- published: 16 Aug 2013
- views: 172409
The Western world or the West is a term referring to different nations, depending on the context, most often including at least part of Europe. There are many accepted definitions about what they all have in common. The Western world is also known as the Occident (from Latin: occidens "sunset, West", as contrasted with its pendant the Orient).
The concept of the Western part of the earth has its roots in Greco-Roman civilization in Europe, and the advent of Christianity. In the modern era, Western culture has been heavily influenced by the traditions of the Renaissance, Protestant Reformation, Age of Enlightenment—and shaped by the expansive colonialism of the 15th-20th centuries. Before the Cold War era, the traditional Western viewpoint identified Western Civilization with the Western Christian (Catholic-Protestant) countries and culture. Its political usage was temporarily changed by the antagonism during the Cold War in the mid-to-late 20th Century (1947–1991).
The term originally had a literal geographic meaning. It contrasted Europe with the linked cultures and civilizations of the Middle East and North Africa, South Asia, Southeast Asia and the remote Far East, which early-modern Europeans saw as the East. Today this has little geographic relevance since the concept of the West has been expanded to include the former European colonies in the Americas, Russian Northern Asia, Australia, and New Zealand. In the contemporary cultural meaning, the phrase "Western world" includes Europe, as well as many countries of European colonial origin with substantial European ancestral populations in the Americas and Oceania.
Joanna Caroline Newsom (born January 18, 1982) is an American harpist, keyboardist, vocalist, lyricist and actress.
Newsom was born and raised in the small town of Nevada City, California. Her mother, Christine (née Mueller), is an internist, and her father, William Newsom, is a medical oncologist. Her parents were "progressive-minded professionals" who previously lived in the San Francisco Bay Area.
As a child, Newsom was not allowed to watch television or listen to the radio. She describes her parents as "kind of idealists when it came to hoping they could protect us from bad influences, like violent movies, or stupid stuff". She was exposed to music from a young age. Her father played the guitar and her mother was a classically trained pianist who played the hammered dulcimer, the autoharp and conga drums. Newsom attended a Waldorf school where she studied theater and learned to memorize and recite long poems.
At the age of five, Newsom asked her parents if she could learn to play the harp. Her parents eventually agreed to sign her up for harp lessons, but the local harp instructor did not want to take on such a young student and suggested she learn to play the piano first. She did, and later moved on to the harp which she "loved from the first lesson onward." She first played on smaller Celtic harps until her parents bought her a full-size pedal harp in the seventh grade.
Mercy me, the night is long.
Take my pen, to write you this song.
Lord: is it harder to carry on,
or to know when you are done?
All my life, I've felt as though
I'm inside a beautiful memory,
replaying
with the sound turned down low.
Long-life, show your face.
Slow-heart, curb your taste.
Smoke me out of my hiding place.
Long-life, state your case.
What in the world are we waiting for--
building glowing cities along the shore,
where the wind batters in,
baiting my kin like a matador?
So much value, placed upon
what lies just beyond our plans:
waving my handkerchief,
running along, till the end of the sand.
Long-life, speak your name.
I'm so tired of the guessing game.
But, something is moving,
just out of frame:
Slow-heart,
brace and aim.
Breaching slowly, across the sea,
one mast--
a flash, like the stinger of a bee--
to take you away,
a swarming fleet is gonna take you
from me.
The universe is getting loose:
sodden spread,
from some leaden disuse,
rushing, unhinged,
toward diminishing lights,
like a headless caboose.
I'll wait for you,
alongside the ocean,
and make do
with my no-skin.
But then, Long-life,
will you let me in?
And then, Slow-heart,
are you gonna know him?
Long-life, speak your name.
I wait, while I decry the wait.
And when I die, may I relate:
Slow heart, congregate.
To leave your home, and your family,
for some distortion of property?
Well, darling, I can't go.
But you may stay