for us, it’s easy to like chicken…our chicken marsala, that is. we made him up; he is the (mutual) son we didn’t have together. and so, he’s a jeans-wearing-black-shirts-mostly-flip-flop little boy. he takes after david with his esoteric wisdom and me with his high forehead and sentimentality. he has much more brevity than either of us, but he’s little, so give him time.
it’s easy for us to be invested in chicken’s antics, to laugh aloud at his shenanigans, to get a little misty at his emotional ties. but we have driven across the country with david making up his little voice in the backseat; we have taken a three foot tall flat-chicken into welcome centers and family gatherings; we have taken pictures of our chicken at the colorado border and hanging out in the back of the xb.
and so, it’s easy for us to believe that chicken marsala would have an instant following – an ever-growing group of people who believe in him kind of like how they believed in charlie brown or calvin (well, maybe a teeny little bit like charlie brown or calvin.) because we do. we believe in him. his snippets of wisdom, his goodness, his take on life. i realize that, like any story, it’s possible that maybe it is hard to start in the middle. (i am the worst at starting in the middle of any movie – i ask a million questions trying to catch up…)
so i just want to say this: if you had a chance to have a little boy in your life, one whose wise words entered your heart and whose voice countered the narrative so prevalent in our world now, and, even if he was, ok, make-believe, wouldn’t you just love it to be a little boy like our Chicken? this nugget is for you. play. with abandon. like a little make-believe boy. like there’s no tomorrow.
the first time i joined hands with david and prayed, i cried. truth be told, we both cried. it was a powerful moment…one i will never forget. there is something deeply grounding about prayer with another person. it is forging, like iron in a hot smelter, clay in a kiln…seeking the solid base, making something stronger.
this painting, prayer of opposites, reminds me of that gift – the exchange, the sharing of peace and words of comfort, words of gratitude, beseeching words – with another. the passing of that spiritual energy one to another.
were we to pray with opposites, would we not ultimately be drawn closer?
we used to drive in the car, ok, minivan at the time, and blastttt this kelly clarkson song called breakaway. The Girl and i would sing it loud, really really loud. i still know all the lyrics (despite the fact that i can’t remember what we did each day last week without consulting my calendar. but you know what i mean…if you are, um, my age, then you likely remember all the lyrics to all the 70s songs you listened to. ok…..what was i talking about here?)
monday’s studio melange post was about unleashing the power of your crayon, yesterday’s was living without fear. today’s is called break away. hmm. a theme is quietly emerging.
one of my favorite quotes of michelle obama, “when they go low, we go high” reminds me of this – the power of breaking away from the masses, the power of unleashing YOUR crayon with an eye to the center, the power of living without fear. break away indeed.
probably one of my favorite photos of graffiti i’ve taken, i found this sprayed on the wall of a building in tuscany years ago. i thought it was kind of lofty then and i think it is lofty now. living without fear seems next to impossible. how can one be that brave?
there’s this song we sing in the band called only the brave (t.hughes, m.smith, n.herbert). we just sang it a couple days ago along with our ukulele band. the first line, “this is the moment, this is why i’m living to face the giants with you…” who is the You in your life? the vastly abundant magnificent Love you may call God? your partner? your best friend? your mom? someone of this earth? a spirit-filled presence? the song continues, “it’s now or never, and though my heart is racing, i’ll leave my armor with you. your love makes us stronger, and your love sees us through. only the brave will go where you go, into the fire but never alone. we know you’ll always carry us home; only the brave….”
as i get older, i find myself in this sliver of a space between fear and no fear. a quandary of emotion. i look back at all the things that made me quiver, the things that ate away at time itself and i realize that maybe, just maybe i had been just a teensy bit braver than i thought. i look at right now and worry; i look ahead and worry. am i brave enough? will i be brave enough? life has a way of presenting challenges right alongside bliss.
i find that words i had written in a post three years ago – a post about being brave – speak to me now and so i’m just going to copy and paste them here:
we face down our fears, we risk our dreams, we forgive without being forgiven, we acknowledge our disappointments, we are given grace in our mistakes, we plod on, we face the sun, we scurry through the rain, we feel our way through the fog, we celebrate the moment without investing in the whole day, we love without ceasing.
on my piano in my studio is a teeny sign with a big message. it reads, “if you asked me what i came into this world to do, i will tell you i came to live out loud.” (emile zola) it’s a reminder – a reason for being. true for each of us, it’s unleashing the metaphoric crayon of our creativity, our thoughts, our knowledge, our gifts, our voices.
there is an extraordinary amount of power in those crayons..the place in the middle that we open…the heart from where our concentric circles start rippling out…where the crayon meets the page, the song is composed, the painter paints, the activist writes. “loud” (for the sheer sake of being loud) and “out loud” (simply having a voice) are two vastly different things. and, if you are paying even the least bit of attention at all to world events, we are privy to both in our lives these days.
after living all this life so far, i hope now that the crayons i pick will help to ripple out things that are good, things that consider others, things that are not hurtful, things that are fair, things that are kind. the power of a crayon unleashed that is “out loud” not “loud.”
you can’t help but listen to country music when you are in nashville. there’s something about the storytelling in country songs that i can really identify with. i love telling a good story. ok, i even love bad stories. i’m sure there are a slew of people rolling their eyes around me most times i am talking. when i was writing for this album and traveling back and forth to the studio in nashville, i decided i wanted one of the songs to be a little bit of a nod to that genre, of which i am a big fan. i wrote this song on a single page of notebook paper on an airplane. some songs just show up. my favorite part is the happy ending. 🙂
i love david’s newest painting, earth interrupted VII. it’s vibrant and alive and textural and full of questions. i have found a free whisper of a tall black-ink crane in the middle of this morsel, a non-intentional coming together of brush strokes, a simple treasure in a small piece of a large painting. it is unlikely you could see it if you stood back to look at this stunning painting, but as a symbol of longevity, balance, wisdom and good fortune, i can’t imagine a better totem for our earth, a better embedded wish, this fortuitous crane.
it was close to midnight and we were on a pretty windy and mountainous road (might i mention with no guardrails?!) The Girl was driving and all of a sudden the deer ran out from the side, sprinting across right in front of us. she handled it like a pro; driving these roads can be stressful and dangerous, but she is level-headed and careful, a really good driver. and she kept us all safe. i was grateful it didn’t just stand there staring at the glare of our headlights.
i taught at a school in florida a longgg time ago. it was 1982 and i was in the teachers’ lounge eating a small snack lunch with one of the teachers, my friend lois. there was a group of teachers in there, all gathered around the stove (this alone seemed pretty bizarre to me – a stove in a teachers’ lounge. who has that kind of time??) they were cooking something in a large cast-iron frying pan, an economy size container of crisco on the counter next to the stove. i was new at the school and i was still trying to make friends, so i asked what they were cooking. “possum,” i was told. (possum?? insert grossed-out emoji face.) here’s the part where i slipped up: i -in all sincerity- said that i hadn’t seen possum in the meat counter at publix and asked, “where do you purchase possum?” without blinking (no pun intended) they told me that they go out most nights “shinin'” in the woods, snaring animals to hunt with the use of headlights. “you never know what you’re gonna get!” they added. i never really fit in there.
often on sunday mornings, when we get to the offertory slot, jim, the guitar player in the band, and i will look at each other and one of us will make a letter shape with our hands to denote a key…the key of a piece we will improvise on as we go. and then we are off and running. although it is often me (with the piano as my music-making-instrument) either one of us drives the piece. jim loves minor keys – they are so emotional – so he is in his glory if we pick something minor. no matter what, we don’t know where it’s going before we start. but there’s a moment we both feel that it is jelling and we take turns leading and yielding, surprised by the direction and the story, so to speak.
the path forward is like that, i suppose. you don’t quite know until you start. and sometimes, it takes you by surprise. just when you think you have it figured out, the key changes. you lead, you yield, you take a chance not knowing. and sometimes, it comes out alright. especially if it’s in a minor key.
we were canoeing and it was quiet. the only thing you could hear were a few birds, a loon from time to time and the sound of the paddle hitting the water. we went through the channel and above us we saw it.
the young bald eagle was taking its first flight and we had the great fortune of witnessing it. i knew i wanted to write at least a few words about how lucky we were to see it, watch and quietly be a part of it. as this beautiful creature soared over us, it seemed to relish its newfound freedom, its new ability to fly. even as we watched it struggle a bit with the landing, we could see its determination to its flight. we talked about how the eagle was representative of this country we live in. in the late 1700s it was chosen as the emblem of the united states…based on its long life and great strength, it is majestic, bold and faithful, independent and a symbol of freedom. such hopeful words, such a powerful emblem of a nation that has lost its center.
after some time, we continued on. we talked about writing. we talked about why. why do we write each day. why do i compose. why does d paint. what words could you wrap around what we do, why we share what we share, why we fly in this artistic-world, the place we are at home. is it important? why?
we are merely instruments. we can watch and quietly be a part. we can simply start the ripple. that’s all that is really possible. that is our job. to be instruments. like pebbles dropped in water. our emblem would be just that. tightly-starting-ever-widening-circles of ripples, repercussions, the effects moving, ever-moving. what we choose in the center counts. if we choose peace and kindness, then we can start the concentric circles outward of peace and kindness.
when we were designing our website, the dalai lama quote ““Just as ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water, the actions of individuals can have far-reaching effects” needed to be present. the ripples of water on the front page of our site are not graphically brilliant or even singularly creative. but they are an emblem, so to speak, of the reason we do what we do. the meaning behind that emblem is the reason we keep trying. it is the reason we yearn to make it possible to live as two artist-ripples, to make a living and pay the bills and do what we can to be instruments of peace. we hold tight to the center. and like that young eagle, we are determined.
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled, as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.” (the prayer of st. francis of assissi)
reverse threading 