your toes curl. your breathing is shallow. adrenaline rushes. your legs are a little shaky. your hands feel tingly. butterflies in your belly. you are on the edge. in that tiny place between before and after.
i gingerly walked to the edge of the canyon, my daughter encouraging me. at the moment i stood there, feet firmly planted, no guardrail, nothing between me and canyon wall, my heart slowed down and i breathed in both the enormity of the moment and the taste of both before and after. my girl and i laughed, loudly, the sound echoing across the vast canyon. and then, it was after.
i sat at the piano, ready to record this first piece GALENA of the first album, 24 years ago, savoring the safety of before but ready for after. at the edge of the put-it-all-out-there canyon, i walked onto the stage, brand new cds in the lobby, ready, with quivering knees and boots that gave me confidence. and then, in what felt like a minute, it was after.
now, many album and stage edges later, many life and love moments later, many work and play split-seconds later, i wonder what the next after will be. i can feel the edges; i can see them. i’m aware of my toes curling. my breathing is shallow and adrenaline rushes. my legs are a little shaky and my hands feel tingly, butterflies in my belly. there is a canyon beckoning.
i remember writing this. i was coming out of storms and it felt like i was, at last, rising like a weak sun in the dense fog, slowly but surely burning off the fog. it was my right-now.
i wonder how many times in life we re-do that. like the movie groundhog day, we re-live again and again the process of coming out of the mess, the stress, the worry. life seems fraught with those storms and fog sometimes. we yearn for steady, for clear skies, for brilliant sun.
when the day is done and we go to sleep with wrinkled brow, we try, albeit sometimes futilely, to remember that right-now passes into the next. this very ‘right-now’ will soon be ‘before’.
there will be a new day. a new right-now. new hope.
“do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” (credit for quote is unclear)
this sounds like a good mantra for one’s life. it would seem that it would bring satisfaction and accomplishment to someone invested in its mission. it would seem that it would create joy for others. it would seem that, were everyone to simply live by this precept, the world could actually be a place of peace.
but people are not infallible and personal agendas reign over the collective. competition is fierce and the caste system hasn’t vaporized. people keep score and vindication is a driving force. people are self-serving and power-controlling and will knock those down in the way.
children are not born with the desire to exploit others or minimalize or marginize them. they are not born with hatred in their hearts. children are born with the ability to embrace all, include all. they are not born with a scorecard in their hands. they are born with the generosity of innocence. they are not born with fear of places and peoples different than them. they learn that.
we can teach our children to play nice. but we need model it first. we need do all we can.
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it is against the odds that this tree clings to rock and doesn’t topple into the lake with a great splash and float away. instead it stubbornly holds on, a steadfast intention. the rock, the basso ostinato.
at a time when holding steadfast seems mightily important, i wonder about the questions we have been asked. will you stay? will you leave? will you love it here? in the midst of all the infighting, are you going to give up? will you hold on?
the answers may not be directly related to the actual intent of those questions.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. we will hold steadfast to our integrity. we will hold steadfast to the reasons we came here in the first place. to make a difference, to bring ideas and change, to apply that which we have learned, studied, experienced over at least 80 combined years of work, higher education and profession. to be honest and transparent and collaborative. to try and instill a sense of working together into a community divided by narratives too numerous to list.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. we will hold steadfast to our belief that people should be kind to each other, that people should not work around others nor should they undermine others, that people should instead lift each other up, not drive stakes into another.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. steadfastly. to honoring art, the driving force behind this initiative. to honoring creativity and the blossoming of beauty and wisdom, staunch tenets of artistry.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. steadfastly. to believing all is possible.
but, in answer to the real intent of the question asked us….will we hold on?
we will not hold on if others cannot join us in what is real, what is truth, what is most important. we will not hold on in the fire of pettiness or shameful self-serving underhandedness. we will not hold on, holding still while others take turns throwing rocks at us, at the real goals of this place, if those are indeed about art.
the answer to the question is not up to us. we can either cling to the rock, holding steadfast or we can topple, with a refreshing splash, into the lake and float away.
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on this very day, at this very time, i do not feel at home. and i believe i take home with me, so this is truly a statement of much discontent.
what is home to you?
how important is it to you to be surrounded by people who, with consciousness of others, support you? how important is it to you to be amongst those who are kind, who are magnanimous, who are respectful to all, who are collaborative? how important is to you to be around people who lead with goodness, who work together, who do not embrace divisiveness?
how important is the place? does an idyllic location exempt bitter disputes and argumentative people? does it matter if the sun rises and sets in dramatic color if the timbre of the place is ugly, combative, rift-producing, breach-exacerbating? what flowers override belligerence, competition and antagonistic voices? what soaring birds and graceful wildlife eclipse closed minds and turning a blind eye to others’ pain?
important questions, i believe. eye-opening questions.
home is indeed subjective for each of us. our hearts lead us.
we were lost when we brought dogdog home from the farm. it had been a long time since either of us had a puppy; our dogs had long lives and after that it had been years. the first few days we literally followed dogga around inside the house, like he was a toddler in search of an electrical outlet or a cabinet without childproof latches. jen and brad brought us pizza and wine and assured our deer-in-the-headlights-look that all would be well. so we read pretty much anything we could get our hands on and discovered (re-discovered?) the fact that puppies really like confined spaces. smaller spaces make them feel safe, secure; they are calming. it worked. dogdog was happy to be in the kitchen-ala-three-gates-in-the-doorways. he seemed to sigh with relief at the end of the day going into his crate for sleepynightnight. he was a happier puppy and we were (legit) back in our bodies. boundaries facilitated maturing (for all of us.)
there is a whole lake out in front of our littlehouse. the yard is big and full of green grass and flowers and grasses and trees. the deck has space and flower boxes. and then there is the rocking chair. in between two closely-placed-spindles, perched on the lower rail, this little tree frog found a place of solace. snugly in this warmed-by-the-sun spot, he lingered for hours, the tight place perhaps restorative for him, perhaps simply a sanctuary, its boundaries affording him the freedom to stay.
boundaries are underrated. we need them. to flourish. the constraints serve us. our clear boundaries for others create balanced lives. drawing boundaries. growth depends on it.
early on, given, say, three chords – and only three chords – to compose with limits the angst of analysis paralysis. it gives a place to start, a direction to go, discipline and yet, boundaries that reach only to the sky. it eases up the balking-at-it of artists. it facilitates the creation of a composition. it facilitates artistry. it facilitates energy. pushing the walls of these boundaries back little by little opens an artist when he/she is ready, when he/she feels safer. one step at a time. one rocking chair spindle at a time. one kitchen-dog-gate at a time. one muse at a time.
i miss my piano. i didn’t realize how much until late last night, in the darkened theatre, my hands touched the keys and i could breathe. my neck and shoulders, stiff and aching from undue stress, relaxed just a little. tears fell down my face. they are still there now, as i write this.
this morning, as d was making breakfast, a tree frog hopped out from between the cabinets and landed on the stove. fortunately, we were able to coax him from the hot burners and take him safely outside. it was unclear how he got inside. but his message was clear, a message we had learned from helen quite some time ago. f.r.o.g. = fully rely on God. and so, a giggle and a time of fresh, deep breaths.
when i have performed this piece NURTURE ME (as i mentioned in a previous post) i have loved to tell the story of the carrot seed, the absolute knowing that nurturing can lift anyone, any living thing, from fallow, from despair, from seed into grandness, into thriving, into life.
carrots, pianos, tree frogs. all are capable of telling the story. nurture trumps hate.
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in sweet pink ballet shoes, they flitted across the stage, little girls in plié and arabesque, little frowns of concentration mixing with smiles as they moved into practiced positions. sparkles of light played across the theatre, the spotlights catching the rhinestones and sequins on tutus, the treasured stuff of these little ballerinas. in my mind’s eye i remember my own little girl, hair piled high on her head in a bun, grown-up makeup on her be-still-my-heart beautiful face, as she carefully performed her memorized dance to this piece of music. a moment in time. sweet ballet.
each saturday morning we would sit on the wooden floor of the ballet studio. royanne, the world’s best ballet teacher, would transform these little girls from sneaker-wearing to ballerina in moments, patiently, with great care and a profound love of ballet, teaching and children. the parents would gather in the back, a seeming group meeting with conversation that flowed easily, yet softly. friendships began on that wooden floor in the back of the studio; friendships that have prevailed through all of life’s changes. one of my very best friends, the person my big brother seemed to handpick for me as a brother to stand-in after he could no longer be on this earth, 20, sat on that wood floor those mornings. you just never know where or when you are going to meet someone who will be in your life forever and ever. sweet ballet.
after class ended we would go across the street to jack andrea’s. the girls would order ice cream sundaes and make paper dolls out of straws and napkins. my boy would order chicken or potato soup (the kind of soup race cars eat – another story) or english muffins with saltines and pickles on the side. 20 and i would order coffee and watch this amazing time of life dance, moment by moment. sweet ballet.
you know who you are. we have connected in life and we will never be the same. a few seconds, a season, a lifetime. it’s all eternal. you just know. wherever each of us may roam, no matter where any of us reside, we stay connected, we stay woven into the fabric of each other. you have blessed me with time spent and i have given you deeply invested moments. we are human beings on this good earth. we are creatures on this good earth. in this vast universe, not to divide, but to join together. we lead with love. we are kindred spirits. close. or away. it matters not. it’s the same.
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the lake is glistening out the window right now, diamonds in the sun on a sea awash in blues and teals. we just listened to this track SCATTERED and i am taken back to when i composed and recorded this, a time i felt scattered. yet, this is the right piece of music for today.
how we arrived together at this place at this time – all scattered puzzle pieces. rearrange one piece and everything changes. somehow, the pieces all fit, snug tabs and blanks forming a picture.
right now, coincidentally the album title, we are in a new time of life at a new place doing a new thing. our job is to respectfully, mindfully, keenly watch. we will listen and study and learn the branches of our little island, the unique challenges of the work here. as we develop relationship with the island, the people, the places, our littlehouse, our work here, the scattered tabs and blanks will come together. not without intention or purpose, not without dreaming or planning, not without knowledge or the wisdom of experience, not without experimentation or failure, but they will come together…as they will. it just feels a bit scattered right now, as every jigsaw puzzle fresh out of the box.
reverse threading 