Quiet Our Wants

Quiet our wants….hmmm. Sort of like when you were little and someone would look and say ‘shhhhhh!’ That surfacing of desire and feelings quickly dampened by a cold look or inconsiderate ‘shhhh.’ I’ve spent a good chunk of this life trying to figure out what is right or wrong. When to run with my wants or those of others. Many hours racing around to help someone while mine were quieted, in the corner, waiting for some unknown time.  Being raised to serve others is a good thing but not when you give every last bit of yourself until there’s nothing left to give. To let your needs go so far down to the bottom of the barrel where it gets so dark you can barely see them anymore, is a silence that dismantles. All that time waiting until someone sees in your eyes that you have needs too. It’s that someone who tells you ‘no’ when you offer to help because they can see you need to rest. And the many signs come, like the tears that flow so easily just from a regular conversation or the beauty of a clear day. That’s when I know my cup is full and I step back to look and shine the light down, inside the barrel, to find what s left of me.

Calm vs Chaos

Calm vs Chaos

Sometimes you just need to step away from the chaos of broken water pipes, a home that could use a good cleaning and a couch with a mountain of laundry waiting to be folded.  You get in the car, pick up a friend and drive to do an errand to pick up your most precious guitar all fixed, just waiting to play ideas yet to spring from fingers and mind. But before that, there’s time to wander, at ease and ply through bins of  chicken beads, chicken-music pillows and even a magic egg. Trying on outfits with the kindess of a friend saying “well, if you get that top you may have to wear it with pants like these.” Neither of which would have worked. Further meanderings led us to little frog and cat purses with zipper mouths, pillows made from sweaters, exotic Egyptian purses and sock monkey shopping bags. Each step of the way our gaze was drawn to someone’s gift of making the world a little bit better. There were wooden pallets hung on walls with cacti and hens and chicks filling the gaps, moon flower and morning glory planters gracing street corners and a bench made from old fence posts and varying lengths of wood boards. Throw in a few cups of Middle Eastern tea,  real talk with a friend and paper mache kites and you have a soul restored. Returning home the house seemed a little cleaner, the timing of turning on the well pump to bring us water seemed more synchronous and even the mountain of laundry~not so daunting. I think I’m going to sew today.

Lynn Hollyfield: In The Balance (title track)

It's been about two months of having the my new recording in hand and I think about this song, In The Balance, that became the title cut. We all have tons of things we are juggling. I wanted to write a song about balance, so I asked the question, 'Is it possible to find balance in life?'  Once I asked, I had so many messages coming my way, I was able to  finish this song. I'm listening and laughing to myself because I have to remember to listen to my heart....enjoy!

Intricacy vs. Debris

Last night, the stars and I, waited for a meteor shower never seen before, from a comet that existed way before we were on the earth. ‘Debris’ doesn’t seem like the best word to describe an event so intricate. You need a perfect word for these miraculous particles that were once the tail of comet zooming through the universe for over a century and a half of time. Part of a comet, that knows parts of the universe, will touch our atmosphere, grace our eyes and grant wishes to those who are fortunate to see. The dark, deep blue of night sprinkled with constellations named by of those before us trying to make sense of it all. After a day of feeling like my sense of direction was off, miscommunications and reminders of our delicate, nostalgic hearts, the delight of reading about the anticipated Camelopardalid meteor shower was all I needed to know things are going just as they should.

Come Inside

To come inside, a door has to open and depends on how heavy and how long it's been shut. But when something or someone is calling you to do so, listen and pay attention.  The way will become clear.  After an experience at a Native American ceremony, a forgiveness ceremony that truly changed my life, doors opened with the remembrance and sacredness of being human. There are times we hurt others and times when others hurt us unknowingly or with intent.  Once we accept this and forgive ourselves and others a huge, a rock solid, heavy door can fly open like a screen door blown open by a brisk, Spring wind. Doors have many ways in and many ways out.  Invitations come to go inside where it can be warm and cozy or to a dark, deep place, not often visited but holding wisdom if you are willing to go there. Hinges creak, locks get stuck, keys are lost and often the location of the door in unknown. When we are listening, traveling, walking, running, shifting, often then we find a door not seen before but now right smack in front of us, just waiting for the knob to be turned and the lock to be unlatched. What doors are being opening?  Which ones are left closed? I wonder how many have not been found yet. Only ours to know.

Two Years and The Journey by Mary Oliver

Two Years

In two years, where will I stand?  My oldest will be off in college and youngest just starting HS. Life will certainly roll on with bills to pay, laundry and such. But what about the real? What about the dreams? What about the love? What will be moving through my veins to help  me create?  What instrument will entice me to learn a pretty melody and sing a new song? In two years, will I be stronger in spirit and mind and body? These winter stars are seemingly more bright and clear.  With persistence, they pull to tell a story.  I find myself, under them, in the cold early morning quiet, as I walk to start the fire in the cottage.  I can't help but stop, gaze up and breathe.  Breathe deeply.  In goes the cold, winter's air full of the beauty of every early morning sky. Many mornings I have stood and gleened and wondered. I hope in two years there is more time to take in these precious, fleeting moments of time that work my roots and reveal my place. A place of vastness and unknown, of opening and understanding, of passage and movement...of love. The birds are sounding their morning calls. Today it is more a disgruntled bird song to accompany the sudden cold and icy rain. Yesterday's melodies had been sung as they would in early Spring. The robins had come yesterday only to go today, somewhere, to wait out the storm. Sort of a false start to Spring and new beginnings.  Wanting to initiate but needing to wait until all is aligned. Two years, seems like a long time but the way the last one flew by, it will here before we know it. And me? I want to  pray and work with an open heart, mind with intent to give-to find my place in the world.  Happy New Year everyone! (Inspiration from writing prompt-Peggy Tabor Millin and reading a Mary Oliver poem-Journey -read on)

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began

though the voices around you

kept shouting 

their bad advice--

though the whole house 

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles,

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop

You knew what you had to do

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.