[Hard] Rock Lobster (with apologies to The B-52's)

Guess where/with whom we're spending New Year's Eve? - good guess!

A history of my love for them can be found here on Star Maker Machine, the weekly-themed collaborative blog to which I contribute - I've only seen them once before live... and that was with my sister Mari about 15 years ago, when I danced so long and hard I thought I was going to have a heart attack... :-)

My daughter Sarah works at the Hard Rock Cafe and was able to get us tickets - the show doesn't even start until 10 p.m. but we'll get to the area a few hours early and have dinner at our favorite restaurant in the complex. Calamari, a Bluepoint chopped salad and a dirty martini - oh my!

We have the option of following The B-52's into the Center Bar for a New Year's Eve countdown... but that's going to be "a hot mess", according to Sarah - we'll probably just follow our regular tradition and head home to the jacuzzi to drink champagne and watch neighborhood fireworks...

Happy 2010! - may it bring us all health, peace, blessings and boundless love... <3

SONG: Rock Lobster by The B-52's (YouTube video here)

BOOK: The Totally Awesome 80s Pop Music Trivia Book by Michael-Dante Craig

POEM: At the End of the Year by John O'Donohue

The particular mind of the ocean
Filling the coastline's longing
With such brief harvest
Of elegant, vanishing waves
Is like the mind of time
Opening us shapes of days.

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.

QUOTE: "Then sing, young hearts that are full of cheer, with never a thought of sorrow; the old goes out, but the glad young year comes merrily in tomorrow." ~ Emily Miller

Dancing with My Mother (Rachel Bissex)

From today's Writer's Almanac:

Today is Mother's Day. Mother's Day as we know it — where we celebrate our own mothers, with flowers, gifts, and cards — is relatively new, but annual celebrations to celebrate motherhood are an ancient practice.

The motherhood festivities have historically been in spring, the season of fertility. In ancient Egypt, there were celebrations to honor Isis, the loving mother-goddess, who is often shown in Egyptian art with the baby Horus at her breast, much like Mary and Jesus in later Christian iconography. The cult of the great mother-goddess Cybele began in Turkey and soon moved to Greece and Rome, and she was worshipped in some form for more than a thousand years. Her priestesses led wild celebrations, full of drinking, dancing, music, and all kinds of debauchery.

As the Roman Empire and Europe transitioned to Christianity, the Church set aside the fourth Sunday of Lent as a day to honor motherhood. It was a day to celebrate the Virgin Mary, and for people to honor their "mother church."

In the 1600s, England declared an official Mothering Day for that fourth Sunday of Lent. It was a time when families were encouraged to get together, and servants or workers were allowed one day off work to go see their mothers, since many working-class families in England worked as servants on separate estates and rarely got to see each other. Mothering Day was also declared an exception to the fasting and penance of Lent, so that families could have a feast together.

When the pilgrims came to America, they stopped celebrating Mothering Day, just as they stopped celebrating most holidays that they thought had become too secular.

Mother's Day was reintroduced to America in 1870 by Julia Ward Howe, who wanted to set aside a day of protest after the Civil War, in which mothers could come together and protest their sons killing other mothers' sons.

But the woman who really created Mother's Day as we know it was Anna Jarvis. Her mother had held Mother's Friendship Days to reunite families and neighbors separated during the war, and when she died, her daughter, Anna Jarvis, worked to proclaim an official Mother's Day to honor her mother and celebrate peace. And so on May 10, 1908, the first official Mother's Day celebrations took place in Grafton, West Virginia, and at a church in Philadelphia. In 1914, Woodrow Wilson designated the second Sunday of May as Mother's Day.

But Mother's Day became commercialized very quickly, especially in the floral industry, and Anna Jarvis was furious. She said, "What will you do to route charlatans, bandits, pirates, racketeers, kidnappers, and other termites that would undermine with their greed one of the finest, noblest, and truest movements and celebrations?" But flower sales and card sales continued to grow, and Anna Jarvis died in poverty and without any children of her own.

In the last U.S. Census, there were an estimated 82.8 million mothers in this country, and about 96 percent of American consumers spend money for Mother's Day.

It's midnight on Mother's Day... and it has been lovely, albeit exhausting - I actually spent most of the day with Michael McNevin, a singer-songwriter friend who played my concert series yesterday evening... and had a house concert today, which I drove him to/did merch for. Since my husband and daughter were out of town, it worked out okay - they had left me cards this morning... and I came home to a card and flowers from E, my youngest. All three of my children had chipped in to get me a gift certificate for a facial/massage - can't wait to redeem it sometime this week... and we'll do a family celebration in the next few days as well... :-)

Life is good - I have the most amazing children... and I am loved!

Here are my last two Mother's Day posts...

SONG: Dancing with My Mother by Rachel Bissex

BOOK: Undress Your Stress by Lois Levy

POEM: For A Mother-to-Be by John O'Donohue

Nothing could have prepared

Your heart to open like this.

From beyond the skies and the stars

This echo arrived inside you

And started to pulse with life,

Each beat a tiny act of growth,

Traversing all our ancient shapes

On its way home to itself.

Once it began, you were no longer your own.

A new, more courageous you, offering itself

In a new way to a presence you can sense

But you have not seen or known.

It has made you feel alone

In a way you never knew before;

Everyone else sees only from the outside

What you feel and feed

With every fiber of your being.

Never have you traveled farther inward

Where words and thoughts become half-light

Unable to reach the fund of brightness

Strengthening inside the night of your womb.

Like some primeval moon,

Your soul brightens

The tides of essence

That flow to your child.

You know your life has changed forever,

For in all the days and years to come,

Distance will never be able to cut you off

From the one you now carry

For nine months under your heart.

May you be blessed with quiet confidence

That destiny will guide you and mind you.

May the emerging spirit of your child

Imbibe encouragement and joy

From the continuous music of your heart,

So that it can grow with ease,

Expectant of wonder and welcome

When its form is fully filled

And it makes its journey out

To see you and settle at last

Relived, and glad in your arms.

QUOTE: "What a mother sings to the cradle goes all the way to the coffin." ~ Henry Ward Beecher

Everything Is Borrowed (The Streets)

Can it seriously be a week since I last posted? - what's up with that?!?

I plead the too-busy-for-words defense - I've said a bazillion times that I lead a very deadline-driven life. Much as I'm trying to scrape some responsibilities/obligations off my proverbial plate, it's just not happening right now... in some cases because I haven't trained/found successors for the jobs I'm attempting to leave - I must get more serious if I want to do things differently...

And I do... but I'm not following through as much as I should (nutrition, exercise, time management, friendships, etc.) - one of my favorite quotes: "insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results". I could go on about all the things I've done (and am continuing to do) wrong - instead I will just say, "own it, Susan!"... then snap out of crazy mode and make it happen...

At the urging of a friend (thanks, F!), I've finally s*bscribed to NPR's Song of the Day, which led me to today's blog post-title tune - it's a bit long for a mantra... but maybe a credo... or an affirmation... or a gospel?... :-)

More on the group/song here - enjoy... and take it to heart...

P.S. SMM here, here, here, here, here and here - whew!

SONG: Everything Is Borrowed by The Streets (YouTube video with lyrics here)...

BOOK: Power of Less, The: The Fine Art of Limiting Yourself to the Essential... in Business and in Life by Leo Babauta

POEM: For the Unknown Self by John O'Donohue

So much of what delights and troubles you

Happens on a surface

You take for ground.

Your mind thinks your life alone,

Your eyes consider air your nearest neighbor,

Yet it seems that a little below your heart

There houses in you an unknown self

Who prefers the patterns of the dark

And is not persuaded by the eye's affection

Or caught by the flash of thought.

It is a self that enjoys contemplative patience

With all your unfolding expression,

Is never drawn to break into light

Though you entangle yourself in unworthiness

And misjudge what you do and who you are.

It presides within like an evening freedom

That will often see you enchanted by twilight

Without ever recognizing the falling night,

It resembles the under-earth of your visible life:

All you do and say and think is fostered

Deep in its opaque and prevenient clay.

It dwells in a strange, yet rhythmic ease

That is not ruffled by disappointment;

It presides in a deeper current of time

Free from the force of cause and sequence

That otherwise shapes your life.

Were it to break forth into day,

Its dark light might quench your mind,

For it knows how your primeval heart

Sisters every cell of your life

To all your known mind would avoid,

Thus it knows to dwell in you gently,

Offering you only discrete glimpses

Of how you construct your life.

At times, it will lead you strangely,

Magnetized by some resonance

That ambushes your vigilance.

It works most resolutely at night

As the poet who draws your dreams,

Creating for you many secret doors,

Decorated with pictures of your hunger;

It has the dignity of the angelic

That knows you to your roots,

Always awaiting your deeper befriending

To take you beyond the threshold of want,

Where all your diverse strainings

Can come to wholesome ease.

QUOTE(S): "Don't be fooled by the calendar. There are only as many days in the year as you make use of." ~ Charles Richards

"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin - real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." ~ Fr. Alfred D'Souza

Fix You (Coldplay)

I can't recall the last time I went this long between posts... but I returned late Tuesday night from spending a week with my mom and have only now slowed down enough to process and record my thoughts - I already know this is going to be long, so settle in with a cup of hot tea (or join me for a glass of wine, which seems to take the edge off the telling)...

I've written here before that my 78-year-old mom has pulmonary fibrosis and kidney disease, both chronic, irreversible and incurable illnesses – at this point, it's a matter of attempting to slow down the progression and maintain her comfort level. When I saw her at Christmas, I could tell she was much worse than when I'd gone up for the Dar trip at the end of October, only a few months before – I felt the need to have a quality, one-on-one visit with her, outside the structure of our family holiday hecticness of so many people, so little time. Since I'm still unemployed (I continue to plead the blessing-in-disguise defense), I feel fortunate I had a window of opportunity in which to follow through – add to that a $150 round-trip deal, and it was the proverbial offer I couldn't refuse...

Mom has been on oxygen 24/7 since mid-September – her basic routine is to get up, make a pot of coffee and settle in to a corner of the couch in her living room, where she stays the majority of the day, watching television and napping, leaving there only to get something to eat or go to the bathroom or return to her bedroom at night. Breathing is more of a struggle when she moves around (activity also causes coughing) – it's therefore more comfortable (and comforting) for her to stay as sedentary as possible. Mom is so frustrated – her mind is still so sharp but her body is betraying her...

The first thing I did when I arrived was to head up to Publix and spend $200 on healthy foods to cook for mom – I planned a week's worth of meals, the most important of which was the Southern sh*tpot of soup, for which I used ground turkey and organic vegetables: carrots, green beans, onions, corn cut off the cob and rice (I had to use white because people with kidney disease can't process brown rice... nor whole grain pasta, wheat bread or any high-fiber foods). We had the soup for dinner that evening and I put up 8 containers in the freezer – I did the same for each subsequent meal such that, by the time I left there were 19 Tupperwares stockpiled for future use (2 of them contributed by my dear sister, who will continue the ritual... :-)

Another reason for going was to assess mom's 24/7 routine, as well as gauge how she's able to accomplish certain tasks (with or without help) and what tools/support she needs to make her life easier on a day-to-day basis – first of all, thankyoujesus for my sister Mari, who gets mom to all her doctor appointments and runs interference with the medical/insurance/paperwork world... and to my brother Brad, who stops in weekly or every other week to handle major tasks that mom cannot (grocery shopping, putting up/taking down her holiday decorations, changing the sheets on her bed, etc.). Mari and Brad each live about 30 minutes from mom, which is quite a consolation to me, 12 hours away – I do not take them for granted...

Then there is mom's secondary support group, the amazing angel neighbors of Rose, Claire and Ann – seriously, mom would never have been able to stay in her house as long as she has without their assistance. They are all dear in their own way... Rose sweet, soft-spoken and a great listener (she's a nurse); Claire strong, independent, outspoken; Ann judgemental, tactless, protective – Rose walks across the street and visits with mom each evening, and Ann and Claire call her during the day and, if mom doesn't answer her phone after a few attempts, one of them will go to the house to check on her. They will carry her laundry basket to the utility room so mom can wash clothes, take her garbage to the dump (no curbside pick-up in Flowery Branch, Georgia!) and bring in her mail – they are glad to run errands, do chores and buy anything mom needs while they're out...

Mom and I did a lot of heart-to-heart talking while I was there, which I knew was cathartic for both of us – one thing she wanted to do, which we split into two days, was to go through each room of the house, her telling me about various pieces of furniture, knick-knacks and photos. What could have been a sad experience was instead bonding and joyous, as mom filled me in on the history/backstory of cherished items, some of which I knew and others I didn't – it was lovely having her describe the pins on her hat when she was an Atlanta Olympics volunteer... and pointing out the myriad uncles/aunts/grandparents in the sepia-toned stills of Italian families on both sides. It wasn't about divvying up or tagging, but instead a walk through her past - I of course took copious notes, and will type up a document which I'll e-mail to my sister, who will print and have mom look over and make corrections, if necessary. Mom did, however, give me a silver necklace I admired when we were going through her jewelry – Ralph (her second husband, who was killed in a car accident 8 years ago) gave it to her for Christmas in 1999 and the sentimental value is priceless...

Friday afternoon I drove mom to her haircut appointment – she did fine up to a certain point (having her portable oxygen tank with her), but ran out of energy toward the end. Myra, her hairdresser, walked us to the car and sweetly told mom that, from now on, she'd be more than glad to come to mom's house and cut her hair (as she had a few other people she did that for) – we were so touched at her offer, and I've encouraged mom to take her up on it...

Friday night we watched the movie Young @ Heart, an uplifting documentary which Anne told me about when I posted Yes We Can Can for Hope and Change Week on Star Maker Machine, warning that a few of the elderly characters died during the making – we decided to go ahead with it, and were so glad we did, as mom truly enjoyed, despite the bittersweet nature of the film which celebrates the aging process, knowing their accomplishments were beyond her capabilities. The soundtrack was amazing and, even though my husband is a big Coldplay fan (as is my daughter), I've never really listened to their music – the song I used for this blog post title, Fix You, hit me in the heart as it began as a duo between two male characters and ended up as a solo...

My sister and brother came over Saturday night for a confab with me and mom, to discuss short- and long-term options – it was a great brainstorming session, in which we came up with so many options to expand her ease of operation around the house: Brad will buy and install a hand-held shower attachment for mom's bathroom; we will get her a LifeAlert necklace; I set up one of her spiral notebooks as a To Do List of Chores/Errands/Purchases so she can write down whenever something needs done (rather than having to remember it) when someone asks how they can help; I got my aunt's walker out of the garage and although mom stubbornly refused to use it most of my visit, she did try it out my last few days there and begrudgingly admitted it made things a bit easier; I placed a few of her dining room chairs throughout (calling them “halfway houses”), in which she could sit and catch her breath on her way from one room to another...

Saturday afternoon we (my mom, me, Mari and Mari's 12-year-old daughter Julia) played Scrabble – I kicked everyone's *ss (as usual!)...

Sadly, my sister told me a few weeks ago that she's getting a divorce... and thankfully so far everything's been amicable – the blessing in disguise here is that Mari will now be looking at houses with a downstairs bedroom/bath for mom to move in. Mom has informed us she wants to stay in her own house as long as she's able, and we agree – however, it's nice to know there's a Plan B when the time comes (as of this writing, Mari had put in an offer on a house which feels like a meant-to-be... and my purple candles have been burning non-stop)...

We also came up with lots of questions to ask mom's new pulmonologist, which she saw Wednesday, the day after I left – a full report on that tomorrow...

I brought my laptop and 5 books and was able to do a bit of work/play at night or when mom napped or showered, but didn't have nearly as much free time as I thought I would (getting through only 3/4 of one of the novels) – I didn't even walk while I was there, mostly because it was cold but also because I didn't want to leave mom alone for long. I concentrated on staying strong and upbeat when we were together, but allowed myself to fall apart in the car running errands... or late at night when she was asleep... or in the shower (like Glenn Close in The Big Chill) - it sometimes was too much to bear, as it still is when someone asks how she's doing and I feel so fragile I fear I will shatter into a million pieces...

One of the things I did when I got home was to set up an e-mail distribution group called The Connie Circle, consisting of me, Mari, Rose, Claire, Ann and my daughter Sarah – this way we can all keep each other in the loop regarding doctor appointments, visits and ideas...

I don't know who was more grateful for our time together, me or mom - she was so appreciative of my assistance and company... and I felt glad to finally be able to do something tangible instead of worrying long-distance...

To be continued...

P.S. SMM here, here, here, here and here...

SONG: Fix You by Coldplay (YouTube video here...)

BOOK: The Breakdown Lane by Jacquelyn Mitchard

POEM: For the Traveler by John O'Donohue

Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.

New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.

When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:

How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.

When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.

QUOTE: "Live with skillful nonchalance and ceaseless concern." ~ Prajnaparamita Sutra

Just Like That (Rachel Bissex)

The article below is based on an obituary posted on WFDU-FM Ron Olesko’s blog site and used in the FolkWax e-zine with Ron's kind permission - my personal commentary follows...

Vic Heyman passed away on Tuesday (January 6), leaving the Folk community to mourn the loss of one of the most supportive individuals to have graced this international "family." To the thousands who knew Vic and his wife, they were only ever referred to as ‘Vic and Reba’ – one and indivisible.

Committed folkies, they were SO much more than enthusiastic supporters. For a number of years they ran a very successful concert series in the Washington D.C. area, but their love of the music AND the people who make music took them to all corners of the globe. Vic and Reba attended every Folk Alliance conference as well as many regional events. Vic was a former board member of the Kerrville Folk Festival and they attended numerous festivals across the country each summer. Vic and Reba also wrote reviews for Sing Out! magazine.

While the foregoing could be described as their tangible public contribution, behind the scene, Vic and Reba became "parents" to numerous musicians in the Folk community. In nurturing these "children" they helped those artists gather the courage to go out on a stage and realize a dream. The through occurs that their encouragement, maybe, helped those artists write better songs. It has to be said that, in the Folk community, their support and endearing friendship was legendary.

Vic has been in poor health during the past year. Vic and Reba didn’t make Kerrville 2008, Vic was hospitalised at the time, but they attended Falcon Ridge a few weeks later and were at NERFA in November.

At this sad time, the Folk community sends its sincere condolences to Reba and "all’ her children.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is hard to remember a time when I didn't know Vic and Reba Heyman - I first met them in February 1999 at the Albuquerque Folk Alliance. I was curious about this larger-than-life, dressed-alike husband-and-wife duo who everyone acknowledged and credited... and who even had special seats, front and center, in each major showcase room. I can't recall who introduced us, but we had a chance to chat multiple times over the course of the conference as, having similar taste in folk/acoustic performers, we found ourselves crossing paths quite frequently - at one point, I was in a Standing Room Only situation when Reba caught my eye and patted the empty seat next to her, motioning for me to join her (as I found out later, Vic was napping... :-)

We met again at the Kerrville Folk Festival in May of the same year... and again in July at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival - that was my only Kerrville experience, but for a while, I knew I could count on their delightful company twice a year (at FA and FRFF). Vic and Reba then began attending our South Florida Folk Festival, with which I was very involved... their visits at first for a week at a time, and then extending for two, three and now four-month intervals - what began as an acquaintance quickly blossomed into full-fledged friendship, as we met up for dinner (restaurants or my/others' homes), chatted on the phone and carpooled down to the (now-defunct) Main Street Cafe in Homestead (will never forget the time Vic brought his new GPS, which had us laughing the entire trip, because I could have driven that route blindfolded!).

Vic and Reba returned to Florida a few days before our John McCutcheon Labyrinth Cafe concert on December 13 and, upon spotting me, he said protectively, "don't hug me - I have a cold"... to which I replied, "too bad - I haven't seen you in six months and I'm hugging you anyway" - so glad I followed my intuition...

Vic had Parkinson's for 14 years, with his mobility becoming more limited in the time I knew them, segueing from cane to walker - he fell a few times the weekend before Christmas, was admitted to the hospital, all seemed fine... and then he took a turn for the worse. At that point, their four children visited over the course of the next week, sitting vigil by his hospice bedside - as I posted on Star Maker Machine last week, I stopped in for a visit, "brought them tangerines, stayed a few hours chatting and had an opportunity to say my goodbyes, staying strong while there and weeping all the way home"...

Vic had a wicked sense of humor, an abiding-yet-innocent love for the ladies (he did give the best hugs)... and an unlimited spirit of generosity, especially concerning folk music. Reba will remain in Florida as scheduled, and we will do whatever we can to support and keep her company during this most difficult time - I've spoken to her on the phone quite a few times, and she knows I'm available, whatever her needs.

As Phyllis Barney, past-present of the Folk Alliance just posted to their list-serve:

"Please join me in thinking of our most wonderful folk angel Vic Heyman. He passed peacefully away tonight (Jan. 6), leaving behind his beloved wife and best friend Reba, their four children, and scores and hundreds of all the rest of us - touched by his light, his generosity, his love of life, and love of folk music. Tributes will come, and they certainly should. He was a tireless supporter of folk music, folk musicians, and Folk Alliance. But tonight, I just want to remember my dear friend."

I second the emotion - R.I.P. dear Vic (now seated in a comfy chair in that Great Song Circle in the Sky... :-)

SONG: Just Like That by Rachel Bissex (Rachel wrote this song about Vic and Reba... and Dar Williams covered it on Remembering Rachel, a tribute put together after Rachel's death, which Vic produced/assembled/publicized)...

BOOK: Death: The Final Stage of Growth by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

POEM: For Freedom by John O'Donohue

As a bird soars high
In the free holding of the wind,
Clear of the certainty of ground,
Opening the imagination of wings
Into the grace of emptiness
To fulfill new voyagings,
May your life awaken
To the call of its freedom.

As the ocean absolves itself
Of the expectation of land,
Approaching only
In the form of waves
That fill and pleat and fall
With such gradual elegance
As to make of the limit
A sonorous threshold
Whose music echoes back among
The give and strain of memory,
Thus may your heart know the patience
That can draw infinity from limitation.

As the embrace of the earth
Welcomes all we call death,
Taking deep into itself
The right solitude of a seed,
Allowing it time
To shed the grip of former form
And give way to a deeper generosity
That will one day send it forth,
A tree into springtime,
May all that holds you
Fall from its hungry ledge
Into the fecund surge of your heart.

QUOTE(S): "I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived." ~ Willa Cather

"Hope is grief's best music." ~ Author Unknown

"We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love." ~ Madame de Stael

Unworthy (Cheryl Wheeler)

This post came together through a mad divergence of circumstances in my life, redundant when I consider that is exactly how my life truly operates... when all is running according to plan - I may have said this before (deja vu as well as synchronicity)... but I love the Doris Lessing quote: "coincidence is god's way of remaining anonymous"!

I am spotlighting a very-dear-to-my-heart Cheryl Wheeler song, which I mentioned waaaaay back in my first week of blogging - however, it's not really cheating since I didn't use it for the blog post title, right?... :-)

I think I've actually calmed down a bit in the almost 17 months since - I still have almost as many extra-curricular activities on my plate... but I do believe I've found better balance, fine-tuned my organizational skills and re-aligned my priorities. Release was my Word of the Year - I think it's working... :-)

SONG: Unworthy by Cheryl Wheeler

BOOK: The Renaissance Soul: Life Design for People with Too Many Passions to Pick Just One by Margaret Lobenstine

POEM: For the Artist at the Start of Day by John O'Donohue

Let your life be the poem you write.

Let your heart be the portrait you paint. ~ Bonkonon

May morning be astir with the harvest of night;

Your mind quickening to the eros of a new question,

Your eyes seduced by some unintended glimpse

That cut right through the surface to a source.

May this be a morning of innocent beginning,

When the gift within you slips clear

Of the sticky web of the personal

With its hurt and its hauntings,

And fixed fortress corners,

A Morning when you become a pure vessel

For what wants to ascend from silence,

May your imagination know

The grace of perfect danger,

To reach beyond imitation,

And the wheel of repetition,

Deep into the call of all

The unfinished and unsolved

Until the veil of the unknown yields

And something original begins

To stir toward your senses

And grow stronger in your heart

In order to come to birth

In a clean line of form,

That claims from time

A rhythm not yet herd,

That calls space to

A different shape.

May it be its own force field

And dwell uniquely

Between the heart and the light

To surprise the hungry eye

By how deftly it fits

About its secret loss.

QUOTE: "The artist's world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep." ~ Paul Strand

Barack Obama, Get Happy (Susan Werner)

From MoveOn.org:

[Tuesday] night Senator Obama locked up the nomination.

Amazing.

After years of DC insiders running the show, a progressive candidate who started in politics through community organizing, who unequivocally opposed the war in Iraq, who isn't afraid to stand up to the politics of fear, an African-American, became the Democratic nominee for president.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The great Barack Obama insurrection
Hillary was ready. Hillary was unstoppable. Hillary was, by all accounts, a lock. What the hell happened?
By Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist
Friday, May 30, 2008

Are you paying any sort of attention to this moment in time? Are you reading bits and hints about the transformation, the shift, the unusual and slightly surreal energy coursing through the nation? Are you tattooing this seminal period on the sacrum of your sociopolitical consciousness? Are you under 50? Then there's been nothing else like this in your lifetime. And there probably never will be again.

You gotta take it all in, you know? Because it was no time at all ago, less than a year, and Hillary Clinton's presidential nomination was pretty much a given, and even I was relatively thrilled and gung-ho for her candidacy, especially given how she was so ahead in the polls and so ahead in fund raising and so ahead in public opinion her imminent nomination felt much like a slam dunk, a forgone conclusion, a sure thing.

And therefore it was all something rather otherworldly for progressives, a bit unprecedented, a Democratic race to watch only for the sheer historic value and for the surprising quality of the other candidates involved, and not because there was any doubt as to the eventual outcome.

Just a bit beyond incredible, then, what has happened since, in such a short time, in this, one of the more fascinating turning points in American history.

It almost cannot be understated: Barack Obama's steady, astounding, almost inexplicable rise to the top to not only become the presumptive Democratic nominee but also to overtake one of the strongest, smartest, most well-funded, tenacious rival candidates in American history — and also to out-poll his deeply connected Republican opponent — is both remarkable and historic on a number of fronts.

But the thing is, no matter how you crunch the data and try to logically analyze all the components that made Obamapalooza happen, there appears to be something just beyond the logic, just outside the normal machinery, that makes you shake your head in amazement, and perhaps remember this forever.

On one level, I suppose it's not all that unusual. There have been plenty of scrappy, outta-nowhere, come-from-behind victories in political races before. There are plenty of tales of one candidate holding an overwhelming lead early on, only to have his lunch eaten by some brilliant, whippersnapper upstart. JFK charmed the hell out of the planet and revealed the deep sourness of once-omnipotent Richard Nixon. Bill Clinton, the handsome, populist Arkansas governor with minimal big-stage experience but loads of effortless charisma, came from seemingly nowhere to build a phenomenal following and stomp all over the doddering, baffled, how-much-is-a-gallon-of-milk Bush 41.

But with Obama, as with just about everything about his campaign, something feels different, more historic, deeper and more profound and even a bit more, how do you say, intimate. It is not politics as usual. It is not just another smart, deeply intelligent upstart senator making a surprising play for The Show.

You have to take note. Because Obama has accomplished his astonishing rise without the normal weaponry of American politics. As of yet, there have been almost no dirty tricks. He has not really attacked Hillary, has not "gone negative" or run a nasty smear campaign or swiftboated her; he has not employed, in short, any of the disgusting tactics Karl Rove's Republican party notoriously used against Al Gore and John Kerry so as to lie themselves into a brutal and failed chokehold of power.

Verily, plethoric are the pundits who've been trying to parse just why, exactly, Obama has been so much more effective, so much more far-reaching and cross-cultural than the once-unstoppable Clinton, not to mention McCain or anyone else. What is it about him, exactly? What is it that draws such a broad circle of endorsements, from Ted Kennedy to Andrew Sullivan, John Edwards to former Labor Secretary Robert Reich?

It's the networking, they say. Obama is the first "Facebook candidate." He's the first to successfully leverage all the modern tech, the viral marketing, YouTube, Web 2.0, lovely videos by celebrity rappers who are nearly moved to tears by the man's speeches. Yes, that must be it.

Or maybe it's his remarkable, idealistic team of aides, his hotshot fresh-faced speechwriters, his wondrous oratory skill. Is it the cool campaign posters? Is it the game-altering speeches on race in America? Or is it what the terrified right-wing hatemongers are calling "liberal guilt," the feeling that we on the whiny tree-hugging ultra-PC left feel so gosh-darn guilty about how blacks, Hawaiians and Harvard-trained lawyers have been treated, lo, these many millennia — even more so than the oppressive treatment of women — that Obama gets our vote out of sheer nervous remorse?

Problem is, those explanations feel insufficient and inadequate and, in the case of that last one, exceedingly stupid. Is there not something else going on? Is there more to it than just a battle between old school/new school styles of campaigning?

Maybe the answer lies elsewhere. Maybe you need to look to the dark side for a hint, for a bit of proof that there's more to this moment in history than mere shifting times. It comes in the form of that very ugly and violent rumor that gets whispered among skeptics and conspiracy theorists and joked about by cretins on Fox News, and even sighed by many otherwise happy, progressive idealists, those who've had their dreams shattered and hopes pummeled enough times that a form of sinister cynicism creeps in.

It is this: Some feel Obama will not survive. There are those who think something violent and lethal is bound to happen to him and not merely because he's black, but because he's too revolutionary, too much a force for harmony and peace, and the forces of darkness and oppression in America, be they troglodytic Southern racists or anarchist radicals or insular BushCo die-hards, simply cannot have that.

There is no need to invite that repulsive idea in for long. It is too dark, disquieting, pointless, not to mention how it feels like it could create some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy by mentioning it too damn much in the media. But it is worth noting for one curious aspect: It is a fear borne of a truly rare historic circumstance, the amazing idea that someone like Obama is, to put it bluntly, too good for this particular role, a bit too conscious and enlightened for what is a brutal and soul-numbing and potentially deadly political machine.

Then again, maybe, in a morose way, this is how we know transformative change is arriving, perhaps quicker than expected, but arriving nonetheless. We're already deeply scared of losing it. Really, how long's it been since we've felt anything like that?

SONG: Barack Obama, Get Happy by Susan Werner

BOOK: The Audacity of Hope: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream by Barack Obama

POEM: A Morning Offering by John O'Donohue

I bless the night that nourished my heart

To set the ghosts of longing free

Into the flow and figure of dream

That went to harvest from the dark

Bread for the hunger no one sees.

All that is eternal in me

Welcome the wonder of this day,

The field of brightness it creates

Offering time for each thing

To arise and illuminate.

I place on the altar of dawn:

The quiet loyalty of breath,

The tent of thought where I shelter,

Wave of desire I am shore to

And all beauty drawn to the eye.

May my mind come alive today

To the invisible geography

That invite me to new frontiers,

To break the dead shell of yesterdays,

To risk being disturbed and changed.

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.

QUOTE: "If we are willing to work for it, and fight for it, and believe in it, then I am absolutely certain that generations from now, we will be able to look back and tell our children that this was the moment when we began to provide care for the sick and good jobs to the jobless; this was the moment when the rise of the oceans began to slow and our planet began to heal; this was the moment when we ended a war and secured our nation and restored our image as the last, best hope on Earth." ~ Senator Barack Obama

Dimming of the Day (Richard Thompson)

I wrote the following note to my friend the other night - this explains why I haven't posted in *four* days... and I didn't even cover the amazing Saturday and Sunday house concerts I attended!

Hey, Nance -

I just left you a voicemail - long story short: yes, I'd love to carpool! (want to come here about 7 p.m.?).

Long story long: I've had a wacky week (I can hear you asking, what else is new?) - no, really... more so than usual....

I'm picking up SG and J from Ft. Lauderdale in about an hour and bringing them back here... so they'll join us for the Susan Werner concert - plus... Eric came home last night for Spring Break Week (did we know? - no, we did not!).

Plus Sarah moved out last weekend but left a bunch of her crap (um, stuff) in the living room, and is supposed to swing by and get that today or tomorrow - so... I've been trying to get the guest room/Ozfice back up to speed (and it's looking great, I must say.. :-)

Plus I was out sick two days last week... and I mentioned to EW I'd like to go back to part-time - we have a client workshop Monday and she's leaving town Wednesday, but she said she didn't foresee a problem and we'd talk about it in detail week after next (whew)...

Plus I finally got my dragonfly tattoo last Saturday - so... how was your week, honey? (can't wait to see you and catch up!).

We ordered Chinese food tonight (yum!) and, after doing a bit of work on the computer, I hope to get in the bed early tonight - good god, I'm missing those 60 minutes we lost Saturday night/Sunday morning... but I continue my never-ending struggle to find/remember "the holy place"...

SONG: Dimming of the Day by Richard Thompson

BOOK: Each Day a New Beginning: Daily Meditations For Women by Karen Casey

POEM: The Inner History of a Day by John O'Donohue

No one knew the name of this day;

Born quietly from deepest night,

It hid its face in light,

Demanded nothing for itself,

Opened out to offer each of us

A field of brightness that traveled ahead,

Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps

And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;

It dwells within the silence with elegance

To create a space for all our words,

Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place

Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,

Transforming our broken fragments

Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides

That is more gracious than the smallness

That fuels us with fear and force,

A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks

For being betrothed to the unknown

And for the secret work

Through which the mind of the day

And wisdom of the soul become one.

QUOTE: "Who forces time is pushed back by time; who yields to time finds time on his side." ~ The Talmud

Things Change (Terri Hendrix)

SONG: Things Change by Terri Hendrix

BOOK: Helping Me Help Myself: One Skeptic, Ten Self-Help Gurus and a Year on the Brink of the Comfort Zone by Beth Lisick

POEM: Beannacht ("Blessing") by John O'Donohue

On the day when

the weight deadens

on your shoulders

and you stumble,

may the clay dance

to balance you.

And when your eyes

freeze behind

the grey window

and the ghost of loss

gets in to you,

may a flock of colours,

indigo, red, green,

and azure blue

come to awaken in you

a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays

in the currach of thought

and a stain of ocean

blackens beneath you,

may there come across the waters

a path of yellow moonlight

to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

may the clarity of light be yours,

may the fluency of the ocean be yours,

may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow

wind work these words

of love around you,

an invisible cloak

to mind your life.

QUOTE: "If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it." ~ Mary Engelbreit

The Calling (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

How strange to think I haven't blogged since Monday, when I was so proud of staying on task daily (other than travel absences) - however, in my new 2008 Release mode, I've given myself permission to skip a day (or three) when the timing isn't right... or I'm not channeling the inspiration... or when I just don't feel like it...

Lots going on in my world these days, which makes my goal even more difficult - being on the core staff of our South Florida Folk Festival (which had taken a two-year hiatus due to Hurricane Wilma and her aftereffects) has sapped my time/energy/sanity. The Moment of Truth is next weekend - bring on the music!

I'm also dealing with some parenting issues with two of my three children - things will work out (they always do) but, in the meantime, I'm feeling exhausted, confused and even a bit betrayed. They're good kids, always loved, never deprived and raised on logical consequence - they'll follow their heart to a responsible outcome...

In the meantime, I'm challenged to find my balance, release my struggles and be kind to myself - I'm still learning to do the best I can, one day at a time...

P.S. Just writing this helps me realize how much I've missed doing it - however, I've learned my expectations cannot outweigh my emotional and physical health...

SONG: The Calling by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: Being In Balance: 9 Principles for Creating Habits to Match Your Desires by Wayne W. Dyer

POEM: A Blessing for Equilibrium -- John O'Donohue

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,

May the music of laughter break through your soul.

As the wind wants to make everything dance,

May your gravity be lightened by grace.

Like the freedom of the monastery bell,

May clarity of mind make your eyes smile.

As water takes whatever shape it is in,

So free may you be about who you become.

As silence smiles on the other side of what's said,

May a sense of irony give you perspective.

As time remains free of all that it frames,

May fear or worry never put you in chains.

May your prayer of listening deepen enough

To hear in the distance the laughter of God.

QUOTE: "Inspiration is wonderful when it happens, but the writer must develop an approach for the rest of the time... The wait is simply too long." ~ Leonard Bernstein

May the Light of Love (David Roth)

Happy Thanksgiving!... both lower case and capital - the turkey is in the oven, the rest of the food is bought and soon to be prepared, the house is clean and the dinner table is ready to be set. I look forward to continuing old traditions - we always kick off the holiday season with George Winston's December as the background music to our mid-day meal.

My husband and kids will help with peeling potatoes, snapping beans and grating cheese - there will be various football games going on before and after dinner... and we will take a walk in the neighborhood because we ate too much.

I will spend 73 minutes in the kitchen (the length of my traditional clean-up music, Joni Mitchell's Miles of Aisles CD) doing leftover storage, dishwasher loading and pots and pans scrubbing... and then sit down, alone, to enjoy a cup of coffee spiked with Kahlua and topped with whipped cream.

Friday has its own tradition too, as I make a sh*tpot (old Southern expression) of turkey soup, with spinach fettucine noodles, onions, lots of carrots and assorted herbs and spices - then we just have to turn the air conditioning colder to make it feel like soup weather!

Gratitude abounds - may we all appreciate what we have and help others get what they need...

SONG: May the Light of Love by David Roth

BOOK: A Grateful Heart: Daily Blessings for the Evening Meal from Buddha to the Beatles by M. J. Ryan (Editor)

POEM: A Blessing by John O'Donohue

May you awaken to the mystery of being here and enter the quiet immensity of your own presence.

May you have joy and peace in the temple of your senses.

May you receive great encouragement when new frontiers beckon.

May you respond to the call of your gift and find the courage to follow its path.

May the flame of anger free you from falsity.

May warmth of heart keep your presence aflame and may anxiety never linger about you.

May your outer dignity mirror an inner dignity of soul.

May you take time to celebrate the quiet miracles that seek no attention.

May you be consoled in the secret symmetry of your soul.

May you experience each day as a sacred gift woven around the heart of wonder.

QUOTE: "Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don't unravel." ~ Author Unknown