what you can’t see in this picture of dogdog, his gaze intent on me taking his picture, is that he has a chip on his head. a tortilla chip. a mission tortilla chip, to be specific. gluten free. dogga loves chips. he loves to have chips on his head, staying perfectly still with the “leave it” command issued. even more, he loves when “leave it” is released and he can bend his head down and eat his treasured chip. he prefers it sans salsa. good thing, because his aussie hair would be a total mess WITH salsa. and i hardly think salsa is on his doggadiet (for that matter, neither are chips.)
i have to say, dogdog and babycat pretty much run the show here. not just merely sponsors, they are producers, directors, screenwriters, actors and extras. we laugh every time we wake up after a fitful night sleep because babycat has taken up 2/3 of the bed, snoring his way through his peaceful slumber. we could move him, wake him up, nudge him, anything…but instead he just rules over his two-thirds and we deal with it, yawning and complaining about cramped legs all the next day.
dogdog, on the other hand, sleeps in his crate next to the bed. he loves loves loves sleepnightnight (his word) time and makes sure that everything happens in the “correct” order. he goes out. he runs back in. jumps on the bed. and listens. he waits to hear the water-in-the-fridge spigot filling the coffeepot. waits to hear the coffee grinder. waits to hear d put a small amount of nighttime kibble in babycat’s bowl. waits to hear the container on top of the fridge opened from which d gets his cookie. waits for his bellybelly (also his word) on the bed and kisses on his sweet head, chipcrumbs mixed in with his messy fur. day’s end for a dogdog.
i don’t know about you, but i don’t know what i’d do without them. our sponsors.
paper and pencils strewn about, guitars in hand, i sat in los angeles with cliff, the producer of this album, as we penned this new song together. long a solo artist and songwriter, it was my first full collaboration, a visit to high energy and laughter, a rhyming dictionary (every songwriter’s friend) at our side. we reached into our own lives and experiences to write.
when we finished recording it in nashville, the duet touched me as a poignant reminder of steadfast love.
this face entered my life nine years ago now. i had never had a cat before, but my sister and niece conspired when a kitten showed up on heather’s doorstep in florida. my sister had asked me, maybe weeks before, what kind of cat i would want if i had a cat (which she insisted i needed.) not having had sharing-life-with-a-cat-experience (for i know now not to call it “owning a cat”) i was less convinced. but then this little (short-lived on the word “little”…babycat is BIG!) kitten showed up on heather’s doorstep. after searching for its owner, it seemed fortuitous that i had answered my sister with the less-than-emotional-or-even-informed-but-kind-of-more-practical response, “i guess i’d want a black cat so it will coordinate with my clothing and i won’t always be using a rolly-thing to get fur off my clothes.” it was a match!
and, indeed, it was. after many trials, babycat was named “wilson” (a nod to The Boy’s tennis involvement) and we (The Girl, The Boy and i) drove him back to wisconsin, none of us quite sure how to handle his eating and relieving himself, a crate, food, portable litter box, water, toys and our laps handy. he has never ever answered to the name wilson and he totally chose his name babycat, readily answering to one of his nicknames. and so, his dominance over the household started.
babycat was one of those who-rescued-who stories you read about. at just the right moment, he entered our lives. he has been a big (no…BIG) presence ever since. not knowing what cats really do, i taught him many a dog-trick, sitting and speaking on command, coming when called, sitting up to beg for a treat. he was able and, more so, willing. (if he’s not willing, there’s no way to make something happen with him.)
and then david and, subsequently, dogdog came along. b-cat reined them both in, alpha to each of them. a bit more aloof when younger, but never one to hide or totally ignore us, somewhere along the way, he became a cat who wanted to snuggle.
but that face. it’s just too easy to read babycat’s mind. and right now, i agree with him. where DID the summer go?
babycat. he’s a force. and a big (no…BIG) part of my heart.
we have a new frog in our pond! two actually. this feels like perfect timing for us; we needed the good sign of a frog in our midst. both of these frogs are different than previous pond-frogs we have had in past years; these two are leggier, less body and more frog-legs. we’ve named the bigger one ripple and the little one pebble. neither comes when we call their names, but ripple is not as shy as pebble. we’ve advanced toward the pond and pebble will dive right in before we get close, but ripple sits quietly on one of the rocks and waits. when he (or she) eventually dives in, it’s with a flourish and we get to see the concentric circles that spread outward, which is where it got its name.
it’s where we sit in our belief – as artists, as people – that the concentric circles spread outward from the center. the only place from which we can really make a difference. any difference. it hearkens back to my sweet momma…her very core believing that all should start (and end) with being kind. on her website www.beakysbooks.com is quoted mr. fred rogers, “there are three ways to ultimate success. the first way is to be kind. the second way is to be kind. the third way is to be kind.” it’s how she lived. she would point to her life and asked what she had accomplished. greatness. she accomplished greatness. because she spread kindness. out and out and out it went, the ever-widening rings into the world.
it doesn’t seem that complicated. it doesn’t take wealth or a super pac or any kind of grandeur to accomplish. it is simple. basic. in the words of john wesley, “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.” or my sweet momma’s favorite verse, ” i shall pass through this world but once. any good therefore that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any human being, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again.”(stephen grellet) or from the dalai lama, “be kind whenever possible. it is always possible.” right at the center, right where ripple quietly sits before the great hop – right before we move or speak or rebel or undermine or chasten or deflate or insult – is the place where we can choose to be kind.
we have a new frog in our pond! two actually. this feels like perfect timing for us; we needed the good sign of a frog in our midst. both of these frogs are different than previous pond-frogs we have had in past years; these two are leggier, less body and more frog-legs. we’ve named the bigger one ripple and the little one pebble. neither comes when we call their names, but ripple is not as shy as pebble. we’ve advanced toward the pond and pebble will dive right in before we get close, but ripple sits quietly on one of the rocks and waits. when he (or she) eventually dives in, it’s with a flourish and we get to see the concentric circles that spread outward, which is where it got its name.
it’s where we sit in our belief – as artists, as people – that the concentric circles spread outward from the center. the only place from which we can really make a difference. any difference. it hearkens back to my sweet momma…her very core believing that all should start (and end) with being kind. on her website www.beakysbooks.com is quoted mr. fred rogers, “there are three ways to ultimate success. the first way is to be kind. the second way is to be kind. the third way is to be kind.” it’s how she lived. she would point to her life and asked what she had accomplished. greatness. she accomplished greatness. because she spread kindness. out and out and out it went, the ever-widening rings into the world.
it doesn’t seem that complicated. it doesn’t take wealth or a super pac or any kind of grandeur to accomplish. it is simple. basic. in the words of john wesley, “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.” or my sweet momma’s favorite verse, ” i shall pass through this world but once. any good therefore that i can do or any kindness that i can show to any human being, let me do it now. let me not defer or neglect it, for i shall not pass this way again.”(stephen grellet) or from the dalai lama, “be kind whenever possible. it is always possible.” right at the center, right where ripple quietly sits before the great hop – right before we move or speak or rebel or undermine or chasten or deflate or insult – is the place where we can choose to be kind.
i drove back and forth and back and forth to nashville when i recorded this album, each time returning with a cd of the work we had done on the album. i’d play it numerous times, taking notes to share with my producer, re-writing, practicing, sometimes sharing the songs-where-they-were-at-the-time with others.
joan was the one who told me i needed a “strong woman” song included on this album. so i walked across the street home, directly into my studio and wrote one.
now, this isn’t my favorite song – it’s a little kitschy if you ask me – but i have had many tell me how much they like it and one of my favorite performances of it was when beth’s students sang it. (i was long-term-subbing for her. she’s a dear friend and an amazing choir teacher in a middle school in our district.) those kids really rose to the occasion and kitschy fell by the wayside in favor of strength and power and belief in themselves.
recently d and i listened to some of my first recordings. they were from 1979-80 and recorded in a studio in a town called port washington on the north shore of long island. i had found a cassette (now isn’t that retro word dating me!) and we have a boombox (another retro word) that plays cassettes so we settled in to listen to the three songs on what would now be called an EP.
one of the songs is called leaving and is a song i wrote for my parents as they retired and moved from our long island home to florida. i remembered that song well.
the other two? well, it’s funny. i could sing every word, but i didn’t remember the intense emotion behind them. THESE were my #metoo songs, i discovered (rediscovered?) as i listened. one of these days i might share these songs, not because they are great songs but because they are truth and every artist has songs that are life-defining. not the ones necessarily that chart (although those are lovely, indeed!) but the ones that speak from deep inside, with lyrics or music that must be spoken. these two songs were written by a vulnerable (and pretty angry) young woman who wanted to unleash the power of her crayon and live out loud, who definitely wanted to live without fear, who tried hard to break away from an experience i still would rather forget and who prayed – alone at the time – beseeching words. all this is what i wrote about in this week’s melange.
my heart goes out to all those women who are also card-carrying #metoo survivors. the out-loud ones and the silent ones. my wish for each of you: unleash your crayon, live without fear, break away, pray with another, count on you.
from this song of today’s melange post COUNT ON YOU, which may be more #metoo and less kitschy than i thought, “just move forward and then believe – you gotta trust…in you.”
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?
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. 🙂
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)
