Three months…..

“People always think that happiness is a faraway thing”, thought Francie, “something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains – a cup of strong hot coffee when you’re blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book when you’re alone – just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.” Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Three months since the last blog. Last weekend my oldest friend and forever ‘sister’, Leslie asked ‘what happened to your blog’? July seems a lifetime away. Several times I sat down to write and edit photos but the stories both in photosand words came at a snail’s pace.

In all certainty the Summer of 2016 will be remembered. . .

Lazy days spent with family and friends.

patrick-and-me-in-covingtonSweet hsarah-and-me-at-austin-roller-derbyellos, bittersweet good-byes. gary-and-rosemary

Undoing and and rebuilding.

Army. Navy.

A region and people figuratively and literally inundated by tragedy….swallowed by the blessings of those same people.

Yesterday morning I woke up, disappointed,  thinking–“Today the family was supposed to be in Boston”. Life sometimes changes our plans for us, but as Francie points out in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn contentment can be found embracing the “simple things”. We have much to look forward to….

Floods wash away tragedy. Friends move to be closer to family.

And so on this October 7, 2016…..Fall break…..here’s a thought:

“Look at everything always as though you were seeing it either for the first or last time: Thus is your time on earth filled with glory.”  Betty Smith,  A Tree Grows in Brooklyn 

old-state-capitol-bldg

Yay family…..shake a little love….

 

 

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. Some Days

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.

nolabelsMy 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….Differences

 

 

 

maybe our generation could start there….

 

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.  IMG_0759

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.”

DSC_0011He 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.

She sells seashellsDrop a few of the shells. . .

……then go after the starfish. . .
starfish on beach

 

 

 

 

 

Nimrod from Enigma Variaions by Edward Elgar

The World So Wide

It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then.                                        Lewis Carroll~Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

I’m not much of a television watcher but January has traditionally become my time to ‘hunker down’ with Netflix, revisit a handful of television shows……Gilmore GirlsBewitched. Andy Griffith. Mary Tyler Moore. The West Wing.  Some had better acting and writing than others but the common thread weaving all of them together was community. Characters were supportive and rarely unkind or hurtful to one another. My idealism is showing.

DSC_0010It seems easy today for some people to say petty, unnecessary things, abuse social media. Why is it much easier for humans to wrap themselves around problems, negativity and blaming rather than around joy?  Why is it easier to point out differences than embrace what makes us unique or see the common ground. The week had been complicated.

Having an early morning breakfast with a friend yesterday, I recalled the grieving I went through several years ago.  Not in the traditional sense like when someone dies but in the crazy, unconventional way that parents, especially mothers can understand. . . when your children leave home.  It’s like when a team filled with seniors, lead by a dedicated coach wins the play-offs; the coach is left to rebuild or choose to move on. A bittersweet feeling. Children are never meant to stay in one place….I have discovered, neither are we. None of us are ‘place keepers’.

 

As idyllic as Mayberry or Stars Hollow appeared to be, I wasn’t cut out for that life. We’re not intended to live our parents lives or even the lives of our childhoods. As a single mom, my children and I created our own traditions and defined family using our own lexicon—a new normal with just the three of us, embracing others into our family along the way . Single moms and their families learn to depend on and take care of each other while instilling independence in our children. Patrick Fall 2015It’s a balancing act in the best sense. My children are living proof.  FullSizeRender (6)

 

When my mother asked “Are you a person of fear or a person of faith?”  she was teaching me that a person of character will have many moments in their life. Decision making. Joy. Sorrow. Betrayal. Misunderstanding. Leave-takings. Homecomings. Finances.Hormones. Aging. It’s our job to embrace and find peace in them ALL.

LabyrinthOn New Year’s Day 2011 I walked a labyrinth under a beautiful sky filled with stars. Under the stars that same winter my daughter was in her third year of undergraduate school studying in Prague, my son was in his mid-20’s working his way up the corporate ladder. The steps we all took that year were adventure-filled marked with enthusiasm. We were miles apart yet connected. It  had seemed like such a short journey from infancy to adulthood for them. That night at the beginning of a new year, I resolved to start on a path of self-discovery.  I’ll always be their mother but the time had come to find an adult self apart from being a parent. Along this new journey I’ve had the time to nurture my own interests and career, travel, to reacquaint with friends from childhood, college and beyond who had been on adventures of their own—building careers and families.Who in the world am I I’ve explored and discerned. Some choices were great, some not so great but they were mine. 

Twenty-six years ago this week, with two small children and the promise of a future we moved to Baton Rouge to begin a new life. In four months my son will be the same age I was then. Ironically, last week some dear friends who have lived in Baton Rouge for these same twenty-five years revealed they will be moving.

We aren’t meant to stay put but to move forward. Have no fear….of the movement or of time….The world’s so wide. Enjoy the ride!

on the road

 

 

 

Gurgle

 

The house is quiet again but echos with the laughter and talking that filled it a few days ago. Not unlike others, our family gathered to celebrate.

Celebrate a birth. Celebrate our love for each other.

The last week has been a whirlwind of cooking, eating, visiting with loved ones far and near. Their presence, whether by walking in the door or a phone call or card was a gift in itself.

 

On Christmas Day a wave of sentimentality hit me, a brief moment of melancholy.

Call it desirewanting a little more, instead of being satisfied with what we have. Missing those who are absent is human nature. My son’s words grounded me.  The sentiment was fleeting. Generations, family and friends gathered at our table….some present, some in spirit. The days spent together were as splendid as the feast.

This year there was a new addition at our table: a whimsical fish pitcher from my childhood best friend, Leslie. At each meal we giggled as we poured water. It wasn’t until a few days after Christmas that I discovered the story.

The ‘gurgle pot’ was the creation of artist Matthew Ellison inspired by his travel to a small French village for his brother’s wedding. There were no hotels so all of the guests stayed with host families. His spoke no English and he spoke no French so conversation was awkward and challenging. A saving grace at meals was a fish-shaped pitcher that gurgled with each pour. …what a wonderful connection. Laughter. Listening. Whimsy. Trusting communication in all it’s forms on the journey.

In retrospect, 2015 has been a year of similar connections: lightbulbs in deep grace and dark journeys on long days. Listening for a gurgle. 

Blessings. Births. Graduations. Weddings. Illness. Deaths.

Maneuvering day-to-day living. Connecting to the gurgle of those we hold dear. Finding the way to connect to them in a meaningful way. Not our way, but the best way.

Gratitude for it all.

In this coming new year, may your connections gurgle…simply with love, and abundantly.

 

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.  

DSC_0780
Fair

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.

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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. HanGret3

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.

AutumnBreakfast

Pelican GatheringI 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.

                                                                                                             reston the fence 3

November flightCelebrate diversity….the spark found in yourself and in others.

Join together.

Then take flight.

Just Singing

Teaching, like all professions has it’s challenges.

While friends were planning last minute trips to the beach three weeks ago we began the journey into this new school year; my thirty-third. What joy, unwrapping the gift of music (and now theater) with young people. A year of new possibilities.  music class

But teaching, like life has had it’s ups and downs.

Sunday night blues. Monday Morning mayhem. TGIFs. Days. Weeks. Months. Years of inquisitive faces. A blessed life.

A poem by Mary Oliver reminded me of those bittersweet early teaching days and the not-so-distant-crazy-hormonal-menopausal early 50’s. They had a lot in common.

Mary Oliver worried

With the support of trusted friends and colleagues “I took my old body and went into the morning….and SANG.”

Here’s to continuing to find that still place..not looking back or forward….just singing.

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up in the airIMG_4398

Puzzle People

Driving home from my oldest’s friend’s son’s wedding last Sunday it occurred to me that life is like putting together a puzzle. At times we’re not quite sure what the picture is unless we look at the box.

“Lift Up Your Voice”

Not too long ago someone said they had seen some of my photography, asked when I took lessons. On that drive home I recalled those “lessons” and others in the process of putting ‘the pieces together’.

Mr Galleon was my 7th and 8th Grade Science Teacher. Unconventional, he believed in “life lessons”. He built a dark room in the science lab so that those of us who were interested could learn photography. He took photos around town for everything from sports events to weddings. What a profound influence both he and my band director, Mr. Howard Jackson had in my life. Mr. Jackson rebuilt the old Paramount organ at the school. The band room was the place everyone would hang out.  That was over forty years ago. Both Mr. Jackson and Mr. Galleon were educators who went beyond the classroom. They were servants, not people showing up to do a job.

Follow your bliss and doors will open for you that you never knew existed. Joseph Campbell

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We are all worth more than the worst thing we have done in our lives. Sister Helen Prejean

In mid-June the final pieces of the puzzle for a composer’s forum came together, numerous artists and arts organizations sharing their time and talent to bring about an amazing weekend of art song and opera, some had never been performed in Louisiana. For over thirty years I’ve been an events organizer  but this puzzle was different. Given the opportunity to discuss and collaborate with the creators of the works, our artistry was called to a deeper place. We were called to a place of  patience, understanding, forgiveness.

Sometimes puzzle pieces fit. Other times the discovery takes sifting for the picture to become clear. 

Feet in the sand
Feet in the sand

shadows

In the summer, my grandmother always had a puzzle going. The creativity of each individual piece fitting into another individual piece.

People and their lives are like that. There’s always another piece of the puzzle waiting. My theater friend Carole had figured that out. Eighty years old when she died a week ago Friday, she volunteered not only at the theater but also with St. Vincent de Paul. Lovingly nicknamed “Moose Lady”, she was a puzzle person.

“Moose Lady”

 Lately I’ve been less concerned with the big-picture….and  enjoyed the pieces. Like Mr. Galleon, Mr. Jackson, my grandmother and Miss Carole, hope  that makes me more of a puzzle person. 13631403wedding bubblesSt Al

 stained glassclouds

Sparkle

It’s been more than a month since the last blog. In these last weeks my daughter and youngest child received her Master’s degree. Tomorrow my son celebrates his twenty-ninth birthday. These words and photos come with thought. TFullSizeRender (5)Mother's Day 1986wenty-five. Twenty-nine years. Maybe a life time.

Several years ago, I arrived at a lonely, uncommon place, at least for me. Feeling obsolete. I had always been keenly aware of others needs: daughter, wife, mother, educator. Hormones aside, it hit me that May day that life was evolving into something different and very quickly. I began searching for a different place, a new voice. Today on the cusp of my son’s birthday I feel anything but challenged. Joy. Pride in what has been accomplished by them, I suppose in myself for seeing them into adulthood and certainly grateful to the many who have supported and loved our family along the way. It takes more than a village…

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post Butterfly celebrationIt’s natural for my thoughts to have drifted to my parents during these weeks. Their sacrifices.  My children are thoughtful and considerate. Was I appreciative in my twenties?

Mama said, “Darling, don’t make such a drama. A little less thinking, a little more feeling”. I suppose “thinking and feeling” is what middle-aged women do. There wasn’t much time for it when our children were growing up. We were too busy balancing life, spinning plates. Now, at a safe distance, we can Monday morning quarter back but not for long. There are always new adventures waiting.

Do we all have fleeting moments wondering if we’ve become our parents? Mine in this last month was recalling something that my mother used to say: that ‘children’ are never really ours but on loan to us.

Isn’t she/he beautiful, though?
You would have liked her/him
Mama did things no one had done
Mama was funny, Mama was fun  

Children and Art – Sunday in the Park with George by Stephen Sondheim

Mama was funny and fun….Life was art.

A favorite quote from Auntie Mame “Life is a banquet and some of the poor fools are starving.”

For Patrick and Sarah and all of our children….

23 Brilliant Life Lesson from Anthony Bourdain

Here’s to parents and children.  Both continually growing.

You would have liked her
Honey, I’m wrong
You would have loved her
Mama enjoyed things
Mama was smart
See how she shimmers?
I mean, from the heart

Parents and children. Both works of art. Shimmer. Sparkle.

Creative Waiting

Joseph Campbell - willing

For years there have been two books kept consistently on my bedside. One is my journal. The other is a copy of Joseph Campbell’s “The Power of Myth”. Bedtime. Rising. His words challenge and encourage.

Yesterday I finished a journal that I began in May 2011. The first entry was written in an airport on the way to Prague. I had no idea when I started that journey and journal the adventures that were in store. Prague Dancing Building-May 2011

Prague at gloaming

Travel. Home. Joys. Challenges.

“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.”  Joseph Campbell

Thumbing through this journal was enlightening. A Rosetta Stone.

That first journal entry on May 19, 2011 was from the Dublin airport. My plane had been rerouted from Helsinki on the way to Prague. I wrote: “Not exactly where I thought ‘d be. Then again, life has a way of surprising us if we’re open on the adventure. Delays turn into journeys. Sleepless nights turn into card games (I played cards all night with the people from Texas who sat next to me on the plane). So I stay in the moment. Open. Eyes open. Looking at the vision surrounding me. Bringing the past into the future. “And so I ceased, I carred my father. I sought my way to the mountains.” Homer?

That last line is from some place in The Odyssey. I remember having more than a slight buzz from no sleep, being in Ireland and knowing I was going to see my daughter for the first time nine months. The Homer was about letting go and moving forward simultaneously. That tug-of-war has been a theme these four years. Maybe longer.

This weekend was filled to the brim with activity….Programs My mother and my friend Leslie might call it “burning the candle at both ends”. DSC_0028The “candle” is a little weary by the end of April and ready for the soft flicker of summer.

Driving home tonight after supper with a friend it struck me that the bliss Joseph Campbell is talking about is really just peace in knowing yourself. Lessons learned. Talk less, listen more. Waiting. Creative waiting is following your bliss.