Giving it all away
If October was Rocktober, then November must have been Noremember because it simply flew by too darn fast. Without time to look back, we're on a crash course with the turn of the tide at the winter solstice and the end of another year. It's also the time of year where expectations and traditions start boxing with the cycles of change and transformation the season brings. As we head into the longest, darkest night tempers flare and tears are shed by many torn apart by the demands placed upon them by friends, family, and mostly themselves to do and give more with less.
Last year I watched my house slide into foreclosure after giving away most of my possessions to friends and neighbors. I finally surrendered the rest to be disposed of by whoever ended up in there once I was gone. I can tell you this for certain, in the year since then I have never once felt I needed any of those things. Even my beloved dog Isis has grown into her destined job as pack leader of the mountain dogs caring and cheering the "old man of the mountain" who was the best neighbor I could have asked for in the six years I lived there. She's also my excuse to go check on him--, I mean visit.
While this year has still not been financially bountiful, I have found plenty of blessings to lift me along the road toward the next place. Mostly I have regained a freedom that I didn't even know I was missing under the burden of "too much stuff."
Needless to say, I will not be going to the mall this year with a list of purchases of "stuff" for family, friends, and neighbors. I believe that only by shedding last year's baggage can we open our hands to accept what the new year has to offer. So, though tears may fall over what I can't afford, I continue the practice of gifting away what I have to those who need it. Sometimes that may only be a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on for a friend who is blue. But, what is more precious than your time? This year consider spending your gift of presence on the people present in your life.
Before you go, here's a little prayer for the blues in you:
Singing through a rain of tears
Sad songbird too tired of worldly woes
Weak from all that's been withdrawn
Barely holding on to melody
Pouring out all that remains
Longing to be left alone
May you find honey
To sweeten your song
Filling you with hope again.
Rocktober Spinning
Have you ever paused to consider what grabs most of your attention and thought during your waking hours and how that compares to your dreams? How many of us are simply free falling forward into the next "squeaking wheel" that needs tending? Today's world of communication is constantly interrupted by phone calls, text messages, emails, facebook and the person in your face telling you what you should be doing for them while ignoring the person behind them who has what they need.
It has become a luxury to take time to think for yourself without somebody trying to sell you an idea, image, or product. Many may call you selfish or lazy for not giving them your full attention, but without personal reflection it's easy to lose your center causing damage to yourself and those around you as you careen out of control.
I'm guilty of this rocking into October spinning circles along the highways for Poetry Alive! shows, saying farewells to friends transitioning to new projects that spiral them further away, completing all the steps to apply for North Carolina Artists Fellowship Grant (deadline is Nov. 1 for all you artists out there looking for financial aid), jazzing with the Red Hot Sugar Babies, making new friends and connections through music, hustling to find work that makes dollars and sense, and all the while adjusting to a new home that has spent the month in transition as two of us moved in and changed the balance of the space the four of us now call home. In other words, this month has been a chain of run-on sentences allowing little time to think about what I'm doing before I find myself doing it.
Finally, after running rough shod over a few friends, I hit the pavement literally when a "trash can jumped in front of me" while riding my bike "hell bent for leather," as my mother would say. It's not the first time and probably won't be the last, but over the years I may have gotten better at minimizing the damage when I do crash (though it takes time to heal the relationships). I still bleed & bruise, but I also heal quickly as I take the time to adjust my energy through Qigong & Reiki which I began to practice after moving to Asheville.
Seeing the human energy field.
I remember wandering into Essential Arts in Asheville to look at the pretty rocks and seeing an image of chakras for the first time that matched the colors of the opal, amethyst, blue zircon, and green turquoise I had instinctively found to wear as jewelry for my ears, neck, and wrists. I realized I'd armored myself on the road to help stop the pain. I began to understand how much my health was based on proper alignment of my body from musculoskeletal system to energy field. What the American corporations that sell you their patented drugs and health care (and who now pay for the candidates currently up for election) never advertise is that most of this cannot be fixed by one of their pills, fad diets, or surgeries. In fact, many of the pills they sell you hide the pain while creating new problems. If something natural can heal you, they've been doing whatever they can to keep it from you in order to increase their profits since at least as far back as the 1930s when Dupont and Hearst succeeded in prohibiting Hemp. True health care reform will only come when Americans change their consciousness about healing from something that someone else must sell you to something that you do daily for yourself. If you haven't already, check out this grassroots documentary film that explores where eastern philosophy and western science meet at quantum physics:
Natural science continues to unveil the natural design of the world and how we have the ability to find balance within that framework. American corporate science continues to find ways to manufacture profit. As we head this week into the harvest festival at summer's end or "Samhain" (also referred to as Halloween, Féile na Marbh, Ayamarca, etc. depending on which culture of this planet you were raised within) consider what you have harvested this year and your own balance of health in the natural world.
Currently, I'm inspired by a couple of the most focused and naturally healthy people I know who are rocking with their ukuleles this weekend. The first is my new roommate and registered nurse Lin Llewelyn who is headed with her ukulele love wave to the Rally to Restore Sanity in Washington, D.C. The second is ukulelerockstar Ami Worthen of The Mad Tea Party who (in addition to a seasonal record release of Rock-n-Roll Ghoul) is urging political radicals this month to leave Asheville's much loved Mad Tea Party alone at election time:
However you celebrate this transition time of year, I hope you find time to love and care for yourself so that you may share that healthy love with the people calling, texting, facebooking, and in your face. I'll be doing a little bit of work each day myself to meet you there.
Summer heat
This summer has been hot! I don't know what the actual temperatures have been, but I find that biking around town means a whole lot of perspiration. (In other words I feel like I've spent most of the summer a sweaty mess.) The Red Hot Sugar Babies have lived up to their name so far, and July was full of steamy shows like the one at Rogers Park captured in the video here:
The Red Hot Sugar Babies from Erik Olsen on Vimeo.
I've also been weeding gardens, writing articles, learning & writing more songs on the ukulele, and trying to keep my brain from melting. Fire seems to be the theme as it burns away the debris of the past. Any day now I'm hoping to take flight with new wings like the phoenix. August has been so steamy with showers that it's been hard to see the way clear to launch toward anything new. If anything I've learned to rely on myself more since even the best of friends will sometimes turn and walk away from you. But, I'm grateful to my roommates and the friends who have continued to offer their support as I burn through all this mess.
September is starting to shape into something while the rest of the year remains a big blank page for now. Now back to dreaming up a plan of action for the journey into the heart of winter so I don't end up frozen.
Flash Forward
I still haven't written the story about the wind storm that closed the freeway while we frolicked at the Grand Canyon, or the hotel/bus depot we spent the night at in Cheyenne, Wyoming clinging to Aaron Wood's new EP tracks off his website (aaronwoodmusic.com) for comfort. I haven't written about doing 14 shows in 14 different schools around King County in 5 days while trying to squeeze in visits with family & old friends and how many I missed anyway. I haven't written about returning to Asheville to be greeted by so many great musicians ready to make the music happen. I haven't written about how scary it is to look at the next few months of open dates to fill with projects that feed my heart & spirit & belly while keeping a roof over my head. I'm still working it out.
I have a bicycle, that I'm fixing. I have a 5 song EP waiting to be copied, but available to download. I have an article to write for the paper about someone who reminded me to keep focusing on what I do well and to get it done. So, apologies for holding back on the stories until I finish the ones that put a few dollars in my pocket. I need to pass them on to the next person for doing what they do well that I can't do for myself.
Putting it in perspective
When I left Asheville there was not yet an ecological disaster in the Gulf, nor was there a garden in my backyard.
After running across the country packing each day full of shows and reconnecting with loved ones scattered like seeds across the country, I can't help but hope that the work we did through Poetry Alive! helped to provide some nourishment in these, well, interesting times. I must say it was a relief to walk into schools this trip compared to the last time I was working on the west coast right after the Columbine incident. Everywhere we went both staff and students were grateful to see us and thirsty for the arts instead of scared of bomb threats. I was also reminded of how diverse America has become as I visited more schools where there is no longer a majority, but rather a rainbow of color, language, and culture. However, budgets are tight. Even though the arts and sports help bridge the gaps of culture and give students outlets for their own expressions, they are on the chopping block this season.
I'm worn down from 13,000 miles of road dust in the past month and really don't have time to worry about much except the basics of food, shelter, sleep & how to turn the few dollars I made for the work we did into sustainable independence. Isn't that really what we all need?
I was reminded in Lincoln, Nebraska, the heartland of America, that the essential part of the American dream is that if you work hard you will be rewarded. This doesn't mean you figure out how you can scam the most money out of other people at the least cost to yourself. This doesn't mean you run around blaming everyone else for making you miserable or expect that they owe you something.
If our government can't figure that out, it is our duty as citizens to help them. In the words of Paul Freire, "Nobody liberates anybody else, and nobody liberates themselves all alone. People liberate themselves in fellowship with each other."
My wish is that each of us stops playing the blame game and continues to develop those life sustaining attributes which allow us work together for a better tomorrow as we clean up the messes of yesterday.
Daryl Ryce Interview
Daryle Ryce (photo by Charlie Milford)
I had the pleasure of interviewing Daryl Ryce recently for the Tryon Daily Bulletin. I used to repost the articles on my blog as well, but times being what they are I recommend picking up a copy of the paper yourself or checking them out online. I can tell you that the conversation we had led to a very interesting article that brings to light tidbits of information you won't find by typing her name into google.
If you happen to be in Tryon on a Saturday night there's a chance you can catch Daryl live at the Lilac Wine Bar.
I'm told the article was to run last Friday, March 5 with photos taken by Sam Lovelace at the Nina Simone Statue Dedication Concert.
Rhythm Rascals
This picture comes from April 2008 after a Firecracker Jazz Band show in Greenville, SC. After I'd danced to these two rhythm monsters, along with one more buddy, we found ourselves escorted to front row seats at the Brown Street Theatre for Wanda Johnson. Later we found our way down the road to the pool hall for a game or two to wind down. All in all it felt like a charmed night. I remember thinking at the time that a couple of pals like these were the ideal rhythm section for any band. We were friends, never lovers, and all about keeping the music hot.
Once upon a night after a show...
They did continue play together for the next two years in not only the Firecracker Jazz Band, but also The Screaming Js. Where ever they were playing I was sure to be dancing if I could make it. Finally, with a big kick from a friend three weeks before she left this planet for good, I pulled my nerves together enough to record a short demo with the two of them playing the hot jazz I love the most. The day seemed magical as we sat down and recorded just about everything in one take. It was like we'd played together for years. I suppose in a way we had, but never those songs. It was recorded just in time to bid farewell to a dear friend. As I listened to the final mixes today, the blurry headed fellow on the right is following the trail to the west coast to seek his fortune. I wish him all the best, but can't help but hope we'll all be reunited one day soon to make some more musical mayhem together.
No regrets, keep moving for the win.
Visiting with Nina Simone
Sitting with Nina at the end of her big day.
Here's one of the pictures Andrew Fletcher took of me at the end of Nina's big day when we finally had a moment to sit down and chat. I felt like a princess visiting with the queen.
Somehow celebrating Nina's return with my extended family of the Tryon community was enough to put my mind at ease for missing the memorial for my slam family sister.
Perhaps it was the doves let loose circling above reminding me that some spirits just have to soar.
Bunny Up
What I didn't know when I wrote the blog "Fire" was that roughly 16.5 hours later Gabrielle would leave her body to rest on this earth and the fire she shared in the hearts of the many people she touched in her time on this planet. It's been over a week now and I still haven't found the words to express how that felt or what it meant to have a friend like her in my life, but I'm going to make an attempt.
What I did know that night was that we had exchanged text messages about 8 hours earlier and she insisted I wait to send her tracks from the demo she challenged me to create until I had the final polished CD to mail her. I knew I was up against a deadline when I'd left her in Austin at the ER at midnight January 9. However, she said with a 
, she knew I was excited, but it would be worth the wait. I wonder if she knew she would be gone, but had already heard the melodies drifting into her dreams the same way I felt her fire that day spinning my world through a barrage of phone calls into a new direction.
I met Gabrielle in the swirl of the Seattle Poetry scene. Before she was multimediagrl she was the mothership on my email and chat lists. When I left Seattle to tour with Poetry Alive! Gabrielle jumped on board the Slam committee with Allison Durazzi and Paula Friedrich to make my dream of a National Poetry Slam in Seattle become a reality. She was always the one with the fire to get things done.
Unlike my older relatives who have left this world, Gabrielle was someone I actually lived with in the crazy condo on First Hill lovingly referred to as the Purple Palace. I don't share space well with other people, as anyone who has lived with me can tell you, but we had a lot of fun together. The summer of 1998 we went out nearly every night I was in town. Always dressed in something that sparkled, we'd find our way to the OK Hotel first to finish painting our nails with glitter over one of Raymond Kempe's Bloody Marys and watch who came in before it was too crowded to see anything but the performers lit up on stage. We shared a passion for cheering on our favorite musicians and poets. We also shared scars from loving those who knew how to use, but not how to feed, a muse. Cat O'Sullivan and Ciro Viamontes joined us in the healing process that summer which culminated in spending an entire day building a sweat lodge in order to cleanse ourselves of baggage. That's powerful medicine that can only be explained through experience.
Even after I sold the Purple Palace to move to Asheville, NC we kept in contact regularly. I kept up to date with the National Slam community vicariously through her. She would brainstorm career moves with me as she left Seattle to return to Buffalo and eventually relocated to the heart of her Slam Family in Austin.
Where ever my wounded heart feared to tread she would boldly go to make things right. We shared the heartache of flying across the country to make real a long distance relationship only to discover the girlfriend at home. We also shared the belief that the creative work was more important than the failed attempt at true love and at least one of us could salvage that at times. She was better at doing that even to the end with the most recent musician/roommate to turn my world upside down. When everything stopped working, Gabrielle was there encouraging each of us back on our feet toward success rather than self destruction. Conveniently, she only had to deal with one of us in town visiting her at a time.
Most importantly, she had a great sense of the big picture. My last days visiting with her included being the sounding board. She was mapping out a master plan for providing a thriving framework for the tribes of artists she so dearly loved. It leaves me feeling that she didn't so much leave us behind. She simply needed to escape the body worn down by living enough for three people each day so that her spirit could stretch to reach us all.
Gabrielle Boulaine
Known for hosting the Erotica Slam at Nationals in her sequined dress with bunny ears, Bunny Up became Gabrielle's code when the pain was bad. In her last days, the widespread love of her extended family became obvious in the bunnification of facebook profile pictures. When she left us, the network of all that love suddenly felt like a fragile spider's web in a wind storm. She laid out the road map though and gave us the code. Bunny Up. Love something, even if you have to start with learning to love yourself.
Fire
See the flames alight in my hands
radiating out from my heart
holding Gabrielle's words
singing the song of creation?
Hop to it,
lift up your head
open your mouth
speak love
& live.
I love you,
wendi
p.s. In the mid 1990's I was fortunate to spend a few years singing with Shades of Praise. I've had a version of "Fire (shut up in my bones)" that our director Cora Jackson taught us in my head this evening. I couldn't find that for you to hear, but I can recommend her first album to you here: Original Praise.
Here are a few other things I found along the way to share:
Jeremiah 1:5, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”
Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?”
Jeremiah 29:10-11, “This is what the LORD says: ‘When seventy years are completed for Babylon, I will come to you and fulfill my gracious promise to bring you back to this place. ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”
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