A Very Small Stack

"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 exposé is 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. 

Just don't do it over a broken tooth...enjoy.

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Peony Love

"Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity." 
- John Ruskin

Head of a Woman with Peonies - Franz Dvorak, Oil on canvas, 1903

Peony season has arrived! The lacy, luscious, lovely flower is showing up all over, and I couldn't be happier. The peony is my very favorite flower, both for aesthetic and sentimental reasons. When I start to see the peonies bloom, I know that we have most decidedly started the transition from spring into summer.


The peony holds an honored place in the plant world, having a recorded history that goes back thousands of years.  The fragrant flower is said to have medicinal properties, and was named for Paeon, the physician to the Greek gods. According to legend, he was given the flower on Mount Olympus by the mother of Apollo.


It is equally revered in China, where it is the national flower, and is considered a symbol of prosperity and honor. 


In Japan, it is a sign of masculinity and bravery.


In the world of astrology, peonies are the flowers assigned to Scorpios, as they are flowers that reflect the sensitivity and power of those born under that sign.


These are all reasons enough to love the peony, right? But as I said, I also have a sentimental reason to love this flower. I own a peony bush (well, really, it's several bushes now) that has been in my yard for over ten years now. 


That fact alone in not very impressive, but my lovely, strong, white peony bush which blooms with such profusion each spring, bloomed once in my grandmother's garden in Kansas City over one hundred years ago. 


My grandmother shared her flowers with my mother and father, who had moved their growing family from her house to a new little chateau in the burgeoning suburbs of Kansas City  in 1954. When my parents left that house seventeed years later, some of the treasured peonies went with them.


Through two more moves, the peonies were dug up and divided, some left at the previous houses, but some going to the new ones. 


My mother shared her peonies with me over thirty years ago when she and I dug up one of the prolific bushes in her back yard and lovingly wrapped the root ball in damp newspapers and plastic for the drive to St. Louis, where it was planted into a beautiful perennial garden in my own backyard.


Nearly twenty years later, when we moved to the house we currently own, the plant was divided again, and now resides in Weldon Spring.


Each year when the enormous bright white flowers bloom, I see my grandmother, my mother, and myself, tending the lovely blossoms, cutting a few for a fragrant arrangement, and marveling at the miracle of their beauty.


I often wonder just how far back that peony bush goes. Did my grandmother receive it from her mother? I like to think so. 


I look forward, someday, to digging up the lush and luxurious peony bush that now graces my back yard, and dividing it to share with The Graceful One.


As a dear friend said to me recently, "This is what gardening is all about."  


Here is my first bouquet of peonies this year. Oh, and the vase they're in? It was the first object my grandmother bought with her first paycheck she ever earned. How cool is that?

May the beauty of flowers bring a message to you today.


  
You've heard this music from me before, and chances are, you'll hear it again. I will look for any excuse to play my favorite pieces for you. This is the "Flower Duet" from the beautiful French opera, Lakmé, by Léo Delibes. 


In Act I of the opera, Lakmé (a Brahmin priestess) and her servant, Malilika, sing about going to the river to gather the flowers. Anna Netrebko and Elina Garanca join the Baden-Baden Opera for this lovely Gala performance. Enjoy!
  


Baden-Baden Opera Gala 2007.

On Looking Up





The Visitors - Weldon Spring, 2011

BirdWings

Your grief for what you’ve lost lifts a mirror

up to where you’re bravely working.

Expecting the worst, you look, and instead,

here’s the joyful face you’ve been wanting to see.

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.

if it were always a fist or always stretched open,

you would be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting

and expanding,

The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated

as birdwings.

Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Selene

we don't see the jagged edges of the moon.

her luscious soft light bouncing in the night

she rules with a light touch unlike her lover

hot sun

night and day melt into each other

until we dream that they are one divine undivided whole

W.Bryce Riley

The Weavers

Through the warp and the weft

they are there.

Through the inhale and the exhale

they are there.

Through the zenith and nadir

they are there.

As the birds that soar and tilt and float

they are there.

The tapestry is large,

The work unceasing,

Yet, you do not work alone.

Look up!

They are there.

Joellen Floyd Lucas

"Lark Ascending"  by Ralph Vaughn Williams, played by Michael Bochmann and the English Symphony Orchestra. Please enjoy.

'Coming Home' People

"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.

Motherhood--A Sacred Honor

"The real religion of the world comes from women much more than from men - from mothers most of all, who carry the key of our souls in their bosoms."
- Oliver Wendell Holmes

Detail from The Three Ages of Woman -- Gustav Klimt
Oil on Canvas, c.1905

I jump happily onto the bandwagon today to express my heartfelt gratitude to my mother, whose job is done now, and to all the mothers and mother substitutes and mothers pro tem and mother hopefuls who have known or desire to know motherhood.

This year, I feel more keenly than ever what a sacred honor it is to be a mother. Rather than hearing from my three sons and one daughter about how much I've sacrificed, how hard I've worked, and how much I've given them...blah,blah,blah, I'd like for them to hear how very much I've gained by being their mother:

 From my firstborn, I earned the sacred name of Mother. Since then, he's taught me perseverence, patience, and how to rise above difficult circumstances. He never ceases to inspire and amaze me.

From my second son, I earned insight. No two children are alike, and sometimes, still waters run very, very deep. I witnessed in him a soul-felt search for justice in the world that never ends.

From my third son, I received sheer joy. And though the light that he brought into our family is a bright light filled with charm and happiness, he also taught me that strong, determined men can have gentle and sensitive souls.

From my only daughter, I earned a new perspective. She pulled me, a scientist, into a world of beauty and grace and soul that I had only the barest hint had existed. She lives a life of passion, discipline, and sacrifice, but lives it with joy and great purpose. From her I have learned that determined people need not be loud or agressive, but can be quiet, respectful, and pleasant to be around.

I feel deep gratitude today for the sacred honor of motherhood.  The gifts they have bestowed upon me are not those of the material world (though they are greatly appreciated) that are given once each year. They are the priceless daily gifts of enlightenment, insight, joy, and perspective. 

How lucky am I? Thank you, Anthony, Courtland, Spencer, and Andrea, for the great gift of being your mother. I love you.

The music selection today falls under the category of Because It's My Day and I Like It. This is undoubtedly one of the loveliest pieces of music every written. It is Tchaikovsky's "Serenade for Strings in C major, Op. 48", the fourth movement, the finale.

This wonderful version is Maxim Vengerov conducting the UBS Verbier Festival Chamber Orchestra. The other three movements are different but equally beautiful...please find them on YouTube for the complete experience. I feel love, passion, pathos, hope, and joy when I hear this music. That's pretty much how I feel about being a mother...enjoy. 


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