Money buys me the dubious privilege of living
on he “clean” side of the dirty divide of
environmental injustice.
Behind every liter of gas I use to cook my food,
behind the warm, protective synthetic fibers
and clothes I wear, behind the myriad digital
machines and networks that enable me to articulate
and share these thoughts, behind all these perks
and privileges of what we call “the developed world”
is a dark side of inhuman poverty and unspeakable
pollution which is kept deliberately out of sight,
hidden from even the most compassionate heart.
This is not just that my gain, leisure and productivity
is for someone, some place else, their loss and
suffering. No. It is also the moral injustice in which
I admit I am thoroughly complicit and upon which
I have become dependent. As a profiteer and
participant in this collusive, systematic culture
of ignorance, I myself bear witness to the
contradictory character of my own, what others
might perceive as, rugged, simple, and independent
lifestyle. This much is clear seen from the neutral
center of the scales of justice. What remains to
be demonstrated is the ensemble of clear, decisive
actions that will bring the two sides of the scale
into proper balance.
Music is movement. Music is a movement of relationship.
We sense–not just hear, but sense–somatically by
means of the instrument of the whole body. What
shapes sensing is formative metaphor. But which
metaphor shall shape our experience? Domination?
Force? Conflict? Aggression? Or the poetry of love
making? Contemplation? Dialogue? The fierce energy
of outrage? The empathy of shared grief? Or the
wonder of distant stars? It is up to us. We shape the
music, and the music shapes us.