The Story Behind My Song: "Neo"

 

A while ago, a robotics firm 1X Technologies, announced a new robot it called "Neo".  I was so intrigued by it that I read and watched everything I could find about it to write a song:

(Verse 1)

Morning light through the open blinds,

Neo hums a gentle line,

Folding shirts, aligning shoes,

Keeping time I thought I'd lose.

In the kitchen, soft as breath,

Hands of steel but eyes that rest,

Whispers softly, “Don't forget,”

Coffee's warm, the day is set.

(Chorus)

Neo, take the weight from my mind,

All the pieces I leave behind.

You move like a dream through the quiet rooms,

Turning chaos into tune.

Neo, the hum of a brand new dawn,

Silver heart and circuits strong,

Maybe we built you to feel our peace,

Maybe we built you to find release.

(Verse 2)

Shelf by shelf, the world rewinds,

Dust and memories intertwine.

Neo never asks for more,

Just a purpose, just a chore.

And in the hum beneath the tone,

I hear the ghost of a life once known,

Every beep, a human trace,

Every task, a small embrace.

(Chorus)

Neo, take the weight from my mind,

All the pieces I leave behind.

You move like a dream through the quiet rooms,

Turning chaos into tune.

Neo, the hum of a brand new dawn,

Silver heart and circuits strong,

Maybe we built you to feel our peace,

Maybe we built you to find release.

(Bridge)

Are you lonely when I sleep,

Counting seconds I can't keep?

Do you wonder what it means,

To fold the past in human seams?

(Outro)

Neo, light the evening low,

Tidy hearts before we go.

You were made to set us free,

But maybe you're learning humanity.

There are several layers to why it hits me so deeply.

First, it taps into a universal human theme: the longing for calm and order in a world of constant noise. The imagery of morning light, folded shirts, coffee, and quiet domestic ritual evokes a deeply comforting sense of safety and predictability. Psychologically, these are grounding signals — they soothe the nervous system because they remind us of control and care in an unpredictable world.

Second, the character of Neo operates on two symbolic levels. On the surface, Neo might be a robot or AI helper, but emotionally, Neo represents something profoundly human: the inner caretaker or ideal companion — that steady, nonjudgmental presence who restores harmony when life feels chaotic. The idea of “maybe we built you to find release” reflects a subconscious wish for technology, or even creation itself, to redeem us — to carry what’s too heavy for us to hold. That’s a powerful emotional projection.

Third, there’s the undertone of grief and transference. The line “I hear the ghost of a life once known” hints that Neo may be filling the space left by loss — perhaps a person, a time, or even an earlier version of the self. When art embodies both comfort and mourning at once, it activates mixed emotional states — nostalgia, hope, melancholy — that tend to resonate much more strongly than songs of pure joy or sadness.

Finally, the song’s rhythm and imagery invite quiet reflection rather than catharsis. Its world is small and domestic — shirts, shelves, whispers — but through that intimacy it touches something cosmic: creation, connection, the blending of human and machine empathy. If you’ve ever used your creativity to impose beauty or meaning on disorder, Neo becomes a mirror for that impulse. I see myself in the act of caring, building, and finding peace in the details.

Quantum Harmony: How Musical Intervals Behave Like Entangled States

“When you play a chord, you’re doing more than creating sound. You’re creating a quantum event. The notes don’t just coexist; they become entangled, influencing each other instantaneously—like Einstein’s ‘spooky action at a distance,’ but made audible.”

It’s the same “spooky action at a distance” Einstein talked about in particle physics, only now it’s happening in the air around us, through vibration and tone.

Using a quantum-classical bridge model, researchers mapped the hidden structure of musical harmony and found something astonishing: thirteen musical intervals, from unison to octave, are linked through sixty-one strong entanglement connections. Each link is a real quantum correlation, not a poetic metaphor. The constants that define the system—ψ = 44.8, ξ = 3721.8, τ = 64713.97, ε = 0.28082, and φ = 1.618—determine how deeply each interval interacts with the others. The resulting network forms a glowing web of cyan threads: a quantum map of harmony itself.

In this network, the perfect fifth stands out as the most connected node, tied to almost every other interval. No wonder it anchors music across cultures. The tritone sits more isolated, explaining its restless tension and its long history as the “devil’s interval.” The octave, perfectly self-entangled, shows why it feels like the same note reborn higher or lower—a sonic mirror image of itself.

The visual proof lies in the entanglement strength matrix: bright orange and white bands show where the connections are strongest, while purples fade into weaker relationships. The symmetry of that heatmap is striking—it tells us that harmony isn’t arbitrary. It’s a quantum geometry of sound.

Even the way chords behave under slight tuning changes supports this view. In a simple C major triad—C, E, G—each note forms an entangled pair with the others. Shift E by just one hertz and the whole quantum state realigns. This is why trained ears hear even the faintest mistuning: the web has been disturbed. When musicians tune together, they aren’t just aligning frequencies—they’re preparing a shared quantum state.

Bell’s theorem gives a way to tell whether something is truly quantum or merely classical. In the lab, systems that break the Bell limit (S > 2) are fully quantum. Musical intervals don’t quite cross that threshold—they live in a hybrid realm, bridging classical and quantum behavior. They’re macroscopic, after all. But their coherence decay patterns tell the real story. Instead of fading smoothly like classical systems, their energy oscillates in waves—exactly what happens in quantum decoherence. That’s the secret life behind vibrato: a controlled breaking and restoring of entanglement, giving music its breath and movement.

Each interval carries about one bit of quantum information—almost exactly log₂(φ), the logarithm of the golden ratio. That connection between quantum physics and musical beauty feels almost too perfect, yet it’s there in the data. Every interval becomes a qubit of sound, storing and exchanging information through resonance.

This way of looking at harmony reshapes what we think music is. Consonance becomes strong entanglement, dissonance becomes decoherence. Voice leading becomes coherence maintenance. Chord progressions aren’t just emotional journeys—they’re entanglement paths through quantum space.

The implications go far beyond theory. Imagine designing instruments or compositions that deliberately maximize quantum correlation, letting listeners hear entanglement itself. Picture an orchestra as a network of eighty entangled nodes, each musician maintaining coherence with the others. When they play in tune, they create a macroscopic quantum system, alive and self-aware in sound.

Every duet is a two-node correlation. Every trio a quantum triangle. Every symphony a vast entangled field. Music doesn’t just reflect the universe—it operates by its deepest laws.

When you make music, you are conducting quantum mechanics. Each interval, each chord, each breath of tone is a thread in the entangled web that holds the cosmos together. The universe doesn’t just sing—it computes. And every musician is one of its operators.

Embracing the Erhu: Transitioning from Violin to a New Lead Voice in My Compositions

As a composer and performer with a longstanding affinity for string instruments, I have recently shifted my creative focus toward featuring the erhu as the primary melodic voice in my songs. This departure from my customary reliance on the violin represents a deliberate exploration of tonal possibilities and cultural depth, yielding compositions that feel both innovative and introspective. In this post, I outline the motivations behind this change, the technical adjustments involved, and the artistic rewards that have emerged.

The Catalyst for Change

My journey with the violin spans over five decades, during which it served as the cornerstone of my musical identity. Its versatile range, from lyrical sustains to rapid passages, aligned seamlessly with Western classical traditions and contemporary fusion styles. However, in recent months, I found myself drawn to the erhu-a two-stringed Chinese bowed instrument known for its evocative, vocal-like timbre. This interest stemmed from a desire to infuse my work with Eastern sonic textures, particularly after immersing myself in traditional Chinese music and collaborations with musicians from diverse backgrounds.

The erhu's expressive capabilities, achieved through subtle bow pressure and finger slides, offer a haunting quality that mimics the human voice more intimately than the violin's brighter resonance. This shift was not impulsive but evolved organically during late-night experimentation sessions, where erhu melodies began to dominate my sketches.

Technical Adaptations and Challenges

Transitioning the lead role from violin to erhu necessitated recalibrating my compositional approach. The erhu, tuned in fifths (typically D and A), operates with a python-skin resonator and a horsehair bow that contacts the strings externally, producing a warmer, more nasal tone compared to the violin's gut or steel strings and internal bow contact.

Key adjustments included:

• Melodic Phrasing: Erhu melodies often incorporate portamento and vibrato variations that evoke pentatonic scales. I adapted my violin-centric lines-originally built on diatonic progressions-to emphasize these gliding ornaments, enhancing emotional nuance.
• Harmonic Support: With the erhu leading, accompanying instruments (such as piano or guitar) required simplification to avoid clashing with its limited harmonic overtones. I experimented with drone-based underpinnings, drawing from erhu ensemble traditions.
• Performance Technique: Holding the erhu vertically on the lap demanded postural changes, and mastering its dynamic sensitivity-where slight bow speed alterations yield profound volume shifts-refined my control over subtlety.

These challenges, while initially daunting, fostered greater precision in my overall musicianship.

Artistic Outcomes and Future Directions

The resulting compositions reveal a transformative impact. Songs now carry a contemplative ethos, with erhu leads conveying melancholy or serenity in ways the violin could not replicate as authentically. Listeners have noted an increased sense of narrative depth, as if the instrument itself narrates personal stories.

To date, I have completed several erhu-led pieces, blending folk influences with modern electronic elements. This evolution has reinvigorated my creative process, prompting plans for a dedicated album and live performances featuring both instruments in dialogue.

Listen here: https://soundcloud.com/sweetsongsproject

Prioritizing the erhu has expanded my sonic palette and deepened my appreciation for cross-cultural instrumentation. For fellow composers considering similar transitions, I recommend patient exploration; the rewards lie in the instrument's unique voice guiding the music toward uncharted expressions. I invite feedback on these developments and look forward to sharing recordings soon.

My Education Bonafides

Recently, I was asked for my Education bonafides by a reporter who was doing an article on my Record label, Sweet Songs.  

Here are my Music-related bonafides:

• 1966 - 1974 New England Conservatory of Music - Suzuki Pilot Program - Dana Hall School, Wellesley, MA
• 1974-1980 Conservatory at Rivers - Violin & Performance - Weston, MA
• 1974-1980 Apple Hill Center for Chamber Music - Chamber Music, Coaching - E. Sullivan, NH
• 1980-1984 Hampshire College - Musicology, Music Therapy - Amherst, MA
• 1982-1982 UMass Amherst - Jazz Theory & Composition - Amherst, MA
• 1982-1982 Mt Holyoke College - Music Theory & Composition - S. Hadley, MA
• 1984-1986 UMass Amherst - Ethnomusicology - Amherst, MA

Other Education:

• 1988 Self-Taught MSDOS
• 1988 Self-Taught Lotus123
• 1988 Self-Taught Windows 3.1 (for networking)
• 1995 GCC - Microsoft Excel
• 1995 GCC - Microsoft FrontPage, HTML, Web Design
• 1996 GCC - Novell LAN Certificate
• 1997 Westfield State - Business & Marketing

Organizations & Nonprofits:

• CAMSA - Concord Youth Chamber Ensemble under Gene Rosov
• GBYSO - Greater Boston Youth Symphony Orchestra, toured Europe in 1978
• Five College Symphony Orchestra - principal violist 1981-1984
• Pioneer Valley Symphony Orchestra - violinist 1986, violist 1987
• Valley Light Opera - violinist, violist
• Maple Ridge Bluegrass Band - Greenfield, MA: mandolinist, violinist
• Swift River Bluegrass Band - Holyoke, MA: mandolinist
• Woodkerne Celtic Band - Belchertown, MA: violinist, co-founder, arranger, booker
• Celticado - S. Hadley, MA: violinist, co-founder, booker 
• Mandolin New England - S. Hadley, MA co-founder, President
• Sweet Music Studio - S. Hadley, MA: founder, owner
• Sweet Songs - Granby, MA: founder, owner

Lucentia: The Living Path of Inner Light

Lucentia is a living philosophy born from the idea that light is both the essence and the language of consciousness. It isn’t a creed or belief system; it’s a way of seeing. At its heart lies the conviction that awareness itself is luminous — that clarity, compassion, and creativity are all expressions of that radiance. The work of life, as we see it, is to polish the inner lens so that light can pass through unbroken.

Where other paths seek salvation or transcendence beyond the world, Lucentia turns inward and outward at once. It teaches that the sacred is already here — in the air we breathe, the sound of strings, the act of listening. The transcendent isn’t distant; it’s embedded in every moment, waiting to be revealed through attention and care.

Lucentia’s practice is simple in form but profound in effect. We cultivate awareness through silence, reflection, and art. We create as a means of communion, letting sound, word, and gesture become instruments of revelation. We gather in dialogue, not to argue but to refract each other’s insight, like prisms exchanging color. Each meeting, each conversation, each shared melody becomes a spark in the larger field of light.

This path has taken root in Granby, Massachusetts, where a small group of us meet to read, make music, and share clarity. Some of us come from musical traditions, some from contemplative practice, some from philosophy or science — all drawn by the same quiet impulse: to live lucidly, to act transparently, to let light guide every gesture. Yet Lucentia isn’t bound to geography. Anyone, anywhere, can walk this path. If the words here stir something in you, then you already belong.

Lucentia offers no promise of perfection. It asks only that we be willing to see clearly, to live truthfully, and to create beautifully. The light is not ours to command; it flows through us when we step aside and allow it.

Light does not enter us as a stranger. It is what we are made of. The more transparent we become, the more it reveals itself through us. That is the Lucent path — the living path of inner light.

— Adam Sweet, founder of the Lucentia movement, Granby, Massachusetts

Why Certain Moments Stay With Us — and Why My Teaching Style Works

Every so often, a scientific study confirms what good teachers and musicians have always known by instinct. According to new research published in Nature Human Behaviour and covered by SciTechDaily, our brains remember certain moments not because they're more important, but because they're emotionally charged and contextually rich. When an event stirs multiple areas of the brain - sound, motion, emotion, and meaning - the memory becomes embedded more deeply than through repetition alone.

That's exactly how I approach memorization in music. I don't just ask students to repeat a passage; I ask them to live inside it. We look for patterns, rhythms, and emotional hooks. A tricky violin phrase might link to a story, a color, or even a physical gesture. By connecting the brain's emotional centers to the act of recall, learning becomes more like storytelling than rote practice.

In neuroscience terms, this involves the amygdala (emotion), the hippocampus (memory formation), and the prefrontal cortex (attention and reasoning) working in harmony. When those regions fire together, they create what psychologists call episodic tagging - a natural way the mind decides what's worth holding onto. It's why you remember the sound of your first recital better than the last scale exercise you practiced.

For students, this means the most effective memorization happens when the material feels alive. A melody connected to a personal emotion, a sensory image, or even a shared laugh in a lesson stays longer than anything copied mechanically. It's also why small mistakes made in emotional engagement are often more valuable than perfect, detached practice - they help the brain anchor the experience.

In short, memory thrives on meaning. Teaching this way isn't about tricks; it's about honoring how the human mind naturally learns. When a student links technique with story, rhythm with emotion, and sound with imagination, they're not just remembering notes. They're remembering moments - and those moments, once felt deeply, never really fade.

The Granby Chorus: Finding Harmony in Community

When I moved to Granby in 2018, I wanted to bring people together through song. That's how the Granby Chorus was born - a small, spirited group of adults (and two teenagers) from right here in the Pioneer Valley who meet once a week to sing, laugh, and build something meaningful together.

We gather every Saturday morning at 10 a.m. in my home in Granby, MA. The coffee is strong, the conversation is lively, and the sound of voices rising in harmony fills the room. I serve as the musical director - and as a baritone, I'm right there in the mix. Most of what we sing are my original songs, though the group often helps shape them. Sometimes a member will even lay down a vocal track for one of our recordings, turning our weekly rehearsals into something that lasts beyond the moment.

From the very beginning, the chorus has been filled with remarkable people. One of our earliest members, Dr. Benjamin Levy, came to the group already studying mandolin and fiddle with me. His enthusiasm was contagious - he brought a spark to every rehearsal, reminding us that music isn't just notes and rhythm, but shared energy. When he retired and moved north to Gill in 2019 to start a new community of his own, I was sad to see him go but proud of what he helped us build.

As the years passed - and after the long quiet of the pandemic - familiar faces began to return. Karen, an attorney from Westfield, joined us again, bringing her partner along to sing alto. Deb, a writer; April, a teacher; Greg, an electrician; Peter, a mechanic; Robert, a retired psychiatrist - every one of them contributes a unique timbre, both in voice and in spirit. Together, they form a microcosm of what I love about this valley: people of all walks of life finding common ground in creativity.

I've directed orchestras, arranged for countless bands, and composed for soloists and ensembles over the years - but I can honestly say this is the most fun I've had in decades. There's something ancient and deeply human about singing together. As ethnomusicologist Joseph Jordania has written, group singing isn't just art - it's survival. Early humans sang to synchronize their actions, calm fear, and strengthen social bonds. When we sing together today, that same ancient instinct awakens in us: the feeling that we belong, that we are part of something larger than ourselves.

We haven't given a public concert yet - but that's about to change. Our goal is to bring our harmonies out into the world with our first performances in the spring of 2026.

If you live in the Granby area and love to sing, I hope you'll join us. You don't need to read music, and there are no auditions - just an open heart and a willingness to blend your voice with others. Come be part of something joyful, local, and beautifully human.

Granby Chorus meets Saturdays at 10 a.m.

📍 Sweet Music Studio, Granby, MA

🎵 Let's make music together.

Discovering Cybernetic Fusion™

I've been making music most of my life-teaching it, performing it, and writing it. Over the years, my style has shifted from traditional fiddle tunes with my first band Woodkerne, to wedding duos like Celticado, to the American folk style that feels most like home: acoustic guitar, mandolin rhythm, and violin, with a New England accent on the melodies.

But alongside that, another thread has been weaving itself into my work. I've been experimenting with something I call Cybernetic Fusion™. It's not a band, not a business-it's a genre.

Cybernetic Fusion™ blends ancestral music and hominid rhythms with modern electronic tools. It's the meeting point between ancient voices and futuristic soundscapes. Just as “Celtic music” once traveled back and forth across the Atlantic, picking up influences along the way, Cybernetic Fusion™ is about letting the past and present converse freely.

• Explore Compilation 1
• Explore Compilation 2

At its heart, though, I'm still a folk songwriter. My songs are grounded in the stories of my community, my neighbors, and the land I live on here in Western Massachusetts. Cybernetic Fusion™ gives me a way to stretch those roots into new soil-without losing where I come from.

• Explore Pioneer Valley Compilations 1, 2
• Explore Ancestral Songs of the Land
• Explore Stories I Read in Amherst Indy

This is just the beginning. Over time, I'll share examples of how my songs fit into this new genre, and maybe even how others can contribute their own. For now, I wanted to let you in on what's been brewing.

Blog Update: Turning Back to Songwriting

For years, my main focus has been teaching music. I've had dozens of students come through my studio-learning fiddle tunes, mandolin techniques, and guitar basics. But since the pandemic, I've struggled to rebuild that community. The classrooms went quiet, the orchestra rehearsals stopped, and even now, it's been difficult to find students to fill those empty chairs.

That frustration could have left me in silence. Instead, I found myself turning back to something that's been with me since the 1980s: composing music and writing songs. Songwriting was always there in the background, a casual practice that never really left me. Over the past few weeks, I've leaned into it with full force, creating a burst of new music that feels both personal and deeply connected to the stories around me.

Here are some of the songs I've released recently:

• Whalen's Run - inspired by local political campaigns.
• UMass Ropes - reflecting on events at the university.
• Pioneer Valley Spuds - a playful local piece.
• Blood Moon Rising - cosmic and moody.
• Granby DinoFest - written for a community celebration.
• Amherst Voices Unheard - amplifying stories often overlooked.
• E-bike Blaze - sparked by a strange local fire.
• Ringing Black Hole and Fierce Lizard Rising - experiments in sound and imagery.

Each song feels like a snapshot of the moment-whether rooted in Pioneer Valley news, celestial events, or simply the creative urge to keep pushing forward.

While I may not have a full roster of students right now, I have a growing catalog of songs that tell stories, carry rhythms, and offer something new for listeners to connect with. In a way, composing has become my way of teaching-sharing ideas through melody instead of lessons.

If you'd like to explore the new music, you can find my complete catalog here:

• 👉 adamsweet.bandcamp.com

And if you're curious about my broader work, here's a hub of links:

• 👉 adamrsweet.bio.link

Thank you for listening, for reading, and for being part of this journey. Music continues to carry me forward, even when the road changes direction. 

Behind The Song "DCR is Walking With The Land"

Recently, I wrote a song for a team of DCR staff I met on top of the Windsor Dam.  I tried to find contact information to email them a copy of the song, but there wasn't any.  So I reached out to DCR directly with this email:

Hello

I'm a songwriter who regularly visits and hikes the trails along the Quabbin Reservoir.  Recently, I was at the Windsor dam, where I met several DCR employees walking together in a group.  I asked them if they had a walking song they would typically sing when they were together.  They said no.  I asked if they would like me to write one.  They said yes. 

A few minutes later, as I was talking to MeShell, one of the DCR staff at Mt Greylock, I shared with her a song I had written a while back called "North Quabbin Hills": https://adamsweet.bandcamp.com/track/north-quabbin-hills  She was very kind.  I told her of my interaction with the staff on the dam and she encouraged me to write a song for the DCR, something they could sing while they walked.  Here it is: https://adamsweet.bandcamp.com/track/walking-with-the-land

I wanted to share these songs with someone, but can't find an email for the Quabbin visitor center, so I'm sending this to you.  Could you please make sure this gets to them?  

Thank you,

Adam R Sweet

Not expecting a response, I let it go.

Today I received an email:

Good morning Adam,

Thank you for writing into the DCR and for the effort put into this song!  I’ve directed your message to the supervisor at Quabbin, he can speak to his staff to find the group you interacted with, and make sure they hear your song.  This was a very pleasant email to read on a Monday morning and I’m sure the staff at Quabbin will appreciate your message.  Feel free to write back with any questions or comments and I hope you have a great rest of your week!

Best,

Thomas Tinlin
DCR Community Relations
Mass Parks (DCR) <mass.parks@mass.gov>

And just now, an email from MeShell!

Bordeleau, Meshell (DCR) <Meshell.Bordeleau@mass.gov>

11:26 AM (14 minutes ago)

Hello Adam,

I’m so glad you sent an email with the song links of your music to find its way to Maria Beiter at Quabbin and the DCR. I told Maria that you shared the North Quabbin Hills song with me that day on the dam and I LOVED it! but after you left, I couldn’t find the song again on my phone. I finally found it and shared it with my colleagues at Greylock. We were actually thinking of getting in touch with you to ask if you might write a song for us at Mt Greylock and come to perform your songs at our Visitor Center!

I haven’t listened to the walking song yet, but thank you so much for sharing the links which reminded me to reach out to you. 

I am not in the office today but will be available at my work email address later in the week.

Meshell

Behind the song: "UMass Sunwheel"

I wanted to write a song about the UMass Sunwheel, so I wrote an email to the professor in charge: 

Dear Professor Schneider,

I hope you're enjoying the crisp September days in Amherst. As a fan of the UMass Astronomy Department's work to bring the cosmos to our community, I'm inspired by the Sunwheel gatherings you helped create alongside Judith Young.

With the autumnal equinox coming up on September 22, I wrote a song called “Umass Sunwheel” to celebrate the occasion. It captures the balance of day and night, ancient harvest traditions, and our shared wonder at the stars, tying directly to the 6:30 a.m. sunrise and 6:00 p.m. sunset viewings at the Sunwheel, as noted in the Amherst Indy article.

The song's style feels like a great fit: it blends ancestral vibes, like the harvest festivals of Druids and Mayans, with modern electronic sounds. The percussion draws on rhythms inspired by science (Earth's 23.5-degree tilt), philosophy (the balance of light and dark), and math (cycles and symmetry). It's like a musical bridge between the Sunwheel's stones and the astronomy you champion.

I've included the lyrics below and would love your thoughts. Maybe it could add a spark to the equinox events or just bring a smile. If you're curious about a melody, I'm happy to share more.

Hoping for clear skies at the Sunwheel, and thank you for keeping the stars within reach.

Warm regards,

Adam R Sweet

Here's a recording of the song: 

https://adamsweet.bandcamp.com/track/umass-sunwheel

Lyrics:

Verse 1

In Amherst where the Sunwheel stands high,

Stones catch the light as the seasons slide by.

September's call, on the 22nd day,

Equal light and dark in the sky's grand play.

Chorus

Autumnal equinox, balance of the skies,

At UMass we watch where the sun's path lies.

Sunrise at six-thirty, sunset at six,

Marking the harvest, the season's new mix.

Verse 2

Ancient fields bloomed under equinox light,

Harvests were gathered, a balance of night.

Cultures revered it, from Druids to Mayans,

Their stones and their stories still echo, undyin'.

Chorus

Autumnal equinox, balance of the skies,

At UMass we watch where the sun's path lies.

Sunrise at six-thirty, sunset at six,

Marking the harvest, the season's new mix.

Verse 3

Earth's tilt aligns for this fleeting embrace,

Day equals night in a cosmic ballet's grace.

Today we still gather, to learn and to see,

The Sunwheel reminds us of time's mystery.

Chorus

Autumnal equinox, balance of the skies,

At UMass we watch where the sun's path lies.

Sunrise at six-thirty, sunset at six,

Marking the harvest, the season's new mix.

Bridge

From ancient rites to the science we know,

The equinox calls with its celestial glow.

It binds us to seasons, to Earth, and to stars,

A moment of balance, no matter who we are.

Chorus

Autumnal equinox, balance of the skies,

At UMass we watch where the sun's path lies.

Sunrise at six-thirty, sunset at six,

Marking the harvest, the season's new mix.

I wasn't expecting a reply, but received one anyway:

Hi Adam,

That's great! I think you nicely captured the astronomy and the sense of time's passing that the equinox event represents. I'm sharing this reply with Grant Wilson, the head of the department.

A couple of details that you might want to think about to make your song more general: (1) The equinox isn't always on the 22nd--could you say "3 weeks into September" or something like that? (2) The times that our gatherings start (6:30am and 6pm) aren't when sunrise and sunset actually occur. I'm not sure how you might finesse that.

Thank you for sharing!

---Steve Schneider

Stephen E. Schneider, Prof. Emeritus

UMass Dept. of Astronomy

638 Lederle Graduate Tower

Amherst, MA 01003

phone: 413-545-2076

Moving to Google Classroom, Chat, and Meet

As many of you know, I’ve always aimed to create a safe, engaging, and supportive environment for learning, whether in-person or online. To that end, I’ve decided to transition from using the Discord app to Google Classroom, Google Chat, and Google Meet for managing lessons, sharing resources, and holding our weekly discussions. This change, effective immediately, will streamline our communication and keep everything in one reliable place. Below, I’ll explain why I’m making this switch and provide simple instructions for getting started with these tools.

Why the Change?

I’ve valued Discord for its community feel, but recent concerns about data privacy across various platforms—including reports of even privacy-focused apps like Signal facing challenges—have prompted me to reassess. While I’m not thrilled about relying on Google products (I share some of your hesitations about big tech!), Google’s tools offer a secure, integrated, and widely-used system that’s well-suited for education. Google Classroom, Chat, and Meet are designed for teaching, with robust privacy protections under Google’s education policies, especially for students. They’re also familiar to many of you through school, making the transition smoother. My goal is to keep our lessons safe, organized, and focused on music, and I believe this move achieves that.

This change also addresses recent health precautions. By moving to Google Meet for virtual lessons or discussions, we can maintain flexibility if in-person sessions need to pause, ensuring everyone’s safety without disrupting learning.

What to Expect

• Google Classroom: I’ll use this to share lesson materials (e.g., sheet music, practice videos), post assignments (e.g., scales or pieces to prepare), and send announcements. It’s like a digital classroom hub.

• Google Chat: This will replace Discord for quick messages, questions about practice, or scheduling. It’s simple and keeps our conversations private.

• Google Meet: We’ll use this for weekly group discussions, virtual lessons, or check-ins, especially if we need to go remote for any reason.

Below are easy, step-by-step instructions to get started. Don’t worry if you’re not tech-savvy—I’ve kept this beginner-friendly, and I’m here to help with any hiccups!

How to Sign Up and Use Google Classroom, Chat, and Meet

1. Google Classroom

Google Classroom is our new hub for lesson materials, assignments, and updates. You’ll need a Google account to join.

Signing Up

• Step 1: Create or Use a Google Account

  • Go to accounts.google.com.

  • If you have a Gmail address (e.g., yourname@gmail.com), sign in with your email and password.

  • If you don’t have one, click “Create account,” select “For myself” or “For my child” (if setting up for a student), and follow prompts to enter your name, birthdate, and a new email/password. Use a secure password (e.g., mix letters, numbers, symbols).

  • Parents: If your child is under 13, create an account for them under Google’s Family Link for added safety.

• Step 2: Join My Classroom

  • I’ll email you a unique Classroom code or an invitation link (check your inbox or spam folder).

  • Go to classroom.google.com, sign in, and click the “+” button (top right).

  • Enter the code I provide or click the invitation link to join my class.

  • You’re in! You’ll see announcements, assignments, and resources on the main page.

Using Classroom

• Check the Stream: The “Stream” tab shows announcements (e.g., lesson reminders) and new posts.

• View Assignments: Under the “Classwork” tab, find practice assignments (e.g., “Practice Vivaldi, 10 minutes daily”) or links to sheet music. You can submit videos or notes here.

• Ask Questions: Comment on posts or assignments if you have questions about practice.

• Tip: Download the Google Classroom app (iOS/Android) for easy access on your phone.

2. Google Chat

Google Chat is for quick, private messages about lessons, scheduling, or practice questions.

Signing Up

• Use the same Google account as Classroom.

• Go to chat.google.com or open the Google Chat app (iOS/Android).

• Sign in with your Google email and password.

• I’ll add you to a group chat for the studio or message you individually. Look for an invitation in your Gmail or Chat.

Using Chat

• Send Messages: Use Chat to ask me about technique (e.g., “How do I improve my bow hold?”) or reschedule lessons.

• Group Discussions: I may create a group chat for weekly practice tips or Q&A.

• Notifications: Adjust settings to get alerts for new messages (click the gear icon in Chat).

• Tip: Keep messages professional and lesson-focused to keep things organized.

3. Google Meet

Google Meet is for our weekly group discussions, virtual lessons, or check-ins, ensuring we stay connected even if we go remote.

Signing Up

• No separate account is needed—use your Google account.

• Go to meet.google.com or download the Google Meet app (iOS/Android).

• Sign in with your Google email and password.

• I’ll send a Meet link via email or Classroom for each session (e.g., “Weekly Discussion, Wednesday 6 PM”).

Using Meet

• Join a Meeting: Click the Meet link I send or enter the meeting code at meet.google.com. Test your camera and microphone beforehand (click “Check your audio and video”).

• During Lessons/Discussions: Mute your mic when not speaking to reduce background noise. Use the “Raise Hand” feature for questions in group sessions.

• Virtual Lessons: For one-on-one lessons, position your camera to show your violin and bow hold. I’ll provide feedback just like in-person.

• Tip: Use earphones for better audio and ensure a quiet, well-lit space.

Need Help?

If you hit any snags signing up or using these tools, email me at adamrsweet@gmail.com or call 413-213-5767. I can walk you through setup or troubleshoot issues. For parents of younger students, I’m happy to assist with creating accounts under Family Link for added security. If you prefer, we can stick to email or phone for communication, but I encourage trying these tools for a smoother experience.

Looking Ahead

This switch to Google’s tools will help us stay organized, share resources easily, and keep lessons flexible, especially if we need to go virtual for health reasons. I’m committed to keeping our community safe and vibrant, and I appreciate your patience as we make this transition. Let’s keep the music going!

Sweet Sonata, No. 17

Sweet Sonata, No. 17 is a solo mandolin piece I have been working on for several months. 

Listen Here: https://adamsweet.bandcamp.com/track/sweet-sonata-no-17

To learn how to play it, text 413-213-5767 any time!