Staying Focused
Don't Listen To Everything Out There
News: Texas, The Quest For The Holy Grail & A Cambridge Salon
Hello there, some things to know before we jump into today’s post. Firstly, I am delighted to be returning to Symbolic World to tell the epic of Parzival for five nights in the depths of winter. All the information is here:
The Quest for the Holy Grail
Here’s a little excerpt of their description:
”Each evening, Martin will tell a portion of this ‘great trickster tale of Medieval Europe’—not read it, not analyze it, but tell it, in his own inimitable voice, shaped by centuries of oral tradition. This is storytelling as it was practiced for thousands of years. It’s been told by campfires, longhouses, and lecture halls, and finally here at Symbolic World, direct from Martin’s study—and it will never be told exactly like this again.
Between the story threads, Dr. Shaw will pause to illuminate, in his own way, what the old poets hid in their verses: the alchemy of failure, the pedagogy of the heart, and why the Grail cannot be found by those who seek it directly. In Martin’s hands, a medieval romance becomes a mirror. The grief-woman Sigune becomes the hard experience that tells us who we are. The Red Knight becomes every charismatic figure we’ve ever wanted to become. And Parzival’s silence before the Grail becomes our own failure to ask the questions that matter most—and the long road back to asking them.”
Next: there’s soon to be an announcement of wider US events to celebrate the launch of Liturgies of the Wild, but in the meantime I’ll mention the final stop on that tour - February 13-15th at the Orthodox Christian Arts Festival in Texas. I’m looking forward to it! More details here:
Praise for the Beauty, Orthodox Arts Festival
Finally: my friends Helen and Katherine have a terrific new art gallery and cultural hub opening in Cambridge, there’s going to be an auction this week, so please do have a look. I’ve been there in real time and it’s going to be grand. In their words: “The Cambridge Salon is being founded as somewhat of an act of cultural resistance—an affirmation that beauty, fellowship, and the life of the spirit still matter in an age increasingly marked by fragmentation and distraction…It will be a house of conversation and conviviality: fine wine and good coffee, readings and debates, concerts, book launches and exhibitions. We will host classes in the arts that resist mechanisation—calligraphy, drawing, the harp. These practices remind us that creation is not a commodity but a vocation, and that being human is not reducible to algorithms or output.”
Contact at info@thecambridgesalon.com for more information.
Find the Auction here: Cambridge Salon Auction
Down in Devon it’s been another week of resting. Lots of rain, getting the gutters cleared, the happiness of entering Advent. It’s a joy to bring books down from shelf, percolate an idea, catch up with an old friend. I’m vividly aware of the good it does me. I’m re-reading an enormous amount of W.B. Yeats for the Pembroke College lecture in March, cooking up some winter stews and praying for my friends. Lots of poems being read aloud and more early Irish digging. Getting in the sauna. And along the way I found this story for you…
Brendan and the Shining Bird
There was once a young harpist of tremendous skill, playing for a group of monks at Clonfort, St Brendan’s monastery. Though he enjoyed playing for the monks, he kept craning his neck around to see if Brendan himself was listening. It was Brendan’s confirming gaze he sought. The musician spoke up:
- It would be a delight to play for the great man, I have three tunes especially I think he’d like.
An older monk smiled at his enthusiasm but replied:
- Brendan is not in the mood for human music, nor has he been for seven years. He actually has two balls of wax with a thread between them, and every time he hears music, he places them swiftly in his ears.
The harpist regarded this as the kind of challenge he liked. Biding his time, he slipped through the monks, eventually found Brendan and enquired if he’d listen to him. Brendan gave him permission to play inside the church after the lad persisted. On doing so, Brendan immediately put the balls of wax in his ears. The harpist piped up:
- I’d prefer it if you were not inoculated against my music in this way.
Kindly, Brendan removed the balls of wax, and gestured for the harpist to play his three pieces. The lad put all his feeling and technique into the music, summoned every last upswelling of soul he could muster. He was determined to move the great man. Maybe a tear, or a smile, or at least a misty glance at something none of us could see. When the beautiful music finished, Brendan quietly reinstalled the balls of wax in his ears. This was not the kind of response the musician was used to. Still, Brendan sweetly said:
- May you get into heaven playing such music. A blessing on you.
The harpist appreciated this, but responded:
- That’s very kind. But I have to ask about the balls of wax. Did you not enjoy it?