Dwelling Musically in the World Jay McDaniel (P&F Twin Cities Presentation) by Jared Morningstar
Dwelling Musically in the World
a brief introduction to the process lifestyle
Process theology is a way of thinking that invites us to dwell musically in the world. This does not mean that we listen to music all the time. It means that we listen to the voices of other people and the natural world with full attention, in the same spirit that we listen to music, and then respond by trying to make music with them, adding beauty of our own. The music we hear will have many different colors: sad, happy, peaceful, angry, wise, foolish, quiet, and loud. Our task is to hear all the sounds with a gentle spirit, as best we can, and then add our own voice, relative to the needs at hand. The beauty we add can be a kind word to a friend, a helping hand to a stranger, an act of caring for an animal, or dancing barefoot in the moonlight. Whenever we act in the world in healing ways, we are adding a moment of beauty to the world, a scrap of light, a fresh melody. Even justice is an act of music-making, a kind of harmony.
Musical dwelling includes a sense that the whole world is music-like. This does not mean that the world is always pretty. Witness the violence and greed and despair. Witness the loss of life and the absence of love. There is too much unspeakable suffering, and too much missed potential, to say that the world is an ode to joy. Still, the world is music-like in that it is a fluid and evolving process composed of events that come into existence and then pass away, like musical notes of varying durations in an ongoing concert. Mountains are events, rivers are events, and people are events. Some events last longer than others but all arise and then perish. And each event is a blending of influences from other sources. It is an act of creative inter-becoming. In its creativity each event transcends the strict determinism of the past. It displays what the Chinese call a continuous creativity – a qi – which is always here and now, always spontaneous, and always expressing itself in the sheer as-it-is-ness of whatever is.
Of course, there is more to life than change. Amid the changes there are recurring patterns, the most general of which are the laws of nature. The sun rises and sets; the seasons come and go; protons bond with neutrons. Science does an excellent job of discerning the mathematical dimensions of these patterns, and this is part of its gift. Life occurs in the concreteness of actual events as they interact with one another. Process theology invites us to be lovingly attentive to life in its concreteness.
What, then, is the religion of musical dwelling? You might call it the Religion of Kindness and Beauty. It has two core beliefs.
The first is that the most important thing we can do in our lives is to be kind or compassionate: kind to other people, kind to animals, kind to the earth, and kind to ourselves. From the perspective of this religion, being kind or compassionate is much more important than almost anything else we can do with our lives. Kindness is much more important that, say, making a lot of money, or wielding power over others, or having your name in the spotlight. It touches the Eternal in ways that fame can never understand.
The second belief is that, despite life’s many tragedies, there is a beauty in life that is never fully eclipsed by the sadness: a beauty in friendships, in the natural world, in silence, in music. This beauty does not erase or justify the tragedies: the pain, the abuse, the injustices. The world is not all beautiful. But the very existence of beauty means that, even amid the tragedies, there is a goodness worth living from and for. The philosopher Alfred North Whitehead speaks of the multifariousness of life: “The fairies dance and Christ is nailed to the cross.” The Religion of Kindness and Beauty does not hide from the sad side of life, and it does not hide from the joy. It helps people dance with the fairies and be honest to the suffering.
I realize that, if you take a survey of religious preferences, there will not be a box for the Religion of Kindness and Beauty. There will be a box for Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and others. There may also be a box for people who are not religiously unaffiliated, sometimes called Nones. But there will not be a box for Kindness and Beauty. This is because it is an implicit religion of daily life rather than a formal religion with institutions of its own. It can be cultivated with help from other religions, enriched by their teachings, and articulated in terms of their vocabularies. A Jew might call it “being a good Jew” and a Muslim might call it “being a good Muslim.” But it can also be practiced without any association with other religions. A more secular person might call it “trying to be a good person.” The Religion of Kindness and Beauty is available to believers, non-believers, and those who are somewhere in between.
The Religion of Kindness and Beauty is bold and humble. It is bold in its affirmation of the importance of kindness and beauty in a world too often lacking compassion and wonder. It is an alternative to religious fundamentalism on the one hand and stale secularism on the other. But it is humble in that it does not make extravagant claims. Considered in itself, and apart from its connection with other religions, the Religion of Kindness and Beauty does not focus on questions of life after death or ultimate salvation. It does not claim to have all the truth or access to ultimate reality. Instead, it focusses on satisfying relations in this world and is committed to the flourishing of all life: people, animals, and the earth. Its sacred texts include poems, songs, and stories speaking poignantly about life’s beauty and honestly about life’s pain. Its touches of transcendence are found in music, other people, and orange cats. Its ethic is to live with respect and care for the whole community of life, with special care for the vulnerable. It includes but does not require belief in God. And when it comes to God it is open to many different ways of thinking about God – God as Friend, God as Interconnectedness, God as Music - so long as they lead to kindness. Its faith is to trust in the efficacy of beauty. One of its primary practices, as imagined in the poem below, is light collection.
- Jay McDaniel, 5/5/22
Musical dwelling includes a sense that the whole world is music-like. This does not mean that the world is always pretty. Witness the violence and greed and despair. Witness the loss of life and the absence of love. There is too much unspeakable suffering, and too much missed potential, to say that the world is an ode to joy. Still, the world is music-like in that it is a fluid and evolving process composed of events that come into existence and then pass away, like musical notes of varying durations in an ongoing concert. Mountains are events, rivers are events, and people are events. Some events last longer than others but all arise and then perish. And each event is a blending of influences from other sources. It is an act of creative inter-becoming. In its creativity each event transcends the strict determinism of the past. It displays what the Chinese call a continuous creativity – a qi – which is always here and now, always spontaneous, and always expressing itself in the sheer as-it-is-ness of whatever is.
Of course, there is more to life than change. Amid the changes there are recurring patterns, the most general of which are the laws of nature. The sun rises and sets; the seasons come and go; protons bond with neutrons. Science does an excellent job of discerning the mathematical dimensions of these patterns, and this is part of its gift. Life occurs in the concreteness of actual events as they interact with one another. Process theology invites us to be lovingly attentive to life in its concreteness.
What, then, is the religion of musical dwelling? You might call it the Religion of Kindness and Beauty. It has two core beliefs.
The first is that the most important thing we can do in our lives is to be kind or compassionate: kind to other people, kind to animals, kind to the earth, and kind to ourselves. From the perspective of this religion, being kind or compassionate is much more important than almost anything else we can do with our lives. Kindness is much more important that, say, making a lot of money, or wielding power over others, or having your name in the spotlight. It touches the Eternal in ways that fame can never understand.
The second belief is that, despite life’s many tragedies, there is a beauty in life that is never fully eclipsed by the sadness: a beauty in friendships, in the natural world, in silence, in music. This beauty does not erase or justify the tragedies: the pain, the abuse, the injustices. The world is not all beautiful. But the very existence of beauty means that, even amid the tragedies, there is a goodness worth living from and for. The philosopher Alfred North Whitehead speaks of the multifariousness of life: “The fairies dance and Christ is nailed to the cross.” The Religion of Kindness and Beauty does not hide from the sad side of life, and it does not hide from the joy. It helps people dance with the fairies and be honest to the suffering.
I realize that, if you take a survey of religious preferences, there will not be a box for the Religion of Kindness and Beauty. There will be a box for Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam, Judaism, and others. There may also be a box for people who are not religiously unaffiliated, sometimes called Nones. But there will not be a box for Kindness and Beauty. This is because it is an implicit religion of daily life rather than a formal religion with institutions of its own. It can be cultivated with help from other religions, enriched by their teachings, and articulated in terms of their vocabularies. A Jew might call it “being a good Jew” and a Muslim might call it “being a good Muslim.” But it can also be practiced without any association with other religions. A more secular person might call it “trying to be a good person.” The Religion of Kindness and Beauty is available to believers, non-believers, and those who are somewhere in between.
The Religion of Kindness and Beauty is bold and humble. It is bold in its affirmation of the importance of kindness and beauty in a world too often lacking compassion and wonder. It is an alternative to religious fundamentalism on the one hand and stale secularism on the other. But it is humble in that it does not make extravagant claims. Considered in itself, and apart from its connection with other religions, the Religion of Kindness and Beauty does not focus on questions of life after death or ultimate salvation. It does not claim to have all the truth or access to ultimate reality. Instead, it focusses on satisfying relations in this world and is committed to the flourishing of all life: people, animals, and the earth. Its sacred texts include poems, songs, and stories speaking poignantly about life’s beauty and honestly about life’s pain. Its touches of transcendence are found in music, other people, and orange cats. Its ethic is to live with respect and care for the whole community of life, with special care for the vulnerable. It includes but does not require belief in God. And when it comes to God it is open to many different ways of thinking about God – God as Friend, God as Interconnectedness, God as Music - so long as they lead to kindness. Its faith is to trust in the efficacy of beauty. One of its primary practices, as imagined in the poem below, is light collection.
- Jay McDaniel, 5/5/22