Thinking

February 21, 2017 By

 

Thinking

Snap of ice on the river breaks
chilling silence frozen thoughts
come to life like startled fish
darting for cover in a tangle of reeds
a hidden pool

I try to stay with my breath
label the fear as it comes and goes
storm clouds followed by sun
the constancy of weather
my human mind

As snow dusts the meadow a cardinal proclaims
the season’s shift with frenzied song
I conjure restless seeds sprouting in fecund earth
the release of light slowly climbing northern skies
like summer morning glories
unfolding

But cold wind calls me back the ticking
of dry leaves on glass the migration of sun
moon stars the coming and going of breath
then is now becomes when
muddled thought continues

jzr
2/4/03

I just discovered Pandora, and am spending lots of time listening to music. It helps to free my mind from rants and other thoughts that keep me captive.

What do you do to tame your restless mind?

Filed Under: Meditation, Music, Poetry

Practice … Practice … Practice

March 30, 2013 By

DSCF0277“Why is it we understand that playing the cello will require work but we relegate writing to the magic of inspiration? Chances are, any child who stays with an instrument for more than two weeks has some adult who is making her practice, and any child who sticks with it longer than that does so because she understands that practice makes her play better and there is a deep, soul-satisfying pleasure in improvement. If a person of any age picked up the cello for the first time and said, “I’ll be playing in Carnegie hall next month!” you would pity her delusion, but beginning writers all over the country polish up their best efforts and send them off to The New Yorker. Perhaps you’re thinking here that playing an instrument is not an art in itself but an interpretation of the composer’s art, but I stand by my metaphor. The art of writing comes way down the line, as does the art of interpreting Bach. Art stands on the shoulders of craft, which means to get to the art, you must master the craft.

“If you want to write, practice writing. Practice it for hours a day, not to come up with a story you can publish but because you long to write well, because there is something you alone can say. Write the story, learn from it, put it away, write another story. Think of a sink pipe filled with sticky sediment: The only way to get the clean water is to force a small ocean through the tap. Most of us are full up with bad stories, boring stories, self-indulgent stories, searing works of unendurable melodrama. We must get all of them out of our system in order to find the good stories that may or may not exist in the fresh water underneath.

“Does this sound like a lot of work without any guarantee of success? Well yes, but it also calls into question our definition of success. Playing the cello, we’re more likely to realize that the pleasure is the practice, the ability to create this beautiful sound — not to do it as well as Yo-Yo Ma, but still, to touch the hem of the gown that is art itself.”

Ann Patchett, The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life.

Filed Under: Being Creative, Life, Music, Quotes, Uncategorized, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Living Simply

November 17, 2012 By

I thought yesterday was October first and here I am preparing for Thanksgiving.  Why do I feel like I’m living in a time capsule that moves forward at a gazillion miles an hour?

As a little kid, I felt time moved too slowly.  Adolescence was the worst.  All I wanted was to be grown up and out from under the boundaries my parents set up for me.  During my twenties it sped up a bit. But being the caretaker of two little people, I still felt pretty limited.  Once those little ones were in school, the pace picked up from that of a turtle to that of a hungry dog anxious to be fed.  Once Mark and Lisa left home there was no stopping the hours from rushing to the finish line.  These days I get up in the morning and before I know it, it’s time for bed.  There are never enough hours in the day to do all of the things I put on my list of daily intentions. It can be so very frustrating.

I want things to slow down a bit now, thank you very much and I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this way. Most everyone I know complains about there being too much to do in too little time.  While we whine about our computers being too slow, we wish for the time to take a nap, soak in a bathtub filled with bubbles, or simply lounge about, dreaming of what a real vacation might look like.

Today is my seventieth birthday.  It’s once more time for me to stop my craziness and think about what is most important to me.  Is it more pressing for me to spend my time and money accumulating more stuff and being seen at every community event? Or is it more important for me to slow down and smell the proverbial roses?  What about seeing friends for lunch or going for long walks in the woods or through streets crunchy with falling leaves? Do I need to go see every movie that is now playing at Charlottesville’s new fourteen screen movie complex this very week? Or might I stay at home, sitting in front of a fire, with a good book, snuggled up with my dog, Sam?

This past year, I seem to have opted for the long walks and the good book with sweet Sam at my feet.  And even though my pace is slowing naturally as I age, it’s not all that easy to stay in the slow lane.  If I’m running late for an appointment, I find myself swearing at the numerous red lights and the heavy traffic that makes me even later.  And if it’s too cold or too hot, I can easily find myself wishing that the season would move on and bring me more comfortable weather.  What I too often forget about, is living every moment as it arises.

I’m not one who is fond of this holiday time of year.  I do love being with my family and eating turkey with dressing and pumpkin pie, but I’m not happy with the consumerism that I sometimes feel wants to devour me.  Now Black Friday is set to begin Thanksgiving evening.  Will we now call it Black Thanksgiving? Those who have jobs in the big box stores that are so popular because of their low prices, are in many cases forced to work on one of the few days of the year that they have off to spend with their families.  A recent news report pointed out two women somewhere in California, already on line at their local Best Buy, so that they won’t miss out on the latest whatevers that they absolutely must have.

I could easily sit here and wish this season away, preferring it were March, and being able to work in my garden.  But where would that get me?  I’d have to skip tonight’s dinner at one of my favorite dining spots, and then hearing our local  symphony orchestra perform Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 in A major Opus 92.  I’d miss being with my grandkid’s on Christmas day and most likely miss out on a snow storm or two that could transform my world into a fantasy land dressed in white.

It’s true that there may also be some very painful and unhappy days that I might be able to avoid by wishing life away. But if I didn’t enter the darkness from time to time, I’d never appreciate the light and the joy that surrounds me.

Today, I’m reminding myself once again, that rushing my way through life is not worth it. I don’t want to miss the smell of wood smoke in the air, and early daffodils poking their frilly, yellow heads out in February.  Once Thanksgiving is over, I’ll sit down and listen to Handel’s Messiah, while sipping a steamy mug of mulled cider as I write down all of the things I am grateful for this past year.

I’m convinced that I need to live more simply, being present in every moment.  Time here is too short. It should not take cancer or any other dreaded disease to slow me down, forcing me to finally begin appreciating the littlest things that I too frequently overlook each and every day.

Happy Thanksgiving Y’ All!
I hope you enjoy every precious moment.

Filed Under: Animals I Love, Childhood, Dreams, family, Gratefulness, Matters of the Spirit, Music, Navigating Through Life, Thanksgiving, The Garden, The Seasons Tagged With: , , , , ,

What Do We Need In Order To Do Our Best Work?

July 14, 2012 By

For me, being out in nature is one of my special needs.

Friend, writer, and teacher extraordinaire, Patti Digh wrote a great blog post a few days ago.  Writing about her daughter, Tess, who was recently diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome she asks the questions, “What does Tess need to succeed?  What helps her sit fully in her sun?”

Certainly these are questions that most anyone could one day wrestle with, if their own child or another family member is in need of special help in order to be successful in life. Unfortunately, we don’t ask those questions of ourselves and it is rare to hear them asked in the workplace by those who run the show. Whether or not we have a particular disability, we should all be asking ourselves these questions, as should CEOs if they expect the best work from their employees.

In reality, all of us have special needs.  Introverts need quiet and solitude to do their work.  Extroverts, on the other hand, need continuous interaction with other people in order to be comfortable in their world.  And some of us have sensitivities that can bring us too our knees.  Music that fills a room may be therapeutic to some and nothing but bruising noise to others.  If on in the background, I find the garbled messages of a television anxiety producing when I’m trying to read or am doing any activity that requires my focus and attention.

On some days I write with music playing in the background. On other days even the gentlest of instrumental sound can keep me from my quest.  I just turned off Yo-Yo Ma’s album, Obrigado Brazil, that I love and often exercise to, as I did this morning. But today in order to concentrate on writing this post, it is getting in my way.  On another day I might find it just the ticket I need in order to write or paint.  I never know, and I’m learning to listen carefully to what I need in any given situation.

As an introvert, I often need time to myself after I’ve been with large groups of people. I dislike small talk and would prefer to converse about life and philosophical issues. I do much better in intimate settings with only a few people at a time.  For me, the perfect dinner party size is six people. Good talk and good food … there’s nothing better.

Should you decide to turn on lights or make noise while I’m trying to sleep, you’re toast.  That’s why the only roommate I can tolerate is my love, Bill.  He understands and goes out of his way in order to keep me from being awakened in the middle of the night and chopping off his head :-)!

I’ve spent years trying to come to grips with my introversion and sensitivities.  Until just a few years ago, I thought that I was broken, intolerable to be around, and that most people thought I was a snob, elitist and/or beyond loony.  Certainly my parents didn’t help, with their incessant complaining about my being too sensitive as a child.  Of course, they were too, but hid it behind their iron curtains of denial.

These days, I try to be with people who tend to understand my kookiness.  They are extroverts as well as introverts. And after a recent bout of overwhelm, I’m learning again to pay attention and ask myself what I need in any given moment. Knowing that everyone has needs of his or her own helps to keep me from feeling freakish about mine.

What are your special needs?  Do you consider yourself to be extremely sensitive?  An extrovert or an introvert? We’re all different, of course.  But no one should suffer from feeling different and alone in what sometimes feels like a world gone out of control.

Filed Under: Life, Mental Health, Music, Navigating Through Life, Writing Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

April In The Big Apple

April 22, 2012 By

Up on the High Line.

My husband, Bill, makes at least one or two trips to New York City each year to catch up on the latest in theatre and also movies that most likely will never make it to Charlottesville. We have one small independent movie house that does its best, but the same film often plays for weeks on end, while good Indi flicks whiz by us.  Charlottesville is known for hosting the Virginia Film Festival every fall and you’d think we’d get all the good ones but that isn’t the case.  In summer especially, the movie theatres show nothing but violence, fantasy and whatever junk is out there.

For those who don’t know him, Bill is a director, an actor and a playwright who has also taught for many years on the high school and college levels.  His trips are usually 4 or 5 days in length and in that span of time he’ll usually take in 6 or 7 plays and whatever number of movies he can fit in, usually 2 or 3.  He then writes his take on what he sees  and his experiences on his blog, View In The Dark.

I don’t usually accompany him on his binges because I’m not fond of  sitting for hour upon hour in dark rooms where the only light is focused on stage, even for the world’s best in theatre.  It’s great for him to get away so that he can focus on what he’s seeing and I get some time to do nothing but take care of my own needs here at home.

We do however always plan an additional trip when together, we spend time doing other favorite city things.  Although, seeing top Broadway shows is always on the list, we’ll often go to an art museum or two and take in sites like Ellis Island or riding the ferry to and from Staten Island while we recite Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poem, Recuerdo.  And we always spend time in the City’s green spaces so that I don’t become overwhelmed by the energy of such a large metropolitan area.  When I’m in Manhattan, I need continual grounding and the parks are the place for me to find solace amidst the crush and noise that is a constant in the City.

The week before last, I spent five days in New York City sitting in dark, crowded rooms with my Love, seeing some of the world’s finest theatre.  The shows we saw were at night when the sun wasn’t shining so I got to spend most of my days out-of-doors.  We did go to two afternoon movies I’m sorry we chose, but when you’re film starved as I’ve been, you pay your money and take your chances.  The weather was perfect and too nice to waste time indoors seeing stuff that we weren’t moved by.

The Broadway shows we did go to were mostly spectacular, especially Death of a Salesman, with Philip Seymour Hoffman. Anything Goes, was refreshing, funny, and I wanted to get up onstage to dance and sing those old, wonderfully familiar Cole Porter tunes myself.

Porgy and Bess, left me wanting more of Gershwin. Though the story is a tragic one, music of the Gershwins’ always speaks to my soul, leaving me immersed in it even as I sleep. I’m still humming Summertime, I Got Plenty of Nothing, and I Loves You, Porgy, long after having the privilege of being in the theatre to see and hear this marvelous show.

On the other hand, The Best Man, a political piece about a 1960 president election, written by Gore Vidal, starring James Earl Jones and Angela Lansbury, left me cold.  About the same kind of hateful campaigning we’re experiencing right this minute, I could have simply stayed home and watched the evening news. The only difference between the ‘60s and now is the amount of money being spent to buy this years election.  And even with those two all-time favorite stars it was nothing special.

The biggest surprise and absolutely stunning was a benefit performance of the gospel/musical, Momma, I Want To Sing, up in Harlem, at the MaMa Foundation for the Arts’, Dempsey Theater.  We’d seen a segment about the Foundation and its work on CBS’ Sixty Minutes, a while back and agreed we’d love to see what they do in person. We both love music in all genres and especially soulful, African-American gospel. Aware of how important music is in everyone’s life, we find the Foundation’s mission of presenting, preserving and promoting gospel, jazz and the R&B arts through programs like Gospel for Teens, to be extremely important. Especially since music, as with most art curriculums, is disappearing from many a school program during these hard economic times.

Twice a year, the Foundation, auditions kids between the ages of thirteen and nineteen for a spot in the Gospel For Teens Choir. Those selected are immersed in gospel music, and then move on to an advanced class in performing for live audiences.  They’ve won numerous awards and have traveled all over the globe bringing music and joy to those who have the opportunity to see and hear them.  I’d go see it again in a heartbeat for the   pure, inspiring energy they bring to my soul.

Up on the High Line.

However, the best part of the trip for me was taking a subway ride downtown to walk on the High Line, one of the Manhattan’s newest green spaces, above the City’s canyons, on a mile long stretch of old rail road tracks.  It’s beautifully designed and planted with native trees, shrubs and perennials, many of them in bloom when we were there. We walked it twice in as many days and the back pain I usually experience walking the streets of New York, surrounded by concrete and steel, was not in evidence for the rest of those days. Unlike the more serious faces of the hoards who hang out on Times Square, everyone walking the High Line was smiling.  It has topped the list of my favorite parks in the City, closely followed by Bryant Park and of course, Central Park, where watching people with their dogs is one of my favorite NYC past times.

If you’re interested in theatre, movies and some stupendous writing do check out Bill’s blog, View In The Dark.

Art up on the High Line.

Filed Under: Life, love, marriage, Music, Poetry, Travels