For last year’s words belong to last year’s language And next year’s words await another voice.
T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets
Last year, as appreciation to my son for his insightful gift I began this blog journey. Searching for words, images. Days blur during holidays. Some years are like that.
This year reminded me of a few simple rules: to be still then appreciate the beauty that surrounds me.
Grace is in all that’s before me: people and places.
I see. I remember then carry in my heart to keep forever. . . as a prayer.
Forgiveness. Peace. Joy. A Blessed New Year….
and into Eternity……
A new year…a new voice….ring in a new year….for auld lang syne!
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”.
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.
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!
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.
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….
My family, friends and students know my fondness for sayings. Previous generations lived by them. Like the fine art of conversation, some of that has been lost.
Arts Council of Greater Baton Rouge
One of my favorites: “How do you eat an elephant?
One bite at a time….”
Those words have seen me through many a predicament. Raising children. Teaching. Divorce. Death. Life. Good days and not….on life’s journey patience is necessary. Elephants are a part of the adventure, certainly temporary. . . Stay in the moment. Savor it. Or not. Either way, take it easy.
Last week was an elephant of a week. Like too many of us, my life was running me not me running my life? I had made the choices, certainly but there was little time for stars, moons, sunsets and clouds…..family or friends….
At Monday evening’s rehearsal I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. We were rehearsing for the evening Downtown in a lovely old building….a renovated fire station. Downtown is my favorite part of Baton Rouge. It’s lovely, especially at sunset. I was hoping to catch the Harvest Moon but it was too early….too early even for sunset….but the clouds were just right…. Cotton balls in the sky….
I nibbled a bit on that elephant, remembered just how blessed I am and went about the business of living.
The week slipped away. ‘TimeHop’ jogged memories of engagements, openings, friends relocating and of course 9/11. Memories. We live in days but remember moments.
Thursday afternoon I came home from teaching and found a package from my friend Leslie waiting……a cookbook from home….centering me…..on those little bites…..and just how blessed I am….with family, friends…a good life. . .High Cotton.
Breathing. Small bites. . . That elephant can be challenging dance partner on some days. . . but thankfully I am dancing…and in high cotton and never alone.
Look around…take nibble…dance…bet you’re in high cotton too.
August has slipped through my fingers like quicksilver.
Summer’s blooms fade into the rhythm of schedules and commitments as I find reminders of the sweet carefree days, a lovely summer —- varied, calm….calling me to change.
A few more days before packing away white shoes and linen.
Certainly, August is always busy with school starting. The last few weeks I had an opportunity to act in a new play. It was nice remembering that kind of trust. . . in myself and others. Humility. Vulnerable. It’s good to tap those.
Last week I was out of town. Serendipity. Craft services—cooking while my daughter directed her Thesis film. The quiet while I was preparing the meals was good for the soul. The camaraderie during meals and on set was good for the heart. I returned home tired but replenished….and very proud. Certainly seeing my daughter’s artistic vision come to reality was cause for pride. . . but greater still is knowing the kind of people she and my son have become.
Priceless. The word I use to describe the time I spent. The weather was cool and crisp. I cooked all my favorites: gumbo, jambalaya, red beans and rice….meals I’ve made for decades and prepare well. Cuisine taught to me by my mother and grandmother. Outside the kitchen door there was a beautiful vine with grapes. Scenic. I realized when I got to the airport Sunday that those grapes are like many things along life’s journey, something saved in a memory bank and not on a photograph. It’s almost better that way.
This is an excerpt of something I found in my inbox Monday morning…from Ron Rolheiser: “We need more and more to trust love and surrender, to let go of ourselves, especially of our pride, our wounds, our hurts, our mistakes, our past, and our weaknesses, to give ourselves over to forgiveness……Morris West said that at a certain age, it should come down to one word: “Thanks!” He’s right, but to say that one word and mean it we need three other words: “Forgiveness, forgiveness, forgiveness!”
Just like the rest of August, it had perfect timing….was priceless.
Wednesday night was filled with excitement. Bittersweet.
Goodbye summer. Hello new school year.
To relax, I went swimming Wednesday night with some girlfriends. Over the course of the summer we’ve seen Canadian geese and owls. Wednesday night there was a rainbow…..and bats. I scampered out of the pool to capture the shot but the moment was gone. Life’s like that sometimes. Special moments flash before our eyes in an instant. We think we’ll have all the time in the world to ‘roll around in them’. . .but before we know it…they’re gone. POOF! No warning.
Thursday. The first day of school. I’ve been blessed to serve…yes, SERVE…as a music and drama specialist for many years at a phenomenal school. A place that is ‘home’ for students and faculty alike. Thursday was particularly good. On those particularly good days…. there’s gratitude for my parents, family and friends.
At the end of the day, the house was quiet. It was welcome on such a busy day. I let it wash over me, thinking of the people I would’ve/could’ve called but stayed in the quiet. Not long after I sat on the sofa an UPS truck pulled up bringing with him a reminder of my forever home and family.
The ‘rules’ of life can be VERY sticky. I’ve made them that way and didn’t see the thorns.
One of my favorite teachers used to say: “Excuses are like armpits, they all stink.” Over the last few years I’ve been grateful to have the opportunity to change the rules, reacquaint with old friends. The friendships were waiting. Frozen in time, then moved forward.
Maybe I needed to get to this age to find THE ONE rule. LOVE!
With apologies to St. Paul.
Who can
separate us from love? Tribulation, distress, famine, war….death or life…things of the past, present things or things to come…..none of these things can separate us…..
Hard to believe this is the last Friday night of Summer 2014. What an adventure’s it’s been! A often unpredictable and unusual ride!
Rest – check Refresh – check Reacquaint – check. check. With myself…with important others.
Consciously balancing time out of the ‘rodeo’ with healthy activity this summer has made a HUGE difference in attitude. H.U.G.E.
From Greek Fest on a New Orleans bayou to long lazy chats over coffee on a Arkansas front porch. From introducing theatre to the next generation of actors and patrons to morning and evening swims and ‘runs’.
Quiet with books, photography, cooking, cleaning and writing.
Singing and dining with inspiring conductors who are both humble and humorous, who take the music much more seriously than themselves.
Collaboration in a new way with other artists grateful that an old dog can learn new tricks even in the early morning hours.
The joys of brunches. Occasional lunches. Spontaneous suppers. Wine on the front steps. Late night conversations. Sunday morning conversations with old friends. Visiting a “sister”.
Knowing the love of family. Seeing those ‘babies bloom’ is sweet. Like the gardenia bush in my front bed that I planted, pruned, watered and watched grow. Now, I appreciate how beautiful the blooms are….and they ARE exquisite.
Yes, there are a few summer chores left undone. The benches on my front steps still need mending and painting but I’ve tended to the important things. My mother was right. Some mending is best to wait for cooler weather. Starting school Monday with “i’s dotted and t’s crossed”. Rejuvenated with a promise and hope for the few things left unfinished.
I’ve looked forward to the languid days of July for months. Plans of quiet days and rest. Plans for reunion and homecoming.
Last Saturday, my car filled with memories of two little girls riding bicycles in the streets until dark, singing songs until we were hoarse and playing Barbie’s and ‘dress up’…. I drove to my north Louisiana hometown to visit my childhood friend. There, I rediscovered my “blood sister”… ‘family’. The journey has been long but well-worth the wait. The bonds run very deep. There is always enough. Enough love. Enough joy. Enough time….to share…..and like the fruits of July…… it multiplies.
I’m so very grateful for second chances…for each second chance…..for friendship….
Ask any Girl Scout. They’ll tell you the first song they learned as a Brownie. The spirit of those fourteen words runs through our veins just as surely as cookies in March.
My grandmother was a woman of few words. Kind. Loving. A woman of faith and peace. We shared a birthday. She taught me many things:
mundane things like how to make the perfect roux and proper ironing technique by putting the wet, starched items in the freezer before ‘doing the deed’. More important life lessons: smelling a lie and prioritizing family and friendships.
She spoke of choosing friends wisely by modeling the passage from Sirach: Faithful friends are a sturdy shelter; whoever finds ONEfinds a treasure. Faithful friends are beyond price, no amount can balance their worth. My grandmother always punched the word one as if there could only be one in a lifetime. Past the half century mark, I better understand what she meant.
Friendships are indeed treasures. The best are based on qualitative not quantitative factors. Time and geography aren’t a part of the equation.
Life was slower paced for her, my mother. Yes, even for me growing up. It was common place and even expected that families and close friends lived across the street, around the corner, across town, in the next town. FA-57140 was dialed on a red rotary then on a pink princess push button. The soundtrack of our lives was played on 8-track tape players or cassette decks and answered to names like “Davy”, “Bobby”, and “Donny”. Even when we dreamed of moving beyond the four walls of homewe never imagined leaving behind such good friends….blood brothers and sisters….we could and would never forget. How could we? We would never forget such treasure….it’s buried in our hearts forever.
Silver. Gold.
There is a second verse of that Girl Scout song:
A circle is round. It has no end. That’s how long I’m going to be your friend.
The story repeats itself with each move. Each breath. Never leaving behind. Waiting. We carry with us those special ones. Always faithful. Always sturdy. Treasures.
Like silver and gold. No sum can balance their worth.
Days blur during holidays. Some years are like that. 
This year reminded me of a few simple rules: to be still then appreciate the beauty that surrounds me.
BethSings 