I noticed it the other day when I sat
down to play a song at the piano. I can't even remember what it was,
something by Coldplay, I think, or maybe Evanescence. (Or maybe even
something uncool like “Open Arms” by Journey.) And I had real
sheet music with notes for the treble and bass clef.
So I played it as written. That's
nothing new. I grew up reading music and playing music by reading the
music. It's another language I've learned and one I'm fluent in.
But after I finished playing the song,
I went back and looked at it again. This time, I thought, “Hmmm,
chord notations above the staff.”
Two years ago, I either wouldn't have
noticed them or I would've thought, “Well, that's for the guitar
players.” And I would've went on my merry way. But these days,
well, I have to play by chords. That's what our band switched
to at church two years ago. At first, I spent much of rehearsal
frantically looking up the notes in each chord and trying to write
the notes in the chord next to each chord name—each and every chord
name on the pages.
But I noticed awhile ago that I didn't
have to keep writing the notes in each chord next to every chord
name. Gradually, I had gotten it down to just here and there. And
then less and less.
And now? Well, I still don't trust my
brain to not go blank. (It happens.) So I still write in a few,
especially if the chords are unusual. But, mostly, I don't have to
write the notes in anymore.
And so I played the music by chords.
It feels like I'm using a totally different part of my brain. When I play by notes, it feels very left-brained and analytical, which I love. When I play by chords, it feels very right-brained and intuitive, which I also love. I enjoy using my brain in both ways. I will admit, though, that the open-ended way of playing by chords is still weirdness! (Moral of the story? I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.)
It feels like I'm using a totally different part of my brain. When I play by notes, it feels very left-brained and analytical, which I love. When I play by chords, it feels very right-brained and intuitive, which I also love. I enjoy using my brain in both ways. I will admit, though, that the open-ended way of playing by chords is still weirdness! (Moral of the story? I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.)
So what's the deal with the laundry
adventures? Well, don't read The Gospel According to the Earth
by Matthew Sleeth if you don't want to be challenged.
For me, after reading “fun” facts
like...
- “A typical family uses 1,800 pounds of coal per year powering just its electric clothes dryer.”
- “An average of 20,000 pounds of forest, dirt, and rock must be dumped in a stream in order to get that amount of coal [due to mountaintop removal, which is the newest way coal is obtained].”
...I decided I needed to take action.
Here's a picture of mountaintop
removal:
Isn't that terrible? :( This was
something I was already aware of and petitioning against; however, I
didn't connect it with something I was doing. (Duh, I know.)
I already like to hang my clothes
outside during nice weather, but I wasn't sure how to manage it
during the winter or the rain. I put a question out on Facebook and
ended up with 90+ comments! Most Europeans don't use clothes dryers,
so I figured they were the ones to ask. (I did get some nice
responses from Americans who don't use clothes dryers, too.)
Well, a trip to IKEA later, and I have
a clothing rack (or airer) and a drying “octopus.” I've been
drying our clothes by the woodstove, and it's been working perfectly
fine.
I have learned a few practical things. One, I
need to make sure my homemade detergent dissolves well in the water.
Otherwise, there can be white, powdery splotches on my clothes. I
think the dryer may have been helping to remove those before. I've
also learned that I need to rotate and reposition the heavier and
thicker items.
The drying octopus has led to some
interesting sentences such as, “Your underwear is on the octopus”
and “The octopus is poking me in the butt!”
Well, anyway, God has been showing me
lately how much of life needs to be intentional. From eating real,
whole foods, to trying to do more to be a good steward of our earth, or to
making the effort to buy wisely to avoid contributing to human
trafficking, God calls us to be wise and intentional. It's not easy,
and I have a long way to go. (Yes, I'm aware of the issues with IKEA,
so the irony of me buying the stuff at IKEA is not lost on me. It's
a bit of a human trafficking clash with environmental consciousness.)
But you still have to do what you can, and that's what I'm trying to
do—one piece at a time.
