Company of Friends (Danny Schmidt)

I've said before that Danny Schmidt has been one of my favorite songwriters for the last three years - something about his rough yet tender voice, his incisive guitar playing and his insightful lyrics have a lump-in-the-throat effect on me and, to borrow a word from what is now my new favorite DS song, I am smitten...

I am also blessed in that, by a stroke of good fortune and timing, I'll be hosting him in a house concert soon... a dream come true (pinch me!) - when it was determined Danny would be a performer for our upcoming South Florida Folk Festival, I wasted no time in calling and asking if he'd be interested in giving a concert in my living room, and he graciously accepted.

It was a delight to run my house concert series for four years, from January 2001 to December 2004 and, when I gave it up, the timing felt right... plus now I'm booking our UU concerts (into our third season now) - I've had a few one-offs since the "official" end, which prompts me to advertise Danny's appearance as the Third Annual Heart's Desire House Concerts Going Out of Business Sale... :-)

SONG: Company of Friends by Danny Schmidt

BOOK: Why We Believe What We Believe: Uncovering Our Biological Need for Meaning, Spirituality, and Truth by Andrew Newberg, Mark Robert Waldman

POEM: Credo by Andrew Zawacki

You say wind is only wind
& carries nothing nervous
in its teeth.
I do not believe it.
I have seen leaves desist
from moving
although the branches
move, & I
believe a cyclone has secrets
the weather is ignorant of.

I believe
in the violence of not knowing.
I've seen a river lose its course
& join itself again,
watched it court
a stream & coax the stream
into its current,
& I have seen
rivers, not unlike
you, that failed to find
their way back.

I believe the rapport
between water & sand, the advent
from mirror to face.

I believe in rain
to cover what mourns,
in hail that revives
& sleet that erodes, believe
whatever falls
is a figure of rain
& now I believe in torrents that take
everything down with them.
The sky calls it quits,
or so I believe,
when air, or earth, or air
has had enough.

I believe in disquiet,
the pressure it plies, believe a cloud
to govern the limits of night.
I say I,
but little is left to say it, much less
mean it--
& yet I do.

Let there be
no mistake:
I do not believe
things are reborn in fire.
They're consumed by fire
& the fire has a life of its own.

QUOTE: "What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it." ~ Ezra Pound

I Believe You (Todd Snider)

Here is a link to The Learning Curve of Gratitude, Mary Chapin Carpenter's This I Believe essay for NPR's Weekend Edition, Sunday June 24, 2007 - I've also copied and pasted it below...
"I believe in what I learned at the grocery store.

Eight weeks ago, I was released from the hospital after suffering a pulmonary embolism. I had just finished a tour and a week after returning home, severe chest pain and terrible breathlessness landed me in the ER. A scan revealed blood clots in my lungs.

Everyone told me how lucky I was. A pulmonary embolism can take your life in an instant. I was familiar enough with the medical term, but not familiar with the pain, the fear and the depression that followed.

Everything I had been looking forward to came to a screeching halt. I had to cancel my upcoming tour. I had to let my musicians and crew members go. The record company, the booking agency: I felt that I had let everyone down.

But there was nothing to do but get out of the hospital, go home and get well.

I tried hard to see my unexpected time off as a gift, but I would open a novel and couldn't concentrate. I would turn on the radio, then shut if off. Familiar clouds gathered above my head, and I couldn't make them go away with a pill or a movie or a walk. This unexpected time was becoming a curse, filling me with anxiety, fear and self-loathing — all of the ingredients of the darkness that is depression.

Sometimes, it's the smile of a stranger that helps. Sometimes it's a phone call from a long absent friend, checking on you. I found my lifeline at the grocery store.

One morning, the young man who rang up my groceries and asked me if I wanted paper or plastic also told me to enjoy the rest of my day. I looked at him and I knew he meant it. It stopped me in my tracks. I went out and I sat in my car and cried.

What I want more than ever is to appreciate that I have this day, and tomorrow and hopefully days beyond that. I am experiencing the learning curve of gratitude.

I don't want to say "have a nice day" like a robot. I don't want to get mad at the elderly driver in front of me. I don't want to go crazy when my Internet access is messed up. I don't want to be jealous of someone else's success. You could say that this litany of sins indicates that I don't want to be human. The learning curve of gratitude, however, is showing me exactly how human I am.

I don't know if my doctors will ever be able to give me the precise reason why I had a life-threatening illness. I do know that the young man in the grocery store reminded me that every day is all there is, and that is my belief.

Tonight I will cook dinner, tell my husband how much I love him, curl up with the dogs, watch the sun go down over the mountains and climb into bed. I will think about how uncomplicated it all is. I will wonder at how it took me my entire life to appreciate just one day."

SONG: I Believe You by Todd Snider

BOOK: This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women edited by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman

POEM: Sunsets by Alan Brownjohn

Suddenly caught by how it seems
Possible and quite credible that,
In this last windless minute at

Sunset, that downspread of fields I watch
(Gazing past, from the vantage hill,
Just visible cows to the town) will

Have darkened a little – even though
You can’t measure this and it may be
Your eyes don’t tell it truthfully –

I sense a comparison with
Some points in the progress of love:
Times when each element has to move

At just the stage when you would want
It at rest – when, dispassionate-
ly, you would want to define and state

To yourself just where you stand. It may
Be a simple error to believe
That love runs on like that, you can deceive

Yourself quite easily. But
So often love seems to be set
On rushing you past anywhere you get

A chance to arrest it, and talk.
And in this, as with nightfall, you sense
That you cannot make much pretence

Of defying any darkness.
It leaves you no other choice.
It happens in front of your eyes.

QUOTE: "Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense." ~ Buddha