philosophy – BethSings

This Week

Fair warning. No pictures. This blog will be different but may very well be my most candid.

Two months since the last posting and news abounds. Sitting in my regular pew this morning I reflected on a promise I made to my friend Leslie that I would finish a blog by today, October 1. I don’t want to disappoint my first friend and blood sister.

Deleting the multitude of ideas and drafts over these weeks, we’ll call it writers block, my creativity has been dry as a bone . This morning it struck me, many times I write about the past, not because I believe in glamorizing or romanticizing yesterday but because I’ve needed to learn from it. We learn, we grow from history. Our choices. They become a part of our present and stepping stones into our future. The past can’t be changed. There are no mistakes or regrets waiting there to be repaired. It just is.

Wonderings

Without such growth we become self-absorbed, wallowing in our ‘what ifs’.

More than ever, this week I’ve experienced the grace of companions: family and friends, those who are present in times of joy and stress. Their presence is meaningful…they make joys sweeter, they are balm in times of trouble. Their absences are felt. Their love is unconditional. I hope I have been that for them.

For years I made this prayer by William Martin my own for my children…..

It became my prayer for a simple life after they grew up.

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is a way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples, and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

This week my daughter said “yes” to the “touch” of another hand. Our family is elated that this young man will be joining our family.

This week I learned to an even greater depth that my son is a ‘wonder’ and has found the ‘marvel in an ordinary life’.

This week I reflected on the people I love. I don’t say “thank you” and “I love you” nearly enough.

“Sometimes” by The Carpenters

Having your Cake and Eating it Too

Nine weeks seems like a long time in May. It’s not.

Once, when little ones were under foot and summer days were filled with ‘what are we doing today, Mommy?”, days were adventures. Without our even recognizing it, days and weeks change. This summer’s delight has been spending time – quality time with family and friends.

Anthony DeMello

I’ve long said that social media is often twisted, taken way too seriously and could very well be the downfall of real conversation. Sometimes it’s the best we can do but I wouldn’t consider it ‘quality time’ although I do miss exchanging the occasional bon mot with a few people.

To keep focused on the present, I purposefully didn’t take my camera on three trips so that I could remember each adventure in my mind’s eye. I did take a few snapshots on my phone…. Boston 4th Only once did I wish I had my Nikon.

Last week I took it on a day trip then when editing those photos

Longwood roof compressed 2

I noticed that the last shots I took were on my birthday last November, nearly eight months ago. Good grief! Longwood long view compressed

It may sound odd but that camera had been a friend just as others have been, when I didn’t feel I had a voice. I discovered in these years the importance of listening over talking or singing, patience in letting go. Picking up that camera last week was similar to the visits I’ve enjoyed with friends and family this summer. Talks over delicious meals, coming home to a comfortable place where the conversation was just as we left it. Here’s to welcome change, new adventures and much more…..

Tea and Scone

Much More

Witness

How does a moment last forever?
How can a story never die?
It is love we must hold onto
Never easy, but we try
Sometimes our happiness is captured
Somehow, a time and place stand still
Love lives on inside our hearts and always will.

Last week I woke up vividly remembering a dream. It was the kind of dream that seems real and lingers. I was 8 or 9 years old sitting in a circle, singing with other children at the community center my mother once managed. I was leading a song. My mother was there in the distance. I couldn’t see her face but felt her presence, comforting and secure. All of us in that circle were connected through the music. What was happening seemed right and important.

The dream was a memory.

Journey Window – St. Aloysius Catholic Church, Baton Rouge, La.

That recollection has been with me for the last week. I thought of it again today as I witnessed a mother’s sad farewell to her son, a seventeen year old with a sparkling personality who I had the honor to teach. A bittersweet day in a myriad ways. Countless really.

Sometimes our happiness is captured with friends and family, frozen in time with stories that will live on. We’re blessed to have them and remember them. Moments that last as long as we do…..and beyond.

For now I’m content to continue dreaming….teaching…and learning until I find ‘my corner of the sky’…..

Corner of the Sky – Pippin

004-001

No Labels

What can I write that others haven’t already written or said!

After watching the news reports Sunday I did what many did, checked in on family and friends. It seemed important to feel their pulse, for them to feel mine. Life in the midst of such a senseless act.

Orlando. Newtown. Lafayette. Charleston. Boston. Columbine. 911. Connected. And not. These incidents have become a part of the fabric of our lives making the world a far more complicated place.

It’s become easy to point fingers, to blame others, to name call. Sunday I turned off television and social media…enough.

My mother, my grandmothers, great-grandmothers faced an uncertain world with faith, finding common ground and love. A long line of women who were not always so big into labeling, meeting their neighbors and the time in which they lived with arms open, often with a casserole and flowers.

It served them well….

maybe our generation could start there….

An Open Letter to My Son On Turning 30

Thirty years ago today, the final journey toward the reality of motherhood began. My son was still a few days from being born. I had been diagnosed with preeclampsia in early April and put to bed shortly after hoping that the baby would come on his due date, May 11th. On May 28th I was admitted to the hospital to induce labor. Patrick has always arrived on his schedule; he was born Friday, May 30th at 3:50 p.m.

A few thoughts for Patrick. Yeah, I know I’ll see you in a few hours to begin the birthday celebration but in looking through pictures (and not finding some baby pictures) I thought I’d write this. If you’re going to stop reading now, remember that birthdays are only a number. Celebrate them and be grateful. Mother's Day 1986

Other memories will surely fade but I will never forget the moment they placed you in my arms for the first time. That moment and you were both miracles. There was a purpose in my life beyond anything I had ever known. For that I will always be grateful.
As ‘the guinea pig child’, by now you’re well aware I haven’t had all of the answers and still don’t. You’ve learned that if you don’t know something, ask for help. I haven’t always been a good example of that….single mom syndrome.
Life is about discovering who we are by learning…we make mistakes. Try not to blame others for them. Most of the time those others aren’t giving us a second thought and the blame or regret only hurts us. Evaluate then move on.
Travel….see the world, read books, do it with friends, family, go alone. It’s the greatest education there is.
Thirty is a new beginning. . .and there will be lots of new beginnings. Life is chock-full of ups and downs. Don’t linger too long on the mountain tops or wallow too long in the valleys.
Candle for Patrick’s cake since 1987
Surround yourself with good people. Friends and family who are solid, that you can count on. You come from ‘good stock’. Choose wisely.
Take time for you. . .laugh every day.

And always remember..

FullSizeRender (14) — 1989-Patrick, age 3 with Papa Nichols, your great-grandfather

FullSizeRender (16) — Fall 1985, right after I found out I was pregnant with you.

FullSizeRender (15) — Patrick’s 5th birthday

…I love you forever…

Shells in the Stars

Spring has been heavy with activity. Partly my fault really. Too many good choices it was hard to say “no” that my well-intentioned “yes” kept my hands and calendar full. I’m not alone in this fatal flaw.

It reminds me of a story I heard a few years ago by motivational speaker Rob Bell. His son is playing on the beach when a large, beautiful starfish comes floating by. The little boy looks up and wants to grab it. Rob yells over, “Go get it buddy” but his son yells back “I can’t.” Rob says, “Sure you can, just run into the water and grab it.” His son replies with emotion and frustration, “But Dad… I CAN’T.” Rob says, “Why not?” and his son says, “My hands are full of tiny shells.”

He had been picking up all these little shells. His hands were so full that when the big starfish came (opportunity) he couldn’t reach out and grab it because he was too afraid to let go of the shells already in his hands.

The giant starfish was right there… right in his reach but he just couldn’t let go in order to get it. Sound familiar?

We live in a society that has such a hard time letting go…. a world that teaches us that busy is not just better, it’s the only thing….when less IS so much MORE.

What is the quieter, better ‘yes’ that frees us from ourselves……

of being ‘too busy’ to do what matters most.

of toxic relationships. You deserve to spend time with uplifting and supportive people who truly care about you. Find your tribe.

of letting your past define your future.

Drop a few of the shells. . .

……then go after the starfish. . .

Nimrod from Enigma Variaions by Edward Elgar

Scavenger Hunt

Creativity is a scavenger hunt. Elizabeth Gilbert

I dictated this installment in my head numerous times over the last weeks: driving to the theater, driving to my hometown, to my son’s house, on the return trip to Baton Rouge. With each drive I reworked the story. I knew once I sat at the computer the story, the music and photos would change. I like to drive, especially in the spring…new life, hope. The journey this month has been, as Elizabeth Gilbert so eloquently states, a scavenger hunt.

For years I had each holiday planned down to ‘soup and nuts’. Looking back, it was an occupational hazard working for a church and wanting a nice holiday for my two children. Passion for both. Loved both. Until I walked away and I realized that only people love back—for some, unconditional love is difficult. Rules, stipulations. SPARKLE

On Good Friday I ran into my long-time colleague and friend. After being a part of ‘the club’ do I miss it? In the four years since I’ve left we’ve returned to the support we had for one another in the beginning of our professional life. I had missed that. We had both become so passionate about what we were doing neither could see the forest for the trees. It happens in work. It happens in life.

One of my favorite high school teachers, Mr. Russ Harding, taught American History. He was a challenging teacher. I sat on the front row absorbing every word, imaging I would major in history then go to law school. He said that history was an insight into the future. We can’t change it, but it can change us. I believe that. Music was always my first love but rarely a week goes by that I don’t quote Mr. Harding: you can’t change history but you can learn from it.

Boyfriend Band Two weeks ago I was preparing for warm-up before a performance, playing with the Timehop app on my phone and saw a picture of myself from five years ago compared to today. History. Thinking about what has transpired over these years, my head started spinning.

Five years ago I was very comfortable but not necessarily content. In the rearview mirror comfort was beginning to feel complacent. Yes, I had a circle of friends and family. Five years ago I was planning to travel to a foreign country alone…in fact, I’ve traveled a lot in these years. I’ve seen both of my children settle in as adults. I’ve reconnect with old friends, resigned from a job I had for over two decades. Interviewed. Rediscover photography. Sang new songs and rediscovered old ones. I conducted an orchestra again. I embraced theater again and she embraced me. I developed a young musicians program for the local theater, collaborated and helped form a Composer’s Residency. . . and finally started finding a healthier me. Timehop

A few years back, when my kids were younger, when I was younger, there were confusing days….ones of discernment: financial…professional…personal… I found myself alone in a dark church one evening. One of the dear Sisters came walking through, sat behind me, put her hand on my shoulder, with her thick Spanish accent said: “Beth, you are a creative person. God has so much in store for you. Listen. Look. Find the creativity within you.” Then she added her signature. God is crazy about you. . .That conversation stuck with me. Frankly, I was embarrassed to be found there crying. In my mind, I was supposed to have the answers. Mothers and teachers always do. That night I realized that the kingdom is bigger than Stuart Avenue and that a scavenger hunt might be possible. My enthusiasm and courage had gotten me through…it wasn’t going to leave me when I needed it most.

Velveteen Rabbit

Last Saturday I texted my oldest friend Leslie before heading to north Louisiana. “You got a hot second”? Monroe had a terrible flood March 9th. She’s been packing up her mother’s house. Her son’s house flooded too. So many houses flooded the streets reminded me of post-Katrina. Monroe High Water I helped for a few hours to pack her mom’s house so they could begin the sheet rock and mildew removal. On the way out of town I was heading to the cemetery to visit the family plot but stopped. . . the water on the Ouachita River was so high.

I decided to stop at the River and skip the cemetery this trip then drove on to Ruston to start the holiday with my son. My parents and grandparents were masters at scavenger hunts. Like the women on Easter morning, I would be looking for something that “wasn’t there”. They have risen! Easter 2016 Paschal Lamb

History. Present. Future.

The Velveteen Rabbit was a childhood favorite. He ‘became real’ by going on his own scavenger hunt.

Boyfriend Angel Happy hunting!

A Happy Resting Place

I don’t claim that I am psychic
But one look at you and I kick
Away every scruple
I learnt as a pupil
In school my dear

I’m not one to make predictions
But I’ve thrown off all restrictions,
And I don’t mind confessing
I think it’s a blessing
That you are here

Though I’m prepared to find I’m wrong
I’ve got a funny feeling we belong together

Home from rehearsal —pumped! Sleep eludes…..so I write….

For the last two months I’ve been working as music director with the Young Actors Program for the local community theater for the musical comedy, The Boyfriend. This is my fourth year to work with the company. It’s been a pleasure being a part of these young artists’ lives, seeing them grow in every way.

Mitchel Boyle (Lucentio) gazes at Kaitlin Perry (Bianca)

Brooke Bell as The Widow looks with disgust at Thomas Prochaska (Hortensio)-001

Since the weekend we have been in technical rehearsals, an exhilarating, exhausting week (some call hell) prior to the show’s opening night this Thursday. During tech all of the whistles and bells are added to the production: costumes, lights, sound, set, scenery, props, orchestra. These actors, musicians and designers have developed life-long skills – they’ve learned balance simply by the choices they make with hours spent in rehearsal and finishing homework. Many of them are honor students.

Tech Week can be a challenge for adults and professionals. It requires patience while technical problems are resolved or set changes are rehearsed so that what the audience sees is seamless.

On the drives home recently my thoughts have been on these young actors and on my own theater mentors: Chris Ringham, long-time director at Monroe’s Strauss Playhouse. Dr. Bill Rambin, Head of the Theater Department at Northeast Louisiana University (now University of Louisiana at Monroe) Both encouraged and shaped my love of theater—inspired me to be and do better, to make adventurous choices. I learned from both Chris and Bill that there are no rights or wrongs on the stage – only choice. The theater is, at it’s best, an understanding community where choices are welcome. On the stage we are a reflection of the world -both best and worst.

Chris Ringham formed my understanding of community theater. Anyone who knew Chris still hears his raspy voice barking directions from the back of the dark Strauss theater. Chris believed in the power of people but more importantly the power that art had within community. He was organized, funny, salty, innovative, a quick mind. He had vision, expected excellence. The art and the audience were foremost in his mind.

It dawned on me last week that it’s been forty years since Chris cast me in my first musical. I was a junior in high school. He guided me through auditions at his theater then beyond.

Chris Ringham

Fantasticks

One of those Chris–suggestions came when NLU announced Tony-award winner Ron Holgate would be joining a student production of The Fantasticks as El Gallo . I remember Chris sitting in the Strauss Playhouse box office, his asking to see me, if I planned on auditioning. He strongly suggested it so I did. It was during The Fantasticks I met Dr. Bill Rambin who directed the show, his wife Linda, choreographed; Andy Isca was music director. The Fantasticks will always be the one.

Bill Rambin was the perfect director…fun, smart, charming. He inspired…and still does. He probably knew how scared I was. He always said the right thing at the right time and still does. He taught me the importance of time management, to be professional. How to say thank you. He was never afraid so we couldn’t be. Bill Rambin is fantastic!

During break at rehearsal last week I was playing on one of those phone ‘throwback’ apps and found some pictures from productions over the last few years. Those photos caused my thoughts to drift to Chris and Bill. Their legacy. My legacy. The support we give to each other when we least suspect it. How grateful I am to have the support from these two artists and the communities they served. They shaped me and so did the communities.

I could be happy with you
If you could be happy with me
I’d be contented to live anywhere
What would I care
As long as you were there?
Skies may not always be blue
But one thing is clear as can be
I know that I could be happy with you, my darling
If you could be happy with me.

Singing this song from The Boyfriend everyday for the last eight weeks….interestingly enough I’ve rediscovered contentment not just from my children, family, friends but a simple contentment that’s from and in me. Instead of perpetually striving and living unsatisfied, I could be happy. Chris and Bill described, maybe not in so many words, that contentment in the building up of community….finding the gift in yourself….then sharing it with others….

It’s something to hang your hat on.. a happy resting place.

Leap

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap!

Ana Gasteyer – “Defying Gravity”

Full disclosure. I’ve never been a big fan of the musical Wicked. I read Gregory Maguire’s best seller in the mid-90’s and was probably one of the few people who found it, well, in a word…tedious. He does get points for marketing “chops”. Capitalizing on The Wizard of Oz was a stroke of genius right up there with Disney but Dorothy’s journey down the yellow-brick road is sacred as far as I’m concerned. Who messes with Baum and Judy Garland?

Friday night my friend Beth and I saw Ana Gasteyer’s cabaret show—great friends and music. She and I reminisced about taking my daughter to Houston several years ago to see the show…and many other GNO’s over the span of our wicked friendship. A lovely, serendipitous evening!

Another disclosure. My New Year’s resolution seemed to drift into February. Good news: I haven’t had a Diet Coke since January 1, bumping the water intake significantly. However, at the end of January when the health screening came around I got news that my blood pressure was not just high but off the chart. Reality check into making better choices and living a healthier life.

Great, I thought, another sign of middle age, that is, if I plan on living to 112. Not bloody likely! Truth be told, in the last year I had let diet and exercise slip with the exception of weekly yoga practice and the occasional salad at lunch. Ash Wednesday was set as the 40 days to a Healthier Life start date, embracing Lent as a time of joy, a new spring. Eating at home – which shouldn’t really be a choice – I enjoy cooking. I’ve carved out more quiet time reading, photography and yes, exercise—yoga and getting back to walking/running again. The result at 20 days and the halfway point— I’m already down almost 10 pounds, several inches and my blood pressure is improving. More importantly I feel better. Ironically, I was too busy taking care of “things” to recognize I felt bad, mostly things out of my control. I’ve practiced not complaining and letting go of things out of my control; when in doubt I go to my yoga mat or put on some music.

I’m through accepting limits
’cause someone says they’re so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I’ll never know!
Too long I’ve been afraid of
Losing love I guess I’ve lost
Well, if that’s love
It comes at much too high a cost!

Richard Rohr wrote recently that “pain teaches a most counterintuitive thing: we must go down before we even know what up is. Suffering of some sort seems to be the only thing strong enough to both destabilize and reveal our arrogance, our separateness, and our lack of compassion.” He defines suffering as whenever you are not in control. Through the sufferings, great or small, we learn to trust ourselves and others….or we don’t. The experiences can be transformative, almost without realizing it. They show us what to do with our pain, with the absurd, the tragic, the nonsensical, the unjust. “If we do not transform our pain, we will most assuredly transmit it.” .

So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
Ev’ryone deserves the chance to fly!
And if I’m flying solo
At least I’m flying free
To those who’d ground me
Take a message back from me

The take-away in Wicked-The Musical is forgiveness…of self and others and as Richard Rohr says: always building something new, good, and forever original, while neither playing the victim nor making victims of others.

Flying Free…….who needs monkeys to do that? Like Dorothy, I love a good adventure.

Pruning

Love is little, love is low
Love will make our spirits grow
Grow in peace, grow in light
Love will do the thing that’s right

Shaker hymn

BYU Concert Choir- “Love Is Little”

Simple. Connections. As we grow older I believe that’s what we’re looking for really. Family, friends, colleagues. Sparks that light the way in a world that’s often overrun with chaos, too many choices and confusion. Voices of clarity. They challenge us, as the Shaker hymn suggests to ‘do the thing that’s right’.

Last week was Mardi Gras break. My North Louisiana roots always show the final weeks of carnival season when I escape to different adventures, mostly back to those Monroe roots.

This year, travel lead west to see friends and especially my daughter. I drove back from Austin on a dazzling day. I was well past Houston before I turned on music. The first song on the playlist was that Shaker hymn….I replayed it several times, listening to the lyrics. “Love is little. Love is low. Love will make our spirits grow.”

“Lent is as much about quitting the obligations that clutter our life as it is about learning to dedicate ourselves to more eternal tasks — because fewer branches equal better fruit.”

Since the word Lent comes from the Old English, “lencten,” which means Spring, “pruning my branches” during these next weeks seems very apropos.

Another beautiful day hanging between winter and spring, my daughter and I visited the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. If we stop long enough to ‘declutter’ the ‘fruit’ is much better.