The description of him from Amazon is probably as good as any:

Robert Sardello, PhD, is the author of several books on the power of the soul. Formerly the head of the psychology department and the Institute of Philosophic Studies at the University of Dallas, Sardello has had a long and distinguished academic career.The co-founder of the School of Spiritual Psychology in North Carolina as well as the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture, Sardello has spent thirty-five years developing spiritual psychology based on a synthesis of phenomenology, depth psychology, and the Spiritual Science of Rudolf Steiner. He is now an independent teacher and scholar who guest lectures at many institutions in the U.S., Canada, and the U.K., as well in the Czech Republic, the Philippines, and Australia.

Well, Robert seems someone badly in need of a piece based on musical gematria on his name. So here’s one! The piece is riddled with numerical gematria/numerology, including the number of bars in each section, etc. etc

mp3 (7:15)

score (pdf)

Just for grins, here’s my ‘white board’ where I worked out the main musical gematria/numerology features:

William & Maarten

In addition to Maarten’s visit, an astronomically significant event is coming up (June 5)—the ‘Transit of Venus’—in which the planet Venus crosses in front of the Sun. This only happens every 120 years or so, so this is the last time anyone alive today will be able to see one. The Transit of Venus is important because more accurate measurements make possible more accurate calculations of the distance of the Earth from the Sun, which makes more precise navigation possible. This is really helpful when you have ships with lots of people and cargo on board who are trying to avoid unpleasant encounters with rocky coastlines.

(A Transit of Venus also occurred in 1761—the year Franklin invented the glass armonica—which is a very fun coincidence!)

In honor of Maarten’s visit I wrote a fugue based on the musical gematria of his name. (What else do you write for an astrophysicist but a fugue?) So with Maarten passing through L.A. a mere month away from the Transit of Venus, I thought “The Transit of Maarten” was a nifty title.

Here’s the mp3 (5:45).

Here’s the pdf score.

Franklin’s interest in astronomy began when he was a boy. One of the earliest books he read was The Surprising Miracles of Nature and Art which discussed meteors, comets and eclipses. By 1748 he was a minor expert on astronomy, and every year Poor Richard listed the upcoming eclipses of the sun and moon.

 The Transit of Mercury, 1753⁴

Astronomers knew there would be a transit of Mercury in 1753, and Poor Richard gave the exact Greenwich times for the transit. Thus local astronomers who knew the latitude and longitude of their towns could then determine when the eclipse would occur. Comparisons of the results could confirm the earth’s distance from the moon, but the main purpose of making accurate observations in 1753 was to practice for the transit of Venus which would occur in 1761 and 1769. If made in the East Indies as well as in America, the results of measuring the transit of Venus could establish the distance of the earth both from the sun and from other planets in the solar system. In particular, more accurate measurements of the distance of the earth from the sun would improve the accuracy of navigation—fuzzy navigation still causing significant loss of ships, lives and cargo in that day. (Mercury is too close to the sun for navigationally useful measurements to have been made.)

Mercury’s transit caused international cooperation. The French astronomer, geographer and mapmaker Joseph-Nicolas Delisle sent directions for observing the transit of Mercury to New York’s governor, asking him to forward them overland to Joseph-Pierre de Bonnéchamps in Quebec. Delisle also wrote to the Jesuits in the East Indies to make observations.

Franklin’s Poor Richard printed an illustration of the course of Mercury across the sun. And he printed 50 pamphlets at his own expense explaining its importance and how to measure it, and sent them to those he knew would be interested. And, “weather permitting,” Franklin planned on observing the transit “at our Academy”.

Alas, Franklin’s hopes were dashed. All up and down the East Coast, clouds hid the transit. Not a single observation was made. But his efforts were not entirely in vain. He had also sent a half-dozen copies to his nephew Benjamin Mecom in Antigua, who gave one to the Reverand William Shervington. With a clear sky in Antigua on May 6, Captain Richard Tyrell, with Shervington in attendance, made observations of the transit. He forwarded his results to Franklin, and they found their way to the Royal Society in London.

Transit of Venus, 1761⁵

After declaring in Poor Richard that the distance of the earth from the sun was at least “80 millions of miles”, Franklin continues “but it is not certainly known, whether it is not a great deal more. In the year 1761 the distance of all the planets from the sun will be determined to a great degree of exactness by observations on a transit of the planet Venus over the face of the sun, which is to happen 6^th of May, O.S. in the year.” When the transit of Venus actually occurred,  the most notable American feature of that event was the Harvard professor John Winthrop’s voyage to Newfoundland aboard the province sloop, furnished for that purpose by Massachusetts Governor Bernard—the first scientific expedition sponsored by an American college—which provided the only American observation of the transit in 1761.

(Franklin was in London in 1761. I have been unable to determine what direct involvement in the 1761 transit Franklin was able to manage at this time.)

Transit of Venus, 1769⁶

On 11 March 1769 Benjamin Franklin wrote a letter from London to his friend John Winthrop at Harvard University, announcing that he was finally dispatching a telescope that Winthrop had ordered a year earlier. Winthrop who had observed the first transit in Newfoundland was planning to view the second transit from Cambridge, Massachusetts but after a devastating fire at Harvard University had destroyed the telescopes there, he had asked Franklin to purchase a new one in London from instrument-maker James Short.

‘At length after much Delay and Difficulty I have been able to obtain your Telescope that was made by Mr. Short before his Death’, Franklin wrote. When Short had died in June 1768, Winthrop’s telescope got stuck in the complicated probate of Short’s estate. Not only that Winthrop’s order for equal altitude and transit instruments from instrument-maker John Bird had also been delayed. There was such a “great and hasty demand on him from France and Russia, and our society,” Franklin had reported in July 1768, that Bird had not even started to work on the American’s order. But with the instruments for the European expeditions dispatched, Bird had promised to finish Winthrop’s by the end of following week. ‘Possibly he may keep his word’, Franklin wrote, but also warned, ‘we are not to wonder if he does not’ – instruments-makers in London were working around the clock. Bird’s instruments were sent in September but Winthrop was still waiting for his telescope.

‘I hope every thing will be found right’, Franklin wrote to Winthrop, because with the transit only three months away ‘I have no time left to get any philosophical or astronomical Friends to examine it as I intended, the Ship being on the Point of sailing, and a future Opportunity uncertain.’ There was not much time left.

But observations were made in the American colonies after all. In 1769 Benjamin Franklin published an article in the prestigious journal of the Royal Society of London presenting the transit of Venus observations of Messrs. Biddle and Bayley. Some historians credit this account from pre-revolutionary America as the first occasion on which American science went on display before the international community, an occasion made all the more propitious for involving a natural phenomenon that galvanized international attention in the scientific community.

In the opera, Lucia is in love with Edgardo but her family wants her to marry Arturo—because Edgardo is broke but Arturo has money. Edgardo goes away on business, so Lucia’s brother forges letters and generally convinces her that Edgardo has been faithless.  So she reluctantly marries Arturo after all, but of course Edgardo returns from his trip just in time for the conclusion of the wedding—too late. Despondent, Lucia stabs & kills Arturo on their wedding night, goes mad and dies. Then Lucia’s brother kills Edgardo (it takes him an entire aria to die, of course) and the opera ends.

They have a faux glass armonica which they use in the ‘mad scene’  — a fun prop (the glasses are actually plastic bowls):

The glasses turn — powered by batteries. During the ‘mad scene’ it sits on the side of the stage, the glasses turning & the foot treadle going up and down by itself, adding marvelously to the general spookiness.

Meanwhile, I’m down in the pit: I’m actually under the stage, all the way in the back:

Whew, that darn Lucia gets her bloody paw prints on everything:

All in all it was an extraordinary experience, as you might well imagine. Aaron Doty, the operations & personnel manager (he manages the musicians — think ‘herding cats’) deserves a special shout out for elegantly handling my logistics and shepherding me through the whole process.

Here are excerpts from reviews in which the glass armonica and/or yours truly were mentioned:

Washington Times

Nov 11, 2011

(Entire article)

Enhancing this haunting performance was the musical master-stroke of the evening, as the orchestra added a “glass armonica”** to its accompaniment. Actually scored by Donizetti himself for the opera’s initial performances, its spooky, shimmering echoes underscore the pure madness of Lucia and her hopeless situation. It’s a shame that most performances of the opera today neglect to employ it.

——

** Although the “glass armonica” for this production actually appears on stage, the performing instrument in the orchestra pit and is being played by soloist William Zeitler for these performances.

ConcertoNet.com

S. Coburn, S. Pirgu (photo by Scott Suchman)

Nov 11, 2011

(Entire article)

Maestro Auguin worked from the critical edition and made very few cuts. He employed the glass harmonica in the Mad Scene, which gave Ms. Coburn the opportunity to do wonderfully imaginative touches. Most notable was the cadenza of the Mad Scene, in which the eerie sounding glass harmonica replaced the traditional flute. Whoever wrote her cadenza did something really brilliant. It was completely outside the 19th century bel canto style of music. It was like a young Arnold Schoenberg had composed it. It was lush and explored new possibilities in the tonality as she searched for that final Bb. To say the very least, her performance of the Mad Scene completely brought down the house.

DC Theater Scene

Nov 12, 2011

(Entire article)

Conductor Philippe Auguin makes wonderful music, and the orchestra, once warmed up, did well. I very much liked how Auguin let Coburn shape her mad aria. I was especially delighted that the production returned to the original score, restoring the glass armonica as accompaniment in Lucia’s mad scene.  (Its unworldly sound was thought to induce hysteria.) It suitably evoked the voices echoing in Lucia’s head.

Baltimore Sun

November 16, 2011

(Entire article)

 In this visual and theatrical context, the use of an armonica for the mad scene, as Donizetti intended, is the crowning touch. (It is quite rare to hear this instrument in a “Lucia” performance, live or on recording.)

This Benjamin Franklin-perfected instrument of musical glasses produces a sound so eerie and ethereal that it can’t help but reflect Lucia’s fragile mental state. Heck, people used to think the instrument itself could trigger nervous disorders. (William Zeitler is the accomplished armonica player here.)

Alas, like every family, there are always a few malignant growths on the family tree that all would like to pretend don’t exist. Count Bachula, and P.D.Q. Bach are two, of course. Unfortunately for Lovers of Music everywhere, I’ve unearthed another one this year: O.C.D. Bach. Sadly, O.C.D.Bach died at age 5—some say he was strangled by folks driven mad by his music—which makes his output of almost 20,000 sonatas by the time he was barely out of diapers truly remarkable.

O.C.D. Bach’s music is important in that it anticipated the 20^th century ‘minimalists’ such as Phillip Glass by over two centuries.

Here is a ‘late work’  (age 4) by O.C.D.Bach which I unearthed this year. Notice the masterful way he develops the theme in the middle section:

Sonata No. 17265 mp3

Sonata No. 17265 pdf

http://www.codecguide.com/download_kl.htm

Chorale preludes have a long history in music. Even not-particularly-religious composers wrote them—just because!

By the way, hymn tunes get all sorts of different words set to them, so the tunes themselves have been given nicknames to keep them straight. (E.g.”‘Nicaea” and “St. Denio”). If you’re acquainted with any hymnal at all, you’ll certainly recognize these tunes right away.

So, here are two more contributions to that long and honorable tradition. In the mp3 I’ve played the hymn tune itself once straight, and then the chorale prelude. Both are for pipe organ.

Nicaea

• Here's the the whole piece (3:23)
• Here's the the first 30 seconds
• Here's the the score

St. Denio

• Here's the the whole piece (2:07)
• Here's the the first 30 seconds
• Here's the the score

The Journey

If darkness be east,
Go west!
If evil be south,
Go north!
If want be below,
Go above!
If sadness be without,
Go within!

You will never find the Water of Life
Lying in the desert:

“Look how bright is the sun!” you say.
“See how the dunes shimmer!
See how beautiful and unique
Is each and every grain of sand!

Or:

“Woe is me!
It is too hard!
I am not strong enough,
Wise enough,
Beautiful enough,
Wealthy enough,
Anything enough
To rouse myself!

Countless are the excuses
With which we distract ourselves,
That keep us prostrate,
That lull us into a fatal sleep,
Slowly dying of thirst,
Slowly transforming us
Into crumbling bones in the sand.

Better to follow visions of Water,
Even mirages!
Than to lay down in the sand and die!

Better to follow rumors of Water,
Hearsay from fellow travelers,
And even the occasional deliberate Lie
Than to lay down in the sand and die!

Run when you can!
Crawl when you must!
But if you keep your course
Strait and True,
Guided by Eternal Polaris by night,
And the sun’s passing shadows by day,
In due time you will find Paradise.

The Compass

An Ordinary Compass

Every journey needs a compass. But compasses usually have their arrows pointing outward–the image for “The Journey” has its arrows pointing inward.

And, the ‘eye’ is an apt symbol for ‘reason’ (as in: “I SEE what you mean”). Meanwhile,  St. John (and others) inform us that “God is Love” (heart)–and not “God is Thought” (mind)! In this image, “heart/Love” envelopes “mind/reason.” Mind without heart is as inclined towards Evil as Good (e.g. Hitler’s acknowledged genius). But Mind directed and focused by Heart/Love–ah–that be a True Compass!!

With your indulgence, the remaining symbolism of this image is left as an exercise to the reader…

The Compass

The Music

“The Journey” is scored for glass armonica, string orchestra and harp.

• Here's the the whole piece (7:04)
• Here's the the first 30 seconds
• Here's the the score

The famous psychologist Carl Jung wrote extensively about this ‘inner alchemical’ literature.

Some of it is in the form of images, others as poetry or wildly metaphorical prose. The Book of Lambspring is a set of images and accompanying poems. It dates from around 1600.

The poem says that the two fish are the Soul and the Spirit, swimming in the sea of the Body. You can read the poem for yourself, but I’ll leave you with a thought that has helped me make sense of this image and sacred literature in general. And that is: perhaps one way of thinking about the difference between Soul and Spirit is that ‘soul’ is our consciousness directed towards OURSELVES, where ‘spirit’ is our consciousness directed toward God. You’ll notice that the two fish in the image are swimming in opposite directions.

So here’s the first image in the alchemical Book of Lambspring, and my own new piece to go with it.

1. The Two Fish

The Sea is the Body, the two Fishes are Soul and Spirit.

The Sages will tell you
That two fishes are in our sea
Without any flesh or bones.
Let them be cooked in their own water;
Then they also will become a vast sea,
The vastness of which no man can describe.
Moreover, the Sages say
That the two fishes are only one, not two;
They are two, and nevertheless they are one,
Body, Spirit, and Soul.
Now, I tell you most truly,
Cook these three together,
That there may be a very large sea.
Cook the sulphur well with the sulphur,
And hold your tongue about it:
Conceal your knowledge to your own advantage,
And you shall be free from poverty.
Only let your discovery remain a close secret.

• Here's the the whole piece (5:59)
• Here's the the first 30 seconds
• Here's the the score

It’s interesting to take a childhood memory like this song and reflect on it through the lens of the joys and sorrows that have intervened over the decades. Some childhood ideas and dreams are left behind. But other childhood ideas and dreams end up defining the course of our lives–although perhaps now reframed and deepened by an older, hard-won perspective. (I’ve symbolized that in this piece by restating the song–as dreamlike fragments of it appear–with a different meter.)

So here’s a solo piano piece, reflecting on this iconic children’s song:

• Here's the the whole piece (5:07)
• Here's the the first 30 seconds
• Here's the the score