More from the journal
When the words won't come to my fingers under the keyboard, I go back to putting pen to paper. Sometimes when all the world's words are spinning by so fast, the pen in hand helps slow down and distill the essence.
Here are a few barely edited blurbs fresh from the page:
4/15/12
Tax Day
Sun Day
No taxes
Taxed
Tracing the lines
of lies
Tied to the $ signs
*****
Addictive
Adaptive
nearly twins
2 sides of a coin
Anything done to excess
will kill you
4/16/12
Riding the rapids
Through the deafening babble
Dog sits stoic at the bow
watching
As a lone fly buzzes
endlessly
4/23/12
Neither money nor fame
are core human values
so why are so many humans
caught up in the struggle?
4/26/12
Why spend time attacking those who dare approach
rather than building a bond of love so strong
as to weather every storm?
*****
Driving the highway river
finding the center of flow
no longer in a hurry
with just a few hours to go
rolling into the Blue Ridge
as the sun sets at our backs
white red yellow lights
wink on to light the track
like a backwards river
flowing up the hill
dancing through the rain drops
whispering "peace be still"
*****
His heart was bigger than this world.
Now he has the wings
to see it all
& sing his songs into the wind.
5/11/12
Already into May
the winter bites back again
reluctant to let summer
reach the northern village
Barefoot Beltane in Southern Spring
this northern ground chills through shoes
shifting green for gray
Springing back to Summer
through the city that never sleeps
5/16/12
Sunset from Robert Moses Causeway
Oak Beach after Sunset
April Snow
Flying through the flakes
Dizzy in their multitudes
Seeking the mountain
Of solace
Temperature tango
Flipping forty degrees
With a swivel
& a kick
Left road dog Tattoo
At the parlor behind
Images etched
In memory
Dreaming cloud signs
Pointing to the south
Chasing the sun
Heading west
Sugar Club
Leap
It's not only Leap day, but it's been a month since I've posted to this blog and the last chance to post something before the new month begins. I've been brooding over it a bit and thought I'd share at least something before the clock strikes midnight.
Perhaps this whole month should have been called Febroodwary. It seems I've listened to many people brooding over loss, pain, and the need for change. Let me tell you guys, while I may have a sympathetic ear, bemoaning your woes and sharing your suicidal thoughts are not very attractive ways to flirt with me. That said, know that I love you all anyway. I just could really use a good man in my life that takes a moment to stop and ask about me. In short, while other's may find February romantic, I found it emotionally draining.
I skirted the attempts of universities to channel me down the path of psychologist/psychiatrist rather than performance for a reason. I truly believe that the performing arts provide the catharsis that most of us need to transform pain into beauty to allow us to let go and move forward with our lives. I also know that I can reach many more lives through performances than I ever could listening to each individual's story. Also, as draining as a performing can be, it's not nearly as draining as one individual using me as their lifeline at a moment of crisis.
Jack of Hearts
Someone did ask me what I did for fun anymore, and I realized I had no answer to that. I used to say dance, but now that I've given up music as a hobby and am working at it as a profession even dancing at a club to my favorite musicians has become more work than fun. Okay, this is the point where I realize that writing after driving 14 hours of the past 48 and doing 3 poetry shows, a teacher workshop, while still catching 3 bands in order to follow up on business and sit in with them has taken it's toll. I am officially exhausted on all fronts.
So, as we March forward into the new year I invite you to join me in making a leap of faith. Together we can make a difference and live the life we dream up. I'm not necessarily talking about broad sweeping miracles, but belief in the power of each individual moment. Today I found a jack of hearts and a magic wand. I chose to let them remind me that with love and a few magic words anything can happen.
Holy Daze
Happy holidays, or holy daze as I've been calling them this year.
Mom's Tree
Once again we've completed another circle of the sun and reached the point where the days gather light again propelling us forward into a new year. I had the opportunity to fly back to the northwest this year and visit with family and friends between the Thanksgiving and Christmas travel rush. What this meant is that while everyone else was rushing around preparing for a "big day" I was rushing around visiting with old friends and family trying grab at least a few hours of conversation in the real world and as many hugs as possible. It also meant that I time warped to a place where sunrise and sunset fell closer together a few hours skewed from what my body was used to at that point. So, when I returned the days already seemed longer even though they were still getting shorter and my internal clock wanted to stay up later into the dark. Being born during the longest night of the year a few decades ago has often been my excuse for being a true night owl. It also may be why I've always been a star gazer looking for things that light up in the dark. I thought I'd share a few photos of things that lit up in the dark for me this season as we celebrate the return of light.
Sunrise from Mom's next to Mt. Rainier
This time of year is also the point when I often find myself reflecting on the year that has passed and making wishes and plans for the year to come. Rather than ask Santa or Baby Jesus for toys, I found myself having real discussions with family about the tools needed to progress in the coming year.
Step-mom's Tree & Dad's Village
Sun break in Dad's yard
During the dark this year rather than seeking out malls, I found joy gathering with all my different "families" to share food and stories around the table.
Chanukah Dinner
I also found warmth around the fire sharing tunes with some of my musical "families." We even hooted with a real night owl in the woods gazing at the three wise guy stars in Orion's belt pointing to where the sun would return on the horizon a full minute earlier in the morning.
Solstice Bonfire
As the year turns, I now seek to build my own fire in my heart to fuel a new year of adventure and travel guided by love. I wish you & your kin peace and prosperity as well as a big bundle of joy in 2012. May it be brighter for us all.
Heart Prayer
Ghosts of October
Looks like I completely missed blogging in October. Just to slip something in I'm writing from my phone while on the go. Sometimes life moves too fast to process & write about it all. Often at these times it is stranger than fiction.
In the past month I've juggled more jobs than ever to keep afloat and found more joyful surprises to cheer my soul. Ghosts of Halloweens past brought tears of sorrow and joy along with a glimpse of brighter tomorrows.
At the same time the Occupy Wall Street movement has swept the nation and continued to whisper ideas to change the world.
I've occupied a few hotels in towns recently touring with Poetry Alive! where I arrived a stranger and immediately found a community to share resources and make our stay more joyful. It's amazing how when we all share what we have, we all have what we need. It's easy to sit back, point the finger at someone else, and complain that life is unfair. However, when you honestly step forward and share your skills and talents there's really very little to complain about. As we enter the giving season please consider this and avoid wasting time at the malls and super box stores full of "cheap stuff." Consider what you have to offer your friends and family as gifts and when spending your hard earned dollars check out local handmade goods and services from local crafters, musicians, and merchants whose taxes pay for your local community services as well. Invest in your community and find ways for your local community to share it's bounty with nearby communities in need. Occupy your community this holiday season and watch it flourish.
On that note, there's some live jazz in front of me stealing my attention and calling me to participate in the real world once again. May you find such cozy company where ever you occupy.
Talkin’ about a revolution
September has nearly slipped by and I realize I have yet to post a blog this month. Since I'm working on an article for a deadline and completely distracted by facebook, twitter, and the Occupy Wall Street news feeds it seems the perfect time to slip one in before the month is gone.
I actually spent a lot of time talking to many new people this month and scrambled to spend conscious time with a few good friends when possible. I am thankful that I live in a household where three adults are able to share space respectfully and none of us seem to be going hungry in this economy. I am thankful to have a neighborhood that includes teachers, nurses, construction workers, mechanics, artists, musicians, and even a politician. There are no corporate moguls, bankers, or stock brokers that I'm aware of in the neighborhood. If there are, they don't talk to the rest of us. A year ago, when I moved into this house we had a small porch fire that our neighbors kept from being destructive by responding faster than any fire department could with extinguishers. My roommate fixed our neighbor's lawn mower when it broke. The neighborhood dog & kitten come hang on the porch when I'm playing music with my friends. We eat fresh organic produce grown in our own yards. The city councilman up the road has been organizing clean up crews through facebook showing the DOT that if they don't do their job and keep our sidewalks and roads clean we'll do the job for them. He is hands on and active in connecting with the community he represents.
However, once we send representatives to Raleigh and DC they start to become disconnected from the community they supposedly represent. It costs a lot of money to run for office these days and now the corporations with interests in patenting all the food Americans eat and selling them a lifetime of drugs to keep everyone "normal" have been granted unlimited spending to buy us some candidates and tell us to whom we should give our vote. The people paying for the ad campaigns care more about the dollars they can make selling people insurance that is mandatory by law (because they made sure everyone has to buy what they're selling). But, for all we pay them, they never cover the cost when a real crisis occurs because they don't care about people, they care about profit. I believe that if most people put the money they spend on insurance into a savings account they would have the money when it was needed and a strong community can help each other survive crisis.
Now these corporations are considered "people" by our government. They also control the media. They decide what "news" Americans will watch and for 13 days now have not even bothered to mention that there is a peaceful protest happening on Wall Street and spreading to other cities. Why? Because the people are protesting the corporations. Your television shows are brought to you by Monsanto, Pfizer, Geico, American Express and Capital One. Drug and insurance ads flash at you every five minutes between sound bites of "reality" shows where adults act like adolescents in front of the camera to win a cash prize. Our government bailed out Wall Street and the auto companies so they could spend more money selling you stuff that you don't need. The average American does not need to buy a new car every year, but they will do their best to convince you that what you have is not good enough. Turn your TV off now and start paying attention to the world where you actually live and work. Stop buying the lies that Time Warner and Disney wish to sell you for profit and spend your hard earned money in your own community.
I recently saw an exhibit by Connie Frisbee Houde at the Fine Arts Center of Kershaw County during a Poetry Alive! visit they funded for the local schools. One of the most striking images was flipping through her book The Forgotten: Images of Afghanistan & New Orleans and seeing on the left a image of emptied stone cave homes with nothing but a few pieces of beautiful wood furniture and on the right washed out piles of debris at a storage unit after Katrina. Americans have become so weighted down with collecting stuff that we sometimes fail to see what is truly of value.
Please get to know your neighbors before the winter sets in and prepare together. My grandparents didn't survive the dust bowl era in the mid-west because of any corporation or government help (They were true conservatives unlike today's Republicans). They worked with their neighbors to survive and helped each other weather the weather. The only way to stop the oppressors is to teach them how not to oppress. If American citizens get off their couches and start making their communities beautiful and joyful places to live, the media can't sell us an imaginary dream of something better. Vote with every dollar you spend for a better tomorrow instead of funding the status quo. We must be the change we seek.
Where I’m From
One of the writing prompts Cheryl Bromley Jones introduced to the Poetry Alive! teacher institute is a little exercise called "Where I'm From." I've written many of these and they keep changing as time moves on and I find myself "from" more places than before. This is what came out of the in-service we taught at C.W. Post Long Island University last week still in rough form:
I am from exploding mountains
& calm inter-coastal salt sea
From hidden driveways
& cedar trees
A garden box of love
Though the main geranium died
two others took root
& are better than one to have by my side
Autoslaloming home built race cars
Smokey bowling alleys & sunny amusement parks
Girl Scout camp, horse racing
dance, sing, dance, play
Rocky Mountain escapes
& choreographing lawn gymnastics
Collecting river rocks
to rattle in pockets like grandma's Yahtzee dice
I've heard "if you love some one set them free"
& we've never meant to be for each other
the miles stretch further
from one generation to another
I am from raging garage band grunge
& flapper jazz
Give me that back beat boogie
cause it's all rock & roll to me
I am from cool mountain air
& honeysuckle tickles my nose
while puppies & kitties tickle my toes
Ride my bike cause I don't own a car
I hear good old mountain music
teaching my ear to understand rather than fear
Though bluegrass wasn't ever my style
I've learned to appreciate it after a while
I've collected scars & bruises
& dirt under my nails
City girl in the country
Country girl in the city
I've been stargazing
ever since I was born
& seek out light
to help it shine bright.
Harmony
A young friend of mine recently went to Pirate Camp for a week and came back singing a song I had also learned at camp years ago. As we were playing in the river I remembered an alternate ending so that we could sing the end in two part harmony. It was so easy for us that I wonder why it is ever difficult.
I've spent a lot of time recently playing music with new people always searching for the synergy that allows for a truly balanced sound. I'm loud. I've met people who have beautiful sweet voices, but find myself holding back in order to balance and blend. I love the feeling when singing with someone who has enough vocal strength that we can open up and sing from the soul together.
I also find a magic in the moment when an audience opens up and sings out loud. "Play another campfire song that we can all sing along," as the woman said on a porch the other night. I've been building a random repertoire of such songs to play on the ukulele that speak to me, through me, and to others allowing us all to sing together. I know the music industry pressures us into believing we have to make and buy new music, but to me every live performance of a song is a new story. The more people who sing along, the bigger the story. Yesterday Andrew Fletcher and I shared some traditional jazz standards at LaurelHurst Retirement Community and it was fun to realize that not only did they recognize the songs, but often they were singing along. We all had smiles on our faces by the time we were done.
My mom never stopped me from singing, so apologies to those musicians who are annoyed when the audience begins to sing along, but I wasn't raised that way. How can we ever have harmony if we don't sing together?
Recycling the tales
I went back to a journal from 2000 to find a song I'd never finished. Out of curiosity I flipped the page to find a story that might have been or is yet to be.
From August 2000:
This is the story...
It begins somewhere & someplace else
writing itself out of time.
A boy and a girl,
like most stories have,
are the center of the tale.
But what is the magic in this particular combination?
A difference of opinion or the development of trust?
A lucky break under a lucky star,
with just enough difficulty for romance.
A meeting of strangers
mistaken about meeting before.
The blind meeting the blind
finally realizing they can see.
A heartbreak,
a rebound,
ten thousand songs whirling the night till dawn.
Chances are this never happened,
but that's what tales are made of,
a circumstance that could never be believed.
They say that truth is stranger than fiction.
So who can say?
He was going to kiss her,
but he left the chance untaken,
left her pouting to herself.
There are plenty of other things they could have done,
but this is what they chose.
An opportunity missed
or disaster side-stepped?
But that is not what the story is about.
This is a chance taken and a flame ignited
because that's what stories are made of...
She liked to be alone in public.
He liked to be in public alone.
Both were happy with their arrangement.
A butterfly's moment of conversation between notebooks & games.
One day she told him he was beautiful.
Without hesitation he replied that she was too.
That's how it started or ended or was about to begin.
He could play music that would make her dance.
She could write songs that would open his soul.
A tentative exchange begun balancing on the edge of a knife.
This left her alone in public not wanting to be alone.
He held a phone number in his hand that burned with a fire
he wasn't sure he wanted to play with.
And that's where the story ends
or begins again.
Finding inspiration for National Poetry Month
Last year I failed the 30/30 challenge of writing a poem a day for National Poetry Month by starting late and only getting through about 15 poems. I don't do well writing in the car and that's where I seem to spend most of my time in April as we bring Poetry Alive! to schools in a frenzy for the month.
This year I started at Doo-Nanny in my little nook above the main stage until the typewriter was rained out while helping save Resistance Force and the other electronic equipment and instruments on stage from the storm. I gave away the few poems I managed to type before the storm without mass producing them for all on the interwebs. Some sayings are too powerful to simply drop them into the general pool of thought anyway.
I didn't have much time to be sad about the typewriter malfunction anyway since the Screaming Js joined me on the upper deck to dance the night away and sing the sun up instead. When I got the typewriter home, my roommate gave it some TLC and it's back in working order again, but it's a bit awkward to carry everywhere I go.
However, I found time last weekend to sneak in a poem the old fashioned way with pen and ink. In fact, I reminded myself that my favorite place to write really is sitting at the bar while conversation is bubbling and the band is setting up. This past Saturday I discovered that strange pocket of calm while the storm danced on the horizon right before it all began.
Here are the couple of "doo-dads" (as Dorothy Parker liked to call them) from the book so far this month:
Note to self
Many hands to lift you
Will you continue to soar
touching down so lightly
so as to barely make a sound?
There is nothing you can't do now,
but what will you choose?
Flow
Spinning circles
Dropping into now
Among many other nows
All the rapid fire river
Splashing over rough spots
Washing it all away.
What was it that snagged the movement?
Eddying stagnant pools
Eventually wash on past the sediment
Sentimentally left behind
Rushing on to merge as one
Until the heat of a star
Calls the individual molecules
Skyward.
Feed the Muse!
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