photography – BethSings

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

Behind the Wheel

Sometime in the last century I got my driver’s license, not because I wanted to but because that’s what teenagers do.

The Summer of 1975 I took a driver’s ed class from the head football coach with two close friends, Patsy and Diane . Every Sunday that Spring, my father would take me to the long dusty roads near the airport to practice, patiently working on my driving skills. By that summer my grandfather had a no frills, white 1963 Ford Fairlane parked in our drive-way. Nothing fancy, just a safe vehicle to get me back and forth to school and rehearsals. Everyone on Lee Avenue was ready for me to get the license…..except ME.

For most teenagers a driver’s license was a sign of freedom, a step closer to adulthood. Maybe because my mother didn’t drive. Maybe because I didn’t understand cars. Whatever the reason, as my November birthday approached I became more nervous and reluctant. My parents encouraged me to take my time with the decision. Finally after the first of the year my father took me for the driving test. I passed with flying colors.

Funny thing. Now I do enjoy driving….especially long distances. It IS freeing.

I’ve been on several long distance journeys this summer….Last week I listened to a 70’s playlist I created several years ago. On it was Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide. The first time I heard that song was around the time I had been struggling with not wanting to get a driver’s license. At the time I didn’t understand the song, at least not in the way I do today.

Driving on this last adventure, listening to the music and lyrics for the first time in a while cleared the cobwebs for some letting go. Sometimes there’s sadness in saying goodbye but this time there wasn’t. This time there was certainty in being behind the wheel with the road ahead and some good memories tucked away for safe keeping.

It’s taken over 40 years to admit it but getting that license wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought it down

Oh, mirror in the sky clouds

What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above? Me and mother

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder

Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too
Oh, I’m getting older, too

Landslide

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

The Sky is Falling

Wordpress Chicken Little

My maternal grandmother was a gentile southern woman. Quiet. I admired her spirit and spirituality. We shared a birthday and a love of cooking. There were only two places I’d spend the night when I was a child: Mama’s and my friend Leslie’s. For the past several months one of Mama’s stories has been with me……it’s time to let go.

ONE day Henny-Penny was picking up corn in the cornyard when–whack!–something hit her upon the head. ‘Goodness gracious me!’ said Henny-penny; ‘the sky’s a-going to fall; I must go and tell the king.’

quote-the-story-henny-penny-has-the-best-opening-in-all-literature-the-sky-is-falling-cried-john-steinbeck-96-54-46 (1)

2016 called us to a place of soul-searching. What it meant to be family and neighbor. Ultimately, asking a moral question of who is my neighbor?

When the sky really is falling, a helping hand, a compassionate voice, a casserole….a boat….a sledge hammer, a bottle of water. It was a record-setting year….one that shaped characters and cities. For some, the sky fell when a ceiling might have been shattered conjuring images of a dystopian world: Lines drawn. Another piece of the sky fell. Fearful.

good-men

In these days of twenty-four hour news cycles and social media addiction have we forgotten intelligent discourse? Have we forgotten that the sky will not fall if we agree to disagree? That drawing lines in the sand is not always necessary…and that neighbors are not always next door.

2016 was tough, no doubt…..but if you asked my grandmother, who was born in 1901, so was 1917, 1929, 1941, 1959 and any number of other years, although she would never have talked about the difficulties.

The take-away is the sky didn’t fall because her generation figured it out without falling apart. While holding the sky up…they held each other.

“Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary.” —Cecil Beaton

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!

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.