12/25/2002 03:04:00 PM

here dan goes, "wrapping things up in nice neat packages that imply the world..."

what we require today is a vast multiplicity of voices--not as a well orchestrated choir, but rather in the mass chaos that frightens and angers the musical partisan who deems the open creativity of sound less pleasing than the particular movements they have grown fond of. this chaos of voice demands the ivory tower dwelling metanarrarator descend into the particular song. only song can narrarrate the meta with the difference that makes a difference.

to sing with one's own voice opens the soul. the refusal to remain a mere aficionado of the distant huddled masses or the 10,000 foot credulity critic in isolation forces one from the still mountain solitude and heady ivory tower heights down into the bustling village lane and warm hovel home. it is here that the one accustomed to thin air and quiet reflection must find her voice anew and sing a song long forgotten. this song is drawn from the spatial memory that is more rhythm than word. her heart is moved by the auto-confession that could not be smothered under the pillow of all that has been. like a phoenix rising from the ash she now knows the second naïveté, the creator, the singer of songs whose number join the billions in the divine chaos whose measure is yet impenetrable and whose mystery invites to dance.

some encounter the chaos and cannot find their voice anew. they slink back and become the most vile of creatures. trying to be what they once were and can never be again these beat the drums of war in a vain effort to drown out the noise they can never now part with. these are the ones who find not song in their own village, but a divine right to dominance. these are the ones who do not love their neighbors--far less their enemies! no, these traffic in manipulation, these preach a gospel of fear, these will not be satisfied until the chaos that now grips their soul is destroyed and the world with it! all those refusing to sing their song, or at the least to harmonize with it, are cut off and momentarily the fiction of self-righteous order is taken to be a divine blessing of the monotone.

sing on! find your voice anew. there is more than we have yet known.