we have found that little bits of wisdom are all around us. we were on the train to chicago when we encountered a wise man named lester. he seemed a gentle soul, a big man with soft eyes, he was sitting across the aisle from us. he talked to us about his life, about life in general. he had had a long day already, commuting by numerous trains in a circuitous route to go to a job interview; he wanted to make some changes and the interview he had been to was part of that.
he told us of a relationship he was in – nothing that was all that serious – but there was this woman…. the thing that stuck with us was his comment that in the morning as he awoke with her, she was on her phone….scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. the early sun bright in the room, this lovely man by her side, she was endlessly looking on various social media platforms for what was trending. “put down your phone,” he pleaded to the side of her that had forgotten he was even there. “i’m trending.”
we’ve talked about presence before. we’ve talked about being in the moment and not missing it. we’ve talked about gratitude and time together. we’ve talked about how fleeting time really is. we’ve talked about relationship and listening and appreciating the place you are, the minute you are in. and yet, in six words, lester said it better – “put down your phone. i’m trending.” wisdom indeed.
i can feel it. it’s not something i can put words to. it’s mysterious and undefinable. but it’s coming. there is a turning point. right around the corner.
i walk into this new year and there’s something different…there is an underlying vibration i can feel – viscerally – a pulse, a quivering – that is present.
when it was time to pick a piece of my music for this week’s studio melange, i was drawn to this one….full of angst and wonder and sedimentary layers and mica and minor…..full of questions.
2019. it has been nine years since i recorded a full-length album of any sort and seventeen years since a full-length vocal. is it time? to record? to let it go?
i can feel it. it’s not something i can put words to. it’s mysterious and undefinable. but it’s coming. there is a turning point. right around the corner.
remember when you carefully wrapped your toddler’s presents, expecting their absolute glee when he or she opened the gift? and then, moments after the gift was opened, with wrappings and gift cast aside, you found them ecstatically playing with the box the gift came in? well, welcome to babycatworld.
b-cat has lots of toys. we struggle with keeping dogdog from devouring them. we gave him fun new things for christmas, but he doesn’t seem all that interested. however, the moment we put a carry-your-stuff-out-box we used at costco on the floor in the kitchen, babycat decided it was his. no matter where we move it, he sits in it. he has claimed it; it is his safe spot. it would be impossible for him to lay down in it; his hulking “big-boned” body dwarfs the box. but sitting in it seems to suffice for him. i guess everyone/every creature has their special spot. so for now, this crest box has become a part of our home.
i might add that it doesn’t match our decor in any way. i’m wondering if he would still sit in it if we spray-painted it black…
“…leaving to fill in the space called the future…”
yesterday is but a shadow now. we rise with the sun and the lingering shadows and shapes in the dusk-then-darkness-then-dawn quietly disappear. we can’t hold onto them, any of them, despite our sometimes-longing to do so. memories are like that. the moments we most want to remember…they slyly tiptoe out of our mind’s eye, elusive to our heart-threads trying to hold onto them. that is why i keep a calendar.
my calendar is written. with a pencil. every day i write in it, catching up what we did with our time, what we worked on, where we went, who we saw, maybe a new recipe we tried. mostly, though, i write down moments i don’t want to forget. milliseconds or minutes of bliss with a loved one, gorgeous things said, handholds or hugs that i want to keep feeling, things i want to memorize but know will slip softly into a recess that i may or may not be able to access.
on the first day of the new year (or the last day of the old year) it is my ritual to read every day, every log, of my year’s calendar. in that reading we are transported. to the places we went, the people we visited with, the exquisite times, the arguments, treasured mom-moments that have repeated-time-release joy. we remember things we had forgotten. we stand once again on the precipice above the canyon or the beach on the cape. we stroll once again under a canopy of spanish-moss-covered live oaks or the big sky of the high range mountains. we sit once again on red rocks or on the train to chicago or on the subway in boston or on the pontoon boat up north or on the high kitchen stools having potluck friday or on the raft or at the pub near where we scattered ashes one last time. we hike once again in the nearby woods, on the river trail, through high desert. we roadtrip, once again, heading east, west, south, north. we have conversation-snippets-to-remember once again with The Girl, The Boy, david’s parents, our siblings, nieces, nephews, dear friends. once again, we make music and art, we write stories and blogposts and press releases and letters and emails and texts; some we want to hold onto, even if just a word or two, a sentiment or two. once again.
we process our year. we see. we celebrate. we learn. we plan and we plan to not plan. we dream. we look to the future.
on this day, the last day of 2018, i am deeply humbled and perspective-arranged reading the attached and feel that there is no way i could possibly add any wisdom or profound emotion to it – it is all there. please. read this writing: A BRAVE AND STARTLING TRUTH
this bonus track was a surprise for my sweet momma and poppo. playing God be with you till we meet again as the last track on this, my first christmas album, seemed apropos back then. it was a favorite of theirs, spoken to us or sometimes even sung as we left to depart to places far away or even close by. and i get that. goodbyes are so hard.
in the last couple of months we have been lucky enough to see My Girl, My Boy and his boyfriend, my wendy aka ben aka saul, and some dear long-time friends. in the next month or so we will see my heather aka feath and her brian, my sister and her sweet bill. we have communicated with holiday greetings…on the phone, via texts, emails, cards or letters sent in old-fashioned-times postal mail, sealed and seasonal-stamped, with those whom we hold close. soon, other family and friends will cross our paths; perhaps we will even drive to them or they to us. maybe we will meet halfway. maybe we’ll talk on the phone or facetime or text. any way we have the opportunity to be with them, upon their departure or ours, i will quietly whisper – as i always do – God be with you till we meet again.
God be with you till we meet again…by good counsels guide, uphold you….
with a shepherd’s care enfold you…God be with you till we meet again.
i was drawn to them in the charming boutique in ridgway, colorado. flying wish papers were intriguing and whimsical. “write it. light it. watch it fly.” it touted on the cover of the pack of wish papers. captivating. i thought of how many times i have blown kisses or wishes to someone. this was a vessel for me to do the same in a magical moment or two. they were a little pricey, but what price do you put on wishes and hopes….or on the experience of sharing those with others?
we flying-wish-papered with My Girl, each of us dedicating kitchen-table-together-time to writing our wish or wishes on the magical tissue, then wrinkling it into a ball and rolling it into a tube. we placed it on the wish platform and lit it. it was true glee to watch it burn, lift off the platform and fly, bringing our wishes and hopes into the universe. sweet. we’ve since flying-wish-papered with wendy aka ben aka saul and also jen and brad. each time it’s a gesture i won’t forget. simple and yet powerful.
this painting morsel – BLOWING WISHES – reminds me of those flying-wish-paper times, reminds me of all the times i have blown wishes across my hand. a beautiful morsel from the full YOGA SERIES painting GREET THE DAY, it offers a post-holiday-end-of-the-year breath…to stop, greet the new day, the new year with hopes and dreams and flying wishes.
we walked past macy’s in downtown chicago and i noticed a digital billboard as it transitioned into its next message. “the best present? being present.” i couldn’t agree more. as trite as that message may be, it is a truth that spans the ages, spans time, spans generations. if there is one consistent thing i talk about, it is moments. moments i’ve noticed. moments i’ve memorized. moments i’ve written down. always – moments i’ve spent being present. whether present for someone else or present in the universe for myself, it matters not. it is the act of showing up….all-in….that makes all the difference.
the beloved moments on facetime with my daughter, son and his boyfriend. the moments spent laughing on a phone call with friends or family. the moments watching a dear one open a present or two. the moments walking outside under a cold dark sky of stars. the moments in the dark room alit only with twinkling lights. the moments snuggled under a blanket. the moments cooking or eating together. the moments singing carols at the top of your lungs. the moments sharing stories. the moments making music. moments where distraction would make you would miss it.
in this time of full-tiltedness…heading into the new year, i hope that you are gathering moments like this in your heart. they are the best presents.
reverse threading 