On Humanity

Hello. I should be revising right now. I don't like revising and I think my brain is being helpful by giving me other things to do. It gave me a little thing which I have dutifully written down and would like to share with you. My brain didn't give me a title so for now it's called On Humanity and it goes thusly:

On Humanity

D’you ever want to put your fist through a table? You don’t, not because you’re not able, but in case some shocked person screams out “That’s mahogany!” The agony of your personal Odyssey isn’t anything new. Don’t you forget you’re not the first to get the hull of your trireme wet. A thousand generations or more since ancient times have left their native shores and set sail for distant climes. A thousand generations from a myriad of nations have braved these seas before you learned how to breathe. Despite the odds stacked against them your ancestors squared their shoulders, set their feet and met them. They sailed through the crashing boulders and crossed the raucous seas. They reached the Caucasus and retrieved the Golden Fleece. You are the successful result of a billion years of evolution and with every revolution of the wheel of fate your ancestors grit their teeth and set a faster pace. No other creature has sent one of their own into outer space. Only one percent of our DNA separates us from chimpanzees and we have crosswords and blackberry jam and artistic jamborees while (nice as they are) they’re naked and live in trees. The ease with which we put ourselves down is strange since the bricks of our molecular arrangements were forged in stars. You are the dust of stars so you really must start getting some perspective. Do some good, write some ringing invective. Make sure the world’s a better place by the time you leave, because, sir and madam, I believe we are not the fallen descendants of Adam and of Eve. We are risen apes. If that thought escapes you for a single day and you hate your life and regret it or rue it, forget all else save that you’re human and humans are great so I’m sure you’ll get through it.

One hopes you're well,
yrs,
ADWoodward

Toccata and Fugue

Hello. When I was maybe about 10 Dad got an organ. It was a great big beast of a thing with three keyboards, banks of stops and a full pedal board. To get it into the house involved four men and a carpenter to take out the bay window. I have written a little thing about this memory which I'd like to share with you. It's called 'Toccata and Fugue' and goes thusly:

Toccata and Fugue

I lay there on a Sunday morning,

An hour or four after sun’s first dawning,

And piercing through my yawning into my head,

Through two layers of floorboards and a couple of dog beds

Came a series of chords –

The sound of JSB arranged for organ and canine voice.

If the dog had had a choice we’d have had Toccata and Fugue as a ceaseless litany

To which I'm inclined to agree.

Nothing is finer than this tune in D minor

For sending me back through the years

To when, through naive ears,

These notes first astounded me;

They both lifted me up beyond the stars

And concretely, firmly, grounded me.

Those notes bouncing and soaring off hardwood floors

Will forever feed the spark of joy in my spirit

When I remember Dad saying “No, get off my keyboards,

I know the sheet music and there’s no mention of a feline in it!”

This piece will always send my brain back home,

Even when it’s not home and my parents move out.

Though to do that they’ll say “For sale: one organ. Comes with a free house.”

One hopes you're well,
yours,
ADWoodward