The Circle Game (Joni Mitchell)

Can you believe that I bought this Wiggle Worm for Sarah (who recently turned 42) then Rob (now 38) played with it... here's Eric (who turned 35 this past July) holding it... somehow I saved the d*mn thing, and now it's in five-year-old Colin's toy-and-book basket in my car, next to his carseat?!?  Everything old truly *is* new again... 💖

Today was a hard day, and then a lovely day, then boomeranging back to difficult (I mean, hello?  What do I expect?  This is my life right now.  This will continue to be my life... 💔).  Sarah had the fabulous idea for us to attend the River of Grass UU service this morning, not only for spiritual sustenance (which we received times a bazillion), but also to get an idea of the logistics for Saturday's Celebration of Life.  Rev. Amy is the total package:  enthusiastic, calming, thought-provoking, inclusive.  

No surprise (but it was!) that the opening music was Joni's The Circle Game, which has been one of our family's songs for decades, as I always played it for each child's birthday dinner.  I am keeping track of the synchronicities since Eric passed and there *will* be such a blog post soon.  I also "borrowed" the poem and book Amy used in the service for this blog post.  The theme was Indigenous Peoples Day, and she spoke of Circling Spiraling Sacred.  Exactly where I needed to be.

Afterward... Chico, Sarah, and I went to Brandon's (just a few blocks down the road) where I had veggie pho (not all pho restaurants have a veggie broth option, you know).  I ate two small spring rolls, and then asked for a To Go container, but not before breathing in the lovely aroma, like a hug in a bowl.  Had half for dinner tonight, and will save the remainder for tomorrow.

Then home to translate all my notes into Action Items... then a most lovely two-hour phone call with dear friend/college roomie Linda (who knew Eric from infancy).  I cried a lot, but I laughed too.  She, her husband Craig, and their daughter Rachel will be here next weekend.  Speaking of circling... my wagons are beginning to... ↻

After I upload these musings, I am going to curl up with one of Eric's Spotify playlists, which I wasn't able to handle until now (well, I think I can handle it)... 🤞

SONG:  The Circle Game by Joni Mitchell

[In a concert at the Albert Hall in London on October 29, 1970, Joni Mitchell, who was already friends with Young by the time he wrote this song, opened her song "Circle Game" with this speech:

Mitchell: "In 1965 I was up in Canada, and there was a friend of mine up there who had just left a rock'n'roll band  - he had just newly turned 21, and that meant he was no longer allowed into his favourite haunt, which was kind of a teeny-bopper club and once you're over 21 you couldn't get back in there anymore; so he was really feeling terrible because his girlfriends and everybody that he wanted to hang out with, his band could still go there, you know, but it's one of the things that drove him to become a folk singer was that he couldn't play in this club anymore. 'Cause he was over the hill... So he wrote this song that was called "Oh to live on sugar mountain" which was a lament for his lost youth. And I thought, God, you know, if we get to 21 and there's nothing after that, that's a pretty bleak future, so I wrote a song for him, and for myself just to give me some hope. It's called The Circle Game."]

BOOK:  She Sang Promise: The Story of Betty Mae Jumper, Seminole Tribal Leader by J.G. Annino

POEM:  Eagle Poem by Joy Harjo

To pray you open your whole self

To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon

To one whole voice that is you.

And know there is more

That you can’t see, can’t hear;

Can’t know except in moments

Steadily growing, and in languages

That aren’t always sound but other

Circles of motion.

Like eagle that Sunday morning

Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky

In wind, swept our hearts clean

With sacred wings.

We see you, see ourselves and know

That we must take the utmost care

And kindness in all things.

Breathe in, knowing we are made of

All this, and breathe, knowing

We are truly blessed because we

Were born, and die soon within a

True circle of motion,

Like eagle rounding out the morning

Inside us.

We pray that it will be done

In beauty.

In beauty.

QUOTE:  "For in grief nothing 'stays put.' One keeps on emerging from a phase, but it always recurs. Round and round.  Everything repeats. Am I going in circles, or dare I hope I am on a spiral?" ~ C. S. Lewis

Back to the Earth (Jason Mraz)

Earth Day has always been near and dear to my heart.  I've written before that I was a sophomore in high school when it was instituted (1970) and, despite the last administration's plans/wishes to systematically undercut/erode all the gains previously in place, we are finding our way back to making environmental concerns a priority.  Even the small things can add up to big things.  I urge you today to make, or continue, a commitment to action:  bring your canvas bags to the grocery store... recycle... walk, bus or bike instead of driving and, if you do drive, carpool... use compact fluorescent light bulbs... turn off lights when you leave a room... brush your teeth with the water off... plant a garden... start and maintain a compost pile... become a locavore (eating as much locally-grown food as possible)... buy minimally-packaged goods to reduce your garbage... follow through on Meatless Monday or, even better, go as vegetarian or vegan as feels comfortable to you.

We are connected to each other as well as to the Earth and all the creatures that are a part of nature, and we must spread the message of that connection, a message that challenges us to heal the Earth for our children (and grandchildren!), and for all on this precious planet. We must envision and work towards a future that will be healthy for all beings as if our lives depended on it. Because, in fact, it does... 🌏

Delighted to read this article this morning!

Biden Will Pledge to Cut Greenhouse Gas Emissions Nearly in Half:  The president will commit the United States to deep cuts in emissions at an Earth Day summit meeting that starts on Thursday, according to people familiar with the plan.

Also, we here in South Florida can celebrate Earth Day on WLRN-TV (our local PBS station) tonight with:

Extinction: The Facts

9 P.M.

With a million species at risk of extinction, Sir David Attenborough explores how this crisis of biodiversity has consequences for us all, undermining our ability to control our climate and putting us at greater risk of pandemic diseases.

Climate Change: The Facts

10 P.M.

Host Sir David Attenborough presents scientific evidence of the impact of global warming. Discover how the latest innovations and technology are posing potential solutions and what we can do to prevent further damage.

Troubled Waters:  A Turtle’s Tale

11 P.M.

In this WLRN original documentary, you'll learn the devastating effects global warming and water pollution have had on the lives of South Florida's most beloved underwater creatures - our sea turtles - and what you can do to help.

Over the weekend I watched Kiss the Ground and Seaspiracy documentaries, both excellent, and highly recommended!

Also, Help the Lorax Plant Trees!  For each copy Barnes & Noble sells in stores and online from 4/1/21 – 4/30/21, Dr. Seuss Enterprises and Penguin Random House will each donate $1 to One Tree Planted.

SONG:  Back to the Earth by Jason Mraz

BOOK: The Story of More: How We Got to Climate Change and Where to Go from Here by Hope Jahren 

POEM(S):  Earth Your Dancing Place by May Swenson

Beneath heaven's vault

remember always walking

through halls of cloud

down aisles of sunlight

or through high hedges

of the green rain

walk in the world

highheeled with swirl of cape

hand at the swordhilt

of your pride

Keep a tall throat

Remain aghast at life

Enter each day

as upon a stage

lighted and waiting

for your step

Crave upward as flame

have keenness in the nostril

Give your eyes

to agony or rapture

Train your hands

as birds to be

brooding or nimble

Move your body

as the horses

sweeping on slender hooves

over crag and prairie

with fleeing manes

and aloofness of their limbs

Take earth for your own large room

and the floor of the earth

carpeted with sunlight

and hung round with silver wind

for your dancing place

Speaking Tree by Joy Harjo

I had a beautiful dream I was dancing with a tree.

                                                                   —Sandra Cisneros

Some things on this earth are unspeakable:

Genealogy of the broken—

A shy wind threading leaves after a massacre,

Or the smell of coffee and no one there—

Some humans say trees are not sentient beings,

But they do not understand poetry—

Nor can they hear the singing of trees when they are fed by

Wind, or water music—

Or hear their cries of anguish when they are broken and bereft—

Now I am a woman longing to be a tree, planted in a moist, dark earth

Between sunrise and sunset—

I cannot walk through all realms—

I carry a yearning I cannot bear alone in the dark—

What shall I do with all this heartache?

The deepest-rooted dream of a tree is to walk

Even just a little ways, from the place next to the doorway—

To the edge of the river of life, and drink—

I have heard trees talking, long after the sun has gone down:

Imagine what would it be like to dance close together

In this land of water and knowledge. . .

To drink deep what is undrinkable.

QUOTE:  "We are called to assist the earth, to heal her wounds and in the process, heal our own – indeed, to embrace the whole creation in all its diversity, beauty, and wonder." ~ Wangari Maathai

Sky Picked Blue (Danny Schmidt)

For years I have donated to The Academy of American Poets, and what should show up in my mail yesterday but the poster (above) for this year's National Poetry Month (which I only just realized is the 25th Anniversary), with a quote from the amazing Joy Harjo (full poem below).  I actually taped it up on the wall in my kitchen to remind me that poetry feeds my soul!

Also in yesterday's mail was a gift from Mari; she has been raving about this debut novel (see below) since pre-publication (she bought an early copy from Book of the Month Club), and I cannot wait to crack the spine later today.  Thanks, little sis... 💝

NR:  Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand In the Sun and Be Your Own Person by Shonda Rhimes

SONG:  Sky Picked Blue by Danny Schmidt (the song is from this collaborative CD by Danny Schmidt and Carrie Elkin:  "For Keeps is a relational record. At its core is a group of songs, half written by me and half written by Carrie, that revolve around relationship. Not necessarily our relationship, but Relationship with a big R. As our personal lives have woven into our artistic lives, it seemed only appropriate that our first collaborative album explore the many dimensions of Relationship.")

BOOK:  The Final Revival of Opal & Nev by Dawnie Walton

POEM:  For Keeps by Joy Harjo

Sun makes the day new.

Tiny green plants emerge from earth.

Birds are singing the sky into place.

There is nowhere else I want to be but here.

I lean into the rhythm of your heart to see where it will take us.

We gallop into a warm, southern wind.

I link my legs to yours and we ride together,

Toward the ancient encampment of our relatives.

Where have you been? they ask.

And what has taken you so long?

That night after eating, singing, and dancing

We lay together under the stars.

We know ourselves to be part of mystery.

It is unspeakable.

It is everlasting.

It is for keeps.

QUOTE:  "I find ultimate delight when a story is matched by equally riveting language, but people read like they eat: Sometimes we want comfort, sometimes we want to work to crack something open. And so I know that the writing pivots I might dislike are someone else’s bonbons." ~ Elizabeth Acevedo in a NYT By the Book interview

One Voice (The Wailin' Jennys)

HOLLYBROOK

CLOSURE UPDATE

 Broward County Government Order

 We can do this together!

   

Effective Immediately

Per Broward County Order 20-05:

Due to the Coronavirus pandemic, ALL recreation facilities COUNTYWIDE are CLOSED until further notice.

Read the order by clicking here

THE CLOSURES INCLUDE:

-       ALL Pools

-       ALL BBQ Areas

-       ALL Tennis AND Pickleball Courts

-       BOTH Golf Courses (PGA and Par-3)

- ALL Bocce and Shuffleboard courts

   We implore all Residents to obey the restrictions at all recreational areas until we are advised otherwise.  As of now, we have no end date, so continue to follow the order until notified.

It is for your safety and protection that we all abide by the order. Your staff and administration continue to put your best interests first.

Hollybrook Strong! 

-       Thank You

      We can do this together!

Well sh*t, there goes one of my coping mechanisms.  Pool:  swimming laps, stretching in the water, sunning in a lounge chair.  Ugh.  D*mmit.  Sigh.  Then again, the silver lining is, now that the golf course is closed, my walking area expands.  Tried it out earlier today, and so many new paths are available.  Have decided to walk twice a day, in the morning with my husband, and in the afternoon solo (with earbuds, my phone Pandora on shuffle).  Here are some photos from our a.m. paseo:

We remain lucky that we, and those nearest and dearest, are unscathed.  We will do whatever it takes to conjure a swifter end to this pandemic.


SONG:  One Voice by The Wailin' Jennys

BOOK:  More Together Than Alone: Discovering the Power and Spirit of Community in Our Lives and in the World by Mark Nepo

POEM:  For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet by Joy Harjo

Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that bottle of pop.

Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control.

Open the door, then close it behind you.

Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean.

Give it back with gratitude.

If you sing it will give your spirit lift to fly to the stars’ ears and back.

Acknowledge this earth who has cared for you since you were a dream planting itself precisely within your parents’ desire.

Let your moccasin feet take you to the encampment of the guardians who have known you before time, who will be there after time. They sit before the fire that has been there without time.

Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters.

Be respectful of the small insects, birds and animal people who accompany you.
Ask their forgiveness for the harm we humans have brought down upon them.

Don’t worry.

The heart knows the way though there may be high-rises, interstates, checkpoints, armed soldiers, massacres, wars, and those who will despise you because they despise themselves.

The journey might take you a few hours, a day, a year, a few years, a hundred, a thousand or even more.

Watch your mind. Without training it might run away and leave your heart for the immense human feast set by the thieves of time.

Do not hold regrets.

When you find your way to the circle, to the fire kept burning by the keepers of your soul, you will be welcomed.

You must clean yourself with cedar, sage, or other healing plant.

Cut the ties you have to failure and shame.

Let go the pain you are holding in your mind, your shoulders, your heart, all the way to your feet. Let go the pain of your ancestors to make way for those who are heading in our direction.

Ask for forgiveness.

Call upon the help of those who love you. These helpers take many forms: animal, element, bird, angel, saint, stone, or ancestor.

Call your spirit back. It may be caught in corners and creases of shame, judgment, and human abuse.

You must call in a way that your spirit will want to return.

Speak to it as you would to a beloved child.

Welcome your spirit back from its wandering. It may return in pieces, in tatters. Gather them together. They will be happy to be found after being lost for so long.

Your spirit will need to sleep awhile after it is bathed and given clean clothes.

Now you can have a party. Invite everyone you know who loves and supports you. Keep room for those who have no place else to go.

Make a giveaway, and remember, keep the speeches short.

Then, you must do this: help the next person find their way through the dark. 

QUOTE:  "We are nothing if we walk alone; we are everything when we walk together in step with other dignified feet." ~ Subcomandante Marcos

Together (Susan Werner)

I am a long-time UU (Unitarian Universalist).  Giving up the 14-year Labyrinth Cafe concert series allowed me new spiritual freedom, and I recently left the congregation I joined in March 2003 to begin attending one a little bit closer, not just for the proximity, but mainly because I've known the minister there for 20 years (even before she was a minister!).  These new members are a bit of a younger demographic, lots of kids in their RE (Religious Education) program, and everyone so very vibrant and engaged!

Obviously, with this pandemic, people are not gathering in person anymore, and this morning was our first online worship.  It was already scheduled to be the Annual Poetry Service and, given that poems have the power to soothe and heal, they kept it on the agenda with, appropriately enough, the theme of Abundance.

I went up to the church this past Monday to record my selection (don't worry, the half-dozen of us practiced social distancing!), and prefaced my reading with this introduction:

"I have been a follower of Joy Harjo's poetry for decades.  She was named U.S. Poet Laureate in June 2019, and it was a joy and an honor to see and hear her at the Miami Book Fair this past November.  Little did I know, way back on February 1 when I submitted this poem for inclusion in the River of Grass Poetry Service, how relevant it would be."

I logged on through the Zoom platform, which I have never used before, about 30 minutes early, to make sure I figured out how (I did!), and at 10:30, the service began.  It flowed so smoothly (kudos to Zena for coordinating, and Rebecca for her tech work), from one pre-recorded segment to another:  piano pieces, the lighting of the chalice, our covenant reading, Rev. Amy's heartfelt transition prayers, and then readers of the poems.  Amy ended with the Lynn Ungar (another UU minister) poem and, after the chalice extinguishing, the group was unmuted, and we were able to say hello to each other, wave, and speak.  Also, there was a live chatbox throughout, where we could type our thoughts (Joys and Concerns, etc.).  I cried through just about the whole thing.  

I do feel proud to have conquered my technoweenie self to participate, and I look forward to future Sundays, until the day we are able to gather... Together... again.

P.S.  Also, this by author John Green.  Wow!


SONG:  Together by Susan Werner

BOOK:  A Handbook for Badass Spiritual Warriors: Eleven Powerful Practices To Ignite your Spiritual Connection by Corinne Lebrun M.S.

POEM(s):  Perhaps the World Ends Here by Joy Harjo

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite. 

Pandemic by Lynn Ungar

What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

QUOTE:  "Anybody can observe the Sabbath, but making it holy surely takes the rest of the week." ~ Alice Walker

Everybody Hurts (R.E.M.)

From Rob Brezsny's Astrology Newsletter
January 8, 2020:

"Play the game called "Tell me the story of your scars." It's best to do it with a skilled empath who is curious about your fate's riddles and skilled at helping you find redemption in your wounds.

"How did you get that blotch on your knee?" he or she might begin, and you describe the time in childhood when you fell on the sidewalk. Then maybe he or she would say, "Why do you always look so sad when you hear that song?"

And you'd narrate the tale of how it was playing when an old lover broke your heart. The questions and answers continue until you unveil the history of your hurts, both physical and psychic. Treat yourself to this game soon."


When I read this, I immediately thought of the scene in Jaws, as they regale each other, in a one-upmanship style, with show-and-tells of their scars.

Blogs are created safe spaces to share our pain, internal and external, as well as our pleasures.  All this to say that my sciatica has come back (two years after its first appearance in December 2017), and it is entirely my fault.  Not enough activity, too much sitting, lots of picking up of my 25-pound, 18-month-old grandson.  Retirement has its perks and drawbacks.

The last few weeks have found me in agony.  Mornings are always the worst, and I've been trying to focus on stretching before I get too far out of bed.  Shooting pains (electric shocks?) down the back of my legs are almost unbearable, but I know I can turn this around.  Had a massage last week with Karen, who should be canonized for her healing touch.  More stretching, more walking, a return to yoga, maybe even a few visits to the chiropractor (tomorrow?).

Knock on wood, I have been very lucky to have no/limited health problems, when I am surrounded by so many who have debilitating issues or illnesses. Tonight I will pop an Aleve, descend into a coma-like sleep, and awake tomorrow with a renewed desire to beat this, and come back stronger than before.


SONG:  Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.

BOOK:  Why We Hurt: The Natural History of Pain Hardcover by Frank T. Vertosick Jr.

POEM:  Praise the Rain by Joy Harjo

Praise the rain; the seagull dive
The curl of plant, the raven talk—
Praise the hurt, the house slack
The stand of trees, the dignity—
Praise the dark, the moon cradle
The sky fall, the bear sleep—
Praise the mist, the warrior name
The earth eclipse, the fired leap—
Praise the backwards, upward sky
The baby cry, the spirit food—
Praise canoe, the fish rush
The hole for frog, the upside-down—
Praise the day, the cloud cup
The mind flat, forget it all—

Praise crazy. Praise sad.
Praise the path on which we're led.
Praise the roads on earth and water.
Praise the eater and the eaten.
Praise beginnings; praise the end.
Praise the song and praise the singer.

Praise the rain; it brings more rain.
Praise the rain; it brings more rain.

QUOTE:  "Strength doesn't mean an absence of pain." ~ Aja Naomi King

I've Just Seen a Face (The Beatles)

My friend request message, sent over the last day and a half: "It's officially The Apocalypse - I've joined Facebook!" - loosely translated: "What in the f*ck did I just do?!?" I finally signed up so that I could view my daughter's Europe pictures and live vicariously through her experience - I never envisioned quite such a headfirst tumble down the rabbit hole...

I have been fighting Facebook kicking and screaming for years - my main defense/objection has been... if I can't keep up with the "real people" in my life (and I'm always in overwhelmed mode), how in the world can I made the time to connect/reconnect with friends all over the country/world... not to mention acquaintances from my past?

I have a MySpace account (begun in December 2007) but, really, it's in the name of my concert series - it isn't about me personally at all, but rather a good PR tool to promote, and keep up with, the music...

I also have this blog, started in May 2007 - I use it as a journal/scrapbook/exercise in creativity. I'd like to post more often but seem to lose track of time - comments from readers (what readers?) are immaterial to me, as I'm really just downloading what's in my heart/brain/soul at the moment...

But Facebook? - in my less-than-48-hours experience with the social network, I have learned that it is truly In Your (or My) Face! It has been a pendulum from fun to frightening and back again... as I vowed to start out slow... which snowballed into "just one more" (friend, that is) - it's exhilarating to read all the repeated "welcome" messages (makes me think of Dar's "we're so glad that you finally made it here" lyric)... but it's exhausting to consider the effort it takes to reply and follow-up... not to mention the trepidation of opening various Pandora's Boxes...

High School? - ack! Suffice it to say, since it was 68-72, my memories are vague - I recall being high every day of my senior year, yet making the Honor Roll every quarter. I remember football games (with dances following), a handful of amazing girlfriends and being on the annual staff as well as head of props for our senior play, "The Matchmaker" - I also recall tubing down the Chattahoochee River (with a beer cooler in tow), a few special guy relationships... but also a less-than-full social calendar. I can't remember who I was back then - even more interesting, part of me is now wondering who I was in the eyes of others (in terms of The Breakfast Club... I was more Ally Sheedy than Molly Ringwald... :-)

So... although, as I said in a reply earlier today, "balance is not my strong suit", I have vowed to enjoy the experience while still motivating myself to handle all the day-to-day stuff it's easy to let slip by the proverbial wayside - I have to finish the folk club newsletter (already 4 days late), clean house tomorrow for dinner guests... and prepare for the concert I'm presenting Saturday night (not to mention catch up on various e-mails owed)...

In the meantime, though... I'm delighted at the thought of so many special people (friends and family) from all aspects of my life being in one place - it's a big-*ss cross-pollination... and I can't help but sport a broad smile across my (I should be reading a Book) Face (although I'm wary of the poke, whatever the h*ll that is... :-)

SONG: I've Just Seen a Face by The Beatles

BOOK(S): Ophelia Joined the Group Maidens Who Don't Float: Classic Lit Signs on to Facebook by Sarah Schmelling

Facebook Me! A Guide to Having Fun with Your Friends and Promoting Your Projects on Facebook by Dave Awl

POEM: Remember by Joy Harjo

Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star's stories.
Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her
in a bar once in Iowa City.
Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the
strongest point of time. Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth, how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath. You are evidence of
her life, and her mother's, and hers.
Remember your father. He is your life also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth, we are earth.
Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their
tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them,
listen to them. They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the
origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war
dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once.
Remember that you are all people and that all people are you.
Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you.
Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you.
Remember that language comes from this.
Remember the dance that language is, that life is.
Remember.

QUOTE: “It’s surprising how much of memory is built around things unnoticed at the time.” ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Song for Jeffrey Lucey (Meg Hutchinson)

In his Journal Friday, Bill Moyers wrote:

"We honor our war dead this Memorial Day weekend. The greatest respect we could pay them would be to pledge no more wars for erroneous and misleading reasons; no more killing and wounding except for the defense of our country and our freedoms. We could also honor our dead by caring for the living, and do better at it than we are right now…

You may have followed the flurry of allegations concerning neglect, malpractice, and corner cutting at the Veterans Administration, especially for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD - or major depression, brought on by combat.

The Rand Corporation has released a study indicating that approximately 300,000 veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan suffer from PTSD - or major depression, that's one of every five soldiers who have served over there."

The rest here...

"Another timely song on [Meg Hutchinson's] new album is her “Song for Jeffrey Lucey,” based on the real story of Lance Corporal Jeffrey Lucey, who returned from Iraq, suffering from severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). “I heard about Jeffrey Lucey and was devastated by his story but incredibly moved by how his family spoke out about PTSD,” Hutchinson says. “I think we all need to recognize sorrow, both the grief of a country at war and our own very private sorrows, in order to get through them.” Whether tackling political issues or matters of the heart, Hutchinson does exactly that—recognizes the pain that gives our lives a greater depth and a deeper appreciation of joy. She writes about human resilience and maintains that no matter what happens in our lives, our nets can still come up full."

Big love and thanks to AW for the heads-up on this wonderful singer-songwriter - I'd been hearing many good things about Meg but hadn't yet taken the time to check her out. When Amy sent me her recent mix CD with Meg's Home as the first song (with the line "dreaming in full color"), I knew it was slated for my next Oz compilation - I immediately ordered, and am very much enjoying, the CD...

SONG: Song for Jeffrey Lucey by Meg Hutchinson

BOOK: The Three Trillion Dollar War: The True Cost of the Iraq Conflict by Joseph E. Stiglitz, Linda J. Bilmes

POEM: Equinox by Joy Harjo

I must keep from breaking into the story by force

for if I do I will find myself with a war club in my hand

and the smoke of grief staggering toward the sun,

your nation dead beside you.

I keep walking away though it has been an eternity

and from each drop of blood

springs up sons and daughters, trees,

a mountain of sorrows, of songs.

I tell you this from the dusk of a small city in the north

not far from the birthplace of cars and industry.

Geese are returning to mate and crocuses have

broken through the frozen earth.

Soon they will come for me and I will make my stand

before the jury of destiny. Yes, I will answer in the clatter

of the new world, I have broken my addiction to war

and desire. Yes, I will reply, I have buried the dead

and made songs of the blood, the marrow.

QUOTE: "In war, there are no unwounded soldiers." ~ José Narosky

Love (Joni Mitchell)

So... Valentine's Day is in a bit more than a week - figured I'd spend the next ten days talking about the most discussed... the most misunderstood... the most necessary topic of all time: LOVE!

I recall when the link to the following article was posted to the Joni-list 4 years ago (and then added to the jonimitchell.com library) - it struck me then and it strikes me now (very Cupid's-arrow). Since I already used Both Sides Now as the title for a previous blog, thought I'd share her version of Corinthians-set-to-music today. Joni - I've loved *all* sides of her since 1968 (my freshman year of high school... :-)

P.S. Thanks, AW, for encouraging me to check out more Joy Harjo - I can see why she's your favorite...

I really don't know love at all
Duffy Robinson
Sun Star Alaska
February 8, 2004

I thought I hated Valentine's Day.

The crass commercialism still makes me retch, and I simply do not understand why stores feel compelled to put up their Valentine's displays in December, but the actual day itself, I've discovered, isn't on "the list."

Did Hallmark get to me? Are they now, at this very moment, holding a pink, beflowered gun to my head? No, the patent holder of pre-packaged love had nothing to do with my change of heart; it is all Joni Mitchell's fault.

Relatively early in her career, Mitchell proclaimed to the world that she didn't really understand love all that much. "It's love's illusions that I recall," she admitted, "I really don't know love at all."

Mitchell was accosted for having the audacity at such an early age to claim that she had "looked at love from both sides."

The criticism was silly, petty. Love is one of the most fundamental and yet complex emotions humans have to deal with. The sooner we find the courage to admit that we really don't understand love, the better.

Complacency is the killer of relationships, especially those involving some form of love. We cannot slip into the rut of assuming we know everything there is to know about the love in our life. Constant evaluation of our relationships is crucial to the health of those relationships. We have to be willing, even at an early age as Mitchell did, to look at love from both sides. We need to understand the people we love, why we love them, and make sure that we don't lose the love.

And love does not get any easier the older you get.

In 2000 Mitchell recorded her song a second time. Now in her 50's, Mitchell reexplored the words of her childhood. The song had a deeper poignancy, perhaps, sung by a woman wearied by the years, but again the theme was the same: even now she doesn't understand love.

As we get older and change, our relationships change. And, again, they require constant evaluation. Love is made up of many facets: sexual passion, deep respect, admiration, trust, affection, devotion, tenderness. Without all these attributes no love is complete. But how much power any one of these holds in a particular relationship can change. If the relationship is truly worth it, we need to be willing to roll with those punches - admit, understand, and adapt to those changes.

That's where Valentine's Day comes in. Any day that makes us stop and think about love is a glorious thing. In a perfect world we wouldn't need Valentine's Day to remind us to evaluate our relationships, but this simply isn't a perfect world. We so often get caught up with the frantic mad-dash of life that we need days put aside to perform preventative maintenance on our many relationships.

So this Valentine's Day, fine, ignore the commercialism if you wish, boycott the candy stores and burn a Hallmark card or two. But take a moment - a long moment - to dissect your relationships with your girlfriend, your mother, your best friend, your husband, your wife, anyone you love. Make sure the love is still strong, that you understand what it means to love and be loved.

If we don't, all we'll have are love's illusions; we really won't know love all at.

SONG: Love by Joni Mitchell

BOOK: Made for Each Other by William Steig

POEM: This is My Heart by Joy Harjo

This is my heart. It is a good heart.

Bones and a membrane of mist and fire

are the woven cover.

When we make love in the flower world

my heart is close enough to sing

to yours in a language that has no use

for clumsy human words.

My head is a good head, but it is a hard head

and it whirs inside with a swarm of worries.

What is the source of this singing, it asks

and if there is a source why can't I see it

right here, right now as real

as these hands hammering

the world together

with nails and sinew?

This is my soul. It is a good soul.

It tells me, "come here forgetful one."

And we sit together with a lilt of small winds

who rattle the scrub oak.

We cook a little something

to eat: a rabbit, some sofkey

then a sip of something sweet

for memory.

This is my song. It is a good song.

It walked forever the border of fire and water

climbed ribs of desire to my lips to sing to you.

Its new wings quiver with

vulnerability.

Come lie next to me, says my heart.

Put your head here.

It is a good thing, says my soul.

QUOTE: "Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." ~ Zora Neale Hurston

Falling Slowly (Glen Hansard/Marketa Irglova)

I received the DVD of the movie Once as a Christmas gift from a dear friend, who knew I had tried to see it in the theatres when it came out but never could manage the time - the recommendations came to me from too many directions to ignore...

My daughter and I watched it together a week or so ago (my second viewing, her first) and there is a scene in which the male character begins playing his song and encourages the female character to chime in on piano and vocal accompaniments - Sarah looked at me and said, "yeah, sure... what are the chances of that happening?".



I dreamily gazed back at her and proudly said, "in my world, that happens all the time"... and I experienced a rush of memories of songswaps and house concerts and campfires in which I was privy to people who had never before met sharing songs and intuitively adding instrumentation and voices, with angelic results - I cannot verbalize enough how truly blessed I am to run in circles of magic and harmony (pun absolutely intended... :-)

[Added 2/25/08 - Wasn't it great to see Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová win Academy Awards last night for "Falling Slowly" from the small indie film Once... and how cool was it that John Stewart called Marketa back to give her speech when she didn't have a chance initially?!? - what an inspiring moment for independent musicians and artists everywhere who are playing their own kind of music. A YouTube video of their Oscar performance and acceptance speeches here and here:

Glen Hansard: "Thanks! This is amazing. What are we doing here? This is mad. We made this film two years ago. We shot on two Handycams. It took us three weeks to make. We made it for a hundred grand. We never thought we would come into a room like this and be in front of you people. It's been an amazing thing. Thanks for taking this film seriously, all of you. It means a lot to us. Thanks to the Academy, thanks to all the people who've helped us, they know who they are, we don't need to say them. This is amazing. Make art. Make art. Thanks."

Marketa Irglova: "Hi everyone. I just want to thank you so much. This is such a big deal, not only for us, but for all other independent musicians and artists that spend most of their time struggling, and this, the fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are. And so thank you so much, who helped us along way. Thank you." ]

SONG: Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard/Marketa Irglova (from the soundtrack of Once)

BOOK: This Is Your Brain on Music: The Science of a Human Obsession by Daniel J. Levitin

POEM: Promise of Blue Horses by Joy Harjo

A blue horse turns into a streak of lightning,
then the sun --
relating the difference between sadness
and the need to praise
that which makes us joyful, I can't calculate
how the earth tips hungrily
toward the sun - then soaks up rain -- or the density
of this unbearable need
to be next to you. It's a palpable thing -- this earth
philosophy
and familiar in the dark
like your skin under my hand. We are a small earth. It's no
simple thing. Eventually
we will be dust together; can be used to make a house, to stop
a flood or grow food
for those who will never remember who we were, or know
that we loved fiercely.

Laughter and sadness eventually become the same song turning us
toward the nearest star --
a star constructed of eternity and elements of dust barely visible
in the twilight as you travel
east. I run with the blue horses of electricity who surround
the heart
and imagine a promise made when no promise was possible.

QUOTE: "Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder." ~ E.B. White