"If you ever wonder why there's a shadow on your stack of problems, it's coming from the towering skyscraper of blessings and good fortune next to it."
- Unknown
Scheveningen Women and Other People Under Umbrellas
Vincent Van Gogh, Watercolor, 1882, The Hague, Netherlands
I'm feeling pretty sheepish today. I have a towering skyscraper of blessings and good fortune casting a shadow so long and wide across my little stack of problems it's embarrassing. Yet, sometimes, I just can't resist feeling sorry for myself for some minor issue. Really. How shallow.
I'm not grievously shallow. At least, I don't think I am. I mean, just last night, I watched ABC's Nightline (purportedly a news show) and sat for a full twenty minutes to watch an entire segment on shoes. High heeled shoes, to be exact, and the shoe-a-holic to end all shoe-a-holics, Kelly Ripa. Seriously. The gist of this in-depth news exposéis that high heels are dangerous, and we needed a shoe-addicted woman to tell us this.
There is now, apparently, a new fitness class at Crunch Gym in NYC called "Stiletto Strength" to help women build up the so-called strength required to walk in eight inch heels without toppling over. Heavens to betsy, I'm not kidding. That's grievously shallow.
Ten-inch high heeled shoes by British designer Alexander McQueen
Um, pardon me, but does anyone out there find these shoes attractive?
Yes, yes, I digress. I'm shallow and easily distracted.
I wasted a good bit of time in self-pity yesterday for no very good reason at all. I also somehow managed to garner the well-intentioned sympathy of my all-too-wonderful friends, none of whom were able to reach through the computer screen to smack me virtually and yell, "Snap out of it!"
I apologize to all, here and now. I broke a tooth. I cracked two others. On a slice of pizza, of all things. Good grief.
Weird? Yes.
Inconvenient? Sure.
Tragic? Hardly.
Don't cry for me, Argentina. Get over yourself, Jo.
Today I hope you can see the skyscraper of blessings.
I suppose today is the day to share with you my "Don't I feel sorry for myself ?" music. Whenever I feel the need to immerse myself in the woes of the day, this is what I listen to. It's Chopin, of course (could anyone do pathos better than Chopin? I say no). This is his "Nocturne #20 in C sharp Minor" played by violinist Joshua Bell.
You may want to bookmark this piece of music for future reference. If the situation warrants, there's nothing better than sitting down for a listen and allowing yourself a good sob session.
"We need to have people who mean something to us; people to whom we can turn, knowing that being with them is coming home." - Fr. Bernard Cooke
Sharing Secrets - Tamara de Lampicka, Oil on Canvas, 1928
My friend Debra posted this quote on facebook last night.(Please see her blog about being an artist at From Skilled Hands.)
Maybe because it was Mother's Day, maybe because I had had a rare and luxuriously long phone conversation with My Twin that afternoon, or maybe because I welcomed a friend back to town on Saturday night whom I had not seen in months (and who was very, very happy to be back), but reading these words resonated so deeply inside me that I was brought to tears.
When we say something 'resonates' in us, what do we mean? Well, for me, it means that I feel an honest-to-goodness vibration in the pit of my stomach. I've come to learn that it's how to recognize the essence of truth in a message to us.
The message may be expressed via the spoken word, the written word, or even a facial expression. It may be delivered in the strains of a melody, the lyrics of a song, or the stanza of a poem. It may simply be expressed in a casual comment by a stranger sitting next to us on the bus. Whatever the means of delivery, that vibration inside you is a sure sign that the message is meant for you.
I am so grateful to the many people in my life for whom being with them is like coming home. Many of these people are in my very own family...how nice is that? I know some people who go to great lengths to avoid their families. I'm thankful that's not me.
I have dear friends close by with whom I've raised my children, celebrated good times, and mourned the bad. Each time I'm with them it's like coming home.
I've reconnected with people from my youth and childhood, thanks to the wonders of facebook and the Internet. It was almost instantaneous with many of them, the feeling of coming home again.
I'm really looking forward to seeing one of these friends in just days now. She and I attended Johnson Elementary School together...elementary school! I'm so excited to see her again, break bread with her, walk with her, and show her around my little part of the world. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm coming home!
Sometimes, new friends are 'coming home people' too. Debra falls into that category. When I told her that the quote brought me to tears, do you know what she replied? "And I will hand you a tissue and give you a hug." Oh, yeah...that's a coming home person. I won't list your names (you know who you are), but there are many others, too who make me feel the same way...so very lucky to know them.
In June, I'll have the chance to really go home to Kansas City for my high school reunion. It will be the first reunion I've ever attended. It's taken me forty years, but I plan on making up for lost time with these dear friends. I'm already feeling that warm and comfortable feeling of coming home to them.
Whoever they are, wherever they are, I wish for you the special comfort of Coming Home People.
"Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace, give us faith so we'll be safe..." The lyrical poetry of this song feel like coming home to me.
Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli sing the duet from the original soundtrack for "Quest for Camelot" by David Foster..."The Prayer." Enjoy.
"There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm."
- Willa Cather
The Storm - Pierre-Auguste Cot, Oil on canvas, 1880, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, New York
Violent storms swept through Weldon Springs last night and into the morning. Vivid lightning, crashing thunder, and bursts of noisy hail joined torrents of rain in the assault. What a crazy night.
I felt as though the storms were a sort of manifestation of the storm that's lately been passing through the family ethos here, as well. As we prepare for the family to caravan to Kansas City in a couple of days for a weekend celebration of my mother's life, we seem to have entered a phase of conflicting, sometimes downright warring, emotions. We're a household of crazy people.
It can't be helped. I know this. I just don't know if the rest of the family knows it. We'll get through this...we have before and we will again. They don't seem to remember this, though.
It's stressful. Planning for any trip is stressful these days, even if it's just for one traveler. Multiplied by nine (with two of those travelers being small children), things that would normally be small issues seem to cause storm clouds to gather quickly. If we factor in the reason for the journey (the anticipation of a difficult goodbye to a dearly loved person), those storm clouds are bound to burst open.
Some in the family are focusing on transportation issues. Cars need repairs and cleaning and expensive gas in order to make the trip. Airline travel has been arranged for The Graceful One to fly into Kansas City. Hmm. I guess someone should plan on picking her up at the airport.
Some are focusing on keeping children occupied for hours in the car...handheld video games and players seem to be the saving grace for today's parents. Hmm. No more "Billboard Bingo" I guess.
Some are focusing on clothing for the occasion. Does everyone have socks? How about jackets? What will the weather be like (heaven knows!)? Hmm. What does one wear to a memorial service to be held at a resort/spa?
Yes, that's what I said. My mother's memorial will be held at the hotel/hot springs resort/spa where my mother and father spent their honeymoon over 65 years ago. It's called The Elms in Excelsior Springs, and is about 40 miles north of Kansas City. Here is a picture of it...
The Elms Resort and Spa
The Elms is over one hundred years old and is famous for the healing mineral waters that used to draw thousands of visitors each year back in the early days. One of its most famous guests was President Harry S. Truman, who stayed there on the eve of his re-election in 1948.
He must have heard how much my parents enjoyed it.
But I digress. I'll tell you a bit more about the plans for the memorial tomorrow. If I have time between the cars and the video games and the clothes shopping.
Now that the storm has passed through, the morning is cool, the air is clear, and the light is returning. Let's hope the family can manifest that, as well.
Today, I hope you can see past the storm.
I've selected a favorite song from a favorite genre of my parents' day, the Big Band Era. The inimitable Les Brown and his Band of Renown plays "Sentimental Journey" with the divine Vikki Carr singing the vocals. Enjoy!
"Lots of people talk to animals.... Not very many listen, though.... That's the problem." - Benjamin Hoff, The Tao of Pooh
I can be so oblivious. Really, it takes no effort at all for me to completely miss signals, signs, and messages sent to me. Sometimes the universe just has to scream, "Would you please stop for a minute and listen?"
Well, yesterday, the universe screamed. On my walk, I encountered many more animals than I usually do...
Brother Heron was there, along with two Canada Geese. The heron allowed me to get very very close to him
...almost sharing a bench with me. His friend, the goose, looked very swanlike as he glided toward me. He seemed very proud of himself.
Suddenly, two other animals appeared and frightened everyone away...
They found it quite fun to terrorize the poor birds...I don't blame the dog, though.
I returned to my walk, and ran into a lovely young lady named Sarah, who was only too proud to introduce me to her friend, Scout...
and show me what a clever friend he is.
And of course there were lots of the usual two and four-legged animals..
I had lunch with my friends yesterday at the amazingly wonderful Chocolate Cafe and Coffee House in O'Fallon. It was a perfectly wonderful afternoon, and we ate our salads and sandwiches and Java Mocha Chocolate Chip Gooey Butter Cake (what a mouthful...literally and figuratively!) al fresco. As we finished our delights, guess who we saw? Brother Heron, who flew directly over our astonished heads!
I returned home just before Little Scholar got off the school bus. I fixed him a peanut butter and banana sandwich as he told me about his day. He became quite animated as he told me about the exciting "listening game" his music teacher had played. The teacher had played excerpts of music and the children were asked to name what animal might be described by it. "Yia-Yia," he said, "Do you know that a clarinet can sound just like a cuckoo bird?"
I stopped slicing bananas and asked, "Was there a rooster and fish and a donkey in the music, too?"
"Yes!" he replied. "It's all about the animals!"
"Carnival of the Animals?" I asked. "By Camille Saint-Saëns?"
"That's it!" said the Little Scholar, whereupon we went back to the afternoon rush of activities.
Last night, it came to my attention (thanks to a very kind and patient friend who spends a lot of time explaining the obvious to me) that I have animal spirit guides who have been trying to speak to me. Duh. As I said, I can be really oblivious.. Oh yeah, it's all about the animals.
I will pay more attention now to both of the animals who have been trying to reach out to me; the small white lamb who has appeared to me in meditations recently, and the graceful heron, who has befriended me since my mother's passing.
Sometimes, we are perceptive enough to pick up these messages on our own. Sometimes, it takes a village...or in my case, a carnival.
I hope you pick up your messages today. ♥
Of course, the music selection today is from "Le Carnaval des Animaux (The Carnival of the Animals)" by Camille Saint-Saëns. It is a musical suite of fourteen movements composed in 1886. The composer thought it to be of little significance at the time, and allowed only one movement to be published in his lifetime. The others were published posthumously, and the work is widely known through many pieces in pop culture today.
This selection is called 'Le Cygne (The Swan)', and is the one movement that Saint-Saëns deemed worthy of serious consideration.
Usually performed as a piece for cello and piano, YoYo Ma would be the natural go-to guy for this work, but alas, I cannot post his masterful performance posted on YouTube. Not very sharing of him, is it?
Second place (of course, I'm always looking for the live performance videos to share with you, as opposed to the music recordings + photos) goes to this one by renowned cellistMisha Quint and pianist Svetlana Gorokovich. Enjoy.
"Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything, That's how the light gets in." - Leonard Cohen
Girl with Pearl Earring, Jan Vermeer, Oil on canvas, 1665 Louvre Museum, Paris, France
What makes this painting so special? Most experts will tell you it's Vermeer's understanding of light, using it to highlight the earring with such intensity that he pulls the observer's eye toward the center of the painting filled with darks and lesser highlights. What an impressive mastery of his subject and the observer!
The great masters of Chiaroscuro like Raphael, Caravaggio, and Vermeer began to explore concepts of light and dark in the Renaissance era, and today the concept of light remains as provocative as ever.
Blues Come Through, Alice Dalton Brown
I looked at a print of the painting above, and nearly couldn't believe it wasn't a photograph. (I don't know the original medium used, but I suspect it's a watercolor.) Dalton Brown, a Contemporary Realist who was born in Pennsylvania in 1939, studied art at the Academie Julian in Paris. She's known for her attention to detail and, like most great artists, "finding the sublime in the everyday." I'm simply amazed at her understanding of the interplay between light and shadows.
The dark, murky shadows of the light-deprived winter season have finally given way to the crisp, clear shadows that accompany the bright spring sunshine. As the sunbeams came streaming into the house this morning, I couldn't help but reflect on the power of light and how deeply it affects us all.
Physically and metaphorically, I'm letting the light in today. I've opened all the shades and thrown up the sashes on this perfect spring day. (A high of 75 F. is expected today. How perfect is that?) As the brilliant Leonard Cohen tells us, I'm going to try to accept the cracks in my world and understand that it is through those very cracks that the light will enter.
Today, I wish you light through the cracks.
Wow. Leonard Cohen. He is one of the greatest poets of our day, to my mind, and certainly one of the most gracious performers to ever live.
Of course the music selection today is his brilliant "Anthem" from which the quote above is exerpted. Many versions are out there for you to explore (here is a very unique version posted by my friend, Steven, over at his blog, the golden fish), but this one is filled with the grace of Cohen's soul from beginning to end. Please watch his face as he performs, allowing the music and the poetry of his lyrics to enter completely into him, and so, into us.
As much a I enjoy the beauty of the music and the words, I enjoy the final introductions of the people with whom he shares the stage, given and receieved with such reverence for one another. Enjoy.
"Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that's where I renew my springs that never dry up." -Pearl Buck
Solitude, Sir Frederic Leighton, oil on canvas,1890 Maryhill Museum of Art, Goldendale, Washington.
I believe it's sacred to spend time alone.
We live in a society so polarizing we feel pulled apart most of the time. Demands on our time make us feel fragmented. We describe the overload of stress as causing us to wonder if we're coming or going.
I believe that we can learn to feel more whole by spending some of our time in solitude.
By that, I don't mean simply being alone, watching television, reading, working out, or surfing the internet. I see solitude as a chosen period of time used for the purpose of reflection, prayer, or meditaton.
To me, solitude is a chance to listen and appreciate. You may choose to "saunter through the woods for four hours a day, at least," as Henry David Thoreau did, or you might choose to sit in silence in a comfortable chair for fifteen minutes each morning.
Those of you who know me well know that I've been practicing a meditation for over a year now called Inner Smile, based on precepts which combine The Tao and Traditional Chinese Medicine (ooh, that sounded complicated...it's not). Basically, it's an introspective visit to the five major internal organs of one's body (heart, spleen/stomach region, lungs, kidneys, and liver).
As I enter peacefully "into" each organ, I smile (literally...smiling into your heart, etc. is very powerful), thank it for the way it serves me, acknowledge the hard work it does, and then release any negative emotions held there (according to TCM, each organ is the storage point for positive and negative emotions, but I won't elaborate on that here). Just the simple thought that you are releasing negativity from your body can be very healing.
I absolutely love this meditation, but it may not be for you. I promise you, though, there is healing in the very act of honoring your soul by sitting with it and focusing on it alone every once in a while. It is sacred.
If you haven't made a moment of sacred solitude part of your routine yet, I encourage you to do so without guilt. It is absolutely as important as working, paying the bills, tending to the home, exercising, or playing with the kids.
As Anne Morrow Lindbergh said, "What a commentary on civilization, when being alone is being suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it - like a secret vice."
Don't allow anyone to encroach upon this sacred moment. You're not a recluse, or a hermit...or, godforbid, antisocial.You are taking care of yourself.
I'll get off the corner soap box now with this thought. As the original Ad Men said, "Try it, you'll like it."
Today, I hope you begin your journey to sacred solitude.
Van Morrison takes his soap box to the corner with this great performance of "The Healing Game." Many thanks to my friend, Lisa T., for this one. Enjoy!
What a difference a day makes. It was as if Spring had overslept and was suddenly awakened by the alarm clock. "Hurry!" she exclaimed to the trees, shrubs, flowers, and birds. "We're late...get busy!"
I went outside to find that things were blooming quite recklessly, not with the usual springtime order of events. The leaves on the deciduous trees suddenly decided to unfurl in all their sweet chartreuse splendor...
Though there is still no sign of the unusually stubborn daffodils and tulips, colors on the shrubs and trees collided against each other...
Wild Dogwood (yellow blossoms)
The beauty of the songbirds... purple martins, bluebirds, finches, and cardinals, combined with the less melodic crows, grackles, and jays, to produce a cacophony of sound that never ceased.
And the mysterious "Brigid's Gate" down the path from our house, which looked so barren this past winter...
Now looks like this...
...and I suppose before too much longer, it will be completely hidden from sight.
I missed the usual commune I've come to expect in the last few days with Brother Heron. Instead, he ceded the pond at Weldon Spring's nature path to a fisherman in human form, one who was much larger, noisier, and less graceful than he.
When I finished my meditation, though (seated at a pondside bench) I opened my eyes to see him (the heron...not the very large man) fly overhead to the sanctuary of the back woods. So at least we said hello today.
Apparently, spring this year will be a raucous event filled with the chaos that invariably accompanies oversleeping. Each spring is different, I suppose, and this one promises to be memorable.
Today I hope you witness spring...somewhere.
The music I selected today is a little longer than most I choose (I never want to take up too much of your precious time), but I promise you this one is worth the seven and a half minutes out of your day.
This is Beethoven's "Sonata Op 57, 3rd Movement", or "Appassionata." This video is of Valentina Lesitsa in rehearsal before a Vienna concert in 2009. Like Spring today, it's filled with excitement, passion, and a bit of chaos. I think you'll be amazed by how fast Lesitsa's fingers fly at the end. Enjoy!
"Happy are those who sing with all their hearts, from the bottoms of their hearts. To find joy in the sky, the trees, the flowers. There are always flowers for those who want to see them." - Henri Matisse
Weldon Spring is acting a bit like Toronto this year. A few feeble daffodils have appeared, rather faintheardedly, but the cold wet weather has yet to yield to enough sunny hours necessary for the usual springtime profusion of blooms.
This means I'm forced to look for other forms of beauty on my regular walks at the Weldon Spring City Hall nature path. Here's what's been going on:
The new Big Red Barn (replacing the old one that burned down last summer) was installed in the fall.
It's very handsome, don't you think?
Apparently, plans are underway to spruce up the front of
City Hall as well:
They're breaking up the old concrete driveway...
And preparing for a brand new two lane road.
Brother Heron and I have become much better at
not frightening each other...
Along with the Canada Geese, he now allows me to watch him fish for his dinner...
...though I'm pretty sure he went 0 for 5 on this outing.
I found this perfectly formed little home for some creature
in the back part of the trail, which calls for further
investigation as Spring continues...
and the sky was as beautiful as any impressionist painting...
So yesterday I tried, and will continue to try, to see the flowers. As Matisse suggests, sometimes it's simply a matter of choice.
Today, I hope you see the flowers.
I've selected a beautiful orchestral work to share with you this morning, Gabriel Fauré's "Pavane in F-sharp minor, Op. 50" written in 1887. This one is performed by the NHK Symphony Orchestra in Tokyo, and is conducted by Vladimir Ashkenazy (be still, my beating heart!).
Fauré wrote this pavane ('pavane' is a piece of music named for a stately royal court dance of the same name) for a patron of his, Countess Elisabeth Greffulhe, and it originally included dancers and a chorus of singers in a spectacle to be performed at her garden parties in the Bois de Boulogne. Oh, yeah...if I close my eyes I can see the flowers now. Enjoy!
