Creating is much like approaching a shimmering body of water on a warm dark night. We have to kind of screw up our courage to strip down and plunge in. No amount of toe dipping at water's edge will inform us about what is beneath the black surface, what full emersion will offer to and require of us. Once we jump there is the constant movement, the motion, the exertion that keeps us in the now, present in the process. We have to scramble to shore if we want to view the whole dark mass of water again, but getting out means we have to find the courage, time, will... to get back in again. For so many people that is the hardest part.
the power of many
One of the many amazing places I visited in Japan was a collection of shrines and temples on Mt. Misen on the island of Miyajima. As we hiked up the mountain trail it seemed as though every curve held another elaborate wooden temple, an ancient well tended shrine, or a stone statue lovingly adorned in knitted hat, sunglasses, or even once, a pair of headphones. At the mountain top the structures were nestled between giant rounded boulders and wind twisted evergreen trees. The place hosted a constant stream of humanity, coming to pray, coming to be thankful, or coming to draw breath at the top of the world. People carried cameras, water bottles, folded paper prayers, and tiny clay statues to be left as offerings or intentions. Not for the first time in my Japan visit, I marveled at the apparent social contract to protect and preserve public spaces. There is very little of the territory marking that so many Americans seem compelled to do. I did not see tagging, senseless damage, or strewn garbage. Instead, I was overcome by the countless small acts of beautification and intention. It would be a mistake to pretend I understand the complex workings of Japanese society, but my short time there left me with a sense of lightness. My spirit was bouyed to spend time in a culture that seems so profoundly aware of the notion of the collective, the opportunity to care for each other through self restraint and ownership of one's actions, and the incredible power of many.
On the importance of Being There
Snag just is! Her roots no longer reach deeper into the black soil. Her limbs no longer push out new green growth. Her bleached white form simply leans against the immense blue bowl of the sky and holds space. She is a resting spot for birds, a restaurant for insects, a shelter for small four legged critters.
I, myself tend to be an intervener, pushing, prodding, and involving myself in any and all activity around me. I want the scoop. I have opinions. I give advice. I make plans. This is the song of myself. I sing it unabashedly, but I notice the grace of Snag's offered limbs, and I will take longer deeper breathes between each stanza. Especially in my role as a mother, I want to practice just being there.
On determination
This work spun out of a line from a song I wrote, "...little European Daisy in the sidewalk crack, with patience and persistence, takes the sidewalk back." I know, that tenacious sprout looks more like an asparagus shoot than a daisy, artistic license, as they say!
Whenever I chance upon small green life asserting itself in the cracks of our paved world I am flooded with relief and wonder. Is there a fable about a mole, equiped only with a spoon (for transporting dirt) and vast amounts of fortitude, who eventually moves an entire mountain from point A to point B? There should be.
P.S. If you'd like to see this work in person it will be hanging at Thinking Tree Spirits for their approaching opening! If you'd like to hear the song its at soundcloud.com/thankyou-einstein/relativity
Better than soap!
I sit alone in a room with an instrument and fill the space with the sound of myself. My efforts, my fumbling, my history, my hopes manifest in a wading pool of sound. I make music with others and our sounds mingle and interact, crash together and combine to become an ocean of sound that we float in together.
Researchers say that when we sleep our brain is bathed in a special rejunvenating fluid. I am certain that when we make music our beings are bathed in special revitalizing sound waves. The song ends, the living water rushes out of the room and we are left feeling freshly bathed, pleasantly vulnerable, and eager for the next wave of sound.
When I am Queen
When I am Queen I will wear ridiculous beautiful hats to all public events. I will invite people to add bits and pieces to my hats if they feel so inspired.
When I am Queen I will read every letter people write to me and then I will fold all the letters into peace cranes and hang them from the light posts of the world.
When I am Queen I will ask strangers for dinner on thursdays and again on sundays if its a good week.
When I am Queen I will shine on everyone, unless I am feeling introverted, in which case I will stay at home and work in my studio.
When I am Queen I will practice asking questions and listening to the answers.
When I am Queen I will prepare fanciful tasty snacks for my daughters and stick love notes in their lunch boxes.
When I am Queen I will lay awake at night dreaming up things to say that will make people laugh. Actually, I will spend all of my mondays coming up with funny stuff. Laughter is powerful medicine!
Meet pigeon
Pigeon is NOT a stellar shopper. She tends to get distracted by all the packaging and she doesn't much care for that NEW smell. She is out hunting for a small gift for a friend. One labrynthine store isle leads to another and now she finds herself deep in the gag gift section at Hirons. Pigeon is convinced she cannot live without the ice tray that freezes little anatomically correct hearts. She's gone and eaten an entire tin of pickle bandaids (she couldn't help herself), and she's somehow left her car keys inside one of the many fanny packs she tried on earlier. All is not lost! Pigeon is settled on a Freida Cahlo magnet set for her friend, and since it is a clear cool November afternoon out there, she will walk home. Pigeon is also NOT a stellar flyer.
