OPTIMISTIC VOICES
You're out of the woods, you're out of the dark, you're out of the night. Step into the sun, step into the light. Keep straight ahead for the most glorious place on the face of the earth or the sky. Hold onto your breath, hold onto your heart, hold onto your hope. March up to the gate and bid it open...
Thanks again to all who never gave up on me these last five months, whether by active cheerleading or supportive patience - lots of reading and pondering has convinced me it's not about the "trying" but about the "being"... so I will try (ha!) to *be* more accepting of myself, in whatever form, in the future...
Time did march on since mid-July (my last wrenching post) and below is a recap of the "life before my eyes" in that abyss of emotional floundering - I would like to say I feel better now... and I do... but I also am more prepared to handle the ups and downs of the journey. Mixed Nuts, a really lame movie we watched Christmas Day with the exception of some amazing character actors (Madeline Kahn among them), had a great piece of dialogue:
"Just remember that in every pothole there is hope. Well, you see, pothole is spelled P-O-T-H-O-L-E. So if you take the P, and add it to the H, the O, and the E, and rearrange the letters... or contrariwise, you remove the O, T, and the L, you get "hope". So, just remember, in every pothole there is hope!"
:-)
Amen and blessed be - so... Top Ten Past Events, Good and Bad, to Close Out 2010:
10. I did go to Falcon Ridge this July, as I missed the 2009 festival due to Mom's illness/passing - it was amazing to reconnect with friends and music I only experience in person once a year, but are with my cyberly daily...
9. August 5 brought my 56th birthday - I can't even remember what I did, but I do recall telling everyone I didn't need presents, as I really already had everything I wanted...
8. After putting Mom's house on the market mid-April, we signed it over to buyers late-August - closure is always bittersweet and, sad as it is to think we've metaphorically and literally closed that door, we've also moved forward with our lives while keeping the memories...
7. My sister hosted a what-would-have-been-Mom’s-80th-birthday party in mid-September, attended by new and old neighbors as well as other friends - more bittersweetness ensued, as we celebrated someone who always celebrated life...
6. I experienced a personal and professional dream-come-true as I hosted the amazing Dar Williams in early-October at the concert series I've coordinated for the last six years - the evening was a success on so many levels (musical, emotional, financial) and I am beyond blessed. Photo of commemorative tattoo, a few minutes after inking, above - love and thanks to Kristyn... :-)
5. Terry, a friend from book club and the gym, discovered she had ovarian and stomach cancer, and there was only a month from diagnosis to her death on November 14 - it still doesn't seem real and she is much missed...
4. After being with his company for 25 years, the week before Thanksgiving my husband received pre-notification he's being let go in mid-February (they're outsourcing his role to another country) - rather than operating from fear, we are belt-tightening where we can but also thinking positive (along with networking his many resources) that there is something better out there for his talents and experience...
3. In mid-August, I finally got serious about a weight loss program and, as of mid-December, have lost 40 pounds - I look great, feel terrific and, after successfully maintaining through the holidays, will take off another 10 or so to get to goal as well as peace of mind...
2. For the last 10 years (since my mom's second husband was killed in a car accident in March 2000), each Christmas we have traveled to South Carolina to spend time with my husband's family and Georgia to see mine - it has been rewarding but also exhausting and expensive, and this year we made the conscious decision to stay home. We resurrected old traditions (put up a tree and over-decorated) and made new ones - we of course missed being with extended family but actively embraced the holiday in our own home for the first time in a decade...
1. Tonight we will go to a party (home by midnight to honor our champagne-in-the-jacuzzi ritual) and tomorrow finds us hosting a New Year's Day Open House - my wish for 2011 for myself and my friends: inspirational music, thought-provoking literature, heart-based camaraderie and awareness/intention to appreciate and enjoy!
It hit her, crossing the border into Ontario. The drive from Ann Arbor had been grey and wet, the rain coming in fat drops, metronoming her windshield wipers. She'd settled into her seat, like she'd done for the past 5,000 miles, reached for a stick of gum, adjusted the radio dial, checked the battery on her cell phone.
The landscape into Windsor was flat, almost featureless, though the bridge had been magnificent, a real piece of architecture, the cables long and taut as ballerina legs. But the strip malls greeted her cheerlessly, the sky empty of welcome. She drove on, having filled up on gas at her departure. Finally, the cornfields reappeared, barns and silos rising out of the land again, and the first hints of autumn announced themselves in the distant trees.
Maybe it was this particular rain, or that somehow crossing the border had carried her even further from home, or that the season's temporal beauty - so splashy now - would tumble into certain bleakness and cold, but out of nowhere, she gave the steering wheel a fresh earnest grip, wanting to hold on to whatever it was that was letting her go.
And yet, she realized it was time, her own muscles tired of engaging only to leave her heart frayed so thin. The exchange was untenable, staying rooted to a past that charmed and even, occasionally, soothed, but no longer fed.
She had opted for the country road on her way to the big city, but soon it became clear this wasn't a day to get lost. The road required an oddly painful slowing. Construction and idle drivers kept interrupting the steady pressure of her foot against the gas pedal. The single lane made it difficult to pass.
And though she preferred these roads, their changing scenery and unexpected finds, she saw the delay they would cost her journey, and with reluctance, she returned to the highway's swift efficiency.
There is no easy way to cleave the heart from loving. It does what it does impiously, inopportunely, uncalendared and unseasoned. What she carried with her she gave with a lack of deliberation, discretion, scurrying to greet every opportunity to add to the pile. But the act of filling had not made her full.
Instead, she was twitchy with worry. Emptiness and sorrow had attached themselves to her most joyful, generous gestures. She knew something in her was flagging, losing steam and grace. She knew she could not puppet this theatre any longer.
The road was wide and clear. Somehow, the rain seemed less rigorous here, and she turned off her wipers in time to see the city rise into view, skyscrapers pushing into the clouds. It would be a lie to say that she was healed, heart full as an udder again. But I can tell you she was precisely where she needed to be, even in her brokenness, and she would know where to go from here.
QUOTE: “Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.” ~ Theodore Roosevelt
I am in process of attempting to "get unstuck" - I promise a more detailed, personal and catch-up entry tomorrow... but, in the meantime, here is what I put together, but never posted, for Thanksgiving. Deepest gratitude and boundless thanks to those who have loved me, supported me and reached out... even when I pushed away - you will never know how much it means...
When we are in the state of thankfulness, we are in a higher state of awareness, gratitude at our doorstep.Often when we practice being thankful, we go through the process of counting our blessings, acknowledging the wonderful people, things and places that make up our reality. While it is fine to be grateful for the good fortune we have accumulated, true thankfulness stems from a powerful comprehension of the gift of simply being alive, and when we feel it, we feel it regardless of our circumstances. In this deep state of gratitude, we recognize the purity of the experience of being, in and of itself, and our thankfulness is part and parcel of our awareness that we are one with this great mystery that is life.
It is difficult for most of us to access this level of consciousness as we are very caught up in the ups and downs of our individual experiences in the world. The thing to remember about the world, though, is that it ebbs and flows, expands and contracts, gives and takes, and is by its very nature somewhat unreliable. If we only feel gratitude when it serves our desires, this is not true thankfulness. No one is exempt from the twists and turns of fate, which may, at any time, take the possessions, situations, and people we love away from us. Ironically, it is sometimes this kind of loss that awakens us to a thankfulness that goes deeper than just being grateful when things go our way. Illness and near-miss accidents can also serve as wake-up calls to the deeper realization that we are truly lucky to be alive.
We do not have to wait to be shaken to experience this state of being truly thankful for our lives. Tuning in to our breath and making an effort to be fully present for a set period of time each day can do wonders for our ability to connect with true gratitude. We can also awaken ourselves with the intention to be more aware of the unconditional generosity of the life force that flows through us regardless of our circumstances.
And yesterday's StoryPeople lesson: Rules for a successful holiday: 1. Get together with the family 2. Relive old times 3. Get out before it blows
Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings we are running out of the glass rooms with our mouths full of food to look at the sky and say thank you we are standing by the water thanking it smiling by the windows looking out in our directions
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging after funerals we are saying thank you after the news of the dead whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators remembering wars and the police at the door and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you in the banks we are saying thank you in the faces of the officials and the rich and of all who will never change we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us our lost feelings we are saying thank you with the forests falling faster than the minutes of our lives we are saying thank you with the words going out like cells of a brain with the cities growing over us we are saying thank you faster and faster with nobody listening we are saying thank you we are saying thank you and waving dark though it is
QUOTE: “Thank everyone who calls out your faults, your anger, your impatience, your egotism; do this consciously, voluntarily." ~ Jean Toomer
I am still here, although it's been three months since I've checked in with my blog - I'd like to say I'm okay... but that would not be true. July 19 is the one-year anniversary of my mom's passing - I have spent the last two months re-tracing my steps as to what I was doing this time last year (caregiving since mid-May). Today feels like a destination of sorts, of raw grief and the beginnings of healing - I have allowed myself minor meltdowns in these last 24 hours but, as soon as I hit Publish Post, I will get in the jacuzzi and weep until I am empty...
Today also marks eight years since Dave Carter died - I am exhausted, I am sad, I am bone-weary... and I leave for Falcon Ridge (by way of Boston) in a few hours. I will only get a few hours sleep - it is now 5 a.m. although, for clarity's sake, this post is dated yesterday to honor The Day of the Dead...
I had grand plans for this post, and it has fizzled along with my energy level - my annual festival beckons, and with it a promise of rejuvenation and regrouping and renewal. I have to snap out of this emotional chaos, and surrounding myself with music friends is a lovely first step - Mom and Dave would want it that way... and I trust them to lead me on the path to, as my friend Myra says, "the new normal" (sigh)...
POEM: The Wind Blows Through the Doors of My Heart by Deborah Digges
The wind blows through the doors of my heart. It scatters my sheet music that climbs like waves from the piano, free of the keys. Now the notes stripped, black butterflies, flattened against the screens. The wind through my heart blows all my candles out. In my heart and its rooms is dark and windy. From the mantle smashes birds' nests, teacups full of stars as the wind winds round, a mist of sorts that rises and bends and blows or is blown through the rooms of my heart that shatters the windows, rakes the bedsheets as though someone had just made love. And my dresses they are lifted like brides come to rest on the bedstead, crucifixes, dresses tangled in trees in the rooms of my heart. To save them I've thrown flowers to fields, so that someone would pick them up and know where they came from. Come the bees now clinging to flowered curtains. Off with the clothesline pinning anything, my mother's trousseau. It is not for me to say what is this wind or how it came to blow through the rooms of my heart. Wing after wing, through the rooms of the dead the wind does not blow. Nor the basement, no wheezing, no wind choking the cobwebs in our hair. It is cool here, quiet, a quilt spread on soil. But we will never lie down again.
QUOTE: "Like cars in amusement parks, our direction is often determined through collisions." ~ Yahia Lababidi
Wake up, Susan! Remember what excites you. Think of these things, those friends, and the adventures that can be yours. Focus. Care. Fantasize. Imagine. It's all so near. Speak as if you're ready. Paste new pictures in your scrapbook, on your vision board, and around your home and office. Physically prepare for the changes that you wish to experience in your life. You've done this before. You know it works. You're due for an encore. It's time to amaze. That's why you're there.
And it's why I'm here, The Universe
Wake up, Susan! Remember! Do what you know to do! It's all so near.
Impossible to believe it has been almost a month since I last posted - I'm well (thanks for asking... :-) but insanely busy... and I won't bore you with a laundry list of reasons/excuses I've been incommunicado...
Today's note above... as well as the poem below, posted on the Life is a Verb website last week, inspired me to check in here to say I miss writing and will try to do better - in the meantime, enjoy today's ode to the written word!
while you are piecing together the map of your life, stepping as nimbly as you can out of the mulch of your thoughts, the busy traffic of your heart, while you attempt grace and magic and the blessing of your soft, surrendered kiss, while you are fathoming the stretch you will need for the wide and rocky jungle of your own happiness, while you are hunkering down to a piece of dark bread and the odd, welcome relief of hunger, don’t forget to write.
write this day, its too-early morning and the birdsong you cursed into your pillow. write the way the dog looked at you as forlornly as your own shadow. write this blanket, this cup of coffee, the irreverent clatter of the neighbor’s lawnmower. write the bees that bend forever to their task. write the July heat and the laps in the town pool that cleave you from this earth, the over-solid grip you have on everything. write this hour, tired and awake all at once, the distractions you can make of breakfast or a calculator or the remote control lying flaccid on the living room couch.
write the dead mosquito on the bathroom floor, the small clot of blood on your forearm. write the careful arrangement of the bed linens, the yellow of the walls, the way the garden hose snakes around the back porch where old boxes are bending under their own weight and where spiders have begun to take control of the tomato plants.
write your white legs and your short pants and the constellations imprinted on your skin. write the dusty sex toys in the bedside bureau, the silvery condom packages nearing their expiration dates. write the wet sound of love in the middle of the night.
write the blackberry bush and its sour fruit, the mailman in his cheerful hat, the neighbor who confuses you with someone else, calls you a name that’s not yours, write the feeling of lost identity and disappointment and some letter you’re perennially hoping for.
write the words for failure. write the words for hope. write the tightrope dangling above the canyon, and down below, the electric water furious and free.
write green. write violet. write blazing orange. write the smell of grapefruit skin, the eyelash on a cheekbone, the hand you hold in the dark. write the first, honest paragraphs of sunrise. write everything, or nothing, but don’t forget to write.
QUOTE:"By living well, by observing as you live, by reading well and observing as you read, you have fed your Most Original Self. By training yourself in writing, by repetitious exercise, imitation, good example, you have made a clean, well-lighted place to keep the Muse. You have given her, him, it, or whatever, room to turn around in. And through training, you have relaxed yourself enough not to stare discourteously when inspiration comes into the room." ~ Ray Bradbury
So... when last we left our She-Ra, she had undergone a brain shift, such that she was determined to make better choices, one day at a time, until she began to take feeling and looking better for granted - I am pleased to say that, after one week, I am on the right track (pun semi-intended... :-)
Beginning last Saturday, I have accomplished the following... every single day:
~ eaten very mindfully and healthfully, mostly from my list of Brain Foods
~ not eaten after 9 p.m.
~ cut out almost all sugar from my diet, except the natural sugar found in fruit
~ consumed at least a half-gallon of water, sometimes more
~ taken my medications/supplements: blood pressure, thyroid, multi-vitamin, Calcium, Vitamin D, fish oil caplets, low-dosage aspirin
~ walked 40 minutes (then taken the dog out for another 10 minutes)
~ stretched after walking
So far, I have lost 3 pounds - it's a start. What is even more important is that I have more color in my skin, bounce in my step and clarity in my brain - Week 2 started yesterday, and I'm excited about continuing the momentum!
POEM: The Necessary Brevity of Pleasures by Samuel Hazo
Prolonged, they slacken into pain or sadness in accordance with the law of apples. One apple satisfies. Two apples cloy. Three apples glut. Call it a tug-of-war between enough and more than enough, between sufficiency and greed, between the stay-at-homers and globe-trotting see-the-worlders. Like lovers seeking heaven in excess, the hopelessly insatiable forget how passion sharpens appetites that gross indulgence numbs. Result? The haves have not what all the have-nots have since much of having is the need to have. Even my dog knows that - and more than that. He slumbers in a moon of sunlight, scratches his twitches and itches in measure, savors every bite of grub with equal gratitude and stays determinedly in place unless what's suddenly exciting happens. Viewing mere change as threatening, he relishes a few undoubtable and proven pleasures to enjoy each day in sequence and with canine moderation. They're there for him in waiting, and he never wears them out.
QUOTE: “The moments of happiness we enjoy take us by surprise. It is not that we seize them, but that they seize us.” ~ Ashley Montagu
You must all be tired of reading about my Epiphany du jour... whereupon I have a life-changing, light bulb moment... and swear I'm going to do everything *the right way* from now on... only to find I have fallen off the proverbial wagon yet again - this one's different... I swear!
I was having a relaxed Friday evening, curled up with What Not to Wear (a guilty pleasure) and then my book (a Tabitha King novel) - at 11, I happened to turn the TV back on, began to scroll through the channels and ran across a program on PBS: Change Your Brain, Change Your Body. Dr. Amen (gotta love that name) himself was lecturing on the various steps in which we can bring about change, based on his new book (of course) and, naturally, I know most of this stuff - I take fish oil caplets and Vitamin D supplements... I realize broccoli is better for me than donuts... I am aware I should exercise on a regular basis...
I wasn't particularly swayed by his definitions of brain types... but when he asked the question: what is your motivation?... I experienced mental whiplash - all these years I've attempted to sculpt my habits, my waistline and my attitude... and I've never really confronted myself with WHY...
Short-term: Falcon Ridge (late-July 2010)... and my daughter's wedding (at least a year down the road) - long-term: to see my kids grow up, get married (or not) and have children (or not). I want to be healthy for myself... but really, my family is the best reason there is - e-f*cking-piphany...
I've eaten healthy (so far), I walked my 2 1/2 miles (40 minutes)... and I am drinking enough water to float a battleship - plus... I am choosing to eliminate sugar from my diet (I can do this... :-)
SONG: Brane Ded, Body MT by David Stocker (I can't seem to find the lyrics online, but the CD, to listen to the song clip, is here)...
POEM: The Heart of Herakles by Kenneth Rexroth Lying under the stars, In the summer night, Late, while the autumn Constellations climb the sky, As the Cluster of Hercules Falls down the west I put the telescope byand watch Deneb Move towards the zenith. My body is asleep. Only My eyes and brain are awake. The stars stand around me Like gold eyes, I can no longer Tell where I begin and leave off. The faint breeze in the dark pines, And the invisible grass, The tipping earth, the swarming stars Have an eye that sees itself.
QUOTE: "We live in deeds, not years; In thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best." ~ Phillip James Bailey
My husband and I saw Crazy Heart a few weeks ago - for more on the subject, see my Star Maker Machine post (and how wonderful that Jeff Bridges did indeed win the Oscar last night for Best Actor!)...
My middle child/older son got in some major trouble in late-January, which could have had substantially-tragic results... but we were all lucky, and it appears he's seen it for the big-*ss wake-up call it is... and is in process of making some definitive changes to turn his life around - the tune below, a snippet of which is sung a cappella by Robert Duvall's character in the film, made me think of Rob... and I dedicate today's post to him, sending perpetual love and continued purple candles...
POEM: no one expects you to save the world by Maya Stein
The headlines are begging for your help. Thousands needing homes, food. But here, your own children, like inexpert stilt-walkers, flirt too often with obstacles in the street. It’s no wonder you keep eyes glued to them. The demands of love, or a job, the hard winter reining you in - it takes all your muscle to keep your own life upright. And though you know what you have is fortune compared to the great rift that earthquake left, and the aftershocks continuing to destroy so much, somehow that same fortune paralyzes, obstructs you with a heavy, gloomy guilt. But no one expects you to save the world, no matter what you plan. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to love everything we can.
QUOTE(S): “Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending." ~ Anonymous
“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That’s why it’s a comfort to go hand in hand.” ~ Emily Kimbrough
"It doesn't matter what people tell you. It doesn't matter what they might say. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, running away means you're headed in the exact right direction." ~ Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic
My friend request message, sent over the last day and a half: "It's officially The Apocalypse - I've joined Facebook!" - loosely translated: "What in the f*ck did I just do?!?" I finally signed up so that I could view my daughter's Europe pictures and live vicariously through her experience - I never envisioned quite such a headfirst tumble down the rabbit hole...
I have been fighting Facebook kicking and screaming for years - my main defense/objection has been... if I can't keep up with the "real people" in my life (and I'm always in overwhelmed mode), how in the world can I made the time to connect/reconnect with friends all over the country/world... not to mention acquaintances from my past?
I have a MySpace account (begun in December 2007) but, really, it's in the name of my concert series - it isn't about me personally at all, but rather a good PR tool to promote, and keep up with, the music...
I also have this blog, started in May 2007 - I use it as a journal/scrapbook/exercise in creativity. I'd like to post more often but seem to lose track of time - comments from readers (what readers?) are immaterial to me, as I'm really just downloading what's in my heart/brain/soul at the moment...
But Facebook? - in my less-than-48-hours experience with the social network, I have learned that it is truly In Your (or My) Face! It has been a pendulum from fun to frightening and back again... as I vowed to start out slow... which snowballed into "just one more" (friend, that is) - it's exhilarating to read all the repeated "welcome" messages (makes me think of Dar's "we're so glad that you finally made it here" lyric)... but it's exhausting to consider the effort it takes to reply and follow-up... not to mention the trepidation of opening various Pandora's Boxes...
High School? - ack! Suffice it to say, since it was 68-72, my memories are vague - I recall being high every day of my senior year, yet making the Honor Roll every quarter. I remember football games (with dances following), a handful of amazing girlfriends and being on the annual staff as well as head of props for our senior play, "The Matchmaker" - I also recall tubing down the Chattahoochee River (with a beer cooler in tow), a few special guy relationships... but also a less-than-full social calendar. I can't remember who I was back then - even more interesting, part of me is now wondering who I was in the eyes of others (in terms of The Breakfast Club... I was more Ally Sheedy than Molly Ringwald... :-)
So... although, as I said in a reply earlier today, "balance is not my strong suit", I have vowed to enjoy the experience while still motivating myself to handle all the day-to-day stuff it's easy to let slip by the proverbial wayside - I have to finish the folk club newsletter (already 4 days late), clean house tomorrow for dinner guests... and prepare for the concert I'm presenting Saturday night (not to mention catch up on various e-mails owed)...
In the meantime, though... I'm delighted at the thought of so many special people (friends and family) from all aspects of my life being in one place - it's a big-*ss cross-pollination... and I can't help but sport a broad smile across my (I should be reading a Book) Face (although I'm wary of the poke, whatever the h*ll that is... :-)
Remember the sky that you were born under, know each of the star's stories. Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her in a bar once in Iowa City. Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the strongest point of time. Remember sundown and the giving away to night. Remember your birth, how your mother struggled to give you form and breath. You are evidence of her life, and her mother's, and hers. Remember your father. He is your life also. Remember the earth whose skin you are: red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth brown earth, we are earth. Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them, listen to them. They are alive poems. Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once. Remember that you are all people and that all people are you. Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you. Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you. Remember that language comes from this. Remember the dance that language is, that life is. Remember.
QUOTE: “It’s surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver
A dear friend (and major John Stewart fan) sent me the link to the above video, absolutely horrified at the use of the song in this short film - on the other hand, it was *exactly* what I needed to snap me out of a three-week funk. My e-mail response to him is below:
Don't sugarcoat it - tell me how you really feel!
I actually laughed my *ss off - I'm sure John Stewart is turning in his grave (at least his coffin lid closed, right?)... but the entire clip is just so over-the-top and hysterically self-mocking... you can't help but snicker... as one thing is more ridiculous than the next...
There's even an Oz reference - "and Sparky too!"... "and Sparky too" - plus... the film kicks into color when he starts singing...
Actually, everybody should have an Uncle Felix - however, that song should be off-limits... :-)
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Confession time: I haven't walked since we returned from our holiday trip to South Carolina and Georgia... and only managed to squeeze it in once while we were away - the extended cold weather combined with a variety of events (which I may or may not go into at a later date) paralyzed me for the last two months. As a result, in that period of time I've gained five pounds... and lost muscle tone, the healthy glow in my skin and the will to self-motivate - ugh...
So... after watching the movie clip, something in me snapped - I'm re-calibrating my eating habits... and I laced up my New Balances for a long-overdue trek through the neighborhood. I've decided to pound the pavement for a shorter period of time (30 minutes instead of 45) but more often (every day, if I can manage it) - I'm also choosing to leave my walkman at home and use the outing as a walking meditation, clearing my head rather than having music fill it...
I always knew my dog was smart... but the sheer joy of watching Rocky get excited ("yay! - she's wearing her special shoes!") had me laughing out loud - since I always take him out when I return, his open-mouthed "smile" and frantic dashing from me to the front door and back again, waiting to be leashed, was priceless... :-)
Not so sure about Sleepy Jean... but I sure cheered up - thanks, FM... I needed that. Day f*cking One - bring it on!
I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and forgotten it. But that was the pearl of great price, the one field that had treasure in it. I realize now that I must give all that I have to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after an imagined past. It is the turning aside like Moses to the miracle of the lit bush, to a brightness that seemed as transitory as your youth once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
QUOTE: “You’ve got a lot of choices. If getting out of bed in the morning is a chore and you’re not smiling on a regular basis, try another choice.” ~ Steven D. Woodhull
Here's a little something light and fluffy... until I can post something of substance (which I've been working on for the last week) - I live in South Florida... so the whole groundhog thing is pretty moot!
Celebrate this unlikely oracle, this ball of fat and fur, whom we so mysteriously endow with the power to predict spring. Let's hear it for the improbable heroes who, frightened at their own shadows, nonetheless unwittingly work miracles. Why shouldn't we believe this peculiar rodent holds power over sun and seasons in his stubby paw? Who says that God is all grandeur and glory?
Unnoticed in the earth, worms are busily, brainlessly, tilling the soil. Field mice, all unthinking, have scattered seeds that will take root and grow. Grape hyacinths, against all reason, have been holding up green shoots beneath the snow. How do you think spring arrives? There is nothing quieter, nothing more secret, miraculous, mundane. Do you want to play your part in bringing it to birth? Nothing simpler. Find a spot not too far from the ground and wait.
QUOTE: "The groundhog is like most other prophets; it delivers its prediction and then disappears." ~ Bill Vaughn
I had the great pleasure of seeing Fred Eaglesmith and his band in a very small coffeehouse this past Monday night... and posted the following review to our local folk list - if Fred and company come anywhere near your town... I strongly urge you to go, go, go!
P.S. I spoke with Kori, Fred's drummer, at the break and requested this song - she kindly passed it on, and he played it mid-way through the second set... :-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I was first introduced to the music of Fred Eaglesmith way back in 1997, when Dar Williams released an EP which included her cover of Wilder Than Her - I always loved that she felt comfortable enough not to change the gender. Seven years later, Todd Snider covered Alcohol and Pills - when two of my faves spotlight another artist's music in their catalog, you can bet I'm going to pay attention!
I was lucky enough to see Fred and band twice at the amazing Main Street Cafe, before it closed - last night I had a chance to reprise the experience at the Luna Star Cafe. The four-piece group might have been a bit "close" on stage... and their trademark merch table (limited edition vinyl, Fredhead coffee, earrings made out of Fred's old guitar strings... not to mention cowboy hats, CDs and DVDs) might have had to shrink a bit to fit on the piano in the corner... but the lyrics were larger-than-life, the musicianship was overflowing and the sense of privilege at experiencing this legendary group in such an intimate setting was huge...
What Fred and band (Matt Simpson on guitar, banjo and vocals; Kori Heppner on drums; Luke Stackhouse on upright bass and vocals) offer up onstage in their repertoire is exceptional (words front-and-center, exquisite harmonies and tight accompaniment, whether rocking or mellow, bluegrass or bossa nova) - what is unexpected but equally charming is Fred's over-the-top personality. David Engels posted yesterday that Fred will make you laugh - what he also does is make you think. He "afflicted the comfortable", with rant topics ranging from socialized medicine to stashed money in Panamanian bank accounts to corporate bailouts - he regaled us with humorous stories of sex, reincarnation*** and his new brainchild: joke-eoke... :-)
Part poet, part stand-up comic, all Buddhist Canadian cowboy (a koan artist?), Fred and company used the power of language and music last evening to full advantage - thanks to Alexis and Bree and all involved at the Luna Star for opening the Cafe on a normally-closed Monday night to showcase such stellar entertainment... in addition to her delicious food and extensive beer menu!
***My new favorite joke, from memory (ack!):
Once there were two nuns who promised each other that whoever died first would come back to tell the other what heaven was like. One nun died and, about six weeks later, the second nun heard the voice of her friend, and asked about her experience.
“Well, first I get up in the morning and have some vegetarian greens, then I make love, then I eat greens again, then in the afternoon I make love some more. Then I have another meal of natural greens, and make love again in the evening before I go to sleep.”
The second nun was quite surprised at this and asked, “So that is what it's like in heaven?”
The first nun replied, “Who said anything about heaven? I’m a rabbit in Saskatchewan.”
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
QUOTE: "First keep the peace within yourself, then you can also bring peace to others." ~ Thomas A Kempis
Confession Time: I am a devoted follower of MTV's The Real World, hearkening back to the very first one, in 1992 in New York (could it really be 15 years ago?) - remember when Becky asked Heather if she were a drug dealer, because she had a beeper?!?
But I digress... :-)
Actually, the segue here is that I've been watching the latest Real World season, filmed in our nation's capital, and kept seeing the promos for a new show, The Buried Life, whose premiere aired Monday night, but I missed it so I had to catch it on re-runs last night - since I'm always espousing the carpe diem life philosophy, especially after Mom's passing this summer, I of course was beyond intrigued by the show's tagline: "1 Question. 4 Guys. 100 Things To Do Before You Die."...
I very much enjoyed the first episode, in which two of the guys crashed a party at the Playboy Mansion... but they also put on a street show with their breakdancing and raised enough money to buy a computer for a local charter elementary school - it was cute, sweet and inspirational... and I'll continue to tune in...
Here's a wonderful article and interview on the premise and the reactions so far - I've used the poem that inspired them in today's post...
Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a nameless sadness o'er me roll. Yes, yes, we know that we can jest, We know, we know that we can smile! But there's a something in this breast, To which thy light words bring no rest, And thy gay smiles no anodyne. Give me thy hand, and hush awhile, And turn those limpid eyes on mine, And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.
Alas! is even love too weak To unlock the heart, and let it speak? Are even lovers powerless to reveal To one another what indeed they feel? I knew the mass of men conceal'd Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal'd They would by other men be met With blank indifference, or with blame reproved; I knew they lived and moved Trick'd in disguises, alien to the rest Of men, and alien to themselves--and yet The same heart beats in every human breast!
But we, my love!--doth a like spell benumb Our hearts, our voices?--must we too be dumb?
Ah! well for us, if even we, Even for a moment, can get free Our heart, and have our lips unchain'd; For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain'd!
Fate, which foresawHow frivolous a baby man would be-- By what distractions he would be possess'd, How he would pour himself in every strife, And well-nigh change his own identity-- That it might keep from his capricious play His genuine self, and force him to obey Even in his own despite his being's law, Bade through the deep recesses of our breast The unregarded river of our life Pursue with indiscernible flow its way; And that we should not see The buried stream, and seem to be Eddying at large in blind uncertainty, Though driving on with it eternally.
But often, in the world's most crowded streets, But often, in the din of strife, There rises an unspeakable desire After the knowledge of our buried life; A thirst to spend our fire and restless force In tracking out our true, original course; A longing to inquire Into the mystery of this heart which beats So wild, so deep in us--to know Whence our lives come and where they go. And many a man in his own breast then delves, But deep enough, alas! none ever mines. And we have been on many thousand lines, And we have shown, on each, spirit and power; But hardly have we, for one little hour, Been on our own line, have we been ourselves-- Hardly had skill to utter one of all The nameless feelings that course through our breast, But they course on for ever unexpress'd. And long we try in vain to speak and act Our hidden self, and what we say and do Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true! And then we will no more be rack'd With inward striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call! Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, From the soul's subterranean depth upborne As from an infinitely distant land, Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey A melancholy into all our day.
Only--but this is rare-- When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear, When our world-deafen'd ear Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd-- A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again. The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain, And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know. A man becomes aware of his life's flow, And hears its winding murmur; and he sees The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.
And there arrives a lull in the hot race Wherein he doth for ever chase That flying and elusive shadow, rest. An air of coolness plays upon his face, And an unwonted calm pervades his breast. And then he thinks he knows The hills where his life rose, And the sea where it goes.
QUOTE: “Ideas can be life-changing. Sometimes all you need to open the door is just one more good idea.” ~ Jim Rohn
(thanks to Judi for the link to the above video...)
I didn't know many of the McGarrigle Sisters songs but, the ones I did know, I loved (such as Heart Like a Wheel, made famous by Linda Ronstadt) - so sad to hear of Kate's passing yesterday...
Women sometimes pronounce the word God A little differently: They can use more feeling and skill With the heart-lute.
All the world's movements, Apparent chaos, and suffering I now know happen In the Splendid Unison:
Our tambourines are striking The same thigh.
Hafiz stands At a juncture in this poem. There are a thousand new wheels I could craft On a wagon And place you in - Lead you to a glimpse of the culture And seasons in another dimension.
Yet again God Will have to drop you back at the shop Where you still have work With
Love.
QUOTE: "A loving heart is the truest wisdom." ~ Charles Dickens
DailyOm January 18, 2010 Choose Love What We Are Made of
Love is often presented as the opposite of fear, but true love is not opposite anything. True love is far more powerful than any negative emotions, as it is the environment in which all things arise. Negative emotions are like sharks swimming in the ocean of love. All things beautiful and fearful, ugly and kind, powerful and small, come into existence, do their thing, and disappear within the context of this great ocean. At the same time, they are made of the very love in which they swim and can never be separated. We are made of this love and live our whole lives at one with it, whether we know it or not.
It is only the illusion that we are separate from this great love that causes us to believe that choosing anything other than love makes sense or is even possible. In the relative, dualistic world of positive and negative, darkness and light, male and female, we make choices and we learn from them. This is exactly what we are meant to be doing here on earth. Underlying these relative choices, though, is the choice to be conscious of what we are, which is love, or to be unconscious of it. When we choose to be conscious of it, we choose love. We will still exist in the relative world of opposites and choices and cause and effect, and we will need to make our way here, but doing so with an awareness that we are all made of this love will enable us to be more playful, more joyful, more loving and wise, as we make our way. Ultimately, the choices we make will shed light on the love that makes us all one, enabling those who have forgotten to return to the source.
This world makes it easy to forget this great love, which is part of why we are here. We are here to remember and, when we forget to remember again, to choose love.
I work very hard at not repeating songs (or books, poems and quotes)... but this one begged for duplication... especially since today is my sister Mari's 42nd birthday and, not only did she turn me on to The B-52's... but she is also a huge fan of Sugarland (so imagine my surprise and delight at discovering the above video!)...
Today I e-mailed, I called, I sent flowers - I am shipping a present that is currently out of stock. Mari is hosting a slumber party this weekend so I'm having something delivered then (it's a surprise!) - however, the very best present (in my mind) is that I've asked my collaborators at Star Maker Machine if we could choose songs with Mary in the title as our theme for the week of January 17-23... and they very sweetly agreed. Go here to see my kick-off post yesterday (which links to my post on this OV site about Mari almost two years ago)... and here to check in throughout the week to see what's been added - the proverbial icing is that I'll make a mix CD of all the contributed songs as an additional gift (thanks, SMMers... :-)
It's been hard, since this is Mari's first birthday since Mom passed July 19 - we miss her always... but special occasions evoke such a mix of dread and finality (it hits home that Mom won't be calling to wish us a happy one)...
POEM: And the Cantilevered Inference Shall Hold the Day by Michael Blumenthal
Things are not as they seem: the innuendo of everything makes itself felt and trembles towards meanings we never intuited or dreamed. Take, for example, how the warbler, perched on a
mere branch, can kidnap the day from its tediums and send us heavenwards, or how, held up by nothing we really see, our spirits soar and then, in a mysterious series of twists and turns,
come to a safe landing in a field, encircled by greenery. Nothing I can say to you here can possibly convince you that a man as unreliable as I have been can smuggle in truths between tercets
and quatrains on scraps of paper, but the world as we know is full of surprises, and the likelihood that here, in the shape of this very bird, redemption awaits us should not be dismissed
so easily. Each year, days swivel and diminish along their inscrutable axes, then lengthen again until we are bathed in light we were not prepared for. Last night, lying in bed with nothing to hold onto
but myself, I gazed at the emptiness beside me and saw there, in the shape of absence, something so sweet and deliberate I called it darling. No one who encrusticates (I made that up!) his silliness in a bowl,
waiting for sanctity, can ever know how lovely playfulness can be, and, that said, let me wish you a Merry One (or Chanukah if you prefer), and may whatever holds you up stay forever beneath you,
and may the robin find many a worm, and our cruelties abate, and may you be well and happy and full of mischief as I am, and may all your nothings, too, hold something up and sing.
QUOTE: "Love doesn't make the world go 'round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile." ~ Franklin P. Jones
