"On with the dance! let joy be unconfined..."
- Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage
This one is for all of us currently dealing with the soggy weather, the flooding, and even worse storms like tornadoes over the last few days.
If anyone can make us feel better about truly nasty weather, it's Gene Kelly. Hollywood lore has it that Mr. Kelly was truly sick and running a high fever when this scene was filmed (hence, the added reference at the beginning of this scene). And yet, there he is having the time of his life, jumping in puddles, kicking up water, and singing and dancing...in the rain. I want that passion.
I pray that we can all find a tiny bit of this spirit within us as we assist our communities in recovering from these weather woes.
I heard from so many people yesterday responding to my post on "The Dance" (not just here on Smiling Heart, but on facebook and email, too) that had connected with the idea of dancing that I decided to spend more time on the subject.
When I thought a bit more about the subject, I wanted to touch on the idea of finding passion in our 'dance'. If we are to agree that we all dance (in a purely literal sense, I think it is innately born in us...even babies dance, with or without music), and the earth dances to its own rhythm, and the universe itself dances; expanding,contracting, arching and spinning, then should we not honor this miraculous dance with our passion?
We know passion when we see it...it's in a performer who connects to something within himself/herself to convey more than mere words or melodies or steps or songs,
...a photographer who captures more than the mere light and shadow of a subject,
...a teacher who refuses to give up on a difficult student,
...a mechanic who treats a car with the care and respect of a doctor tending a patient,
...a first responder who runs into the building everyone else is running from,
...an elite athlete who gives up a good portion of a 'normal' childhood in order to train,
...or the coach or trainer who inspires and teaches that athlete (or John/Jane Doe) to attain his/her goals,
...a writer who endures solitude, writer's block, criticism, and rejection in order to share his ideas,
...a mother who changes the course of her own life to help her child,
...a scientist who dedicates years of her life to researching one tiny organism,
...or a seamstress who spends hours making the inside of a garment as perfect as the outer garment itself, though no one but the person wearing it will see it,
I could go on and on. It seems lots of my own friends are filled with the passion of their own life's dance. (Did you recognize yourselves? You know who you are.) Have they been blessed with this passion? Have they chosen to create that passion? I wonder if there is a difference between the two.
As the noted American author, educator, and civil rights leader, Howard Thurman, wrote, "Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
That's just another way of saying we need people who dance with passion, right?
Today, I hope you find the passion in your dance...and then share it with others!
No one will ever accuse soprano Anna Netrebko of lacking passion. In this aria by Franz Lehár, "Meine Lippen sie küssen so heiß" (My Lips Kiss with Such Fire), she brings the audience to a frenzy with her obvious passion. In a most literal way, it carries her to another dimension, and she becomes Giuditta. Lord Byron himself would be thrilled...her joy is unconfined.
This production is part of BBC's Proms series from 2007. Whether you are an opera star or a country music fan, a man or a woman, young or old, this performance will wow you. Enjoy!
Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rain. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Into Each Life...
Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Yesterday morning, as if on cue from some heavenly director, the skies spilled out a cold steady stream of rain. Caring for my still-sick Little Beauty (please go away, Ivan the Terrible), I watched from the window all day as the unceasing droplets descended from the sullen winter sky. Sometime around mid morning I realized it was high time to acknowledge this period of rain in my life.
Into each life, I thought. Better to recognize the downpour and open an umbrella than to bury my head and pretend it's not raining.
It's raining. Cats and dogs. Literally and metaphorically. Whoever first said, "When it rains, it pours" was absolutely right, and I'm soaked to the skin right now.
Ultimately, though, this is not about me. This is about several very important people in my life who are going through serious health crises, and the ripples caused by these disturbances. Three...three are locked in serious battles with cancer. Another dear one is experiencing life threatening difficulties caused by Cystic Fibrosis.
All men, all dear to me for one reason or another, each of them is way too young and way too undeserving of such difficulties. The ripples reach from parents to spouses to children and grandchildren and friends and others, eventually crashing into the concentric ripples of the others.
Word came late Monday from My Twin, a physician, who had spoken to the doctors concerning their investigation into our mother's recent falls and encroaching dementia within the last few months. The neurologist has diagnosed ALS (Lou Gherig Disease) or similar progressive neuropathy. One test remains before putting a period after the diagnosis.
Within forty-eight hours, we've gone from wondering how our mother's health could decline so rapidly, to moving her to a skilled nursing center, to discussions about hospice care. It sort of boggles the mind.
And so, I'm enterting a rainy season. As Longfellow said, it's the common fate of all. I know the sun will return in due time. I think when it does, I will take my mother out into its radiance and read some lovely books and poetry to her, just as in the beautiful John Singer Sargent watercolor painting pictured above. Watercolor. How perfect.
For now, though...for just a little while,...I must honor the rain.
Today I wish for you to know that "behind the clouds, the sun is shining."
The music selection today is Eric Whitacre's "Cloudburst" sung by The Tower Choir. Many of you may know Whitacre as the composer behind the virtual choir production of "Lux Aurumque". He is a brilliant, inventive, 21st century composer with classical taste. I think he's fabulous.
Please be patient as you listen to the storm clouds build during the first few minutes. The harmonies are amazing. The cloudburst appears after the five minute mark, when the singers and musicians employ everything from finger snaps, bells, drums, claps, and voices to produce the wind and rain. Listen, and you will see the droplets which fall and cause those overlapping, concentric ripples. Enjoy.
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
 |
| Simplon Pass: Reading - John Singer Sargent Watercolor, 1911, Museum Of Fine Arts, Boston, USA courtesy johnsingersargent.org |
Yesterday morning, as if on cue from some heavenly director, the skies spilled out a cold steady stream of rain. Caring for my still-sick Little Beauty (please go away, Ivan the Terrible), I watched from the window all day as the unceasing droplets descended from the sullen winter sky. Sometime around mid morning I realized it was high time to acknowledge this period of rain in my life.
 |
| Rain From the Window |
Into each life, I thought. Better to recognize the downpour and open an umbrella than to bury my head and pretend it's not raining.
It's raining. Cats and dogs. Literally and metaphorically. Whoever first said, "When it rains, it pours" was absolutely right, and I'm soaked to the skin right now.
 |
| Scheveningen Women and Other People Under Umbrellas Vincent Van Gogh Watercolor, The Hague,1882 |
Ultimately, though, this is not about me. This is about several very important people in my life who are going through serious health crises, and the ripples caused by these disturbances. Three...three are locked in serious battles with cancer. Another dear one is experiencing life threatening difficulties caused by Cystic Fibrosis.
All men, all dear to me for one reason or another, each of them is way too young and way too undeserving of such difficulties. The ripples reach from parents to spouses to children and grandchildren and friends and others, eventually crashing into the concentric ripples of the others.
Word came late Monday from My Twin, a physician, who had spoken to the doctors concerning their investigation into our mother's recent falls and encroaching dementia within the last few months. The neurologist has diagnosed ALS (Lou Gherig Disease) or similar progressive neuropathy. One test remains before putting a period after the diagnosis.
Within forty-eight hours, we've gone from wondering how our mother's health could decline so rapidly, to moving her to a skilled nursing center, to discussions about hospice care. It sort of boggles the mind.
And so, I'm enterting a rainy season. As Longfellow said, it's the common fate of all. I know the sun will return in due time. I think when it does, I will take my mother out into its radiance and read some lovely books and poetry to her, just as in the beautiful John Singer Sargent watercolor painting pictured above. Watercolor. How perfect.
For now, though...for just a little while,...I must honor the rain.
Today I wish for you to know that "behind the clouds, the sun is shining."
The music selection today is Eric Whitacre's "Cloudburst" sung by The Tower Choir. Many of you may know Whitacre as the composer behind the virtual choir production of "Lux Aurumque". He is a brilliant, inventive, 21st century composer with classical taste. I think he's fabulous.
Please be patient as you listen to the storm clouds build during the first few minutes. The harmonies are amazing. The cloudburst appears after the five minute mark, when the singers and musicians employ everything from finger snaps, bells, drums, claps, and voices to produce the wind and rain. Listen, and you will see the droplets which fall and cause those overlapping, concentric ripples. Enjoy.
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