Showing posts with label David Whyte. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Whyte. Show all posts

Friday, October 9, 2020

A Little Bit of Everything (Dawes)

In my opinion, Kamala Harris kicked *ss in the best possible way in Wednesday night's Vice Presidential Debate!  She was prepared, articulate, firm but respectful.  I also loved her smirks and critical eyebrows (which were basically her substitute for giving Pence the finger, or yelling B*llshit!).  As a woman, I am so tired of the whole interrupting, lecturing, mansplaining thing.  It's so rude and minimizing.  "I am speaking".  She handled it/him very well.  Who uses the word existential in a political arena?  Kamala!  She brought me joy and compassion, as well as information, plus her voice is mellifluous... 😊  Best thing Biden did was bring her on the ticket.  Can't wait to have her as our next VP... 💗

I am trying to stay positive-speaking and -thinking, but... this (ha ha ha ha ha!) 

I've also been concentrating on three important aspects during this pandemic which keep me moving forward:  recognizing growth opportunities... controlling what I can... gratitude.  In addition to reading like a motherf*cker, my new (again) walking routine, and music, I have resurrected the habit of talking to special friends during the week, which goes a long-way toward radical self-care.  Two hours *each* with Linda, Michele, Melanie, and Laurie left me hoarse, with cauliflower ear, and so very refilled, rejuvenated, and refreshed (also a lovely in-person porch visit with Nance, and two dear Zoom sessions on Tuesday, both morning and evening).  As Dar sings, in Arrival:

My friends give me purple flowers and orange tea
On goosedown spilling quilts and turquoise chairs
We greet each other in a wild profusion of words
And wave farewell amidst the wonderment of air
And in the laughing times we know that we are lucky
And in the quiet times we know that we are blessed
And we will not be alone


Hey, I haven't offered up a Feel Good Friday post in a while.  As is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

A ‘Great Gatsby’ Quote Takes On New Resonance:  But the passage shared over the past few days by educators, writers and veterans of past presidential administrations came from an unlikely source: F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel about greed and aspiration published nearly a century ago.
“They were careless people.  They smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

~ Don't Drink & Debate Smirnoff commercial


~ A fly that landed on Pence’s head for more than two minutes became a star on social media.  "A brief history of presidential politics and flies" from Morning Joe (thanks to Nance for the heads-up!).


~ Thanks to Michele for the heads-up on Last Tango in Halifax, which I am excited to begin watching (on Netflix).

~ Melanie sent me this recipe, which I am looking forward to trying.  Yum!




POEM:  
Everything Is Waiting For You by David Whyte

(after Derek Mahon)

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone.  As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions.  To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings.  Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice.  You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation.  The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last.  All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves.  Everything is waiting for you.

QUOTE:  "To be called ruthless a man must be Joe McCarthy, a woman just has to put you on hold." ~ Marlo Thomas

Sunday, April 19, 2020

Wildflowers (Tom Petty, cover by The Wailin' Jennys)

I first discovered Glennon Doyle (she dropped the Melton a few years ago) in January 2012, when I was doing research for a UU church service I was presenting, based on the theme of my singer-songwriter friend Nick Annis, whose new composition of You Can’t Be the Good Guy If You Do What the Bad Guys Do was my new favorite of his.  Inspired by Nick's musical conundrum, I contemplated exactly what "good guys" do, from ethical buying to considerate interactions to compassionate politics.  I read the story of Ferdinand, I quoted from Dar Williams' song Buzzer (based on the Stanley Milgram Experiment in the early ‘60’s), I mentioned The Paradoxical Commandments by Kent Keith (often falsely attributed to Mother Teresa), and I quoted Martin Niemöller's "When the Nazis came for the communists".

I then went on to say that I was turned on to the coolest blog by none other than Tracey, our former RE Director, and I quoted from the website:

“Although our meeting place is a Momastery (www.momastery.com), we’re no monks. We’re Monkees. And we’re too busy singing to put anybody down.  The Monkees are a group of women with nothing in common other than these beliefs:

1.    We Belong To Each Other
2.    We Can Do Hard Things
3.    Love Wins

We are Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, and atheists… but we are kin, so we are kind. Our goals are to be careful with each other… to pay attention and look closely and think hard and pray and feel and wake up and care and connect. So we can become braver and live bigger and truer on this Earth.”


At that point, I was hooked, read each new blog entry as soon as it posted, bought both of her books as soon as they were published, contributed to her Love Flash Mobs (up to a $25 maximum, raising millions of dollars), witnessed her Compassion Collective collaboration with Brené Brown, Cheryl Strayed, Elizabeth Gilbert, and Rob Bell, and even had the chance to see/hear her speak a few years ago.  She's been married and divorced, has three children by her former husband, and is now life-partnered with Abby Wambach, the soccer player.  Glennon continues to face life with humor, wisdom, and compassion, and I could not wait to buy her newest book, Untamed, pre-ordering it months ago through Barnes & Noble so I could get an autographed copy.

Well, even though we moved from our suburban home to our 55+ condo community almost two years ago, I never changed my address through B&N, so the book was sent there last month and then, through a crazy set of well-intentioned circumstances but ultimately life glitches, when I finally figured out why I hadn't received it yet, the book had been sent back.  Oh [three-second pause] well.  I could order another one via Amazon, right?  First world problems.

I was planning to blog about this today anyway, and mid-afternoon yesterday I received a text from my friend Michele, asking if I had the book and, if not, she'd be glad to send me her copy.  Wow.  Synchronicity strikes again, and I am beyond grateful, as well as amazed, that The Universe always seems to have my back.  Thanks, MW.  Can't wait to read it...  💖



SONG:  Wildflowers by Tom Petty (cover by The Wailin' Jennys)

BOOK:  Untamed by Glennon Doyle

POEM:  The Sea by David Whyte

The pull is so strong we will not believe
the drawing tide is meant for us,
I mean the gift, the sea,
the place where all the rivers meet.

Easy to forget,
how the great receiving depth
untamed by what we need
needs only what will flow its way.

Easy to feel so far away
and the body so old
it might not even stand the touch.

But what would that be like
feeling the tide rise
out of the numbness inside
toward the place to which we go
washing over our worries of money,
the illusion of being ahead,
the grief of being behind,
our limbs young
rising from such a depth?

What would that be like
even in this century
driving toward work with the others,
moving down the roads
among the thousands swimming upstream,
as if growing toward arrival,
feeling the currents of the great desire,
carrying time toward tomorrow?

Tomorrow seen today, for itself,
the sea where all the rivers meet, unbound,
unbroken for a thousand miles, the surface
of a great silence, the movement of a moment
left completely to itself, to find ourselves adrift,
safe in our unknowing, our very own,
our great tide, our great receiving, our
wordless, fiery, unspoken,
hardly remembered, gift of true longing.

QUOTE:  "You can be very wild and still be very wise." ~ Yoko Ono

Friday, November 6, 2009

To Live Is to Fly (Townes Van Zandt)


I am now apologizing to myself for not blogging in two weeks - I miss it when I allow myself to skip more than a few days, not to mention it's easy to forget what happened in the meantime. I confess to having been in Roly Poly Mode... and I'm trying hard to snap out of it - in coming up for air a bit, I realize what a blessed life I lead...

Yeah, the fact my mother died mid-July is one big, fat, f*cking sadness still weighing heavy on me - I expect it will be with me forever, even as the hits to the heart come further apart. I still can't predict my reaction when I think or talk about it - sometimes I am fine... others I am inconsolable... and I imagine that's "normal" (having done some research on the grief process)...

I am finally reconciling to the fact that life does indeed go on - I have memories of good times, lots of photos and a no-regrets feeling that most only dream of. I also have amazing family and friends to hold me up during this difficult time, as I try to find my way out of the stuck place - much to be thankful for:

~ a 3+ hour cathartic lunch with my dear friend M, who I hadn't seen since before I went up to Atlanta - she lost her mom this past February, and has helped trailblaze this unknown path for me...

~ our October book club meeting, for which we read Middlesex, a wonderful book that's been on my bedside table for over a year - combine the literary stimulation with the comfort of other BookSluts (our new official name for ourselves), and I'm in "died and gone to heaven" territory...

~ saw the movie Where the Wild Things Are with my husband and two sons (my daughter was out of town that weekend), at the urging of my "baby" (21-year-old E), who remembered me reading him the book when he was but a small child - the movie was extremely enjoyable, but viewing it flanked by "my boys" was tear- and goosebump-inducing...

~ experienced a quiet Halloween, staying home and passing out candy to almost 100 trick-or-treaters, the cutest of which was a young (one-year-old, maybe?) Asian boy on his father's shoulders, dressed in a Sumo wrestler costume - my dog stood in the doorway in equal parts joy and amazement at the parade of visitors...

~ my friend Judi asked if I wanted to hear John Irving speak at a bookstore function which, with the purchase of the ticket, provided an autographed copy of his newest book (below) - it was not only great to hang out with her one-on-one (we're usually in group gatherings), but a dream-come-true to see one of my favorite authors up-close-and-personal (he's warm, he's witty... and his reading of a key passage in the book took my breath away)...

~ I presented a service at church last Sunday, revolving around the book Life Is a Verb, tying it into my mom's illness and promoting the "what would you do if you only had 37 days to live?"
philosophy - I wove in some wonderful poems, played some appropriate songs and received warm, and sometimes tearful, appreciation...

~ finally got together with my dear friend Kate, to walk the Labyrinth and catch up on each other's lives these last few months - she is a cherished friend, with whom I always pick up where I left off, which can never be taken for granted...

~ participated in a Religion and Poetry workshop at the church, where I had the opportunity to share favorite Ellen Bass and Jeffrey McDaniel selections - the ensuing discussion was thought-provoking as well...

~ I have been kicking *ss in the physical fitness department for the last month, attending a BodyWorks + Abs class at the gym twice a week, and walking the 3-mile route in my neighborhood four days - on the seventh day I rest... :-) My friend Mel has kept me good company a majority of the time, but she's been out of pocket the last few weeks for one reason or another, so I'm having to self-motivate, which is always a challenge - I miss her muchly... but I'm proud to say I've risen to it, and am thoroughly entrenched in addicted mode (my legs twitch to get on the road as soon as I get out of bed each morning!)...

~ my husband and I signed up for a wellness program with a local franchise of a national chain, and have been enjoying monthly massages (part-therapeutic, part-pampering), which we've turned into Date Night, segueing to dinner afterwards - it's nice to spend time with each other in a relaxed mood, away from the house...


Days, up and down they come

Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin' is to much to bear.
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there.

Beautifully said, Townes... :-)

SONG: To Live Is to Fly by Townes Van Zandt

BOOK: Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving

POEM: Sweet Darkness by David Whyte

When your eyes are tired
the world is tired also.

When your vision has gone
no part of the world can find you.

Time to go into the dark
where the night has eyes
to recognize its own.

There you can be sure
you are not beyond love.

The dark will be your womb
tonight.

The night will give you a horizon
further than you can see.

You must learn one thing:
the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn

anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

QUOTE: "I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. Life is no "brief candle" for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations." ~ George Bernard Shaw

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Ma-Me-O Beach (Joan Armatrading)


Was it really only 48 hours I was gone? - amazing the tricks time can play on us...

As noted previously, my husband and I celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary last week - actually, the date of our union was September 18... but the celebration took place the last few days, as we decided to check into a hotel on the Ft. Lauderdale beach as a well-deserved and long-overdue getaway...

Since I spent the majority of my summer taking care of mom, and then the last month at home attempting to catch up from being away, I had forgotten how much I'd missed being outside... in the sun... particularly at the beach - my husband and I have now vowed to do this at least once a month, even if for only one night. There's much to be said for the curative powers of the ocean, an overload of sights, smells, sounds, sensations and salty tastes - I am tan, I am relaxed and, most importantly, I feel that I am on my way to a self-healing of great magnitude...

It has been a most difficult year, as I was reminded often over the last few days, remembering back to August 2008 when we took the family beach vacation Mom had always wanted, which would be our Last Hurrah, since she went on 24/7 oxygen a few weeks later - I segued from being a mess as I watched her decline... to experiencing the redemption of aiding in her peaceful passage...

I just felt so aware and flexible and receptive during this time off - what could have been a problem... wasn't... because I didn't allow it (room changes, husband's behavior, inclement weather). It all happened for a reason, and I took delight in whatever came my way (the trade-off of a larger room for one with a balcony, letting go of expectations and rediscovering the prose of two of my favorite authors:
Pat Conroy and Anna Quindlen)...

I slept... a lot... I woke up to watch two glorious sunrises... and then went back to sleep... I stretched... I walked (some days twice!)... I gave and received love... I had my favorite meal (calamari and a dirty martini)... I reclined on a rented beach chair under the shade of a fluttering umbrella... or not, when I wanted to bake in the sun's rays... I wore my mom's bathing suit... I felt more limber and thin and self-confident and, yes, even beautiful than I have in a while...

I immersed, literally and figuratively, in the reconnection with my husband... as well as solitude and serenity - may this be the start of a new year of health and gratitude and acceptance... in my relationships with family and friends... and for myself...

SONG:
Ma-Me-O Beach by Joan Armatrading

BOOK:
Rise and Shine by Anna Quindlen

POEM: All My Body Calls by David Whyte

All my body calls
for something in this sleeping
earth
we call the spirit.

But how
from lifted arms
where stars run through fingers
and the night is like sand
do I breathe a fragrance of its wisdom
do I call its name
or listen to the drops
that trickle down to earth
and hear
life being given
not only through the moving hands of the forest
but through the hand that reaches in
the dark unmoving regions of the chest
and uncovers slowly
the enormous
indistinct
shape of the ocean.

QUOTE: "Don't grow up too quickly, lest you forget how much you love the beach." ~ Michelle Held

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Who Have You Been (and who are you now) (Carrie Newcomer)



A major update to follow later today or, more likely tomorrow - we were told a nurse/home health aide/caregiver would be coming today so I've waited to discuss yesterday's happenings...

In the meantime, I've been thinking how much caregiving for mom this past week and a half reminds me of the early stages of motherhood - I remember back to those days when my life revolved around someone else and how I needed to approach it with joy rather than resentment in order to maximize action and minimize frustration...

My day now consists of waking up about 8... and listening out for mom to stir (during which time I turn off the front porch light, unlock the front door, bring in the newspaper, unlock and open the back door and make myself a cup of chai) - I sometimes stand in her doorway to see if she's awake... although, when she does wake, she usually turns on the TV (The Today Show) to get herself ready to start her day.

At that point, I start a pot of coffee (she was drinking hot tea before I got here because it was easier) and go back to the bedroom to supervise her first walker-assisted trip of the day to the bathroom - mom spends as much time in there as she needs, slowly changing from her nightgown into the knee-length cotton T-shirts she likes to wear during the day (after I've applied the topical antibiotic to the lesions on her back and upper arms).

Again, when she's ready, I follow her walker-assisted trip into the living room, where mom settles herself into the left-side corner of the couch, remaining most of the day, with the TV on... at full volume - I then make her breakfast (an English muffin with butter and apricot preserves or a bowl of oatmeal or two blueberry waffles with butter and syrup), put it on a tray and bring it to her. I might do an e-mail check at that time, but usually I make up her bed and mine, as well as anything else that might need attending, and sit and chat with her a few minutes to see how she's feeling - when she's finished eating, I take the tray into the kitchen, clean up, make sure the distilled water in the humidifier of the oxygen machine is properly filled and check the flow gauge...

By that time, mom has laid her head down on the arm of the couch for a nap - I might get a few e-mails answered, but I'm constantly prepared for an interruption, whether by phone, front door or her waking. We chat off and on during the morning as I do laundry, prepare our To Do list and generally make myself accessible to follow through however she needs me (find specific paperwork, bring her summer pocketbook to switch over to, help sort through her medication, etc.) - we talk about what she wants for lunch and dinner...

Lunch can be a sandwich or salad, always with fruit since she remains constipated - she will rest again after eating. When she sleeps, she moans... and it scares me - I might try to work at the computer again, but I can never really concentrate because I'm worried and therefore constantly attentive to any slight change in breathing. I try to get a shower in then, but it's not always possible - I recall, when my children were infants, that I would put them in their rocker seat and set them on the bathroom floor so I could see them, taking the quickest shower in history and talking to them throughout. I wish I could do that with mom but instead have to leave her on the couch - when the water's running, I hallucinate that I hear her calling me, only to find that, after I've rushed through my hygiene process, she's still asleep, or at least perfectly fine...

At this point, I might run an errand to the grocery store or for some other necessity, making sure one of the neighbors knows I'm going... and that mom has the phone right next to her - I'm never gone more than an hour, and usually less than that. My sister and brother always call during the course of the day, as well as various friends and neighbors - it wears mom out to chat, but it's wonderful to know so many people are thinking of her...

Afternoons roll over into evenings and sometimes we do "Happy Hour"... after which I fix and serve dinner, usually about 7 p.m. - we watch Wheel of Fortune and then Jeopardy... and then mom goes on a three-hour jag of crime drama shows (continuing at full volume). NCIS/CSI:NameThatCity/Criminal Minds/Forensic Files/The Mentalist/Without a Trace all look alike to me... but she loves them - I'm over the blood and guts and gore, oh my!... and sometimes miss Jon & Kate (without the recent brouhaha), Antiques Roadshow and InTreatment...

Mom will usually watch the first 30 minutes of Murder, She Wrote and then head back to bed - I help her back to the bathroom and then switch on the fan and light in her bedroom, as well as turn back her covers and put her water glass on the bedside table. I wait for her to come in, kiss her goodnight (with emotion) and head back into the living room to get whatever I can get done at the computer (fingers crossed the Internet connection prevails) or some reading until exhaustion/sleepiness take over - I've found that if I stay up late, I pay for it the next day...

The worst part is the hours between 2 and 6 a.m., when it's still dark and I can hear mom breathing and moaning - then sometimes she gets quiet... and I sneak in there to make sure she's okay (remember those middle of the night visits standing by our infant's crib to make sure they're still alive?). Sometimes she gets up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom... which wakes me (I'm back in parent mode these days) - I yell out that I'm there if she needs me... and sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn't...

Before we know it, it's 8 a.m. again... and time to wash/rinse/repeat - I'm hanging in there... and some days are easier than others...

P.S. Speaking of children... my dear daughter Sarah just made arrangements to fly up next Friday to spend a long weekend with mom (my kids call her Mimi) - when I told mom, she cried with joy...

SONG: Who Have You Been (and who are you now) by Carrie Newcomer (scroll down to page 14)

BOOK:
Unwrapping the Sandwich Generation: Life Vignettes about Seniors & Their Adult Boomer Children by Susan Cunningham

POEM: Sometimes by David Whyte


Sometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest

breathing
like the ones
in the old stories

who could cross
a shimmering bed of dry leaves
without a sound,

you come
to a place
whose only task

is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests

conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.

Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and to stop what you

are becoming
while you do it,
questions

that can make
or unmake
a life,

questions
that have patiently
waited for you,

questions
that have no right
to go away.

QUOTE: "In youth the days are short and the years are long; in old age the years are short and the days long." ~ Nikita Ivanovich Panin

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Simple (Laura Love)


In anticipation of choosing a new word for 2009 (to be revealed in my Thursday, New Year's Day post), I've been doing a bit of pondering of last year's word (Release) which, given the difficulty of achieving, actually worked pretty well - 12 months later, I've divested myself of... 1 non-reciprocal friendship, 2 extra-curricular activities (another waiting in the wings), many boxes/bags of unwanted clutter, 15 pounds of unhealthy extra weight (still working on this one) and, as Joni sings, "you know, there may be more"... :-)

As a follow-up to the 20-minute video above (seriously, watch when you have the time!), I offer up
this link... and the article below, saved from six months ago...

18 Ways to Live Simple Now
June 4th, 2008 by Christine Kane

What does it mean to Live Simple?

It doesn’t mean that you foresake all of your belongings and head to the woods to live deliberately. (Though you could do worse!)

It doesn’t mean that you adopt a self-righteous attitude about money (which is often a convenient way to ignore your own money issues).

To Live Simple is to be empowered and to be present. To Live Simple is to make authentic choices and to create a life you love - free from clutter of all kinds.

Here are 18 ways to
Live Simple Now

SONG: Simple by Laura Love (can't find lyrics or YouTube video - go
here and scroll down to track 7 to listen to a few bars)...

BOOK:
Simple Prosperity: Finding Real Wealth in a Sustainable Lifestyle by David Wann

POEM: Start Close In by David Whyte

Start close in,
don't take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step you don't want to take.

Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.

Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people's questions,
don't let them
smother something
simple.

To find
another's voice
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes a
private ear
listening
to another.

Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own
don't follow
someone else's
heroics, be humble
and focused,
start close in,
don't mistake
that other
for your own.

Start close in,
don't take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step you don't want to take.

QUOTE: "Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius - and a lot of courage - to move in the opposite direction." ~ E.F. Schumacker

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Christmas is the Saddest Day of the Year (Jill Sobule)

Can't say that I agree with these (The Christians and the Pagans depressing? - what?!?... and it's River, buddy, not The River)... but interesting article...


This list of sad Christmas songs first ran as a feature in Creative Loafing, back when it was the Weekly Planet, in 2002. I then re-posted it here at TampaCalling last December.

Unfortunately, the list is again proving appropriate, even more this year than during any holiday season in my lifetime. So, I decided to revive the entire article that ran in the old Weekly Planet under the title “Blue Christmas: Songs to avoid (or wallow in) for the season.” Cheers.

Originally published 12.18.02:

As anybody living on this side of a Rockwell canvas already knows, the holidays aren’t always the happiest time of the year. If you’re strapped for cash, feeling lonely or disenfranchised, Christmas usually ushers in as much grief as joy. So, to help deal with the potential doldrums of this week of all Madison Avenue weeks, here’s a list of 12/25 songs from the past three decades that wittily reflect — in no uncertain terms — the occasionally grim realities of the season. (Such pre-rock classics as “White Christmas” harbor nearly as much melancholy as merriment, as well, but Jewish composers like Irving Berlin buried the sentiment a bit deeper in the subtext than today’s songwriters.)

The alphabetically listed tunes posted below range from poignant (”Pretty Paper”) and irreverent (”Fairy Tale of New York”) to humorous (”The Christians and the Pagans”) and morbid (”Brick”) — the overriding criteria for the selections being reality-based storytelling traditionally missing from the standard holiday fare. And although John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” made the cut, political songs with less universal emotional gravity — Steve Earle’s “Christmas in Washington,” Randy Newman’s “Christmas in Capetown” — were deemed unworthy. As was Elvis’ generic “Blue Christmas” and the well-intentioned but nauseating 1980s sap-fest “Do they Know It’s Christmas.”

Included after the artists’ name is the best budget album on which to find each title. This little perk is just in case you’re looking for that special depressing something to send your ex. You know, just to remind him or her of just how much misery they’ve caused you during this season of supposed Yuletide spirit.

“Brick” Ben Folds Five, Whatever and Ever Amen The economically challenged protagonist rises at “6 a.m. the day after Christmas” to drive his young girlfriend to the abortion clinic. Now how’s that for holiday cheer? Killer Line: “They call her name at 7:30/ I pace around the parking lot/ Then I walk down to buy her flowers/ And sell some gifts that I got.”

“The Christians and the Pagans,” Dar Williams, Mortal City How about a little humor before blowing our brains out? In this astute comedic sketch from Williams, two related families polarized by religious differences come together for a holiday meal and try to agree that
“Christmas is like solstice.” Killer Line: “The food was great, the tree plugged in, the meal had gone without a hitch/ Till Timmy turned to Amber and said, “Is it true that you’re a witch?”

“Christmas in Prison,” John Prine, Sweet Revenge John Prine is one of few songwriters who could take such clichéd country-music terrain as prison, heartache and Christmas, and come up with something that smacked of true sincerity — no big surprises, but genuinely moving. Killer Line: “It’s Christmas in prison/ There’ll be music tonight/ I’ll probably get homesick/ I love you/ Goodnight.”

“Fairytale of New York,” The Pogues, If I Should Fall From Grace With God A homeless couple’s dialogue begins cheerily but by the end of this four-minute exchange, vile nastiness prevails. Killer Line: “You’re a punk/ You’re an old slut on junk … You scum bag/ You maggot/ You cheap lousy faggot/ Happy Christmas your arse/ I pray God/ It’s our last.”

“Happy Xmas (War Is Over),” John Lennon, John Lennon Anthology The man who said his band was bigger than Jesus Christ, and then got a nice little ribbing from the American right, gets his revenge by using the ol’ Christian-taunting “Xmas” in the title of a hit song reminding everyone how shitty life is. Killer Line: “And so this is Xmas/ For weak and for strong/ For rich and the poor ones/ The world is so wrong.”

“If We Make It Through December” Merle Haggard, If We Make It Through December This is Haggard’s holiday twist on his patented “Workingman Blues” theme — a real beauty marked by strong source material, smart production and sensitive vocals. Killer Line: “I don’t mean to hate December/ It’s meant to be the happy time of year/ But my little girl don’t understand/ Why daddy can’t afford no Christmas here.”

“Merry Christmas From the Family” Robert Earl Keen, Gringo Honeymoon Easily viewed as xenophobic and perhaps borderline racist in today’s hypersensitive climate — “Little sister brought her new boyfriend/ He was a Mexican/ We didn’t know what to think of him/ Till he sang ‘Feliz Navidad’” — the song is also a humorous tale of the Christmas Vacation variety, emphasizing the importance of tolerance. At least among kin and their significant others. Killer Line: “Send somebody to the Quik-Pak store/ We need … a can of bean dip and some Diet Rite/ A box of tampons and some Marlboro Lights.”

“Pretty Paper,” Roy Orbison, The All-Time Greatest Hits of Roy Orbison Paired with Orbison’s tortured warble, this Willie Nelson-penned bad-love ballad expresses bitterness with a subdued maturity foreign to the country and pop/rock music of the era (it was a hit for Orbison in 1963). Killer Line: “In the distance the ringing of laughter/ And in the midst of the laughter he cries.”

“The River” (a.k.a. “It’s Coming on Christmas”), Joni Mitchell, Blue The slow, off-key “Jingle Bells” intro is the perfect prelude to one of the saddest Christmas songs ever. Killer Line: “I made my baby cry.”

“The Last Thing I Needed First Thing This Morning,” Willie Nelson, Legendary Country Singers, Time-Life Music The cuckolded singer knowingly tolerates his woman’s infidelities because her love makes him “feel complete” and he doesn’t want to spend Christmas alone. Of course, she walks anyway. Nelson didn’t write this one but he emotes as if the incident happened to him shortly before committing the song to tape. Killer Line: “Last night you came home and I knew you’d been drinking/ By that old mellow look on your face/ But I thought it don’t matter because it’s the holiday season/ And you fill such a big, empty space.”

P.S. Another SMM...


BOOK: Home For Christmas: Stories For Young And Old by Miriam Leblanc

POEM: The Winter of Listening by David Whyte

No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
into the lit angel
we desire,
what disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.
Even with the summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.

All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.
All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.
And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.

Silence and winter
has led me to that
otherness.
So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own.

QUOTE: "Christmas is a time when you get homesick - even when you're home." ~ Carol Nelson

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Seven is the Number (Dave Carter)

Day f*cking 1... again! - (hi, Melanie... :-)

Three weeks ago today, at 5:10 p.m., I was laid off from a job I'd held for over a year and a half - much as I knew it was the proverbial blessing in disguise, it's been a difficult time, and I've experienced more than a few manic-depressive episodes, yo-yo-ing from peak highs to valley lows.

I've discussed before that it takes 21 days to change a habit - the same can be said of facing a fact, coming to a realization, allowing an epiphany. Wallowing: over - roly-poly mode: uncurled. I have made the conscious choice to rejoin the human race, in all its glorious aspects - I re-started my walking program (3 miles in the neighborhood) yesterday, and got up and did it again today. Loving the much-needed Vitamin D, the awareness of sights/sounds/smells and the acquisition of found objects - yesterday a feather to add to my windowsill aloe plant... and today a smooth rock that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand (a new worry stone?).


Although I've been eating very healthfully and mindfully these last few months, I'd slacked a bit (d*mn those chocolate chip muffins I bought for my son's visit home from college this past weekend!)... so I've now re-committed to my fruits/vegetables/non-processed foods lifestyle - I've also re-focused my productivity goals, making a list (easy/medium/hard) of everything I want to accomplish in the next few months, to take advantage of the fact I'm home full-time until January.

Seven is significant, because for years I've worn seven silver bracelets on each wrist, each with a story/history... from cloissonne to gemstones to inscribed - some were gifts and others self-purchased, a few cuffs and the rest bangles, all special. Seven is a lucky number - seven is also the number of chakras, a pendant of which I was given by a friend recently. I've begun to study the significance of each, as well as their relationship to each other - it's obviously all about the harmony of mind-body-spirit. Much to digest (no pun intended) - I'm just toe-dipping at this point... :-)

An understanding of the energy centers of the body, which are also the spiritual centers of the soul. Chakra is a Sanskrit word meaning whirling vortices of light. They bring together the energy body and the physical body. Your soul has seven spiritual centers (also known as chakras) that control your physical, emotional, and psychological life. When each of them is in balance, your life flows smoothly. When any one of them is out of balance, the imbalance can show up as a physical symptom affecting a particular area of your body, or as an emotional or psychological symptom affecting your outlook.

More here...

P.S. FYI, new SMM - if you check out the left sidebar, you'll see I'm now an official contributor (zippity!).

SONG: Seven is the Number by Dave Carter

BOOK: Seven Sacred Pauses: Living Mindfully Through the Hours of the Day by Macrina Wiederkehr

POEM: The Opening of Eyes by David Whyte

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
The passing light over the water
And I heard the voice of the world speak out
I knew then as I have before
Life is no passing memory of what has been
Nor the remaining pages of a great book
Waiting to be read

It is the opening of eyes long closed
It is the vision of far off things
Seen for the silence they hold
It is the heart after years of secret conversing
Speaking out loud in the clear air

It is Moses in the desert fallen to his knees
Before the lit bush
It is the man throwing away his shoes

As if to enter heaven and finding himself astonished
Opened at last
Fallen in love
With Solid Ground

QUOTE: "Good for the body is the work of the body, good for the soul the work of the soul, and good for either the work of the other." ~ Henry David Thoreau

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Dance Me to the End of Love (Leonard Cohen)

Notting Hill is one of my husband's favorite movies - we watched it on TV for probably the bazillionth time this past weekend, and these lines always seem to tickle my fancy... :-)


Anna Scott: I can't believe you have that picture on your wall.

William: You like Chagall?

Anna Scott: I do. It feels like how being in love should be. Floating through a dark blue sky.

William: With a goat playing the violin.

Anna Scott: Yes - happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat.

SONG: Dance Me to the End of Love by Leonard Cohen

BOOK: Dance Me to the End of Love by Leonard Cohen (Author), Henri Matisse (Illustrator)

POEM: Living Together by David Whyte

We are like children in the master's violin shop

not yet allowed to touch the tiny planes or the rare wood
but given brooms to sweep the farthest corners
of the room, to gather shavings, mop spilled resins
and watch with apprehension the tender curves
emerging from apprenticed hands. The master
rarely shows himself but whenever he does he demonstrates
a concentrated ease so different from the willful accumulation
of experience we have come to expect,
a stripping away, a direct appreciation of all the elements
we are bound, one day, to find beneath our hands.

He stands in our minds so clearly now, his confident back
caught in the light from pale clerestory windows
and we note the way the slight tremor of his palms
disappears the moment they encounter wood.

In this light we hunger for maturity, see it not as stasis
but a form of love. We want the stillness and confidence
of age, the space between self and all the objects of the world
honoured and defined, the possibility that everything
left alone can ripen of its own accord,
all passionate transformations arranged only
through innocent meetings, one to another,
the way we see resin allowed to seep into the wood
in the wood's own secret time. We intuit our natures
becoming resonant with one another according
to the grain of the way we are made. Nothing forced
or wanted until it ripens in our own expectant hands.

But for now, in the busy room, we stand in the child's
first shy witness of one another, and see ourselves again,
gladly and always, falling in love with our future.

QUOTE: "Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring." ~ S.J. Perelman

Monday, January 7, 2008

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes (as sung by Cinderella)

I seem to still be on a New Year tangent, full of hope and pro-activity and forward motion - think I'll ride the wave of optimism before the roots of reality take hold... :-)


with too many worlds
for its own good,
this portion of creation
constantly trying
to make its self singular,
this chef at home in the kitchen
among the gleam of knives,
sommelier
among eclectic bottles,
sometimes dreaming
as a hermit among leaves,
drinking the centuries
of inherited silence,
sometimes the
social host opening
the doors and lighting
the candles,
often a father lifting his daughter
high up above him
and then
the husband
sheltered by night
attempting
to talk and talk again,
too often now
as the years go by
the son worrying
for a father sitting
Atlantic miles away,
in a silent
remembered parallel.

And now this
other parallel,
this symmetry
inside
for everything
on the outside,
the writer in winter
at his desk,
caught in the light,
beneath the window,
bringing together
the last and the first,
the middle and the edge,
the near and the far,
the troubled lives
all calling for the one line
and the one life,
for creation came together
in a central
unspoken wish,
to be held
and made one
like a god's blessing
out of nowhere,
the pen
somehow
touching a wound
that heals them all.

QUOTE: "Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions." ~ Edgar Cayce

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Holy Now (Peter Mayer)

SONG: Holy Now by Peter Mayer

BOOK: Holy Personal: Looking for Small Private Places of Worship by Laura Chester (Author), Donna De Mari (Photographer)

POEM: Everything is Waiting for You by David White

Your great mistake is to act the drama

as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into

the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

QUOTE: "The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself." ~ Anais Nin

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

John's Cocoons (Michael McNevin)

Yesterday's DailyOM:

Sharing Grief
Opening To Receive Comfort

When we experience something that causes us to feel shock and sadness, we may feel the urge to withdraw from life. It may seem like remaining withdrawn will keep us protected from the world, but during these times it is important to reach out to those trusted and precious people who care about us the most. Even with our best information and reasoning, we never know when someone else’s experience or perspective can give us additional information that we need. The universe speaks to us through many channels, and when we open ourselves up to receive its messages, we also receive nurturing care from a loving partner in life’s journey.

Grief is part of the human experience, and sharing our vulnerability is what creates truly close bonds in our relationships. Opening ourselves up in this way gets to the core of our being, past all of our defenses and prejudices. When life seems to crack the outer shell of our world, we are both raw and fresh at the same time. It is then that we discover who is truly willing to walk with us through life. We also see that some of those sent to us may not be the ones we expected to see. Regardless, we learn to trust in the universe, in others, in our own strength and resilience, and in the wisdom of life itself.

Sharing grief allows us to ease our burden by letting someone else help carry it. This helps us process our own inner thoughts and feelings through the filter of a trusted and beloved someone. We may feel guilty or selfish, as if we are unloading on someone who has their own challenges. Although, if we think about it, we know we would do the same for them, and their protests would seem pointless. Remember that not sharing feelings with others denies them the opportunity to feel. We may be the messenger sent by the universe for their benefit, and it is on this mission that we have been sent. By sharing our hopes and fears, joys and pains with another person, we accept the universe’s gifts of wisdom and loving care.

A friend sent me a "True Friendship/None of that Sissy Crap" essay yesterday - it perfectly suits our friendship as I feel he always "has my back"... :-)

Given my latest round of overwhelmedness/exhaustion/crises, I've allowed myself to do more cocooning than I think is healthy - I told him the other day I was in roly-poly mode (remember those bugs that would curl up into a ball to protect themselves from harm?).

I'm still grieving my mother's bad health, my father-in-law's medical woes and the mixed emotions of an aquaintance's recent passing - I'm also battling post-hard-drive-crash blues, most specifically my iTunes loss. I've been doing some research on the internet and there *is* a way to transfer songs from an iPod back to iTunes - Apple has discouraged an easy process, since they see it as piracy, however, most of my findings have been examples of people such as myself, losing their *own* data. At this point, we have the bird in the hand (over 2500 songs on the portable player) - I am terrified that, in my attempt to restore, I will not only *not* be successful... but will lose what there is on the iPod (godhelpme - fingers crossed... :-)

I know there are lots of positives in my life right now, but I'm also firmly entrenched in the wallow - I appreciate my friend giving me space... and also popping in often enough so as to assure me I'm still important to him... and I hope he knows the reverse is true...


BOOK: When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chodron

POEM: The Well of Grief by David Whyte

Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of grief
turning down to its black water
to the place that we can not breathe
will never know

the source from which we drink
the secret water cold and clear
nor find in the darkness

the small gold coins
thrown by those who wished for something else

QUOTE: "If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." ~ Anne Bradstreet

Thursday, August 23, 2007

The Little Train (Cosy Sheridan)

I found the following on the blog of a friend and it most certainly hit home with me - I've been in such flux lately. Since J's death, my sweet little 11 a.m. - 5 p.m. part-time job is still full-time (9 a.m. - 5:30 p.m.) - my life is always a mad scramble... but even more so lately, as the obligations I took on when my schedule seemed able to handle now feel overwhelming. Seems like my life is a series of meetings these days, and I've lost track of what I love - I don't believe I'm doing justice to family and friends, not to mention myself (where is my leisure time?!?). I have no one to blame but myself, and I've vowed to become pro-active about re-taking charge of my life - I've targeted two areas of responsibility I should (and can) "scrape off my plate", and now it's just a matter of doing so, effectively and graciously.

I need focus and perspective and calm (oh my) - I think I can... I think I can... I think I can...

(1) "Only when he no longer knows what he is doing does the painter do good things." ~ Edgar Degas

(2) "Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment." ~ Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

(3) "All of us are crazy good in one way or another." ~ Yiddish saying

(4) "You are either losing your mind -- or gaining your soul." ~ Julia Cameron



She just wants an understudy, a body
double for the days when she does
not feel like appearing in any of the roles
she has assumed and/or been assigned.
She places an ad in the paper. Wanted:
one wife, mother, daughter, neighbor,
friend. Live-in OK. Own car necessary.
No lines to memorize; everything ad-
libbed. No days off.

QUOTE: "To have a firm persuasion in our work - to feel that what we do is right for ourselves and good for the world at exactly the same time - is one of the great triumphs of human existence." ~ David Whyte