friendship – Page 2

Plenty Left

A family joke… When my typically loquacious grandfather hit his 54th birthday he became quiet and reflective. It was the age his father had died. Papa waited a year for something to happen. A heart attack. Bad news from the doctor. None came. At 55 he moved on. This all happened several years before I was born but I remembered the story. The waiting and the moving on. It must be something about the age 55.

The quiet drive back to Baton Rouge after helping my daughter move a few weeks ago cleared my head. I’ve always been of the opinion that music and the arts have value, what we do matters, what I do matters. It’s the life I would lead even if I weren’t paid for it. Thankfully, I have been able to make a living while supporting my family.

A full, fun life! This month alone…. Working on a production of The Taming of the Shrew. Working as a substitute liturgy coordinator while a colleague was recuperating from surgery. Working teaching, directing. Work.

On the drive back from Austin I reflected not just about the rigor of work but the opus – the body. The people and the beauty of creation. Loving and honest family and friends. Blessings all. So much to be grateful for! Not that there hasn’t been struggle. Those struggles help us appreciate the good times and know who the real people are. They help us find the stuff we’re made of….Yvonne Nash called it “character building”.

One year ago, driving from the theater, I was hit from behind by a car going at a high rate of speed. I had never been in a serious car accident before. It totaled my car. A few feet more, personal injury would have been much more serious than a concussion and back pain. The what if haunted me longer than I cared to admit….I avoided talking about the accident.

Then I remembered my grandfather’s story…..and that I was his granddaughter.

What’s the take away……

The first half of life is about building a strong container; the second half is about discovering the contents the container was meant to hold. Yet far too often, solidifying one’s personal container becomes a substitute for finding the contents themselves! Richard Rohr

My grandfather lived 94 years discovering both the container and contents. He, along with my parents and grandparents, taught me to build a fine container. There’s PLENTY left to fill.

Cheers!

So Long Summer

Summer 2015 is quickly coming to an end. It’s been a lovely, eclectic time. A few weeks each year filled with spontaneity, reflection, productivity and just plain being lazy on some days. Dare I admit it, summer is fun even without my kids.

http://www.puckermob.com/lifestyle/11-things-sentimental-girls-want-you-to-know

Being sentimental doesn’t make us pushovers or weak. Reflective. Future thinking. Grounded in kindness.

These summer days brought me to a deeper understanding of connecting the past to the present.

Next week school starts. Thirty plus years teaching music, private voice and now theater has taught me that maintaining connections are important. This art is a new addition to my classroom this Fall.

Each one of us is on a journey with

a unique story.

A new school year is always a time of re-commitment and discernment. New journeys and stories to share.

On the Road - Dallas — On the Road – Dallas

Looking for signs along the way.

Chicago and EWF - July 2015 — Chicago and EWF – July 2015

Companions to sweeten the journey.

Time for quiet and gratitude.

I recently read that energy and wisdom need each other. That idea is what still draws me to teaching: youth and it’s energy encountering whatever wisdom I may have. I certainly don’t have all of the answers but life experience and “journey”. If we listen to one another we both learn. A collaborative experience.

Here’s to summer’s refreshment and here’s to the new school year in whatever you do.

The “Always”

Friendship is such a holy gift but we give so little attention. It is so easy to let what needs to be done take priority over what needs to be lived.

Henri Nouwen~The Road to Daybreak

There has been unrest these last weeks. I found myself quiet, not because I had no opinion but because my voice in the fray seemed inconsequential. The people who truly know me also know my mind and heart on such matters of the world. Others, as my grandfather always said, don’t matter. “We can’t change their hard heads or harder hearts. We will never all agree, Baby Doll. Don’t expect them….accept them….”

Last week I was out-of-town: business, recreational, adventure. After a meeting I fell asleep with the television on for several hours. A hard sleep, June was a long busy month; I was much more weary than I cared to admit. I woke up to a familiar voice. In another life these words from Olivia Walton would’ve produced an eye-roll “….what I don’t like is the always… ” I understood she had built her life and the life of her family on tradition….but was willing to embrace change. In fact, she was restless for it, unafraid of it.

We become smug, dancing in the shadows of complacency, thinking our way is the only way.

We expect others….friends, family to believe as we do…the always….

On the drive home I made a short stop at the Beaumont, Texas Visitors Center which also houses the Babe Didrikson Zaharias Museum. For years I’ve wanted to stop, check it out but never took the time. Her life has always fascinated me. She along with Amelia Earhart, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Eleanor Roosevelt, Katharine Hepburn and countless others who explored the world in a time when it wasn’t fashionable for women to take those risks. My mother was a risk-taker, working and volunteering for the civil rights movement in the 1960s. Visiting Mrs. Zaharias’ museum reminded me of the sacrifice that we all make for a life well lived….. On the walls and in the case hung the expected sports memorabilia from high school to the Olympics but also place settings of china and displays of her favorite recipes. Not content with “the always”, after her track and field career ended she became a world-class golfer. She learned to live in the world. Certainly in those days, one could apply all sorts of labels….but she was a woman of many talents and was successful doing what she loved. She didn’t let the world define her. She defined her world. Always.

When I took the shot of her golf portrait the museum docent was telling me that “Babe” was an expert knitter. The story was so good I didn’t check the shot.

Like Olivia Walton, Babe’s always was the unexpected. Looking for the end of the rainbow. Some people want to complicate or agitate…..Me? I’m grateful for the lesson….always…..looking for the rainbow

An Elephant’s Eye

One day I will find the right words and they will be simple.

Jack Kerouac~The Dharma Burns

Almost midnight. I’ve just returned from the theater. A preview for the musical Oklahoma that’s opening tomorrow night. Between performances of Madama Butterfly and music directing this show there have been a lot of late nights this month. Tonight the right words came to me watching this cast capture the simplicity of these characters.

Life is pretty simple. We complicate it. We create drama. Sometimes operatic….hiding behind masks.

Don’t get me wrong…music, opera, theater is glorious. But at the end of the very long day drama belongs on the stage. There’s plenty enough pathos and comedy in our lives without creating more.

Growing up Oklahoma would come on television every Thanksgiving evening. It was part of our family tradition to watch it. “Family picnic” in the living room my mother would call it. A happy memory. Watching the video monitor at tonight’s final dress rehearsal I looked down to find a text from my brother just about the time my favorite childhood scene was happening. Newlywed Laurey discusses the problems facing her with Aunt Eller. Upset, she says: “I don’t see why this had to happen when everything was so fine.” Aunt Eller’s response: “That’s alright, Laurey baby. You can’t forget, just don’t try to. Oh, lots of things happen to folks. Sickness or being poor and hungry, being old and a feared to die. That’s the way it is, cradle to grave, and you can stand it. There’s just one way: you gotta be hardy. You gotta be. You can’t deserve the sweet and tender in life unless’n you’re tough.”

Laurey’s wish is to be like Aunt Eller. When I was younger my dreams were of Laurey. The trappings. The things that fade. What did I know about hardships. Now I think Laurey had it right. Aunt Eller is a pretty wise bird.

Sure, it’s fun to play…but at the end of the long day. Or the long month it’s going to be just as nice to discover the simplicity in a nice shot with my camera again.

That message I got from brother Foley…..

Finding Home

Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.

Dr. Seuss

….music (especially singing), theater, photography, writing, pork roast, mashed potatoes, asparagus cooked al dente, soup, reading on a rainy day, watching the sunset or sunrise, travel, cooking, spring gardening, touching base with friends and family…..

Don’t we all have a list of ‘comforts’ that keep us grounded, reminds us where we came from, keeps us centered in today, challenging us into tomorrow?

Two days after Christmas a friend and colleague for over twenty-five years went into sudden cardiac arrest. His condition was ‘serious’ at best, so I postponed my Christmas trip home. Over these weeks he has miraculously recovered. Two weeks ago I was finally able to make my Christmas trip home to North Louisiana. Home. Comfort.

In these weeks since Christmas I’ve thought about friends and family: the comfort they bring. Hopefully the comfort I bring them. What home means.

I once thought that “home” was about reinventing what my parents had created, a magical place from my childhood. I wanted magic for my children, a place the three of us would find safe, warm and filled with love, understanding and acceptance. Ultimately, we created our own rhythm and brand of magic. Home. Comfort.

Earlier this week on my way to run errands, out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone opening one of those clothing drop-off boxes. The person was on a bicycle so it seemed odd that they would drop off anything in a rainstorm. Suddenly they went head-first into the box. My heart stopped when I realized what I had witnessed. I’ve been haunted by that image. Home. Comfort.

Coming back from that Christmas visit I reflected…maybe we’re all turtles in a sense,finding home in each place and carrying with us those people and things that bring us comfort. Maybe that’s what that person in the parking lot took with him/her into the drop-off bin….memories and comfort. I never saw a face. When I drove through the parking lot the next day he/she wasn’t there.

Home. Comfort.

My little brother Mark will tell you I’m convinced that life can be boiled down to The Wizard of Oz…..there IS no place like home….wherever you find it.

Measuring

Since Christmas life has been going at fever pitch. These last few days there has been quiet time to reflect…rest and relax. Not as much time with the camera as I would’ve liked but those days will return. Images of this last year flashed before me….one song stuck in my head.

Signs and symbols measure our lives. Often they speak louder than words…fill us with gratitude…grace Measuring in love……

Choices in the “Woods”

The great challenge is living your wounds through instead of thinking them through. It is better to cry than to worry, better to feel your wounds than to understand them, better to let them enter into your silence than to talk about them. The choice you face constantly is whether you are taking your wounds to your head or your heart.

Henri Nouwen

I have this tongue-in-cheek theory that composer Stephen Sondheim has the secret to all of life’s situations. “The Gospel According to Stephen” has guided me along the path of life. My mantra: “Intelligent people are always on the road, growing”. However, on that path we sometimes hide our heads in the sand. We convince ourselves it’s safer but the scenery isn’t near as nice. Then, one day, something happens, either wonderful or not so wonderful and the head pops out of the sand….and we move along the road a little further.

The last few weeks have been a journey of heart and mind. I had plenty of shots for the blog but the stories seemed either too mundane or too personal. Then I re-read this quote from writer and philosopher Henri Nouwen.

Sometimes silence is the only language… Listening is the best option.

Prayerful reflection…. both “head” and “heart”. Balance.

Ron Rolheiser explains: “There’s a place in us that doesn’t want to feel our hurt, doesn’t want to take our pain to a place of silence, and doesn’t want to take our wounds to our heart. And so instead, in our heartaches and wounds, we grow anxious and obsessive, we struggle to understand, we talk endlessly to others, and we try to sort things out with our heads rather than letting ourselves simply feel them with our hearts.”

Centenniel Camellia — Burden Plantation-Camellia from a bush planted over one hundred years ago

Funny thing, more often than not people don’t take the time to know when we’re anxious or hurt….or filled with joy…. During the last three or four years I’ve purposefully had a conversation with myself walking to work…I call it checking the ‘barometer’. Delighting in all that surrounds me, not the window dressing of life. Everyday beauty. People. Places. Staying aware of each moment. I admit to my own resistance with living at a place of dis-ease. I’ve never cared for it but I’ve come to understand it is as much a part of life as a beautiful sunset or my children’s laughter….the voice of a friend….

Music. Dissonance resolves.

Moving forward doesn’t mean leaving behind. Moving forward is finding peace in the moment, taking stock of what was, deciding what is…. then discerning the possible. Discovering grace in all.

Stephen and Henri are both right….adventures change in the woods…..we sort through feelings rationally…heart and head…and I’ll add spirit.

I’ve discovered in the last two weeks I’m not one to leave anyone behind. . .

If life were only moments, then you’d never know you had one….

Finding Crème Brûlée

It’s been nearly a year since I began this photo-journal blog adventure. It started as a thank you to my adult children after last Christmas: to my son Patrick for his thoughtful gift, a new camera; to my daughter Sarah for her advice as a photographer and blogger. Each time I’ve held the camera my life quietens in prayer for them and for what surrounds me; for those–near and for—who I keep close. It has been a wild ride….filled with fun and adventure. At fifty-five that seems appropriate.

Like most people, these weeks before Christmas are busy with mundane balanced with preparations for the coming holiday. I learned long ago to take an inventory of values and expectations during this season. Traditions are important. . . well, at least to me they are. Name the day and time, keep it. Stay in the moment and enjoy it. All of that was very helpful raising two children. Keep It Simple Silly

Over the last week I’ve been preparing my daughter’s bedroom for a holiday spruce up. The renovation was a long-time coming. This transformation seemed to erase her childhood in my mind. With a few strokes exuberant, innocent hot pink became crème brûlée. She’s an adult. It was time.

As I was moving furniture, etc. I found what I thought was memorabilia that Sarah had been saving. Not so much! Mostly empty bags from shopping excursions she and I had taken together over the years when she had been home during holidays and summers. Lovely memories. At the bottom was a HUGE box.

My daughter has lived on her own for the past six years–all over the world. I do have some of her things in storage but I couldn’t imagine what was in it. I saw the box, smiled and laughed out loud.

Sarah had been studying in Prague, living there for a year. At the end of the year I joined her in Prague to pack up her apartment, travel a little then back to the states. There was a year’s worth of life to collect. Her suitcases broke; we bought new ones in Vienna. The image of our parade of suitcases on the tiny streets of Salzburg still makes me smile. On a cold, wet June day we decided to ship two LARGE YELLOW boxes back, praying clothes, books, worldly possessions would find their way home. Neither of us could part with the boxes. Seeing them reminded me of adventures with both of my ‘children’….and the promise of future adventure….for them and for me. It is, after all, our tradition. . .

With those memories hot pink became crème brûlée. In a way, isn’t life like those layers of paint? It’s comforting to know somewhere in me is a shade of pink rose bud layered with green gingham checks. We move on taking pieces with us. . . keeping it simple.

Here’s to tradition…no expectations. You’ll never know what you’ll find.

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.