Meet on the Ledge (Richard Thompson)

Whew!  I seem to be totally off my game/schedule/agenda.  What had been an every Tuesday and Friday posting plan has morphed into Whatever.  It's obviously okay (First World Problems, right?) but I always do better with structure... so here's an attempt to get back on track, beginning with updates of the South Florida Folk and Acoustic Music Festival (what a mouthful!) as well as the road trip to Key West to see Dar Williams (both absolutely amazing, as you can well imagine!).

2/2-4/24 - SFFAMF (copied-and-pasted from Facebook):

The South Florida Folk and Acoustic Music Festival 2024. What a weekend (major understatement). Highlights, knowing I'm bound to inadvertently leave someone/something out (sorry in advance):

One-on-one special time with friends pre- as well as post-fest. Amy Carol Webb Friday night. Herding cats for a Friends of Pam photo. Staffing an informational table with Claire for The Caring Community (so many teas, so little time!), right next to Cynthia's Flurban Paradise freeze-dried cookies and fruit, fire cider, energy balls. So Many Hugs! Jennings & Keller. Wearing the necklace Melanie gave me at last year's festival (which meant she was here in spirit *this* year). Honored to be a songwriter competition judge; so many great songs that it was truly challenging to narrow it down to a top three. Multiple meals from The Garden Diva; those pizza empanadas were scrumptious. The reunion continues, until I end up with bar voice. Dragonfly earrings from SusanP. Brian's song circles, complete with my Circle of Friends "campfire".

Returning Sunday a.m., barely able to speak above a croak. More Hugs! Songwriter winners in-the-round (Sarah McCulloch, Jane Fallon, Lynn Biddick); hearing their additional songs validated our choices even more. New discoveries as well as long-time favorites. Friction Farm! Sharing butterfly pea flower tea at our TCC table. Never managed to make it over for a chair massage... 😢

Boundless thanks and love to Bill, Lisa, Laurie, Elyse, Peter, Grace, Bruce, and all the volunteers who made this festival happen. And gratitude that, when it started pouring down rain early-afternoon yesterday, we were under cover... 💖

2/6-7/24 - DAR IN KEY WEST (copied-and-pasted from Facebook):  

When last we left our SheRa, she was packing snacks and heading out the door to pick up Nancy to head to Key West for a concert.  If you're all about the 45-words-or-less version, you can stop here.  Otherwise, keep reading... 🤣

Driving down the Overseas Highway, you soon realize there is a huge differential between miles and minutes; time goes very slowly in the Keys, basically one way in and one way out, a solo lane in each direction, with two lanes appearing every once in a while to allow for a few minutes of passing.  It.  Just.  Is.  You are forced to be peaceful and relaxed, until you become so, due to the stunning views both east and west the further south you go.  Water as far as the eye can see, varied striations of cobalt/turquoise/sky blue, sometimes choppy, sometimes smooth, sporting silver tips when the sun is shining just right.

The Dar Williams show at the Studios of Key West started at 7 p.m. and we arrived at the very cool Ibis Bay Resort (with a coral rock wall *in* our room!) about 5:15, and knew we wanted to eat dinner near the venue beforehand.  Nance and I quickly got ready and, convinced by the front desk that traffic is horrible and parking is limited, we called a cab, which arrived immediately.  One of Nancy's co-workers used to live in Key West and, when Nancy asked for her recommendations for vegan-vegetarian food, she recommended The Cafe.  Yes, The Cafe!  It was a superb menu, and we split the spinach gyoza dumplings and the stuffed butternut squash, both amazingly delish.  I wanted a piece of vegan key lime pie too, but we were cutting it close.  Made it to the show with 5 minutes to spare, ended up on the second row... 💥

Dar continues to amaze me!  Having heard her dozens of times, she *never* tells the same story twice (maybe a kernel of thought interjects but, mostly, nope.  All new, out of her quirky-yet-brilliant brain).  Her voice was perfect, as was the setlist, a handful of songs from her newest CD, many long-time favorites, and even an as-yet-unrecorded song (Hummingbird Highway - beautiful!).  I thank-her-very-sweetly for dedicating Over the Rainbow to me, the Pete Seeger version where, instead of "why oh why can't I?" he substitutes "why can't you and I?", always looking for the inclusivity angle... 💗

Dar toggled between two encores and, after we all begged, she did them both (When I Was a Boy and Iowa), the second of which Nance and I whipped out our phones to access the flashlight app (Dar:  "oh, fireflies!); the tradition got its start at the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, and a few others in the room joined us.  I never get tired of singing/yelling out the "And I'd do it again!" lyric, and Dar actually got quiet for those of us who knew it was coming... 🥰

Dar came out into the lobby after the show, so we could all hug, chat, and get this fab photo (thanks to Fred, the sound guy!).  The fourth is Patty Romanoff, Dar's manager/tour companion who I've also known a very long time.

Nancy and I may have gone back to the room to eat sweet-and-spicy popcorn and drink sparkling wine.  We definitely enjoyed the free continental breakfast the next morning, before heading south on the island to a public beach with a pier where some of Eric's ashes may have been spread.  We may have also stopped at a Mexican restaurant halfway home because I was craving refried beans.

No doubt Nance (Road Buddy Extraordinaire) and I shared another adventure "that couldn't be beat", just like old times (Lucy and Ethel?  Thelma and Louise?), arriving home about 5 p.m., 36 hours of non-stop conversation of the hilarious as well as heartfelt variety, shenanigans, and soul-refilling music.  There is a hot bath and an early bedtime in my future... 🕉

P.S.  credit to Dar for my song title... 🤗

SONG:  Meet on the Ledge by Richard Thompson

BOOK:  The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief by Jan Richardson

POEM:  Don’t Hesitate by Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty

of lives and whole towns destroyed or about

to be. We are not wise, and not very often

kind. And much can never be redeemed.

Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this

is its way of fighting back, that sometimes

something happens better than all the riches

or power in the world. It could be anything,

but very likely you notice it in the instant

when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the

case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid

of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

Blessing for the Brokenhearted by Jan Richardson

"There is no remedy for love but to love more."

—Henry David Thoreau

Let us agree

for now

that we will not say

the breaking

makes us stronger

or that it is better

to have this pain

than to have done

without this love.

Let us promise

we will not

tell ourselves

time will heal

the wound,

when every day

our waking

opens it anew.

Perhaps for now

it can be enough

to simply marvel

at the mystery

of how a heart

so broken

can go on beating,

as if it were made

for precisely this—

as if it knows

the only cure for love

is more of it,

as if it sees

the heart’s sole remedy

for breaking

is to love still,

as if it trusts

that its own

persistent pulse

is the rhythm

of a blessing

we cannot

begin to fathom

but will save us

nonetheless.

QUOTE(S):  “What is the meaning of life? That was all — a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one." ~ Virginia Woolf

“Be yourself. Try to matter. Be a good friend. Love freely, even if you are likely--almost guaranteed--to be hurt, betrayed. Do what you were created to do. You'll know what this is, because it is what you keep creeping up to, peering at, dreaming of. Do it…” ~ Tennessee Williams 

“Life exists only at this very moment, and in this moment it is infinite and eternal, for the present moment is infinitely small; before we can measure it, it has gone, and yet it exists forever.” ~ Alan Watts

And So It Goes (Billy Joel)

Top pic is Eric's Instagram tagline, and below that a sticker I bought and installed on the rear windshield of my car, *inspired by* E's Instagram tagline.  Bought one for Chico, Sarah, and Duyen as well... 💗

Just when it feels as if Life is settling down, we had an appointment with Bank of America to attempt to get the details of E's secondary checking account (where he was saving up for Duyen's ring).  Even though we presented them with his death certificate, we still had to fill out forms which then have to go through their Estate Department (at first I thought she said *State* Department, and wondered why the government had to get involved - ha!).  So many flaming hoops.  Ugh... 🔥

Today we spread Eric's ashes at the park in our old neighborhood, where we lived from 1992-2018.  More on that Tuesday.  Not sure if it's peace or panic, but I'm feeling quiet tonight.

SONG:  And So It Goes by Billy Joel

BOOK:  Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

POEM(S):  In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side 

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

On Safety by Nadine Pinede

When the storms of life

come bearing down

threatening to

lash you senseless,

seek shelter.

Find the warm

blanket you caress

like the felted fur

of your cat

curled before

a glowing hearth,

of breath that fills

both heart and earth.

Breathe.

There’s always time

to curse the darkness.

After the tears,

light a honeycomb candle

and heal your own sun.

The bridge

from sorrow to joy

may seem to vanish

in the flood,

but who says you

can’t join those

who cross over,

with a single

braided rope

of gratitude.

QUOTE:  “Misery won't touch you gentle. It always leaves its thumbprints on you; sometimes it leaves them for others to see, sometimes for nobody but you to know of.” ~ Edwidge Danticat

Bluebird (Paul McCartney & Wings)

My days are aimless.  I start out with the best of intentions to Get. Sh*t. Done. and about this time in the evening, 9 p.m.-ish, I realize I have Gotten. Nothing. Done.  Well, that's not totally true.  We have accomplished much but, since yesterday was four weeks and tomorrow will be one month, I am more consumed by the landmarks than the benchmarks.  I am trying to write two or three thank-you notes a day, in addition to putting one foot in front of the other, but I am weary and sad and unaccepting of my circumstances.  

It seems that neither side of my brain is working:  the analytical (left) nor the creative (right).  I am forgetting words... I haven't read anything of import since Eric died (not even the NYT e-newsletter, once my Gospel)... I have lost my drive and focus.  I have regained my appetite, but for crappy foods.  I am certainly sleeping better, but morning is still my enemy, and I am napping again in the early-afternoon as avoidance therapy.  Floundering, Listless, Wallowing.  What is the f*cking point?

Melanie sent me a link to what looks like a gorgeous grief sanctuary (imagine that!) in New Mexico.  Tomorrow I will use the Google to see if there's anything similar in South Florida and, if I can't find something local, I will create it for myself, maybe starting Monday:  stretching, meditation, yoga, walking, grief support groups, therapy, massage, AquaFit classes, healthy eating, music, blogging/journaling, etc. (you know, like *normal* people do).  Maybe by going inward, I can use external means to heal.  Boot Camp for Lost Souls (that would be me).  Thank you for the idea, sweet friend... 💗 

I am attending a Reiki Circle this Friday night and, since it's in a New Age store, I might even look into having a private reading done in the near future.  I was experiencing so many signs in the first few weeks (rainbows, an owl, songs) and, although I am still paying attention, it seems as if the visitations have stopped for a while.  I miss him and I want him to come back and reassure me that he's there, even if he's not here.

SONG:  Bluebird by Paul McCartney & Wings

BOOK:  The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year by Margaret Renkl

POEM(S):  The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck

At the end of my suffering

there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death

I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.

Then nothing. The weak sun

flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive

as consciousness

buried in the dark earth.

Then it was over: that which you fear, being

a soul and unable

to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth

bending a little. And what I took to be

birds darting in low shrubs.

You who do not remember

passage from the other world

I tell you I could speak again: whatever

returns from oblivion returns

to find a voice:

from the center of my life came

a great fountain, deep blue

shadows on azure seawater.

Some Days by Philip Terman

Some days you have to turn off the news

and listen to the bird or truck

or the neighbor screaming out her life.

You have to close all the books and open

all the windows so that whatever swirls

inside can leave and whatever flutters

against the glass can enter. Some days

you have to unplug the phone and step

out to the porch and rock all afternoon

and allow the sun to tell you what to do.

The whole day has to lie ahead of you

like railroad tracks that drift off into gravel.

Some days you have to walk down the wooden

staircase through the evening fog to the river,

where the peach roses are closing,

sit on the grassy bank and wait for the two geese.

Invitation by Mary Oliver

Oh do you have time

to linger

for just a little while

out of your busy

and very important day

for the goldfinches

that have gathered

in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,

to see who can sing

the highest note,

or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,

or the most tender?

Their strong, blunt beaks

drink the air

as they strive

melodiously

not for your sake

and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning

but for sheer delight and gratitude –

believe us, they say,

it is a serious thing

just to be alive

on this fresh morning

in the broken world.

I beg of you,

do not walk by

without pausing

to attend to this

rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.

It could mean everything.

It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:

You must change your life.

QUOTE:  “I will cut adrift—I will sit on pavements and drink coffee—I will dream; I will take my mind out of its iron cage and let it swim—this fine October.” ~ Virginia Woolf

[Two] Week[s] (with apologies to Barenaked Ladies)

A wild bit of synchronicity/magic this morning:  rewinding to when I uploaded last night's blog post, then found a poem I liked better and switched it to the new one.  Went to bed and, as always, when I wake up, I fix a cup of coffee and meander out to the balcony for an hour-ish, whereupon I sip the aforementioned caffeine, crank out all my NYT puzzles (Wordle, Connections, mini-crossword, Spelling Bee, and Letter Boxed)... then read their e-newsletter.  

In the midst of all that, I observed motion out of the corner of my eye, and saw a bird flying straight at me.  Fortunately my balcony is screened-in, so I was more fascinated than fearful.  It landed on the railing trim that surrounds the screen, swiveled its head around to look straight at me, and I realized... it was an owl... a gray owl.  What?!?  Then it flew back to wherever it came from.  It happened too fast for me to pull up the camera on my phone to document the experience.

I have mentioned previously that our Wild Kingdom backyard is replete with Muscovy ducks, herons, bluejays, wood storks, ibises, Egyptian geese, mockingbirds, Quaker parrots... and *never*, in our 5 1/2 years living here, *never* have I seen an owl, much less an up-close-and-personal visitation.  Hi, Eric.  Please come back soon... 🦉

Oh, and here's last night's poem, repeated:

Mother and Son by James Crews

Though you’re gone now,

my body still remembers

being held by you that evening,

wearing my blue fleece pajamas

with a white owl on the front,

and you saying, “Who, who,”

over and over, both of us laughing

as you explained that’s the sound

owls make when they need

to find each other in the darkness 

before sleep, a way of saying:

I can’t see you, but I know 

you must be there.

"Many Native American tribes believe Owl is the spirit of a deceased ancestor or other spirit," says Kathy Harmon-Luber, a certified reiki & sound therapy practitioner and author of Suffering to Thriving. Owls are believed to serve as a bridge between worlds—life and the afterlife."  Goosebumps.... 😮

I had lots of errands to run today, and it felt weird, on the two-week anniversary of Eric's death, to be out and about with people who didn't have a clue I had lost my son... when I really just want to be screaming it from every corner of the world.  How dare everyone be normal?  Right?

And then I swung by Cynthia's to drop off some items, and she asked if I was ready to collect the hugs she'd been saving for me, and I surprised myself by saying yes.  And she gave me some Calm Tea and some Happy Heart Tea and told me about a holistic medicine she'd like to share with me when everyone goes home next week.  Another yes please... 😴

And I had two weeks worth of compost, so I swung by the farm (oh Hope Garden, I've missed you!) to dump that, as well as walk up and down our row and reacquaint myself with everything.  Obviously this coming weekend is full, so I will get back in the groove the following Saturday.  Breathe In/Breathe Out...

And my dear friend Michele and I had scheduled a phone chat, which (for various reasons:  my errands ran long, my phone needed charging, etc.) I kept rolling over from 2 p.m., to 3... and then finally at 4 we were voice-to-voice... for a most lovely and wrenching two hours.  M and her family have known E since he was 6 or 7, I think.  Good times (major understatement)... 🎉

SONG:  [Two] Week[s] (with apologies to Barenaked Ladies)

BOOK:  Little Owl Lost by Chris Haughton (Author, Illustrator)

POEM:  First Light by Susan Moorhead 

I know this sound, first birds of morning.

As a child, I waited for hours for the drape

of night to roll up again. Leaning into the first

hint of the fresh day, the fragile lace of hesitant

light, the receding darkness dappled with bird song,

able at last to close my eyes.

I know this sound, some kind of redemption,

waking me from scattered sleep, a healing fragment

even as the work of the previous day marks my bones

in notches. Night leaves its small fur as the dawn

pushes, as the birds persist, and morning unfurls

like a promise you hoped someone would keep.

QUOTE:  “It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” ~ Mary Oliver

Glitter in the Air (Pink)

Too funny!  I was going through my blog drafts and ran across this one dated January 31, 2023... all ready to go except for the book.  Hated to let it go to waste so, I just found a book and am posting now, revisiting a slice of my life from 8 months ago.  A virtual time capsule!  So many things have changed since then.  That's Life, right?... 🤷

"Have you ever wished for an endless night?

Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight

Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?"

Can't even remember what show or movie I was watching a few weeks ago when this song popped up... so I filed it away for later.  Later is now... 😍

Despite my pain issues (dissipating but still here), I am feeling very lucky these days with my overly-full yet beyond-joy-filled life:

~ The True North Project Pam invited me to be on the board of is really taking off; we are now officially a non-profit, we have a fiscal sponsor and a bank account.  Waiting on website construction as well as a logo for branding, and then we should be able to go live with what's on the books and what's in the works.  Did I tell you I'm flying up to Maryland the last weekend of March for our inaugural concert?  Pam has also asked me to collaborate with her on booking, and one of my goals is to invite/confirm Dar for the fall/winter season.  I will make this happen!

~ ~ This week is the SFFF (actually now called the South Florida Folk and Acoustic Music Festival).  I've been very busy with the festival prep, not as a board or staff member but, as Dar would call it, a Conscious Bridger in many behind-the-scenes ways.  It feels good to help.

~ Went to Bryan's (the horticulturist/plant provider for the festival stages, one of the connections I made) today to trade a book (Late Migrations, my discovery toward the end of 2022) for a plant (he's been telling me about Lady of the Night, which blooms every full moon; next one is February 5!).  He played me a John Prine song on guitar (I of course cried), toured me around his nursery, and gave me a witch ball, which I hung on my balcony when I got home.

~ Our A/C went down last night but, after a phone call this a.m., they showed up at 2 p.m. to fix it (just needed unclogging, which happens once or twice a year in South Florida).

~ Had a great two-hour phone chat with Michele when I got home from Bryan's (also the library to pick up Bitch); we haven't talked (texted and e-mailed, yes) since the week after Christmas, and we were long overdue.

~ Sarah called to check in (busy weekend for her), Eric has had quite a few Zoom job interviews in anticipation of his move to Atlanta, and Rob's talking about posting on his blog again.

~ Robert and I feel more in balance and at peace lately; even when things are rocky between us, he almost always gives me a back massage when I come to bed, and he's been even more attentive these last few days with my pulled/strained muscle(s).  Touch is definitely one of my Love Languages, both giving as well as receiving.

~ I abandoned a book after Fadiman, and last night I started Lessons in Chemistry, which I love so far.  Please let it continue!

SONG:  Glitter in the Air by Pink

BOOK:  JOMO: Celebrate the Joy of Missing Out! by Jessica Misener

POEM(S):  BYOF by Maya Stein

It’s a new day. Bring your own fork. Bring your own footwear. Bring your own

fragrance, your own faith, your flamboyance, your fetishes, your fashionable lateness.

Become your own fantasy. Be your one friend. Believe yesterday was only a fragment.

Make a betrothal of yeses on fortune. Brush last year’s offenses free. Banish

your outdated fury. Breathe. Yearn. Opine. Flex. Or bleat. Or yodel. Or remember

how to be frivolous. Break yourself out of what no longer fits. Bloom. Occupy your body

as it were flowering perennially. Write your blessings down, or yell them, opulently,

into the span of a quiet forest. Brave the yeti of an old fear. Bulldoze the yoke

of what’s keeping you fixed. Burn the yardstick, the odometer, the flagrant shames.

Build your radiance from the flames.

i am running into a new year by Lucille Clifton

i am running into a new year

and the old years blow back

like a wind

that i catch in my hair

like strong fingers like

all my old promises and

it will be hard to let go

of what i said to myself

about myself

when i was sixteen and

twenty-six and thirty-six

even thirty-six but

i am running into a new year

and i beg what i love and

i leave to forgive me

Storage by Mary Oliver

When I moved from

one house to another,

there were many things

I had no room for.

What does one do?

I rented a storage space

and filled it.

Years passed.

Occasionally,

I went there

and looked in,

but nothing happened,

not a single twinge

of the heart.

As I grew older

the things I cared about

grew fewer but were

more important,

so one day I undid the lock

and called the trash man.

He took everything.

I felt like the little donkey

when his burden is finally

lifted.

Things! Burn them, burn them!

Make a beautiful fire!

More room in your heart

for Love, for the trees.

For the birds who own

nothing;

✨

the reason they

can fly."

QUOTE:  “And now let us believe in a long year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been...” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke 

Bring Love

wherever you go.

Shine Light

wherever it's dark.

Leave Blessings 

wherever you've been.

Be Kind

wherever you are.

~ Mary Davis

The End of the Summer (Dar Williams)

"Today is Autumn Equinox also known as a Pagan holiday called Mabon when night and day are at equal length, it is mainly a harvest festival, it is the last harvest before winter comes. In old times it would be a time to start stocking up on fruit, wheat, corn and grain for the winter months ahead.

This is a time of transformation, The great wheel has turned as we pass into a new season and say goodbye to Summer. The earth is going through a major shift, where darkness will now start to take over light as the nights slowly start to get longer and days get shorter. Cold will slowly start to take over warmth and death will start to take over life as plants will wilt and trees will start to lose their leaves, fields will become baron and grey. wild animals will start to hibernate and gather food for the winter months.

Mabon is a time of thanksgiving, we thank the God and Goddess for all that we have and thank them for the harvest we see before us. The sap of trees returns back to their roots deep in the earth, changing the greens of summer to the fires of autumn, to the flaming reds, oranges and golds. We are returning to the dark from whence we came. The Goddess is radiant as Harvest Queen and the God finally dies with his gift of pure love with the cutting of the last grain, he will descend into the underworld, his last day on earth will be Samhain when a gate will open between our world and underworld making the veil between our two world become thin.

We enjoy the abundance of fruit and vegetables at this time. It is customary to make stews made with root vegetables and to bake home made bread and pies, we would have a big family meal and invite friends and neighbours to join us, drinking cider and apple juice.

On Mabon we adorn our altars with pumpkins, nuts, corn, wheat, squash, fruits and any other seasonal fair and any falling leaves, pine cones or acorns we may find to honour the season and to thank the God and Goddess for the wealth of harvest bestowed upon us. Light candles with Autumn colours of red, orange, white, brown or gold. Also candles of black and white, black to represent the God and white to represent the Goddess. The alter will bring luck and protection. When lighting the candles ask the Goddess for her blessings and the God for protection for the colder, darker months to come.

Mabon is a transition for the Triple Goddess as she goes from her mother phase to her crone phase, her final phase from her journey of the year.

The Autumn Equinox is a time of balance, of both light and dark, it is a time to look within ourselves and balance our thoughts and emotions and to find balance in our lives. To embrace our dark and our light equally as one cannot exist without the other. it is when we stop and relax and enjoy the fruits of our personal harvests, whether they be from toiling in our gardens, working at our jobs, raising our families, or just coping with the hussle and bussle of everyday life.

Mabon reminds us of the cycle of life, death and rebirth. As we go into the dark half of the year, we also know that Spring and Summer will be upon us again and life will flourish once more.

Hoof and Horn, Hoof and Horn

All that dies shall be reborn

Corn and Grain, Corn and Grain

All that falls shall rise again

May your Mabon be memorable and your hearts and spirits be filled to overflowing."

When I resurrected my blog in January 2020, I vowed not to re-use songs/books/poems/quotes... but it is a no-brainer to recycle Dar's anthem on this Autumn Equinox, 14 (!) years later almost to the day... 🍃🍁🍂

P.S.  AmyW, I miss our End-of-the-Summer-cards tradition; thanks for coordinating all those many years... 💞

P.P.S.  EOTS is also responsible for initiating a dear friendship with another Dar-lister in 1997, and we maintain a strong connection still... 😍

SONG:  The End of the Summer by Dar Williams

BOOK:  The End Of Summer by Rosamunde Pilcher

POEM:  Song for Autumn by Mary Oliver

In the deep fall

don’t you imagine the leaves think how

comfortable it will be to touch

the earth instead of the

nothingness of air and the endless

freshets of wind? And don’t you think

the trees themselves, especially those with mossy,

warm caves, begin to think

of the birds that will come — six, a dozen — to sleep

inside their bodies? And don’t you hear

the goldenrod whispering goodbye,

the everlasting being crowned with the first

tuffets of snow? The pond

vanishes, and the white field over which

the fox runs so quickly brings out

its blue shadows. And the wind pumps its

bellows. And at evening especially,

the piled firewood shifts a little,

longing to be on its way.

QUOTE:  "Come, little leaves," said the Wind one day, "Come to the meadows with me and play. Put on your dresses of red and gold; For Summer is past, and the days grow cold.” ~ George Cooper

Rise (Katy Perry)

An amazingly great week, such that I've posted twice (which hasn't happened in a while).  Busy, too!  

Monday was Zoom with Nancy and Judi, moved from our usual Tuesday because Nance and I headed up to SusanP's for Beach Day on Tuesday (it's been a while, because SP went back to the classroom in January, taught three weeks of summer school, and is just now free again, but only for a few weeks until she starts back teaching on August 9); babysat Colin Monday night; Wednesday morning the aforementioned get-together with Cynthia; Thursday lunch with Eric (his birthday was Wednesday, but he had to work), a library pick-up, and an afternoon phone chat with Michele... 💗

I've volunteered to nanny/governess/Lala this weekend for Colin so Sarah can attend both Dave Matthews' concerts in West Palm Beach (I will go up with her this afternoon to hang with the little guy tonight and Saturday, returning Sunday morning; we're staying with friends of hers who have a pool and, much as I'll miss attending the show, which I used to do with her years ago, it will be a bit of a vacation for me, not to mention a chance to hang with my darling grandbaby!

I haven't watched much of the Olympics, but I'm inspired by what I have seen, and read, and what others have reported back.  Proud of Simone Biles for giving herself time and space from all the pressure.  Very cool that skateboarding is now an Olympic sport.  See article below about Pink and the Norwegian women's handball team.  Our DVRs are full, we're all losing sleep, and "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat" is a cliche for a reason.  Especially since the Summer Games were cancelled last year because of the pandemic, it's more than a bit heartwarming to escape, even for a few moments, from Delta variants, long COVID, and anti-vaxxers.  

It is indeed Feel Good Friday and, as is tradition, five items below of beauty, interest, and humor to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy! 

~ Medals That Were Won Not in Pentathlon or 100 Meters, but in Iambic Pentameter:  But few people today recall that poetry, just like the 100 meters, was an official Olympic competition from 1912 to 1948. Sadly, the names of the medal winners are not listed on the International Olympic Committee’s rosters. (When I read the poem below, I of course had to Google the epigraph and d*mn if it's not true.  Wow!)

~ Jill Biden, Changing the Fashion Game:  Cheering the American Olympians, the first lady broke with recent sartorial customs.

~ Pink offers to pay fines for Norwegian women’s beach handball team:  European Handball Federation fined players €1,500 for wearing shorts instead of bikini bottoms

~ How to Get Things Done When You Don’t Want to Do Anything:  The drive to be your best can be hard to muster right about now. Here are some ways to get your mojo back.

~ Vegan Cinnamon Roll Chair Cinnaholic to Nearly Double in Size with 60 New Locations:  Cinnaholic—which offers an array of customizable vegan cinnamon rolls—has 60 new locations in development across the United States and Canada.  (Um, hello... there's already a Cinnaholic in Coral Springs, and no one thought to tell me?!?  Can you say Road Trip?... 😍 )

SONG:  Rise by Katy Perry

BOOK:  Total Olympics: Every Obscure, Hilarious, Dramatic, and Inspiring Tale Worth Knowing by Jeremy Fuchs

POEM:  Taking Your Olympic Measure by Alberto Ríos

—Poetry was an Olympic event from 1912-1948.

Think of the records you have held:

For one second, you were the world’s youngest person.

It was a long time ago, but still.

At this moment, you are living 

In the farthest thousandth-of-a-second in the history of time.

You have beaten yesterday’s record, again.

You were perhaps the only participant,

But in the race to get from your bedroom to the bathroom, 

You won.

You win so much, all the time in all things.

Your heart simply beats and beats and beats—

It does not lose, although perhaps one day.

Nevertheless, the lists of firsts for you is endless—

Doing what you have not done before,

Tasting sake and mole, smelling bergamot, hearing

Less well than you used to—

Not all records are for the scrapbook, of course—

Sometimes you are the best at being the worst.

Some records are secret—you know which ones.

Some records you’re not even aware of.

In general, however, at the end of a long day, you are—

Unlikely as it may seem—the record holder of note.  

QUOTE:  "Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable." ~ Mary Oliver

Alive (Dala)

Quite simply, yoga changed my life.  In February 2017 I started taking, and truly committed to, Monday night classes at my UU church.  In six months, I saw/felt major improvement in my strength, flexibility, and mindfulness.  I was more in touch with my body than I'd been in years, and my spirit was more peaceful.  I learned coping mechanisms for dealing with stress, as well as increased self-confidence in my physical abilities.  Because of the increased self-confidence, I segued to our LA Fitness, twice a week.

 

Before that, I always thought of yoga classes as a room full of skinny, blond, scantily-clad young women.  I could *never* have envisioned myself there.  Now, not only did I see myself there, I followed through and put myself there (Note to Self:  many of them are full-figured, dark- or gray-haired, and wear T-shirts...  😉 ) 

The gym instructor made me feel that I could do *most* of what she taught, but also offered challenges I could see myself achieving on down the road.  None of it would have been possible without Victoria's patient and loving tutelage.  She trained me up to fly away (roots and wings), and my gratitude is eternal.  

I continued classes at the gym until the pandemic, and now I have a home practice, either Yoga with Adriene via YouTube or on my own with a series of poses I've put together.  It's a great way to start the day (or mid-afternoon or evening), stretching, breathing, escaping yet at the same time attuning.  So many challenges, but so much growth as well.  I am amazed when my body will do things I never envisioned.  What a great journey indeed.

However, I still have problems with tree pose, but we all know that balance, on many levels, has never been my strong suit... 😁

 

P.S.  Veni Vidi Vici (translation: Oooooo... I'm on Music Sensory Overload... an evening snack of watermelon is the best... :-) 

NR:  The Midnight Library by Matt Haig

SONG:  Alive by Dala 

BOOK:  Yoga After 50 For Dummies by Larry Payne PhD

POEM:  First Yoga Lesson by Mary Oliver

"Be a lotus in the pond,” she said, “opening

slowly, no single energy tugging

against another but peacefully,

all together.”

I couldn’t even touch my toes.

“Feel your quadriceps stretching?” she asked.

Well, something was certainly stretching.

Standing impressively upright, she

raised one leg and placed it against

the other, then lifted her arms and

shook her hands like leaves. “Be a tree,” she said.

I lay on the floor, exhausted.

But to be a lotus in the pond

opening slowly, and very slowly rising–

that I could do.

QUOTE(S): "Love is a friendship set to music." ~ Joseph Campbell 

“Happiness comes of the capacity to feel deeply, to enjoy simply, to think freely, to risk life, to be needed.” ~ Storm Jameson

Parachute (The Sea The Sea)

April 1 is most certainly April Fool's Day... but it is also the beginning of National Poetry Month:

Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of businesses and non-profit organizations participate through readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other events.

When I was on Facebook, I prided myself on posting a poem every day in April to celebrate.  After I deactivated my account, I worried about what I'd do to honor the occasion, not realizing at the time that I would revive my blog.  I've enjoyed discovering new poems (go back to 2007 and 2008 to find some of my old favorites), and am delighted to be sharing them.

Despite my sporadic uploads these last few months, I will once again attempt to blog daily, at least until the 30th, partly to comfort my monkey mind and partly to follow through on my poetry promise.  Eeek, and sigh... 💜

SONG:  Parachute by The Sea The Sea (this duo is amazing!  As soon as I heard them, years ago, I knew I had to book them in the Labyrinth Cafe concert series at our local UU, and we finally made that happen in February 2015, in a co-bill with the equally-wonderful Jennings & Keller.  Seems they released a new CD in September 2020, which I didn't know about; bonus song, cover of The Indigo Girls' Galileo, that a friend shared with me earlier today... 💞 )

BOOK:  A Child's Introduction to Poetry: Listen While You Learn About the Magic Words That Have Moved Mountains, Won Battles, and Made Us Laugh and Cry by Michael Driscoll, Meredith Hamilton (Artist)

POEM:  Rules For Poetry by Rick Lupert

Never use adjectives

unless you’re trying to describe something

and you don’t want to do it the hard way.

Never use the word “forever.”

It reminds people they’re going to die

and the last thing you need is people distracted

by their mortality during your poem.

Write what you know

unless you’re a fool, in which case

look to the internet, and write about something there.

Avoid vowels

and their angry sister

the letter Y.

Avoid cliché.

On the other hand…

Learn the difference between

epigraphs,

epigrams and

episiotomies.

Use as few words as possible.

In fact, hand out blank sheets of paper

and tell people it’s your finest work.

If you ever use the phrase “darkness in my soul”

be prepared for me to come to your house

and kill you.

If you’re going to write in form, do it right.

For example, as I understand it, a haiku

is eight hundred words written while

sitting on a cheesecake.

Line breaks are important,

but use them carefully. Once you’ve broken a line

its parents will never forgive you.

Finally, go to poetry workshops.

Sometimes they serve food and

you can’t write poetry if you’re dead

because you forgot to eat.

QUOTE:  Poetry isn't a profession, it's a way of life. It's an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that." ~ Mary Oliver

Poetic Justice (Buddy Mondlock/Tom Kimmel)

I received a lovely card a few weeks ago from my former UU congregation (MollyL's handwriting, I'm pretty sure), wishing me a Happy Birthday and inviting me to their upcoming David Fisher Memorial Annual Poetry Service, via Zoom, which I had coordinated for the previous nine years.  I think I surprised everyone by showing up, and we were all mutually glad to see each other.  It was delightful to view everyone's faces, especially Rev. Susan, who is recovering from a tragic car accident, and the usual cast of poets/readers:  Alfredo, Gary, Sarah/Birch, Jerry... as well as a few newcomers.

As I had spoken from the pulpit for many years running, updating the math:

If you began attending or visiting the UU Church of Ft. Lauderdale after June 26, 2010 (the date of David Fisher’s passing, at the age of 81), you may be wondering who he was and why this service is a memorial to him.  During Coffee Hour after today’s service, you should approach one of our long-term members and ask them to tell you a David Fisher story.

In the meantime, here’s the 75-words-or-less answer:  David Fisher graduated college with a philosophy degree, he did two years of Army service, he was a doctor (practicing internal medicine), he was a minister, he was a college professor, he was a psychiatrist, he was a member of our Sunday Services Committee, and he was our choir director from 2003-2009.  He was a brother, a father, a grandfather… and he was in a long-term committed relationship with his partner Paul. 

Rev. Gail (our previous minister) said "he was one of the most graceful, gracious, grace-filled people I ever met” with the "unique ability to live lightly in the world and have great impact.  He was a minister in every aspect of his life.” 

David and I shared a love of verse… and his annual poetry service was always a spiritual experience.  I had volunteered to help coordinate the last one (April 2010) since David’s health issues were becoming a factor… and he had actually been in the hospital the week before the service. However, he pushed to be discharged the day prior, which made our collaboration even more inspiring and joyful… 

In his absence, this is my ninth year coordinating, and I am beyond honored to have taken up the baton, to make sure this service remains an annual event. 

However, this service is about so much more than poetry.  We here at the UUCFL are rich:  in tradition (remember Noralee’s cat poems?)… in community (look how many of you chose to attend and/or participate)… and in memories (David Fisher would be proud).

Here's/cheers to David, and to the many who carry on his legacy.  I certainly vow to continue!


SONG:  Poetic Justice by Buddy Mondlock and Tom Kimmel

BOOK:  The Carrying by Ada Limón (here's a wonderful interview with the poet, who was new to me before Sunday's service... 💖)

POEM:  This Day, O Soul by Walt Whitman

This day, O soul, I give you a wondrous mirror;
Long in the dark, in tarnish and cloud it lay—But the cloud
has pass'd, and the tarnish gone;
…Behold, O soul! it is now a clean and bright mirror,
Faithfully showing you all the things of the world.

QUOTE(S):  "Who knows anyway what it is, that wild, silky part of ourselves without which no poem can live?" ~ Mary Oliver

"Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away." ~ by Carl Sandburg

On Top of the World (Imagine Dragons)

[This is brilliantly creative.  Clicking to enlarge will heighten your enjoyment!  (thanks to NickA for passing it on, and to Reddit, where he got it from...  :-) ]


It's Feel Good Friday (do it twice and it's a tradition), five links to brighten your day/weekend/week.  Enjoy!

~ The Kirsten Maxwell Livestreaming Event, Friday, April 24 (tonight!) at 7:30 p.m.:  Kirsten Maxwell is a New York native, raised between Sunnyside, Queens and Huntington, Long Island. She attributes her love of music to her parents who met performing at the famed Amato Opera. Maxwell made her stage debut at age 5, and remained there, changing costumes and styles, exploring opera, musical theater, folk, and everything in between. Her eclectic taste and talent for switching between genres remain, but she can most often be found playing guitar and singing one of her original songs.


~ This Is Why There Is A Record-Breaking Spike In Pet Adoptions in Palm Beach County:  For the first time in its history, which stretches five decades, one of three kennels at Palm Beach County Animal Care and Control’s shelter in West Palm Beach is completely empty.


~ An Evening With Richard Blanco: Poems for Isolation, Monday, April 27 at 6:00 p.m., Livestreamed via Crowdcast:  Miami Book Fair, the Miami Downtown Development Authority (DDA), and Books & Books invite you to a reading by Miami’s own presidential inaugural poet, Richard Blanco. Join us from your balcony, bedroom or home cocktail bar for an evening of reflection, as we celebrate poetry and its power to carry us through difficult moments. 


~ Buy Girl Scout Cookies Online: To protect girls and communities in the wake of COVID-19, Girl Scouts have suspended door-to-door sales and cookie booths.  But you can still buy your favorite cookies online today and have them shipped to your door—or donate cookies and we'll distribute them safely to provide comfort to first responders, volunteers, and local causes in need.  (thanks to Nance for this tip!  Yes, I ordered four boxes of Thin Mints, vegan, you know!, which are due to arrive *tomorrow* and will go straight into the freezer...  :-)


~  Todd Snider on John Prine: ‘I Couldn’t Believe I Knew Him’:  The Nashville songwriter on bonding with his mentor, taking him out for pizza, and that time they got lost in Europe


~ Bonus link!  Shelter in Poems: A Virtual Reading, Thursday, April 30, 7:30 p.m. EDT:  The evening will include poems presented by:  Elizabeth Alexander, Sam Beam, Richard Blanco, Julia Bullock, Marilyn Chin, Rita Dove, Patrick Gaspard, Amanda Gorman, Joy Harjo, Juan Felipe Herrera, Edward Hirsch, Stephin Merritt, Maulik Pancholy, Alison Pill, Dan Rather, Alberto Ríos, Mustafa Shakir, Naomi Shihab Nye, Lorna Simpson, Amber Tamblyn. and other special guests.  The event will raise funds to support our free publications and programs, including our K-12 education program. As National Poetry Month comes to a close, many of us will have weathered a month of solitude in an act of solidarity to protect each other. During these weeks, poetry has brought us all closer together, even as we remain physically apart.



SONG:  On Top of the World by Imagine Dragons

BOOK:  A Year of Writing Dangerously: 365 Days of Inspiration and Encouragement by Barbara Abercrombie

POEM:  Thoughts After the Poem Wild Geese by Adrie Kusserow (who was inspired by Mary Oliver's poem to write a coronavirus adaptation)

You do not have to become totally zen,
You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better,
your body slimmer, your children more creative.

You do not have to "maximize its benefits"
By using this time to work even more,
write the bestselling Corona Diaries,
Or preach the gospel of ZOOM.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn
everything capitalism has taught you,
(That you are nothing if not productive,
That consumption equals happiness,
That the most important unit is the single self.
That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine).

Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold,
the ones you sheepishly sell others,
and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling.
Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills,
suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks.

Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting,
Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind,
a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors.

Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds,
Could birth at any moment if we clear some space
From the same tired hegemonies.

Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch,
Stunned by what you see,
Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins
Because it gives you something to do.

Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing,
Do not let capitalism co-opt this moment,
laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart.

Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath,
Your stress boa-constricting your chest.
Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods,
Your need for a drink have every right to be here,
And are no less sacred than a yoga class.

Whoever you are, no matter how broken,
the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over
announcing your place as legit, as forgiven,
even if you fail and fail and fail again.
remind yourself over and over,
all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body
all have their place here, now in this world.

It is your birthright to be held
deeply, warmly in the family of things,
not one cell left in the cold.

QUOTE:  "Feeling good about your life, but not expressing a heartfelt 'thank you,' is like wrapping a gift for someone and never giving it to them." ~ Chip Conley