Oh it's good to be back. Before I tell you what's been going on here, I have to let you know that this update is one of the highlights of my week. I'm overjoyed to be able to sit down and tell you what we've been doing, and the response I've gotten from you has been greater than I ever expected. So let's dive in!
As you recall, Caleb was gone last week and a few of us worked a practicum, so the school at the house was mostly review and exercise. This week, it picked back up as Leigh taught us new concepts in Geometry and arithmetic, showing us new approaches to multiplication and division. Monday was the first full day of the week. Later that day, after Caleb led the girls in choir and we all went to work, he took Laura Bos to Southern Pines to meet with a man called Danny Infantino, a recording artist who he hoped would be able to help produce Leigh Bortins' new audiobook, The Core. The meeting was very successful, and they began recording.
Back home in West End, the rest of us worked at our various internships until the evening. With the weight of our music performances hanging over our heads, we quickly settled into our houses and most of us began practicing. Caleb had assigned us the task two weeks before, telling us to find a song we had never played, and learn it by this Tuesday. Some were prepared, adding final touches, and some were only just getting started. The most confident relaxed, driving out to dinner. By the end of the night, the music had mostly died down. A few of the Fellows met out in the driveway, arranging chairs into a theater to watch a show together, honoring the rules which divide the villas after ten o'clock, relegating our gatherings to more public places. A few more of us went to the golf course to serenade the stars with our prepared melodies. The night ended peacefully.
The next morning, Leigh divided us into groups, those who excelled at SAT math, those who needed the most help, and the remaining, the poor saps in the middle, with me in the very center. The mathematical geniuses took tests at their own pace, while the other two groups plodded along, some working with Mrs. Leigh and some alone. We were all humming with excitement and nervous energy as lunch drew nearer and the performances with it. The numbers passed in a flurry and soon we were forming phalanxes of folding chairs around a single chair on the makeshift stage, the chair which would be our testing ground in the hour to come. One after another and pair by pair, we ascended to the chair and played for our Fellows.
By this point, we knew how well our classmates could play. We knew who came with years of training, who had learned by themselves through hours at home, and who were just starting to play at Mandala. Unsurprisingly, this performance reflected something completely different. Those who had practiced did well, and some of the best among us had underwhelming performances. We all had our turn, and we all made our mistakes— well, except for William. Elizabeth and Anna Harvey played a beautiful duet for the violin and clarinet. I strummed an old rock and roll song from the fifties, pausing to let people laugh at the impossibly rapid beat my nervous leg was drilling into the floor. William, that charismatic master of the friendly ukulele stepped to the front and strummed out a love song, singing through it again, now dedicated to and updated for our dear Sensei Skogen. We joined in the chorus, and left it at that: a job well done. So we left for work, one weight off our shoulders, another pressing a little harder. Our science projects were due at the end of the week.
I waited to tell you exactly what our project was, and now that the day has come and passed, I can disclose it fully. Our task was to build a working Chladni Plate, a resonating surface which displays sound waves made visible and demonstrates how they can travel through physical objects. We had split into three teams led by Austin, Christopher, and me, and these last few days were very busy as we all hurried to understand our plates. Christopher and I had ours finished by Tuesday night, built to the best of our understanding, but neither of them worked as they were supposed to. We spent the rest of the week developing them, but to no avail. When Friday came, our three teams gave our presentations, demonstrated our deficient plates, and discussed what might have gone wrong. Setting the plates aside, we resolved to revisit them after we return from Italy. Leigh collected feedback on everyone's experience with the project, and as soon as she gives it to me, I will write up a more detailed report.
The thread of Chladni wove in and out of the week, but we did more than build our resounding plates and clanging tables. For one thing, the doctor gave Ian the okay to take off his final boot, and now he's walking around without a limp or a stumble— fully heeled. Laura and I have been making the trip to Southern Pines every day after class. We've been enjoying spending time with Mr. Infantino, the charismatic old producer and as Laura read the first chapter of The Core, we discovered that he had had a classical education in college. He's drinking in the book, and we're developing a really neat relationship with him. We won't be recording with him tomorrow, because he's actually expecting the birth of his first child tonight. I'd really appreciate if you would keep him and his wife in your prayers tonight!
So our week came and went, and the weekend came along. Because it was the first Friday of the month, some of us were looking forward to the regular public gathering at the marina. That evening, we heard music and drove over. As we waited for more people to show up, we started to feel a little out of place as we realized we were the only white faces at the party. After ten minutes on the outskirts, I walked to the pavilions in the center, only to find out the regular event had been canceled and we had stumbled into a family reunion. Enlightened, we laughed and bowed out.
That evening, Anna, Zach, and I danced at the Copper Lodge until Leigh asked us for some advice on an art project. We spent the rest of the night hanging out with her, talking about interior design and her beautiful house. She guards her time well, and I felt privileged to simply sit and chat with her. When we got home, we found the villas mostly empty. Alec, Seth, and David Bortins had left earlier that day for a rugby tournament in Atlanta, and Gracsyn, Olivia, and Anna Gordon had gone home for the weekend.
Saturday was a wonderfully relaxed day, a great change of pace from the crazy week. We slept in, and a few of us went out on the lake. William, Michael and I went wakeboarding, along with Ian and his friend Race. We had a great time, only incurring mild sunburns, bruises, and slight sensations of drowning. While William towed us around the lake, Mrs. Bortins led an antiquing excursion with most of the remaining girls and some of their friends. We found ourselves together that evening, bonding over a nice pancake dinner. I even had a taste of home, real maple syrup, something I've been missing for the past month and a half. We closed the night out with a movie. As we watched, the rugby players returned as conquering heroes, bearing bronze medals and well-earned injuries. Most of us went to bed early that night, but a few people stayed behind at the house.
When I woke at seven that morning to get ready for the day, I decided that Saturday must be our day of rest. Anyway, Alec came around to get me for choir and we went to church. It was a great morning, and we spent the afternoon with Tobin, discussing existentialism, predestination, and squirrels. A few of us went on a nature walk with him, and we spent the rest of the day in relaxation.
Well, my evening here has been very long, with interruption after distraction. For the sake of promptness, or some semblance of promptness, I'll forgo describing the events of today, and leave that for another time. I'm off to find something to eat, and find a quiet hole to sleep in.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Once again, the SAT process has changed, and I don't have scores to report. We seem to be improving, little by little. More people are getting close to perfect scores, and the questions we're asking are getting more involved and intelligent.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Friday, August 2, 2013
Perceptive History Books
“Wisdom is with the aged, and understanding in length of days.” Job 12:12
I’ve been thinking a lot about old age. Specifically, I’ve been considering the old men and women— maybe relatives, family friends, or church members— who we all have in our lives. In my cosy valley in Vermont, I had the blessing of growing up next door to my grandfather for the first eighteen years of my life. He was close enough to be over almost every day, but absent enough for our hearts to stay fond. Now that I’m living away from home, I realize how much of a blessing this situation was. Too often, the elderly people in our lives are ignored, pushed off to the side and marked as irrelevant. Youth my age are especially guilty of this, and the idea could not be more wrong. We should value the elderly for three reasons: our seniors give us context for where we have been, our elders have a unique insight into life as it is, and our grandfathers have stories to tell.
The first reason we should value the elderly is that they give us context for where we have been. George Santayana is probably best known for penning that pithy truth, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” We can study history to gain that understanding, but nothing can take the place of living through the actual events themselves. Gifted with immediate first-hand understanding and long lives spent building connections, these men and women can’t help but see the continuous threads which pervade history. When we spend time with these people, we learn about a world which was and which still is. In a world where technology is outdated minutes after being unboxed and pop stars blink in and out of the consciousness of the public like fireflies, we need the voices of the elderly to remind us, as Solomon told his sons, “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”
The second reason we should value the elderly is that they have a unique insight into life as it is. Because of the context of where they have been, or rather, when they have been, these men and women have seen things we have not seen and experienced things we may never experience. The men who lived through the “Great War” saw what was happening thirty years later when Germany rose again to power. After the unfaithful scouts came back to Moses in the desert, God sent the Israelites to wander for another forty years to ensure that a new generation would be the first to enter the promised land. The older ones among us can see how the world changes or stays the same through all sorts of trials, informing their wisdom and knowledge.
The third reason we should value the elderly is that they have stories to tell. If there is any one thing that grandparents seem to have in common, it’s the way they all have an abundance of stories. Considering the long lives lived by each old man and woman, it’s no wonder that they seem to be walking storybooks. We go through life making choices, good, bad, and so many in between, and we reap the consequences from them. Our grandparents, our old friends, and the men and women from history all serve as individual studies for lives full of choices. We don’t have to explore every option in life to find the consequences; we can simply look to the past. From introduction to climax to conclusion, every conflict under the sun has been mapped out in the lives of the people who have come before us, and most immediately by men and women we all know in our lives. We should take advantage of that.
The elderly people among us are important. Without these people, we would be forced to stumble through life without any guidance. We should value them for their context, for their insight, and for their stories which prove relevant time after time. I miss my grandpa. I miss his laugh, his cheerful whistle, and his fun stories about his life growing up. He’s lived almost four times as long as I have, and the lessons he has learned are invaluable. While I love my fellowship of teenagers, I miss the wisdom that comes with the elderly. I need to find some surrogate grandparents to complement my newfound family.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Barnabas
Monday, July 29, 2013
An Unusual Week
Well hey everyone! I've been a little out of the loop this past week. You see, Classical Conversations, the company which Mrs. Bortins runs and which produces the home education curriculum which brought most of us to Mandala, was hosting a practicum. A bevy of prospective (and current) homeschooling moms and Classical Conversations tutors arrived on Tuesday morning to listen to a great lineup of speakers. Aside from teaching the adults, the practicum also offered a series of camps for their children, ranging from a simple play-camp for the toddlers to a persuasive writing class for the young teens. They also provided a nursery for the babies. Leigh asked a group of us (the ones who's work studies would not be too badly disrupted) to assist the men and women teaching these smaller groups. Six of us ended up making the trip out to the practicum every day. Christopher drove the rest of us: Laura, Anna Gordon, Gracsyn, and Elizabeth, besides me.
So my story really starts off a few hours after I posted my last update on monday, when the six of us piled into Mrs. Bortins' car and drove to the Sandhills Presbyterian church where everyone was getting ready to host this event. A few other fellows met us there, where we unloaded a few hundred pounds of books, set up some tables in classrooms and corridors, and listened to our assignments for the week. Gracsyn and Anna went to the nursery, Laura and Elizabeth took the geometry (or Geo-draw) classes, Christopher volunteered to help teach trigonometry to pre-teens, and I almost jumped out of my socks for the chance to work in the Lost Tools of Writing class with the oldest group, the 12-15 year olds. Once we had our assignments, we left for home. This would prove to be the least eventful trip home in the entire week.
We rose early to be at the practicum on time. With a group prayer and a few exaggerated farewells, we left for our classrooms to find our teachers. Because Leigh was at the practicum, Caleb led the remaining fellows in math drills and review, adding a little bit of music to the mix and ending the days early, at lunch. While the other fellows ate and left for work, the six of us enjoyed a leisurely break, contrasting sharply with the intense teaching of the hours before and after. So each day came and went. After leaving the practicum each day, the six of us would generally head over to the nearby town of Aberdeen and the stores and restaurants there. I won't go into too much detail about these rides, but I can say with confidence that between impromptu Chinese fire drills, ear-shattering Mozart, and strange behavior in multiple drive-throughs, we brought a great deal of amused confusion to the people we met on the way— and grew closer as a group.
The evenings together at the villas were mostly uneventful, except for a few bouts of harmless pranking here and there, as certain fellows performed acts of— how can I put this— voluntary interior decorating on their neighbors' villas. I love the spirit of playfulness here; everyone got a laugh out of it and could appreciate the humor.
The practicum ended on Thursday. We said goodbyes to our students (and teachers), some of whom had really grown on us, and cleaned up the church. It was hard to settle down that evening, because we felt like the week was concluded, but we managed to make it to bed and rise again on Friday. Leigh was out with her husband, and the fellows were all present, so Caleb led us in a full day of music discussion and teaching, dismissing the women after lunch to work on choir with just the men. We had a lot of fun, even those who took longer to pick it up, and we made good progress. Austin amused Caleb with the statement, "This is too high; I can go an octave lower." and then amazed him by proving it, hitting one of the lowest notes on the keyboard with power and volume. We're going to continue working on our piece while Caleb introduces something to the other side of the fellows.
With nothing scheduled for the rest of the day, we all went our separate ways. Some people went to town, some went swimming, but there were no mass excursions until later that evening, when most of us went to the Copper Lodge to watch a few movies. We left at midnight and most everyone tried to sleep early.
Caleb came around on Saturday to meet for individual music lessons, and many of us used Saturday to sleep and simply relax, completely worn out. By four in the afternoon, the relaxation was over for me, Anna Harvey, Zach, and Laura. We met in the driveway, wearing our most stylish clothes, threw our dance shoes in the back of Anna's car, and took off for Greensboro and the monthly swing dance they hold there. It was a good night. We danced our feet sore with an expert crowd and had a wonderful time. Our GPS lied to us on the way home, however, and we rolled into our darkened neighborhood at nearly one in the morning. Expecting our fellows to be asleep, we crept into our houses, only to find them all but deserted as nearly everyone else was still at the Copper Lodge. I was soon asleep, and awakened only too soon the next morning.
Alec and I left earliest to go to choir where I would try out to join, and we watched the rest of our fellows stride in through the doors through the morning, most of them arriving early for Sunday school. The pastor taught on Daniel and Jonathan Edwards, two strong Christians who were strong even as young people. I watched my fellows sit a little taller in their seats as they thought about ways to follow these examples. Mandala is teaching us all responsibility, and it's not letting us make any excuses based on our age. We're treated as adults here, both in school and at work, and it's always a challenge but a joy.
After church a few of us went to the Bianco house for dinner and conversation. It was a pleasure, as always, as my smart mouth almost got me expelled— as always. We parted in good spirits, hosts and hosted, and the fellows drove home. When we got to the villas, we discovered that a majority of the others had gone swimming. Ian and I both observed that my villa immediately made people sleepy, so we experimented on that possibility by hopping from house to house, comparing atmospheres. Hijinks ensued, dishes were washed, and art was made. Twilight found most of us together again at the Copper Lodge, where we cleaned the house, played sardines, watched one final movie for the weekend, and set up the classroom for the next day.
We rose bright and cheery, and Caleb led us through another day of music, this time ending it with the ladies' choir. While there are usually a half-dozen of us staying at the Copper Lodge every day, either working on the house or doing something computer-based, only Zach and I are behind today. Everyone else has temporarily joined one of the other jobs. It strikes me what a unique and unusual experience this is, to be so heavily immersed in both school and work. I've never done anything like this before, and I've never heard of a similar program. It really impresses on me what we have and don't use during the day, whether it's time, potential, energy, or any combination of the three. We can do so much. At the same time, we're finding we can't do everything, and it's not an easy truth to accept.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Because we were not all together for this week, we had no chance to test together. We'll make up for it next week by doubling all the scores!
So my story really starts off a few hours after I posted my last update on monday, when the six of us piled into Mrs. Bortins' car and drove to the Sandhills Presbyterian church where everyone was getting ready to host this event. A few other fellows met us there, where we unloaded a few hundred pounds of books, set up some tables in classrooms and corridors, and listened to our assignments for the week. Gracsyn and Anna went to the nursery, Laura and Elizabeth took the geometry (or Geo-draw) classes, Christopher volunteered to help teach trigonometry to pre-teens, and I almost jumped out of my socks for the chance to work in the Lost Tools of Writing class with the oldest group, the 12-15 year olds. Once we had our assignments, we left for home. This would prove to be the least eventful trip home in the entire week.
We rose early to be at the practicum on time. With a group prayer and a few exaggerated farewells, we left for our classrooms to find our teachers. Because Leigh was at the practicum, Caleb led the remaining fellows in math drills and review, adding a little bit of music to the mix and ending the days early, at lunch. While the other fellows ate and left for work, the six of us enjoyed a leisurely break, contrasting sharply with the intense teaching of the hours before and after. So each day came and went. After leaving the practicum each day, the six of us would generally head over to the nearby town of Aberdeen and the stores and restaurants there. I won't go into too much detail about these rides, but I can say with confidence that between impromptu Chinese fire drills, ear-shattering Mozart, and strange behavior in multiple drive-throughs, we brought a great deal of amused confusion to the people we met on the way— and grew closer as a group.
The evenings together at the villas were mostly uneventful, except for a few bouts of harmless pranking here and there, as certain fellows performed acts of— how can I put this— voluntary interior decorating on their neighbors' villas. I love the spirit of playfulness here; everyone got a laugh out of it and could appreciate the humor.
The practicum ended on Thursday. We said goodbyes to our students (and teachers), some of whom had really grown on us, and cleaned up the church. It was hard to settle down that evening, because we felt like the week was concluded, but we managed to make it to bed and rise again on Friday. Leigh was out with her husband, and the fellows were all present, so Caleb led us in a full day of music discussion and teaching, dismissing the women after lunch to work on choir with just the men. We had a lot of fun, even those who took longer to pick it up, and we made good progress. Austin amused Caleb with the statement, "This is too high; I can go an octave lower." and then amazed him by proving it, hitting one of the lowest notes on the keyboard with power and volume. We're going to continue working on our piece while Caleb introduces something to the other side of the fellows.
With nothing scheduled for the rest of the day, we all went our separate ways. Some people went to town, some went swimming, but there were no mass excursions until later that evening, when most of us went to the Copper Lodge to watch a few movies. We left at midnight and most everyone tried to sleep early.
Caleb came around on Saturday to meet for individual music lessons, and many of us used Saturday to sleep and simply relax, completely worn out. By four in the afternoon, the relaxation was over for me, Anna Harvey, Zach, and Laura. We met in the driveway, wearing our most stylish clothes, threw our dance shoes in the back of Anna's car, and took off for Greensboro and the monthly swing dance they hold there. It was a good night. We danced our feet sore with an expert crowd and had a wonderful time. Our GPS lied to us on the way home, however, and we rolled into our darkened neighborhood at nearly one in the morning. Expecting our fellows to be asleep, we crept into our houses, only to find them all but deserted as nearly everyone else was still at the Copper Lodge. I was soon asleep, and awakened only too soon the next morning.
Alec and I left earliest to go to choir where I would try out to join, and we watched the rest of our fellows stride in through the doors through the morning, most of them arriving early for Sunday school. The pastor taught on Daniel and Jonathan Edwards, two strong Christians who were strong even as young people. I watched my fellows sit a little taller in their seats as they thought about ways to follow these examples. Mandala is teaching us all responsibility, and it's not letting us make any excuses based on our age. We're treated as adults here, both in school and at work, and it's always a challenge but a joy.
After church a few of us went to the Bianco house for dinner and conversation. It was a pleasure, as always, as my smart mouth almost got me expelled— as always. We parted in good spirits, hosts and hosted, and the fellows drove home. When we got to the villas, we discovered that a majority of the others had gone swimming. Ian and I both observed that my villa immediately made people sleepy, so we experimented on that possibility by hopping from house to house, comparing atmospheres. Hijinks ensued, dishes were washed, and art was made. Twilight found most of us together again at the Copper Lodge, where we cleaned the house, played sardines, watched one final movie for the weekend, and set up the classroom for the next day.
We rose bright and cheery, and Caleb led us through another day of music, this time ending it with the ladies' choir. While there are usually a half-dozen of us staying at the Copper Lodge every day, either working on the house or doing something computer-based, only Zach and I are behind today. Everyone else has temporarily joined one of the other jobs. It strikes me what a unique and unusual experience this is, to be so heavily immersed in both school and work. I've never done anything like this before, and I've never heard of a similar program. It really impresses on me what we have and don't use during the day, whether it's time, potential, energy, or any combination of the three. We can do so much. At the same time, we're finding we can't do everything, and it's not an easy truth to accept.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Because we were not all together for this week, we had no chance to test together. We'll make up for it next week by doubling all the scores!
Monday, July 22, 2013
When I Survey
Hello again! I'm back to bring you another week's worth of adventure from here at Mandala! I can't believe it's been a month since we started. While the first week felt like a month, I look back over the past thirty days and I wonder where they went. I'm so glad to be writing this journal, otherwise I would probably have lost track of everything that has happened. So what have we been doing? Well, let me start where I left off.
After I finished last week's journal, I left to socialize with the gentlemen who had found their way into our house. Soon after, Harrison, Austin, Seth, Ian, and Anna Gordon left for the Copper Lodge to continue a cut-throat table-tennis tournament they had been playing. An hour or so later, as the villa was growing dimmer in the twilight, William rushed into our house and told us to go look at the sunset. We followed him out and watched as the sun sank into the clouds on the horizon, mixing bold burnished bronze with the soft tones of a warm peach. As we stood in the fresh air, newly attuned to the ever-unique joy of nature, someone suggested we go swimming. Moments later, we were diving under the rope in the shallows at the lake, swimming for the floating dock in the deeper water. The delicious sky warmed our shoulders as we dove and splashed, pushing each other in. Eventually, the sky dulled and we grew tired of our games. Someone suggested we watch a classic movie, and one of the guys, (I won't say who) suggested that most timeless and inspirational war movie— Mulan, of Disney Princess fame.
Unsurprisingly, we all agreed, and ten minutes later, we were laying on the carpet of the school room, engrossed in the film. Though we knew the perils of a late Sunday night, we threw caution to the wind and watched Treasure Planet afterwards. As we left the Copper Lodge that night, eyes full of animated galaxies, I chanced to glance up at our own sky, and I let out an audible gasp. While our movie was playing inside, the clouds had parted to reveal the most glorious sky we had yet seen. Suddenly, the entertainment of the past few hours felt cheap and worthless. I went to bed somewhat disappointed.
The next morning was painful, and the stars from the night before still burned in my eyes, reminding me of how wasted the night had been. The morning felt rushed, and we were all bleary-eyed for the first hour of class as Mr. Skogen led us. We warmed up as we discussed, however. Predictably, the discussion grew heated as we wrestled with hard ideas and with each other. We were discussing the very fine lines between one who is "musical", one who is a "musician", and the general human ability to understand music. After an hour of arguing semantics, we shut the discussion down and finished watching a documentary on how beauty matters tangibly and apart from the abstract. Over lunch, we discussed some of the ideas we had covered and we soon came back to the classroom, a few minutes early, everyone excited for choir. (We generally agree that it is one of the best hours of the week.) We're all beginning to understand the musical notation a little bit more, and we sounded quite decent. Caleb called for volunteers, and two quartets tested their newfound skill as they each performed a verse from one of our hymns. We worked that day and then returned to the villas to practice music one last time while we could. The evening concluded, we took our blankets to the stars hoping to recapture the glory from the night before, but the clouds were creeping back into the sky, catching the glow from the crescent moon and dimming their twinkling lights.
Our week continued steadily from then on. We arrived early and practiced mathematics, first Euclid's geometry and then our SAT tests. That Tuesday afternoon saw us playing our instruments in our two groups as we performed White Winter Hymnal. Caleb left the Copper Lodge with the fellows that day; they to go to work, he to fly to a wedding. He's scheduled to return this Tuesday, and we're all excited. We've missed him. Because he was gone, our Wednesday was cut short at lunch. Instead of music, we got an early start on work and had an extra hour before astronomy. Surprising nobody, the sky was yet again overcast. Accepting this, we sat inside and listened to a lecture on the stars in the Bible.
The only thing which differentiated Thursday from the rest of the week was the intense game of capture the flag which we played after the moon chased the sun past the horizon, and the game of zombie tag which followed it. The night rang with cries of despair and then triumph as we learned to work together in our teams.
Mrs. Bortins gave us an extra half-hour to sleep in on Friday, and we enjoyed every bone-soothing moment of it. We rolled into the driveway cheerily and dove into another psalm before class. We discussed the logistics of the Italy trip, the way in which to approach guests to speak at Mandala, and the elementary-school math game which we have been developing. The instant class was over, I led my group— the ones working on our science project— on another expedition. Expecting to eat in town, we dropped by Anna Harvey's house to peruse her father's tools and found ourselves sitting with her extended family, eating a delicious home-cooked meal. I love southern hospitality. We left for town reluctantly.
Having acquired the materials we needed, we returned home. The fellows scattered for the weekend. Some studied, some read, and some even bought golf balls and took them to the driving range. A few fellows went rappelling on some nearby cliffs. By the time night fell, the villas were oddly quiet and empty. Ian, Seth, Alec, and William had gone camping, and Gracsyn, Olivia, and Laura were at their homes for the weekend. One of Anna Harvey's friends arrived and stayed the night, but exhausted by a long week, we made an early night.
The sun was high when we rose on Saturday. The campers were back, sore and mosquito-bitten, but claiming triumph. We spent the morning either relaxing or studying. Austin, Samuel, and I have formed an extra-curricular study group. We have lofty goals which will never be realized without hard work. The afternoon was given over to sport and we divided, some swimming and some going back to the ping-pong table to hold another tournament. The evening was quiet again as everyone stayed inside, relaxing and studying.
Sunday was different from the rest of the weekend. Ironically, our day of rest threw us into more action than Saturday had seen. Most of us agreed that we wanted to start attending Sunday school, so we rose earlier and made good time to listen raptly as Mr. Bianco taught on mankind's ingrained desire to worship. While he is not an official part of the Mandala Fellowship, Mr. Bianco is one of the voices most heard by the fellows, aside from our two usual leaders. He is a ready instructor and mentor. By the time he had finished, I had developed an inkling of an idea into reality, and so I approached him before the service. I asked him to think about holding a regular discussion group for some of the fellows, and he agreed. I left for my seat with a triumphant grin on my face. The service and the sermon were as engaging as ever, and one moment stood out above the others. The pastor called out a hymn number, and as we all flipped to it, an excited whisper spread through the fellows. The song was one of our choir pieces, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, and we sang with gusto, confidence, and aptitude. I could tell by the grins around me that the others shared my enthusiasm for the new-found harmony.
After church, we all invaded Tobin's tiny cottage, where his smiling wife set out a feast of sandwich fixings, with enough homemade bread to satisfy all of us. We had a wonderful lunch, and the fellows left in threes and fours until only a few of us remained, reading poetry and discussing literature and philosophy with our host until the late afternoon.
The evening brought thunder and a drenching rain, forcing fellows to hide in their villas, cosy and happy. We went to bed early and started the cycle all over again today, with an exceptionally excruciating SAT test and some mathematical concepts which strain against the confines of reality. Everyone is hard at work, and it's high time that I join them. Before I go, let me thank you all for your support and your interest. To the parents, I thank you for sending your sons and daughters. I have never felt more alive and engaged in my life, and I know the others feel the same way. I can't hope to count my blessings, but when I look around the classroom, the first eighteen are easy to name.
Au revoir,
Barnabas.
We have started collecting the class scores once a week in order to show our progress and encourage us on to excellence. To God be the glory.
Mean: 10/16
Mode: 10
Median: 10
Range: 11
After I finished last week's journal, I left to socialize with the gentlemen who had found their way into our house. Soon after, Harrison, Austin, Seth, Ian, and Anna Gordon left for the Copper Lodge to continue a cut-throat table-tennis tournament they had been playing. An hour or so later, as the villa was growing dimmer in the twilight, William rushed into our house and told us to go look at the sunset. We followed him out and watched as the sun sank into the clouds on the horizon, mixing bold burnished bronze with the soft tones of a warm peach. As we stood in the fresh air, newly attuned to the ever-unique joy of nature, someone suggested we go swimming. Moments later, we were diving under the rope in the shallows at the lake, swimming for the floating dock in the deeper water. The delicious sky warmed our shoulders as we dove and splashed, pushing each other in. Eventually, the sky dulled and we grew tired of our games. Someone suggested we watch a classic movie, and one of the guys, (I won't say who) suggested that most timeless and inspirational war movie— Mulan, of Disney Princess fame.
Unsurprisingly, we all agreed, and ten minutes later, we were laying on the carpet of the school room, engrossed in the film. Though we knew the perils of a late Sunday night, we threw caution to the wind and watched Treasure Planet afterwards. As we left the Copper Lodge that night, eyes full of animated galaxies, I chanced to glance up at our own sky, and I let out an audible gasp. While our movie was playing inside, the clouds had parted to reveal the most glorious sky we had yet seen. Suddenly, the entertainment of the past few hours felt cheap and worthless. I went to bed somewhat disappointed.
The next morning was painful, and the stars from the night before still burned in my eyes, reminding me of how wasted the night had been. The morning felt rushed, and we were all bleary-eyed for the first hour of class as Mr. Skogen led us. We warmed up as we discussed, however. Predictably, the discussion grew heated as we wrestled with hard ideas and with each other. We were discussing the very fine lines between one who is "musical", one who is a "musician", and the general human ability to understand music. After an hour of arguing semantics, we shut the discussion down and finished watching a documentary on how beauty matters tangibly and apart from the abstract. Over lunch, we discussed some of the ideas we had covered and we soon came back to the classroom, a few minutes early, everyone excited for choir. (We generally agree that it is one of the best hours of the week.) We're all beginning to understand the musical notation a little bit more, and we sounded quite decent. Caleb called for volunteers, and two quartets tested their newfound skill as they each performed a verse from one of our hymns. We worked that day and then returned to the villas to practice music one last time while we could. The evening concluded, we took our blankets to the stars hoping to recapture the glory from the night before, but the clouds were creeping back into the sky, catching the glow from the crescent moon and dimming their twinkling lights.
Our week continued steadily from then on. We arrived early and practiced mathematics, first Euclid's geometry and then our SAT tests. That Tuesday afternoon saw us playing our instruments in our two groups as we performed White Winter Hymnal. Caleb left the Copper Lodge with the fellows that day; they to go to work, he to fly to a wedding. He's scheduled to return this Tuesday, and we're all excited. We've missed him. Because he was gone, our Wednesday was cut short at lunch. Instead of music, we got an early start on work and had an extra hour before astronomy. Surprising nobody, the sky was yet again overcast. Accepting this, we sat inside and listened to a lecture on the stars in the Bible.
The only thing which differentiated Thursday from the rest of the week was the intense game of capture the flag which we played after the moon chased the sun past the horizon, and the game of zombie tag which followed it. The night rang with cries of despair and then triumph as we learned to work together in our teams.
Mrs. Bortins gave us an extra half-hour to sleep in on Friday, and we enjoyed every bone-soothing moment of it. We rolled into the driveway cheerily and dove into another psalm before class. We discussed the logistics of the Italy trip, the way in which to approach guests to speak at Mandala, and the elementary-school math game which we have been developing. The instant class was over, I led my group— the ones working on our science project— on another expedition. Expecting to eat in town, we dropped by Anna Harvey's house to peruse her father's tools and found ourselves sitting with her extended family, eating a delicious home-cooked meal. I love southern hospitality. We left for town reluctantly.
Having acquired the materials we needed, we returned home. The fellows scattered for the weekend. Some studied, some read, and some even bought golf balls and took them to the driving range. A few fellows went rappelling on some nearby cliffs. By the time night fell, the villas were oddly quiet and empty. Ian, Seth, Alec, and William had gone camping, and Gracsyn, Olivia, and Laura were at their homes for the weekend. One of Anna Harvey's friends arrived and stayed the night, but exhausted by a long week, we made an early night.
The sun was high when we rose on Saturday. The campers were back, sore and mosquito-bitten, but claiming triumph. We spent the morning either relaxing or studying. Austin, Samuel, and I have formed an extra-curricular study group. We have lofty goals which will never be realized without hard work. The afternoon was given over to sport and we divided, some swimming and some going back to the ping-pong table to hold another tournament. The evening was quiet again as everyone stayed inside, relaxing and studying.
Sunday was different from the rest of the weekend. Ironically, our day of rest threw us into more action than Saturday had seen. Most of us agreed that we wanted to start attending Sunday school, so we rose earlier and made good time to listen raptly as Mr. Bianco taught on mankind's ingrained desire to worship. While he is not an official part of the Mandala Fellowship, Mr. Bianco is one of the voices most heard by the fellows, aside from our two usual leaders. He is a ready instructor and mentor. By the time he had finished, I had developed an inkling of an idea into reality, and so I approached him before the service. I asked him to think about holding a regular discussion group for some of the fellows, and he agreed. I left for my seat with a triumphant grin on my face. The service and the sermon were as engaging as ever, and one moment stood out above the others. The pastor called out a hymn number, and as we all flipped to it, an excited whisper spread through the fellows. The song was one of our choir pieces, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, and we sang with gusto, confidence, and aptitude. I could tell by the grins around me that the others shared my enthusiasm for the new-found harmony.
After church, we all invaded Tobin's tiny cottage, where his smiling wife set out a feast of sandwich fixings, with enough homemade bread to satisfy all of us. We had a wonderful lunch, and the fellows left in threes and fours until only a few of us remained, reading poetry and discussing literature and philosophy with our host until the late afternoon.
The evening brought thunder and a drenching rain, forcing fellows to hide in their villas, cosy and happy. We went to bed early and started the cycle all over again today, with an exceptionally excruciating SAT test and some mathematical concepts which strain against the confines of reality. Everyone is hard at work, and it's high time that I join them. Before I go, let me thank you all for your support and your interest. To the parents, I thank you for sending your sons and daughters. I have never felt more alive and engaged in my life, and I know the others feel the same way. I can't hope to count my blessings, but when I look around the classroom, the first eighteen are easy to name.
Au revoir,
Barnabas.
We have started collecting the class scores once a week in order to show our progress and encourage us on to excellence. To God be the glory.
Mean: 10/16
Mode: 10
Median: 10
Range: 11
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Better to Understand
Over the past few weeks at the Mandala Fellowship, I have grown to realize something important: in general, we don't make a distinction between the terms of musician and performer. If I asked you right now to tell me the difference between a musician and a musical performer, what would you say? I expect you would give me a blank stare and ask if it was a trick question. Well, to be honest, it is. While the two terms are practically synonymous today, this was not always the case.
Hundreds of years ago, people made a great distinction between the two words. As the name suggests, a performer was someone who made a living by playing music, music which he learned through imitating other performers. He didn't need to understand the music as long as what he copied was appealing. Not so the musician. He was someone who studied music theory in addition to their instrument, learning the mathematics and the harmonics behind what they were doing. A composer and a theorist first, he played his instrument second. Thus, the performer and the musician were different and distinct professions, though they were very similar. So why should we care? We should care about the distinction between the words for two reasons: because language is important and because the distinction highlights a very important attitude which pervades all aspects of life.
The first reason we should care is because language is important. While it naturally evolves, we should never use that fact to excuse linguistic laziness. Language exists as a tool for communication, and we should always strive for precision in our words. When we speak precisely, we can communicate complicated ideas more gracefully and with more ease. Imagine a mathematician who is trying to write out a tricky algebra equation but who can only use the four most basic functions of arithmetic. While it is possible, the end result is a bulky and inelegant mess, both laborious to work through and ugly to look at. Failing to make distinctions between words limits our ability to express ourselves. These words have meaning.
The second reason we should care is because this this attitude of "musician" vs "performer" applies to anything. Consider driving. Anyone can drive a car. Cars are designed to be easily piloted. Do you need to know how the engine works in order to drive into town and back? No, the car takes care of that, and all you have to do is step on the gas pedal. But should you understand? Will it help you be a better driver? Absolutely! Someone who understands the "music" of the engine is not limited to driving an automatic but can figure out a car with a manual transmission even if there is no one to show him how to use the gears. Not so the "performer", who can only mimic instructions. The first person has a deeper understanding of his vehicle and can make it perform in ways that the other cannot. As another example, think of the approaches to studying for school. While one student spends all of his evenings studying, seeking understanding, his fellow student ignores his studies, only cramming at the last minute to prepare for the test. They may get the same grade, but which student has the more valuable education? The first student understands the subject, knows it well, and will be able to use it again. Unfortunately, the second's knowledge will be gone by the time he leaves the classroom. To excel at something, one must go beyond the basics and beyond mimicry. Understanding is true learning. Parroting answers or behavior is not.
We should care about the distinction between musician and performer because language is important, and because the attitude that the distinction highlights is important. The old wisdom states that if something is "worth doing, it's worth doing right". Performers took the polished surface of music and recreated it in their own instruments. While that is certainly not wrong, isn't it better to understand?
Barnabas A. Holleran
Mandala Fellowship
Hundreds of years ago, people made a great distinction between the two words. As the name suggests, a performer was someone who made a living by playing music, music which he learned through imitating other performers. He didn't need to understand the music as long as what he copied was appealing. Not so the musician. He was someone who studied music theory in addition to their instrument, learning the mathematics and the harmonics behind what they were doing. A composer and a theorist first, he played his instrument second. Thus, the performer and the musician were different and distinct professions, though they were very similar. So why should we care? We should care about the distinction between the words for two reasons: because language is important and because the distinction highlights a very important attitude which pervades all aspects of life.
The first reason we should care is because language is important. While it naturally evolves, we should never use that fact to excuse linguistic laziness. Language exists as a tool for communication, and we should always strive for precision in our words. When we speak precisely, we can communicate complicated ideas more gracefully and with more ease. Imagine a mathematician who is trying to write out a tricky algebra equation but who can only use the four most basic functions of arithmetic. While it is possible, the end result is a bulky and inelegant mess, both laborious to work through and ugly to look at. Failing to make distinctions between words limits our ability to express ourselves. These words have meaning.
The second reason we should care is because this this attitude of "musician" vs "performer" applies to anything. Consider driving. Anyone can drive a car. Cars are designed to be easily piloted. Do you need to know how the engine works in order to drive into town and back? No, the car takes care of that, and all you have to do is step on the gas pedal. But should you understand? Will it help you be a better driver? Absolutely! Someone who understands the "music" of the engine is not limited to driving an automatic but can figure out a car with a manual transmission even if there is no one to show him how to use the gears. Not so the "performer", who can only mimic instructions. The first person has a deeper understanding of his vehicle and can make it perform in ways that the other cannot. As another example, think of the approaches to studying for school. While one student spends all of his evenings studying, seeking understanding, his fellow student ignores his studies, only cramming at the last minute to prepare for the test. They may get the same grade, but which student has the more valuable education? The first student understands the subject, knows it well, and will be able to use it again. Unfortunately, the second's knowledge will be gone by the time he leaves the classroom. To excel at something, one must go beyond the basics and beyond mimicry. Understanding is true learning. Parroting answers or behavior is not.
We should care about the distinction between musician and performer because language is important, and because the attitude that the distinction highlights is important. The old wisdom states that if something is "worth doing, it's worth doing right". Performers took the polished surface of music and recreated it in their own instruments. While that is certainly not wrong, isn't it better to understand?
Barnabas A. Holleran
Mandala Fellowship
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Later And Later
Hello again, and welcome back! It's Sunday afternoon as I write this; we just got home from town and from church before that. The villas are awfully quiet today, as everyone is either inside their homes or still out. One of the girls' villas is still out to lunch at the Skogen house. It probably comes as no surprise to you that we've had a very eventful week since I last wrote. Let me describe it.
Tuesday evening was fairly tame. Most of us just went home, practiced our instruments, and got to bed early. The very next morning, however, brought a dose of excitement. As usual, we ran through an SAT test, but as Mrs. Leigh went through the answers and solved the problems which had slowed us down, I began to pick up an excited buzz from both ends of the room. As Mrs. Leigh solved problem thirteen out of the eighteen on the page, I finally found the cause for excitement: Jacob and Samuel each had perfect scores so far. Seth did too. We all began rooting for them, waiting in suspense as Mrs. Leigh, with fate-laden hand, wrote each new answer on the whiteboard. We whooped on fifteen. We clapped on sixteen. On seventeen, we were silent, holding our breaths, and when eighteen appeared on the board, and two happy cries rang through the room, we joined them, cheering and filling the room with jubilation. Unfortunately, Seth missed the very last question. Despite that, it was a very good day. The rest of the afternoon went well. We didn't have class after lunch, so most of us had some down-time before work. Michael scored well on craigslist, bringing home a good electric guitar and amplifier for a good price. Because the sky was cloudy, most of us had another early night.
By the time Thursday's sun woke us the next morning, we were getting tired of the school week. Reluctantly, we dragged ourselves to the Mandala house (which I've only recently discovered is called the "Copper Lodge") and got down to the business of the day. Thankfully, we had a lot of music that day. While Mrs. Leigh's approach to math is refreshing and much different from how most of us have been taught, music is still a much more pleasant and less mentally demanding subject. Still, we played a few math games, like one in which each group of three people is given a pack of cards and a set of functions. As the dealer flips each new card over, the two players must plug the value of the card into the equation and the first person to call out the right number takes the card. At the end, whoever has the most cards becomes the new dealer, and the cycle continues. After lunch, we practiced our music together, and then broke for work. Apparently, we were nearly all out of food, because when Gracsyn, Laura, and I went to the local grocery store that evening, we ran into most of our fellows in the aisles.
We were all excited for the change that Friday brought. While we still had class, it was a change from the weeks past because we had our first guest speakers. During the week, a group of writers had been meeting at the Copper Lodge to work on Classical Conversations' next book. On Friday, after a deliciously long devotional session led by Mr. Bianco, we dove into a study of writing, examining the persuasive essay and the general art of rhetoric. Mrs. Leigh broke up class at noon, and we entered the dining room to find tables loaded with pizzas and cookies. We all took our seats while Caleb addressed the room at large, calling out a discussion topic, simply "women in the military", and gave us fifteen minutes to discuss. After that, he had us discuss the question of which was more important, color or music. We debated a few more points over the next hour, each of us challenging ourselves and each other. After lunch, one of the women taught us about the publishing side of writing. Eventually, the men and women left and we watched the Institute of Excellence in Writing expert Andrew Pudewa on DVD teach us about the SAT essay. It was a long day, but we were glad to do something different. We got home around six and a few hours later, when night had fallen, many of us found ourselves drawn to our front lawns. We piled blankets and sat together, talking, singing, and sometimes just listening to the sounds of the darkness until the wee hours of the morning.
Understandably enough, most of us rose late on Saturday. Mr. Skogen came by to help a few of the fellows practice piano. He joined the fellows for a game of basketball, and then he hung out with us in the driveway, telling stories and listening to ours. I know some of my fellows think differently, but I feel like he is as much a part of our fellowship as any of those living at the villas. After he left, a few of us cleaned our houses, while William led an expedition to Target, an expedition which lasted most of the afternoon. We were all free by eight, when we went back to the Copper Lodge to swing dance. The atmosphere was not one of productivity, and the still-tired fellows lost interest fairly quickly. Zack and I, along with Seth, an unexpectedly fantastic dancer, worked with some of the other fellows individually, and after an hour or so of that, we brought some cushions in and watched a Pixar movie until midnight.
With that, we come back to this morning, when most of us enjoyed the luxury of an extra hour of sleep before the morning service. Now I'm lying on the floor, listening to my roommates as they entertain the guys from the next villa over. In fact, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll join them.
Au revoir,
Barnabas.
Tuesday evening was fairly tame. Most of us just went home, practiced our instruments, and got to bed early. The very next morning, however, brought a dose of excitement. As usual, we ran through an SAT test, but as Mrs. Leigh went through the answers and solved the problems which had slowed us down, I began to pick up an excited buzz from both ends of the room. As Mrs. Leigh solved problem thirteen out of the eighteen on the page, I finally found the cause for excitement: Jacob and Samuel each had perfect scores so far. Seth did too. We all began rooting for them, waiting in suspense as Mrs. Leigh, with fate-laden hand, wrote each new answer on the whiteboard. We whooped on fifteen. We clapped on sixteen. On seventeen, we were silent, holding our breaths, and when eighteen appeared on the board, and two happy cries rang through the room, we joined them, cheering and filling the room with jubilation. Unfortunately, Seth missed the very last question. Despite that, it was a very good day. The rest of the afternoon went well. We didn't have class after lunch, so most of us had some down-time before work. Michael scored well on craigslist, bringing home a good electric guitar and amplifier for a good price. Because the sky was cloudy, most of us had another early night.
By the time Thursday's sun woke us the next morning, we were getting tired of the school week. Reluctantly, we dragged ourselves to the Mandala house (which I've only recently discovered is called the "Copper Lodge") and got down to the business of the day. Thankfully, we had a lot of music that day. While Mrs. Leigh's approach to math is refreshing and much different from how most of us have been taught, music is still a much more pleasant and less mentally demanding subject. Still, we played a few math games, like one in which each group of three people is given a pack of cards and a set of functions. As the dealer flips each new card over, the two players must plug the value of the card into the equation and the first person to call out the right number takes the card. At the end, whoever has the most cards becomes the new dealer, and the cycle continues. After lunch, we practiced our music together, and then broke for work. Apparently, we were nearly all out of food, because when Gracsyn, Laura, and I went to the local grocery store that evening, we ran into most of our fellows in the aisles.
We were all excited for the change that Friday brought. While we still had class, it was a change from the weeks past because we had our first guest speakers. During the week, a group of writers had been meeting at the Copper Lodge to work on Classical Conversations' next book. On Friday, after a deliciously long devotional session led by Mr. Bianco, we dove into a study of writing, examining the persuasive essay and the general art of rhetoric. Mrs. Leigh broke up class at noon, and we entered the dining room to find tables loaded with pizzas and cookies. We all took our seats while Caleb addressed the room at large, calling out a discussion topic, simply "women in the military", and gave us fifteen minutes to discuss. After that, he had us discuss the question of which was more important, color or music. We debated a few more points over the next hour, each of us challenging ourselves and each other. After lunch, one of the women taught us about the publishing side of writing. Eventually, the men and women left and we watched the Institute of Excellence in Writing expert Andrew Pudewa on DVD teach us about the SAT essay. It was a long day, but we were glad to do something different. We got home around six and a few hours later, when night had fallen, many of us found ourselves drawn to our front lawns. We piled blankets and sat together, talking, singing, and sometimes just listening to the sounds of the darkness until the wee hours of the morning.
Understandably enough, most of us rose late on Saturday. Mr. Skogen came by to help a few of the fellows practice piano. He joined the fellows for a game of basketball, and then he hung out with us in the driveway, telling stories and listening to ours. I know some of my fellows think differently, but I feel like he is as much a part of our fellowship as any of those living at the villas. After he left, a few of us cleaned our houses, while William led an expedition to Target, an expedition which lasted most of the afternoon. We were all free by eight, when we went back to the Copper Lodge to swing dance. The atmosphere was not one of productivity, and the still-tired fellows lost interest fairly quickly. Zack and I, along with Seth, an unexpectedly fantastic dancer, worked with some of the other fellows individually, and after an hour or so of that, we brought some cushions in and watched a Pixar movie until midnight.
With that, we come back to this morning, when most of us enjoyed the luxury of an extra hour of sleep before the morning service. Now I'm lying on the floor, listening to my roommates as they entertain the guys from the next villa over. In fact, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll join them.
Au revoir,
Barnabas.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Stargazing
Well here we are again; hello and welcome! I think I'm beginning to get a feel for how long we're going to be here at Mandala. It's felt like months already, and we've only made it through ten days of classes. It's been barely two weeks! I'm only just realizing how much time we have, with hundreds of free evenings and countless classroom hours ahead of us. I still can't help rushing, trying to use every minute, but my aching muscles and drooping eyelids are signals I can no longer ignore. That being said, I've never felt more productive. Let me tell you what we've been doing!
Last you heard, Ian had just broken his feet, and we were launching into our second week of classes, preparing for the eminent Fourth of July celebration. It was a Monday. That evening Ian had a craving for Mexican food, so a group of us piled into two cars and sped into West End-- the town at the center of the seven lakes. When we got to the restaurant we found its lot empty and its windows darkened, so, after a short discussion with a loopy Ian, we decided to go to the Asian buffet. The whole town was sleepy, and the tiny restaurant was peacefully vacant when we strolled through its doors and shattered the silence. The room rang with the scraping of tables as we rearranged the seating, and the laughter that comes with sharing a meal with good friends. By the time we were finished, night had fallen completely. We wished the smiling owners a good night and left for home.
Most of us were excited the next morning as we prepared if not gleefully then at least joyfully for our day of music. One of my villa-mates, however, didn't wake up until minutes before we had to leave. He didn't get a ride. The day went by quickly, as our discussion of music philosophy bled into the time allotted for music history. It was interesting to see how the class reacted to the ongoing conversation. While many of the fellows deeply enjoyed the rapid-fire debate over the definition of music, others started getting annoyed, seeing the class going in circles, everyone's judgement clouded by his or her own presuppositions and definitions. After a few hours of instruction, debate, and confusion, Sensei Skogen revealed his secret: that had been his intention all along. In trying to discuss what we meant by music, we had glimpsed how tricky a subject it is to explore, and we realized how important it is to recognize our own biases.
We spent the rest of the morning absorbing music theory, and when we broke for lunch, we did so reluctantly. We all wanted food, but we were were eating up every word he had to tell us. After lunch, we practiced playing our group project in unison, and then went to work. Before we left, Caleb informed us that we would vote for the members of the music counsel the next day. The fellows spent the evening productively, primarily in our musical groups, putting the final touches on our performances.
We picked up our discussion of music the next morning, and again we ran out of time, some frustrated, some elated, but all of us excited to perform. We ate lunch and then performed, a few of us stumbling, but everyone doing well, especially for a first performance. I'm excited to see the knowledge spread as the well-trained and long-practiced fellows show the less-fortunate ones how to play. There are a few wonderfully skilled guitarists here, each with very different styles, all of which are a joy to hear. So Wednesday's classes came to an end, and we all let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the prospect of the holiday weekend. We went to work and met one last time at the Mandala House for astronomy class. After it was over, I was about to head home, when I heard a rumor about an adventure taking place that night. I traced it to its source and discovered that some of the guys had planned a hike to a "haunted" stretch of woods. Half an hour later, our two largest cars were cruising down the road, every seat-belt occupied, on our way to kick off the weekend. I won't go into detail about the rest of the night, but by the time we got home at half-past one in the morning, we'd bonded over mutual fright, downed a collective few pounds of fast-food, and hung out with some off-duty firemen. It was a good night.
Most of us slept in on the Fourth, drifting over to the Mandala house when we were ready to socialize, except for a few who had to be at the house early to help with the party. When we arrived, we found a grand party and a large feast, with dozens of new faces, most of whom wanted to hear all about Mandala. I ran into an experienced swing dancer and we talked excitedly about dance for a few minutes before making our introductions. We were surprised and delighted to realize that we had already met online through our Lost Tools of Writing class. Needless to say, the evening turned into a swing dance as the two of us, Zack, Anna, and a succession of other dancers, both in the fellowship and out, shook the house with our stomping feet. We swam, danced, and partied ourselves to exhaustion, then left for bed.
Friday was much the same, but with a very relaxed feel as people lazily drifted in and out of the house all day. The afternoon found a bunch of fellows lying on the floor in the cool school room, listening to music, eating old fruit salad, and talking about who knows what. As evening approached, someone told Anna and me (Emily, my swinging friend, had left, and Zack was nowhere to be found) that there was swing music at the marina. Sure enough, we could hear the sound of a live band drifting over the water. We didn't lose any time in getting over there. A few fellows followed the music as well, and discovered us in a crowd of dancers, cutting a rug to the sound of old rock and roll.
By nightfall, the rest of the fellowship was there, hanging out on the floating dock. Some kid on shore started throwing rocks at us, so we returned to the house where we stayed up for a few more hours playing games. One by one, cars full of sleepy fellows drove slowly away. As the last few of us drifted home, we found a small group of our friends laying in the driveway, watching the stars. Realizing that we were not going to bed any time soon, we moved the party to the golf course, lying on the short grass and watching the stars as they slowly, ever so slowly, meandered their way around Polaris, that constant watcher.
Thus Friday came and went, and Saturday saw the Mandala house mostly empty of guests. We slept in again, and most of us tended to our houses that morning before heading to the lake. We spent a lazy few hours playing instruments, sunning, and chatting-- one group actually sailing-- before we left in a convoy to Southern Pines and the local Chick-fil-a. Next stop: Walmart, where we split into two groups: those who needed food, and those who were about to finance the next two months worth of movie nights from the bargain bin. A few of my fellows are on a quest to expose me, as an ignorant northerner and somewhat sheltered country boy, to things I've never done before. To that end, we stopped for frozen yogurt. It was there, thinking about everything I've done in the past few weeks, that I realized I am entirely satisfied with the south, and if I can just convince my family and friends, I'll never have to go north again.
When we got back to the house we went out on the boat, where Alec and I watched a beautifully serene sunset from the back of a treacherous water-tube pulled by a murderous William. Having received enough of a beating, we climbed back on-board and watched the others go. We finished the night with a movie and more stargazing, then climbed into bed, ready for church the next day.
Sunday morning found us all at the Skogens' church. After the service, we caravanned to Tobin Duby's house for a potluck and fellowship. We had a great time with him and his wife, taking turns reading from an O'Henry story, and chatting about life at Mandala. We spent the evening in our homes, relaxing and getting ready to do it all again.
Monday morning saw us in the classroom again, doing more SAT tests and learning from Mrs. Bortins. Brooke, one of our brilliant fellows, led the group in an experimental math game. After work, we met for our science projects in small groups across the villas. Ian wants to repay the girls for all of their hospitality, so he spent the early evening practicing at their house, preparing to make them dinner later in the week. We had stayed in on Sunday night, but when darkness fell on Monday, we hit the green again, this time much earlier in the evening, at ten o'clock. Most of the fellows were out there, spread out on a raft of blankets staring down into the ocean of stars, talking about the day and softly playing music, mindful of any neighbors who we might disrupt. We were all in bed a few hours later.
So that leaves us here, on Tuesday. We discussed music all morning and spent this afternoon working on a new performance. The builders finished the floor in the new porch over the weekend, so the whole house is open for the first time. Some of the novelty is wearing off, and we're left with long school days and even longer days at work. The fellowship we have makes up for the stress of the day, and our evenings are delightful because of it. Tonight, however, is still a long way away, and we all have a lot to do before we can claim the embrace of the sky, so I'll bid you farewell and let you get back to your business as I get to mine.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
Last you heard, Ian had just broken his feet, and we were launching into our second week of classes, preparing for the eminent Fourth of July celebration. It was a Monday. That evening Ian had a craving for Mexican food, so a group of us piled into two cars and sped into West End-- the town at the center of the seven lakes. When we got to the restaurant we found its lot empty and its windows darkened, so, after a short discussion with a loopy Ian, we decided to go to the Asian buffet. The whole town was sleepy, and the tiny restaurant was peacefully vacant when we strolled through its doors and shattered the silence. The room rang with the scraping of tables as we rearranged the seating, and the laughter that comes with sharing a meal with good friends. By the time we were finished, night had fallen completely. We wished the smiling owners a good night and left for home.
Most of us were excited the next morning as we prepared if not gleefully then at least joyfully for our day of music. One of my villa-mates, however, didn't wake up until minutes before we had to leave. He didn't get a ride. The day went by quickly, as our discussion of music philosophy bled into the time allotted for music history. It was interesting to see how the class reacted to the ongoing conversation. While many of the fellows deeply enjoyed the rapid-fire debate over the definition of music, others started getting annoyed, seeing the class going in circles, everyone's judgement clouded by his or her own presuppositions and definitions. After a few hours of instruction, debate, and confusion, Sensei Skogen revealed his secret: that had been his intention all along. In trying to discuss what we meant by music, we had glimpsed how tricky a subject it is to explore, and we realized how important it is to recognize our own biases.
We spent the rest of the morning absorbing music theory, and when we broke for lunch, we did so reluctantly. We all wanted food, but we were were eating up every word he had to tell us. After lunch, we practiced playing our group project in unison, and then went to work. Before we left, Caleb informed us that we would vote for the members of the music counsel the next day. The fellows spent the evening productively, primarily in our musical groups, putting the final touches on our performances.
We picked up our discussion of music the next morning, and again we ran out of time, some frustrated, some elated, but all of us excited to perform. We ate lunch and then performed, a few of us stumbling, but everyone doing well, especially for a first performance. I'm excited to see the knowledge spread as the well-trained and long-practiced fellows show the less-fortunate ones how to play. There are a few wonderfully skilled guitarists here, each with very different styles, all of which are a joy to hear. So Wednesday's classes came to an end, and we all let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the prospect of the holiday weekend. We went to work and met one last time at the Mandala House for astronomy class. After it was over, I was about to head home, when I heard a rumor about an adventure taking place that night. I traced it to its source and discovered that some of the guys had planned a hike to a "haunted" stretch of woods. Half an hour later, our two largest cars were cruising down the road, every seat-belt occupied, on our way to kick off the weekend. I won't go into detail about the rest of the night, but by the time we got home at half-past one in the morning, we'd bonded over mutual fright, downed a collective few pounds of fast-food, and hung out with some off-duty firemen. It was a good night.
Most of us slept in on the Fourth, drifting over to the Mandala house when we were ready to socialize, except for a few who had to be at the house early to help with the party. When we arrived, we found a grand party and a large feast, with dozens of new faces, most of whom wanted to hear all about Mandala. I ran into an experienced swing dancer and we talked excitedly about dance for a few minutes before making our introductions. We were surprised and delighted to realize that we had already met online through our Lost Tools of Writing class. Needless to say, the evening turned into a swing dance as the two of us, Zack, Anna, and a succession of other dancers, both in the fellowship and out, shook the house with our stomping feet. We swam, danced, and partied ourselves to exhaustion, then left for bed.
Friday was much the same, but with a very relaxed feel as people lazily drifted in and out of the house all day. The afternoon found a bunch of fellows lying on the floor in the cool school room, listening to music, eating old fruit salad, and talking about who knows what. As evening approached, someone told Anna and me (Emily, my swinging friend, had left, and Zack was nowhere to be found) that there was swing music at the marina. Sure enough, we could hear the sound of a live band drifting over the water. We didn't lose any time in getting over there. A few fellows followed the music as well, and discovered us in a crowd of dancers, cutting a rug to the sound of old rock and roll.
By nightfall, the rest of the fellowship was there, hanging out on the floating dock. Some kid on shore started throwing rocks at us, so we returned to the house where we stayed up for a few more hours playing games. One by one, cars full of sleepy fellows drove slowly away. As the last few of us drifted home, we found a small group of our friends laying in the driveway, watching the stars. Realizing that we were not going to bed any time soon, we moved the party to the golf course, lying on the short grass and watching the stars as they slowly, ever so slowly, meandered their way around Polaris, that constant watcher.
Thus Friday came and went, and Saturday saw the Mandala house mostly empty of guests. We slept in again, and most of us tended to our houses that morning before heading to the lake. We spent a lazy few hours playing instruments, sunning, and chatting-- one group actually sailing-- before we left in a convoy to Southern Pines and the local Chick-fil-a. Next stop: Walmart, where we split into two groups: those who needed food, and those who were about to finance the next two months worth of movie nights from the bargain bin. A few of my fellows are on a quest to expose me, as an ignorant northerner and somewhat sheltered country boy, to things I've never done before. To that end, we stopped for frozen yogurt. It was there, thinking about everything I've done in the past few weeks, that I realized I am entirely satisfied with the south, and if I can just convince my family and friends, I'll never have to go north again.
When we got back to the house we went out on the boat, where Alec and I watched a beautifully serene sunset from the back of a treacherous water-tube pulled by a murderous William. Having received enough of a beating, we climbed back on-board and watched the others go. We finished the night with a movie and more stargazing, then climbed into bed, ready for church the next day.
Sunday morning found us all at the Skogens' church. After the service, we caravanned to Tobin Duby's house for a potluck and fellowship. We had a great time with him and his wife, taking turns reading from an O'Henry story, and chatting about life at Mandala. We spent the evening in our homes, relaxing and getting ready to do it all again.
Monday morning saw us in the classroom again, doing more SAT tests and learning from Mrs. Bortins. Brooke, one of our brilliant fellows, led the group in an experimental math game. After work, we met for our science projects in small groups across the villas. Ian wants to repay the girls for all of their hospitality, so he spent the early evening practicing at their house, preparing to make them dinner later in the week. We had stayed in on Sunday night, but when darkness fell on Monday, we hit the green again, this time much earlier in the evening, at ten o'clock. Most of the fellows were out there, spread out on a raft of blankets staring down into the ocean of stars, talking about the day and softly playing music, mindful of any neighbors who we might disrupt. We were all in bed a few hours later.
So that leaves us here, on Tuesday. We discussed music all morning and spent this afternoon working on a new performance. The builders finished the floor in the new porch over the weekend, so the whole house is open for the first time. Some of the novelty is wearing off, and we're left with long school days and even longer days at work. The fellowship we have makes up for the stress of the day, and our evenings are delightful because of it. Tonight, however, is still a long way away, and we all have a lot to do before we can claim the embrace of the sky, so I'll bid you farewell and let you get back to your business as I get to mine.
Au revoir,
Barnabas
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