was there an official website) and maybe at first the (seemingly bland) singing style not so special. However, the first song got me, and my first impression quickly changed. The words and basic imagery in certain moments nudged my consciousnesses softly. Told in a distant but no less powerful way, the song is like a dream you want to remember, but when you remember you want to forget…but can’t seem to. It was like a friend trying to remain unfazed in gently describing a significant/painful life experience.  Their attempt at nonchalance is unsuccessful however; when the lovely harmonizing  joins in, distinct and vaguely haunting; it makes you feel. You can relate to the hopelessness and desire to escape the reality of an endless emotional night. Scruffily honest, these could be people you know.

“I was tattered and torn
but that doesn’t matter anymore…
and I still hang on by thread

all these thoughts that go through my head…
and in the dead of night
in a bed with no sleep in sight
I surrender to the memory of you
and drink instead.”

This is all a little over-dramatized, but after listening I wanted to share this song in a personal way, and in a specific place for to those who appreciate the kind of beauty I do might seek out. I’ve been seriously thinking for some time about creating a special spot where I can record and share tender, reminiscent, enlightening, or just plain groovy thoughts or finds. I’ve been putting it off for so long; and, as I realized today was in fact Monday (though not much is left of it now), the day to alliterate “makers” and “music” (from a poem I will post in the near future) it is the day to therefore begin. As this goal is henceforth accomplished, there is just a bit less of the many more miles I have to go, though I may never really “sleep.”

Much love to you,

Rai

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“There is no end. There is no beginning. There is only the infinite passion of life.”

-Federico Fellini, Italian Filmmaker

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