The Estonian Neoclassical Composer who entered while I slept

I know, I know. I keep talking about this. But I keep being surprised!

When the children were babies, it was fascinating to watch them be literal Scientists in the Crib (except, the boys didn't really use the crib much in reality - they preferred other places).

And when they entered their toddler years, we had an endless round of (albeit exhausting) fun watching them experiment with the world even more, and for the first time come up against the profoundly disturbing fact that a body can envision more than a body will be allowed to do. (Nobody likes this, but a toddler's outrage is pretty unfiltered and immoderate.)

And after that, they go their own ways more and more and they have their own experiences, and they assimilate their own worlds, and they draw their own conclusions, and gradually the walls on their worlds disappear in tattered strands on the wind and they're out in the whole of the wide world for themselves. The arc of progress in this proceeding is a source of unending fascination to me. People turning into people are ... well, I think God had a very good idea when He decided to make the human image of His own pure Self, even though the image is flawed and bullheaded and self-destructive sometimes. It's worth it for the times when the image rings true.

So here they are. The three of them. First we had a time when Hallelujah, "go get yourself dressed" was meaningful to everyone in the house. Then we had a time when "go get a book and sit down and be quiet" was something everyone could do. And then it was movies - this was really funny. "Hey, Mom, I just saw this movie. You have to see it" and it was a movie I already loved but they hadn't been ready for it before then. Foods, drink, movies, books, life perspectives ... and just when I breathe a deep sigh of satisfaction in what I'm seeing, well, ... life as a parent often feel like a late night commercial. But wait! There's more!

In this house there is a young man who has just turned 21 years old. Today he said to me, "go to the media player." (I didn't know what he was talking about. He pointed. I clicked.) After a series of commands all starting with the words "now go to," we finally got to it. And oh oh oh. There is a place in Heaven itself that sounds like this! I feel myself dissolving into pools of still and quiet water, the breeze moving the surface just enough to reflect the lights and shadows of the world around me. Inside of me, a deep well of tears - the tears of relief and quiet and complete abandonment to the power of beauty - the tears that slowly course down the face of a worshiper - the surface of the water is disturbed, and if the sick and lame and blind come into the water they find health.

And what was on my "media player," loaded by my son last night after I went to bed? The son whose music often makes the neural passages in my brain feel electrocuted by his "drone metal" and whateverthehell that was music? The son whose range of fascinations include ranting TV preachers and oddball Asian sci-fi films and Spongebob and Herb Alpert? He declares it to be an "Estonian Neoclassical composer." (Where does he FIND this stuff?) Arvo Part's work may be found here. And I'd really like a crystal ball or something - what is this son of ours going to be someday? One thing is for sure. Although I find myself just as stubbornly resistant to his usual (persistent) attempts to educate and broaden my tastes as he once was to me ... the kid knows what I like.

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