autumn – BethSings

Take Flight

Discovering a healthy balance of solitude and community in a world that’s sometimes filled with distractions. I never thought I’d write those words let alone think them.

I wrote those words two weeks ago, preparing to write after nearly a month’s hiatus from the blog. Partly seeking that healthy balance, I suppose, the other part living. Keeping the quiet actually quiet….and not filled with another activity. Photography and writing are not activities.

In the last two weeks I picked up my camera and found that rhythm in the shutter. With the help of a valued and experienced teacher new light was shed on where to look. Finding light. Vision.

Very early this morning I explored….with one word burned in my mind…community. Like all of us I wear many hats: daughter, sister, friend, mother, musician, director. I’ve spent my life building community. Short-term. Long-term.

Maybe it’s the goings-on in the world this weekend in Paris, how the world has been joined together but this question, “what is community” has been on my mind. The thought “who is my neighbor” isn’t a new one to me. Geography has nothing to do with it.

Performing artists create community very quickly. Granted, like lots of families some function better than others. We do our best showing support, each in their own way. Friendships. Families. Workplace. Building communities of encouragement, loyalty with honesty, integrity, love and the freedom to express—individually and corporately. It’s when those freedoms are absent we feel stifled, less creative, less ourselves. As individuals. The community suffers.

So back to that early morning adventure. Some people have a skewed definition of community. . . my way or the highway. No freedom. It was with that thought that I drove to a local lake before 6am this morning.

For photos. For perspective. For peace.

I found COMMUNITY defined as “with UNITY.” It struck me that the community is stronger when each individual is stronger and more centered, joining with unity.

So on this day, hug your friends and family where ever they may be. Smile at your neighbors who ever they are. Create good will in yourself and in others.

Celebrate diversity….the spark found in yourself and in others.

Join together.

Then take flight.

Safe Travels…Going Home

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.

Meister Eckhart

I’ve spent the last few days in purposeful, planned quiet; something that has not always come easy. Sometime back I realized how much I relish balance. Maybe that’s what draws me to art, photography, music.

Life’s distractions. Turned off. Armed with camera, an open mind and a few serendipitous plans I traveled forth. The result: a brighter vision and remembering what ‘home’ is. You carry it with you like a turtle. Finding home “in the kindness of strangers” who offer you a ride to ‘the perfect shot’. Andale! Gentle Innkeepers. Friends old and new. Warm cities.
Safe travels, relaxing in my own skin, surrounded by diversity, tolerance, understanding, walking “placidly amid the noise and haste”.

Desiderta

Finding here understanding and acceptance. Safe travels. . .home.

Gracias a la vita. Serendipity. Joy. Safe travels. Home. . .traveling with thanksgiving….like a turtle….It is enough.

Art Brain-Scan at Menil — Serendipity….right place at the right time. The University of Houston is conducting a study on how the brain is effected by art. I volunteered to be a part of the experiment. Walked around the exhibition with these attached to my head while it recorded EEG. I can check up on the study, my individual part of the study via the University of Houston. VERY COOL!

Start Your Engines

If Autumn is the best season then November is the pinnacle. Colors change, days get cooler, holidays.

The week of Thanksgiving I enter my fifty-fifth year. Maybe because my mother died young, I see the importance of celebrating birthdays….friends and family….mine, I enjoy celebrating quietly. Aging has turned into something far different than what I thought I saw my parents and grandparents doing when I was younger. Fifty-five always sounded like a speed limit.

The best piece of advice I was ever given about growing old came from a friend, Louise about fifteen years ago. ‘Become a crone,’ she said. ‘Not the withered old hag in fairy tales but the deeper meaning. An archetypal figure, a wise woman.’ That sounded interesting. Those kind of women I’ve known my entire life: my grandmothers, the neighborhood ‘mothers’ growing up, and of course, my mother. They all lived life with style and grace.

In our family, I was surely loved but never a princess. A strong-willed child with thankfully stronger-willed parents. Difficult adult choices were made less so because of the lessons they taught me.

After a car accident two months ago, my thoughts of were filled gratitude. Every day is gift. These were certainly thoughts that were familiar at significant life moments: births, deaths, graduations, moving. The wreck just gave me food for thought. Carpe diem. Seize everything with love…and seize carefully.

Traveling at fifty-five I see the treasures of family and friends, some have been companions on the journey for 25, 30…even 50 years. There have been lapses in some relationships. There may be miles between some of us. I’ve learned that miles and time aren’t a measure for family and friends…and certainly doesn’t diminish my love for them.

“They say there’s a heaven for those who will wait…..”

A nice sunrise. A lovely sunset. Friends and family to share life. Thanksgiving. Billy Joel could’ve been right about us Catholic girls. Fifty-five. Start your engines.

Simple Gifts

Beware the barrenness of a busy life. ~ Socrates

Three weeks ‘on the go’. Fun-filled adventures.

In the time I’ve missed the quiet, the camera click, waiting for a sunset, resting in ‘the moment’, simple moments with friends and family. Autumn reminds of me that. A homecoming of sorts. Time to settle in and nest. During the summer I made hard choices about future projects. The autumn ran away with those choices like a race horse. I allowed it.

Last weekend I traveled to my hometown for the first time since July. It’s good to touch base with those people who share collective memories, love you no matter what. Driving back, my thoughts drifted to the idea of unconditional love…. my parents, family, dear friends, my children.

I can only hope that I’ve been as generous and accepting with those special people in my life….my family, friends and students. . . and beyond.

The road leads us many ways in a busy life…some days the path is straight, some days…not so much….the gift is finding the simple way and loving through it.

First you make a roux….

A good base. Any good cook knows it’s the foundation. Parents and teachers too.

Last Sunday morning was the first really cool day we’ve had in South Louisiana. Gumbo weather. I couldn’t wait to hit the kitchen. To me, making gumbo is a spiritual experience. It keeps me ‘in the moment’. Reminds me of where I came from, where I am, where I’m going. Well, like I said….it starts with a base….’first you make a roux’.

I didn’t realize until I moved to South Louisiana but gumbos vary by regions. My mother’s family came from Mobile. Questions about using tomato (I don’t) or okra (I do) never occurred to me. My mother and grandmother never used a recipe. I learned from them. I still use my mother’s ‘roux pot’.

The first gumbo has become an October tradition just as surely as the smell of sweet olive on a crisp afternoon or selecting the perfect pumpkin. I make gumbo throughout the year but there’s something about that first one on the first cool snap….feels like home….

Wednesday my daughter texted, asking for the recipe for ‘Campfire Stew’. Another family and Girl Scout tradition. The week had been filled with ups and downs but those moments had nourished my spirit. Today I’m making Campfire Stew. It’s not over an open flame like we did when I was a Girl Scout with my friend, Leslie or as a leader with my daughter…or camping with my kids….but in the cooking I’m linking all of those together….yesterday, today….and a promise for tomorrow…..

October….

Yes, “first you make a roux”…then you sit back and enjoy….feels like home…

Satisfied

“Satisfied!”

This week I was reminded of my grandfather. He’s been on my mind since the summer. A man who’s simple approach to life, wisdom and humor served him and his family well during the Great Depression, two World Wars. He was never at a loss. Anytime you asked him how things were or how he was….his reply?

Satisfied.

I was in Boston a few months back helping my daughter with a film project she was finishing. It had been relaxing time cooking for these creative artists, their lives filled with promise. During the days there I thought about how grateful I was for the resources and time my parents and grandparents had invested in me and my brothers. I hoped they knew how much we appreciated their generous spirit. We always had what we needed and then some. We were given opportunities to explore and develop our talents. The story of our lives were written by love and hard work.

On my last day I saw one of the sets for the first time and got my answer.

The room was wall-papered in pages from an old dictionary…..on the desk of the vintage-style room was an antique typewriter not unlike one I had in my closet at home, an heirloom from my grandfather. When I went back to take a picture….the typewriter had been moved for another shot but I was……

Satisfied.

Too often today we’re looking for magic, highs, eternal youth or for what might be…. instead of being

Satisfied.

with what is….

My grandfather was an adventurer..through books and people. His life experiences led him from days of horse and buggy to seeing a man walk on the moon. He was not a well-educated man yet the wisest man I’ve ever met. He knew the value of everything, including a handshake and the warmth of the sun on your face. He was not unique in his generation.

Satisfied.

I look at my own family. Two adult ‘children’ who are content in their lives. I remind myself that my parents and grandparent walked similar roads. Theirs were different times, perhaps…..but in this…..we are the same….

Satisfied.

Simple Joys

I am still determined to be cheerful and happy, in whatever situation I may be; for I have also learned from experience that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.

Martha Washington

I woke up this morning to two of my favorite things. Neither one can be captured on film: the first cool autumn day and the smell of barbecue cooking. Simple joys.

Coffee was made. I went outside to breathe it all in. Autumn air mixed with the fragrance of the barbecue wafting from across the street. A church event later today. They had been cooking all night. Simple joys.

Twice this week I was asked how I thought people our parents and grandparents generation were able to handle their affairs with such grace. They were faced with war, financial crisis…all sorts of issues but never seemed to make it into the ‘hot mess’ that we do. Theirs were generations of private people. I understand the balance of that…

….they valued family and friends, saw work as a part of life. Embraced growing older. Each simple joys.

This morning, autumn’s hangs a welcome sign…. a simple joy. . . for my time and all time.

Strike

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.

C.S. Lewis

Character building. Strike.

The last month was lovely, spending time with family, friends…in person or via technology.Work had been rewarding and productive. Life was content and settled. There had been moments for gratitude.

The production of As You Like It went well—those young actors worked hard and were some of the most professional and dedicated people I’ve had the pleasure of working with. Strike. After the final performance everyone takes part in tearing down the set, a community they’ve built together for weeks. It’s called strike. . . so we can load-in the next play. Life in the theatre is always moving forward.

Strike.

Opening Night, driving home from the theatre….early evening….it is abridged Shakespeare after all…I was in the first significant auto accident of my life. Rear-ended by another car who was driving at a high rate of speed. Rattled. Shaken. Strike.

So very grateful…that although there were minor injuries, people walked away….grateful for the love and support of family and friends far and near. After following doctors orders to rest, it was good to be back teaching the latter part of this week…to sing….. It’s easy to take people and a mundane thing like going to work for granted.

Strike.

Kindness of strangers: the “witnesses” who stayed with me. James, the salesman at the car dealership. The reality of everything set in while in his office. He reminded me how lucky I was. He and my son had me laughing…..I like to laugh. I chucked about transforming experiences from the past. No situation in life….good, bad or indifferent is permanent. Take-away….find a solution and strike. Move forward…..

I like that egg in the C. S. Lewis story.

Strike.

An ordinary egg . . .making a choice…to either hatch or go bad….

Me….I’m choosing to hatch….

Strike! Move on……with gratitude…..