One should not honour only one’s own religion and condemn the religions of others, but one should honour others’ religions for this or that reason. So doing, one helps one’s own religion to grow and renders service to the religions of others too. In acting otherwise one digs the grave of one’s own religion and also does harm to other religions. Whosoever honours his own religion and condemns other religions, does so indeed through devotion to his own religion, thinking “I will glorify my own religion.” But on the contrary, in so doing he injures his own religion more gravely. So concord is good: Let all listen, and be willing to listen to the doctrines professed by others.
— Emperor Asoka of India, 3rd century B.C., Rock Edict, XII.
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose,
By any other name would smell as sweet.
She lies hidden there beneath the surface,
where waiting in silence she gives no sign;
then all of a sudden, without warning,
she comes, and just as soon is gone again.
When the quiet mood of dawn has lifted
and only tattered scraps of mist remain,
she whispers softly of secret longings
too sacred for the light of the new day.
As the bustle and bursting energy
of conscious thought engulfs the waking world,
she lingers laughing in the soft shadows;
and watches as the frantic sparks collide.
She winks an eye in a lost, dreamless sleep
and stretches out in her langorous skin,
seeped into the pores of an gnarled old oak.
She seeks the core of all living matter.
While the senseless chaos of daylight sounds
its bright feverish song, through her ancient bones
she breathes out in her dark and dulcet tones
a current of energy that few can hear.
Until, as the last light that lingers fades,
she wakens and through the ink sky ascends;
Even then, though we glimpse her illusion,
she lies hidden there beneath the surface.
28 FEB 2002
OK, so I’ve got a great head voice (albeit reduced somewhat due to years of smoking), and have done first and second tenor singing, but my natural home range is straight on baritone. When placing natural baritones in history, there are only a few memorable choices (but, my are they memorable). Based on this information, it leads me to believe that where your voice falls when compared to the cultural milieu of popular Music during your formative years decidely puts you into a certain mindset. I, for example, could never really relate to Led Zeppelin, but naturally fell to Deep Purple (ah, to be able to scream as I used to …). Likewise, so much of the seventies and eighties rock was dominated by narrow-throated, whiney, high-pitched singing. So who were/are the great baritones (at least in rock/pop):
Doug Ingle (from Iron Butterfly)
Paul McCartney (sometimes, although he uses/used a lot of head voice)
B. B. King
Is it any wonder I turned out the way I did?