teaching – BethSings

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!

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.

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.

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.

A letter home…

Spring has been opera performances, conducting musicals, organizing a cabaret, teaching. A last minute trip to visit my son for Easter. Preparations for my daughter’s Masters degree graduation in Boston. My hesitation in blogging has something to do with all of that activity but also with tomorrow. April 19. Thirty years.

A letter that’s long in coming but has been formulated in my heart and mind for quite some time. A letting go.

It seems odd to write. Over these decades you have been a part of the journey. Some days, like today, it’s a fleeting flashback, almost relegated to a hashtag. How you visited with women in the Monroe A&P. We’d get animal crackers. Now, I understand the significance of those grocery store chats. What is said in those whispers on the aisles. I understand a lot more than I did thirty, forty, fifty years ago.

You’d be proud of your grandchildren. They are creative, generous, intelligent, funny people. There has never been a time I haven’t enjoyed their company —-from the first moment I held them to the last moment we spoke. I hope they can say the same of me. You were right. Children grow up very quickly. It’s hard to believe that Sarah (named for your grandmother) is the same age I was the last time I saw you. Patrick (named for your great-grandfather) is now the age I was when I had Sarah. I remembered what you said… to spend time with them. . . the dishes and everything else did keep.

During most of my life I had a clearly marked ‘road map’. About four or five years ago things seemed very murky. Hormones and a redefined self-image…. I recalled one of our last conversations: about middle-aged women – – – a complicated conversation that I didn’t understand at the time. Now I understand the aging process: physical and spiritual. You prepared me for those steps just as you prepared me for so many others. It’s hasn’t escaped me that like many women, you found passion in your 50’s—-yours was public service and education. It’s not that you weren’t interested in public service before, after fifty you just had time to dedicate. Freedom and independence are exhilarating. That was our last conversation April 17, 1985.

You and Daddy taught by example that each day is enough. I hope Patrick and Sarah know that too. Finding the ‘simple’, in themselves and in others; Sifting through life’s concerns with style and grace. Keeping their ducks in a row….sometimes alone, sometimes with others. Always remembering….Family. Friends. Respect. Love. Laughter and fun along the way.

Yeah…it’s more than enough….and the conversation continues….

High Cotton

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.

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.

The One Thing

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…..

The ONE THING. For this I am grateful.

For Now

The last week of school. A week teachers look forward to. I suppose I have too: Time off to rest and recuperate before heading back to the ‘dance’ in August. This year has been a full one: professionally and personally. Reconnected. Reconciled. Beginning with myself then moving to others. The dance has been slow, steady but lovely.

Since last May I have been reminded that…..

Even good-intentioned people and situations have ‘danger, danger Will Robinson’ times. In those times, a generous, inquisitive spirit is needed.

Forgiveness does not equal acceptance.

It’s perfectly okay to walk away from a situation. Being around negativity is….well, a downer.

Friends and family…..there’s nothing like them. Remind them how much you love them. Nothing has to be extravagant except love.

Find something you enjoy. A passion. You are NEVER too old to learn something new or to remember something you once knew.

Spending quality time with friends and family is important but spending time with YOURSELF is grounding.

Sleep well. Eat well. Move well. Simplify.

Find ‘a purpose’ each day….something to be grateful for. Some days are more challenging than others. We’re human. We miss people. We get angry, frustrated, tired. The ‘purpose’ may be hidden but it’s there waiting…..sometimes right around the next corner. Like magic, it appears out of nowhere.

Friends, family, sunsets, adventures, the aroma of the magnolias when you walk out the door in the evening. Enjoy. Be grateful. Savor life.

Dance!! “For now!”

“The Tea Girls”

The first week of May.

Quite frankly, my head has been spinning about what to write. Motherhood. Children. Rites of passage. Joy. Gratitude. . . for mothers and children, school years ending and summers beginning, friends and family and forgiveness…..

Song a May Morning

I recently read an on-line story that the best Mother’s Day gifts involved leaving mom alone. Admittedly when my children were very small quiet, some occasional alone-time might have been very welcome. Sleep was a rare commodity. Spending quality time with other adults, girl-friends was cherished.

I’ve been blessed to have remarkable friends throughout my life. Male and Female. There are no time limits, labels or geography when it comes to those kind of friends. I have a friend who says: “time stands still on those kind of friendships.” She’s right.

When I first relocated to Baton Rouge, my children were young I joined a ‘play group’ with four other young mothers. We met at first on Tuesdays, then eventually branched out….sharing everything from swimming lessons to understanding what happened at the pediatrician to First Communions. Growing Up. Starting school. We were all ‘transplants’, none of us had local family so it was nice knowing there was a safety net of friends.

It became the custom for our group to go to High Tea on the Saturday before Mother’s Day. Clotted cream, lemon curd, scones….a May tradition. Looking back, we started as young mothers going to ‘play dates’ and transformed into the ‘The Tea Girls’, a diverse yet supportive group of friends. During ‘teas’ we shared our hopes and dreams for the future. Clearly being a mother was the most important work any of us would do…..will ever do….but as creative individuals we had the support of each other to ‘bounce’ ideas: What about this business venture? What about grad school?

In the twenty- five plus years since we became friends some of us have moved to other cities, divorced, remarried, seen our own children get married. We have supported each other through the loss of parents and illness within the group. Friends, good friends, keep us grounded and healthy. They are a mirror for our soul. This group was that.

There is little doubt in my mind that much of the credit for my success as a mother came from the example of my own mother. If Yvonne was gently whispering in one ear, I was lucky enough to have “The Tea Girls” whispering in the other. I’m grateful for both pieces of wisdom and for the Saturday before Mother’s Day….

Today, as we honor mothers I’ll be nibbling on scones and lifting my cup…to My Mother….to Your Mother….”Tea Girls”everywhere…..and to the children they raised…..

Foolish Consistency

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds….

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Rarely at a loss for words, I was stumped for this week’s blog until today. Writer and photographer’s block!

Saturday afternoon I found myself at a women’s gymnastics meet sans camera. I’m not certain I would’ve or COULD’VE taken pictures. Oh, people were certainly snapping away. I even took one from my phone. Having never attended a meet before I didn’t know what to expect. By the end I was frazzled by the hustle-bustle-circus-like atmosphere of the event. I longed for quiet, peace, reflection~spent Sunday recuperating. When I was younger I liked the circus. Most of us grow. Up or otherwise.

When I first rediscovered photography I took lots of photos of clouds storing them in a folder labeled: “Up in the Air”. The click of the shutter quietened my mind, heart and spirit just as surely as any metronome ever did when I practiced the piano, singing or studying a score. The new vision was spontaneous yet consistent and comforting, like an old friend. I couldn’t place why until this week.

“While she danced without a net upon the wire….”

Decades ago, I learned that comforting dance with a camera. Mr. Gallien, my science teacher was inspiring, patient and creative. He built a dark room in the corner of the science lab so we could learn to develop film. He took us on adventures beyond the classroom, exploring the world through the lens. It was mysterious, magical and musical…red light, clicking of the shutter. “Up in the Clouds.” The journey from there to here……from clouds to circus has sometimes been circuitous. I’ve discovered I like spontaneity balanced with consistency.

Quiet. Foolish. Consistency.

The Journey by Mary Oliver

Today in quiet I reflected on journeys….

Casavant Mechanical Action Organ 2 Manuals, 25 Stops, 33 Ranks, 2011, St. Aloysius Church

choices…..

while sparkling through “a foolish consistency”……

Baptism Window~St. Aloysius Church, Baton Rouge, La. Stained Glass Art~Dufour-Corso Studio

Journey Window~St. Aloysius Church, Baton Rouge La. Stained Glass Art by Dufour~Corso

In the quiet, it all seems less foolish and much more consistent…

How Can I Keep From Singing

“There’s only us
There’s only this
Forget regret– or life is yours to miss.
No other road
No other way
No day but today” (from the musical~RENT)

Saturday night I found myself standing at a well.

Staring at the darting fish, I considered the woman at the well. Dry. Searching. Avoiding. “No day but today.” Like her and even the koi, at times I’ve experienced isolation or chosen to hide under a rock. As I stood there staring, pondering….I heard these words: Women by May Swenson

I laughed. At the words. At myself. At my arrival at that profound, perfect moment.

“No day…..but….” So many times we stop short. Second guess. “What if”. Think too hard, too much rather than swimming forward or even resting in the possible….we stop short of ‘today’.

The now. A present. Gift.

“There’s only yes
Only tonight
We must let go
To know what is right
No other course
No other way
No day but today”

Music and especially singing has brought delight to my life, especially nurturing singers. Mythologist Joseph Campbell wrote: “Follow your bliss”. Often, singers take an abstract approach to the art form surrendering to the possible through imagery. We balance both worlds: Art and science; collaborating, joining with others to bring about a cathartic experience. To achieve this, artists become vulnerable and relinquish control. Call it serendipity. Magic. Miracle.

“No day but today.”

Just as the woman at the well, our souls and spirits thirst. We hide in shadows or dart about under rocks searching for who knows what until we find or remember those like-minded others.

“I can’t control
My destiny
I trust my soul
My only hope
is just to be”.

Busy. Excuses. “Let go.” “No day but today.” The path is there just as surely as the notes on a page. Trusting and saying ‘yes’ to the possible then trusting others….

We’re told that ‘hope does not disappoint’. Sometimes we don’t know for what we hope, which makes the quenching more difficult.

Standing now at a different “well”. This one is in the knowing that all will be well, grateful for the path and song that lead me to this day. There really is “no day but today”. Seize it! And SING!

“There’s only now
There’s only here
Give in to love
Or live in fear
No other path
No other way
No day but today”