Going Home

May 3, 2013 at 10:57 am (Inspiration, music, Relationship, Spirituality, Uncategorized)
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Old tin roof, leaves in the gutter
A hole in the screen door big as your fist, and flies on the butter
Mamaw baking sugar cookies…
Heard her holler from the kitchen ‘which one of you youngin’s wants to lick the spoon?’
Yellow jackets on the watermelon, honeysuckle in the air…
Old dog napping on the front porch, his ear just a-twitching…

It doesn’t seem like it was all that long ago…

Me and my best friend Jenny set up a back yard camp
Stole one of Mama’s Mason jars, poked holes in the lid and made a fire fly lamp
(excerpts from lyrics of Flies on the Butter by Wynonna Judd)

The rest of the chorus says you can’t go home again, but I’m not so sure.  When I think of Mom baking cakes with umpteen children milling around, and me and my best friend Becky playing in the woods, and chasing fireflies late into the night (8pm), I’m not sure I’m not actually there.

These parts of our childhoods are part of us — our cells remember the past as if it were actually right now, today.

  • I feel the breeze coming through the kitchen window, carrying the fresh green scent of leaves crushed by kids’ feet racing through the forest.
  • I clearly hear Mom’s voice reigning over the controlled chaos, and the smile now on my lips might be hers just as much as mine.
  • I feel the inner angst of wanting to keep those fireflies captured forever while not wanting to impinge on their freedom.
  • I feel the scratches along my forearms from (willingly!) carrying loads of firewood.
  • I feel the strong softness and smell the earthy sweetness of moss patches that I wove through string to create a wall hanging on a piece of fallen tree branch.
  • I see the shy pride on my father’s face as he gently places a sun-warmed strawberry on the counter, from his front-yard patch, or a tiny but blood-red tomato from the vine up back in the woods
  • I feel the warm comforting weight of the cat sleeping across my legs night after night as I fell asleep to the chorus of cicadas (after fervent prayers to keep me safe from spiders).

Listening to this song today, I’m reminded that for all the times we believe in the lifelong impact of childhood trauma, maybe we can also believe in — and deeply feel — the lifelong impact of childhood magic. 

10 Comments

One More Morning

February 22, 2013 at 3:56 pm (Inspiration, Mental Health, music, Spirituality, Uncategorized)
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My relationship with mornings has been tenuous for most of my life.

The tentacles of depression that release their grip in sleep tend to regain their strength in the vulnerable transitional minutes and hours of morning.

But this morning I realized things have shifted.

Our sleepy, frozen 10-block stumble to the gym was a few minutes later than usual, so the sun was rising just as we arrived for our morning torture… err… exercise.  A sunrise that stopped us in our tracks, both of us breathing a wide-eyed “WHOAaaa!”

sunrise1

Then when we entered the gym, the [omg gorgeous] owner grinned at us, pointed to the sunrise, and disappeared.  I found him on the other side of the gym sipping his coffee, quietly watching the sunrise reds and oranges grow deeper, richer, and more stunning across the entire 180° view.

“I’ve stopped training sessions for this” he said, talking to me but still focused on the sunrise.  ”I used to just glance at this, then hurry back to work.  But now I stop sessions and tell my clients, ‘Wait.  Look at this.  I don’t care if you have a problem with it, come look at this,’ because I know the best part only lasts for a few minutes.”

As my heart melted into gratitude, I realized that over the past year or so, morning and I have built an alliance:  if I take time to notice, appreciate, and spend intentional time with her, she will help me build my day on beauty instead of fear; expression instead of depression.

And just in case I didn’t get the message, my iPod served up “One More Morning” by Steve Winwood.  The lyrics speak for themselves, and the music puts me over the (good) edge, so here are both:

In the sky, light is coming
So glad we all have this day
We all want one more morning
Just to know the night won’t stay

Lift my eyes to the dawning
To see the life start again
Just to see one more morning
Just to feel it all begin

Just to have this day and life starting all over
For all it may bring
A blessing on everything
And one more song I can sing…

“for all it may bring… a blessing on everything … and one more song I can sing.”   Amen. 

9 Comments

Find the Tune(s) of Your Heart

May 4, 2012 at 10:46 am (Inspiration, Mental Health, music, Spirituality, Uncategorized)
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I’ve started running again, thanks to the joint-cushioning magic of the treadmills at the gym across the street.  And music. 

When I was young(er), I’d run the country roads of the rural Shenandoah Valley, energized by the music of nature and the sound of my own breath in rhythm with my gazelle-like (ha!) footfalls.

Country roads turned to suburban sidewalks and walking paths when I moved to Northern Virginia, and my energy came from the music of conversation and laughter as my sister and I chattered through our long distance runs.

(And then there was the day we started giggling so hard that I had to stop running and literally — yes, literally! — fall onto the grass and laugh ’til I ’bout near passed out.)

Time wore on, and so did my joints.  Sigh. Knees and ankles started hurting more than I cared to deal with, so running became a memory — replaced by pilates, yoga, power walks, weight lifting, and near-death-by-trainer sessions.

Until I moved last winter to Philadelphia and became a gym rat.  At the Training Station, a gym known as THE gym for runners.  Well shoot.  Teased endlessly by the treadmills I finally snuck onto one (hoping my 43 year old ankles, knees, and hips wouldn’t notice.  They did, but that’s a different story) and ran my little heart out.  No really, my heart almost popped out.   Apparently I left the one-with-the-wind long-distance-bliss in VA.

But I got a glimpse of that pure freedom feeling that I get from no other exercise but running, and I wanted more.

So I turned to music and my best friend iPod.  

Started with the typical Workout playlist:

  • Jillian Michael’s Favorite Workout Mix 2011 (by Giancarlo)
  • Sexy and I Know It (LMFAO)
  • Lots of stuff by Blue October (X-Amount of Words, Picking Up the Pieces, Everlasting Friend)
  • Dance About It (by Paper Tongues)
  • and of course Faith by George Michael :)

But something was still missing.  My body was energized-ish by the music, but my heart was still sitting on the crossbar of the treadmill, napping, waiting for the run to be over.  Not how I wanted my run to feel.

So one day I did the ole iPod shuffle instead of the Workout mix.  And a song from my recent re-discovery of spiritual (ok, Christian) music by the 2nd Chapter of Acts group started playing.  My heart soared, and my feet grew wings.

It was in that moment that I realized in a new, profound way, that to tap into the most powerful energy we can ever access, we need to start with the heart.   Not just for emotional energy, but for very real physical energy also, as they are inextricably intertwined.

I finally get it.  For the same reasons it’s important to engage our hearts in our work (see OutWriteLiving.com) and in our everyday lives, it’s important to engage our hearts in our physical exercise routines.   For me, music is that spark to the heartfire… and the joy fuel for my running.

Is it time to take even better care of your body?  Start with your heart.  Through your headphones.  

And tell us in a comment here what you think about all that.

10 Comments

2012 — a gazillion moments.

December 31, 2011 at 5:44 pm (holidays, Inspiration, music, Uncategorized)
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So I sat down a while ago at “our” neighborhood coffee shop in southeast Philly to write some sort of philosophical-inspirational blog post about the year gone by and the year coming up.

Then I started taking pictures of my wife (with my to-die-for brand-spankin’-new iPhone).

And of course had to post a pic on Facebook  (see photo, left).

And then the comments began … which I easily ignored on my computer b/c I use this freakin’ amazing strip-away-all-on-screen-distractions writing program called OmmWriter.

But unfortunately OmmWriter doesn’t wrestle the iPhone outta your hands… so I used my “smart”phone to attend to the urgent (ahem) Facebook comments…for 15 minutes.

And then the coffee was just so damn good that I had to go downstairs to get a refill.

Of course I spilled a little of that caffeinated gold on the way back upstairs, so had to do a quick napkin mop up to spare any patron slippage.  (I’m a very well-trained consumer).

And then I typed a little bit and it was ehhh so I deleted it all and stared at the screen for a while.

Then I chatted with my wife for a few minutes.  And we laughed about something (or more likely nothing).

Then I looked up the lyrics to “Feelin’ Good” because it was playing over the coffeeshop speakers and it made my heart dance.

And then I typed a little more.

And deleted it all.

And then it hit me…

I was having trouble writing about the past or the future because fully experiencing those present moments was more delicious and captivating than the tasks of remembering yesterday or hoping for tomorrow.

And that, my dears, is what I hope we can all take into 2011 — that each present moment is the most important thing to notice, to pay attention to, and to write about.

That each present moment gives us a chance to choose how to work, how to love, and how to live.

2012 — a gazillion present moments never before lived by you, me, or anyone.  Oh yeah!

Cue “I’m Feelin’ Good” (Michael Buble, James Bond style)

Birds flyin’ high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin’ on by you know how I feel
Its a new dawn, its a new day, its a new life for me
yeah, its a new dawn its a new day its a new life for me ooooooooh
AND I’M FEELING GOOD

2012 — Bring. It. ON!

2 Comments

In Between Poses

November 7, 2011 at 10:14 am (Inspiration, music, Spirituality, The Artist Life, Uncategorized)
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When you think no one’s watching
When the moment takes over
When you forget what you’re thinking and say what you really feel
When you’re in between poses
And when your laughter takes over
That’s when you’re floating with the angels…
…You’re beautiful.
- In Between Poses by Jen Foster [click link to hear song]

Who are you when you’re “in between poses” – in those times when pretense slips away for a moment, and your internal artwork is expressed?

And who would you be if you allowed others to see the core of you that appears when you’re in between “poses”?

The moment after you hang up the phone.

The moment you shut the door after a loved one leaves your home.

The moment you notice the early morning sunlight through the autumn leaves

The moment backstage before your show … or speech … or award acceptance.

The moment before the elevator door opens.

The moment before your first morning cup of coffee.

The moment after meditation.

The moment in between poses, when your eyes express a thousand thoughts, and your body shows its full array of emotion, and your essence shimmers through every pore.

The moment in between poses, when you are simply YOU.

Terrifying.  Freeing. Transformative. Magical.

When you’re in between poses
And when your laughter takes over
That’s when you’re floating with the angels…
…You’re beautiful.

Still not convinced?  Hear the words to music… listen to the whole song [here], then go find yourself, your beauty, in between poses…

8 Comments

Play me home

May 10, 2011 at 8:48 am (Inspiration, music, The Artist Life, Uncategorized)
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Harmonies
intertwining sweet nectar
sticky smooth notes
catch
on my heart seams and pull
gently
insistently
prying
a surgical butter knife creating access to
release

Piano note fingers
touch my soul’s braille
sightless reading through
keys
of my internal sharps, flats
forte turns to
pianissimo
minor, major chords
kneading
a pressure point massage of my emotional knots

Vocals
lyrical speech so full
words insist on becoming
song
your feeling, singer songwriter, becomes
mine
knocks loudly then
opens the door
of expression wide
an IV of life transfusing my aching cells.

Harmonies … Piano … Vocals … Music … Life.  Pure sweet Life.

7 Comments

I choose to believe

December 16, 2010 at 12:25 pm (holidays, music, Relationship, The Artist Life)
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I choose to believe.

I choose to believe in the connectedness of my world, my universe and beyond.

How can I not, when things like this happen:

Years ago, my young niece (15? 16?) Katie (hi punkin!) and her buddy Rachel were visiting us, their Aunties S&S, for the weekend. Pure delight, those two were (and still are!).

I clearly remember being in the kitchen during that visit, being surprised by a heart-melting ribbon of golden music coming from the living room. It was Rachel, singing Sarah McLachlan’s “Adia” while playing accompaniment on the piano.

Skip forward 10 or 15 years to earlier this year. I have reconnected with Rachel through various threads of Divine Planning, and was delighted when she announced she has created a CD of her original music. I immediately purchased several CDs without hearing any of the songs.

My heart remembered her rendition of Adia years ago — no more sampling needed.

Rachel (photo by peggy dyer)

As I heard the first notes of Rachel’s voice, the beauty became my own grateful tears. “Unapologetically,” she’s called this musical collection. And her lyrics, her acoustical guitar, piano, voice — all take me consistently to that place where I don’t need to apologize for who I am, what I believe, how I feel, who I love.

Yesterday that dream came true. Without my involvement. Because of authentic connections.

You see, I had shared Rachel’s CD with my friend/colleague Rebecca. And Rebecca was moved to sell Rachel’s CD through an online recommendation-based “shop” (on OpenSky).

And yesterday Rebecca published a blog post (read it here) about connecting herself to nature and music. Specifically through Rachel’s CD.

That, my dear readers, is why I choose to believe.

‘Tis the season — maybe we can all choose to believe?

********
[Click here to purchase "Unapologetically" ]

6 Comments

Piano Lessons

January 12, 2010 at 8:48 pm (music)
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I’m 41 years old, and have absolutely no regrets.

…

ok, yeah… I lied. (sorry, couldn’t resist!)  :)

I do have one regret:  that I didn’t keep taking piano lessons when I was a wee little whippersnapper.  Or as a teenager.  Or in college.  Or in my 30s.  *sigh*

When I hear the magical notes of delectable piano music, my fingers tingle, my heart-beat deepens, and all my dreams seem possible – the same feeling I get when I simply *must* write. 

Yet when I finally get to those black and white keys, I’m limited by my lack of skill.  Expression gets thwarted.  I get frustrated.  The piano again becomes a tease, a reminder of what could have been.  Curses!

But you know what?  Virtuoso or not (um, definitely NOT!) turns out I learned something profoundly important during those few young years of lessons (thank you, piano teacher Mom!). 

I learned how to control each hand separately. 

[... stick with me here...]

I learned how to have one hand dance playfully while the other hand kept a heavy serious rhythm. 

How to have one hand coax the keys to whisper while the other forced them to shout. 

And to switch them … *snap*… just like that.  

A full life requires that skill:
-  That ability to dance lightly while still keeping a solid rhythm. 
- To hold some things close while letting others go. 
- To gently wrap clear determination in the silky essence of allowing. 

If we spend all our time pushing, driving toward that *whatever* we’re trying so desperately to reach, we will likely plow right on past what we are Supposed To see and experience and do and be.

And if we just wander aimlessly with no focus at all, no drive … we run the same risk of missing our Intended Path.   

So you see, we need the push and the allowing, the ying and the yang.  

We need to give both hands a chance.

*******************************
[text and photos by Starla J. King]

Another great read on this topic is Peg Mulqueen’s recent post, “Trust Yourself” – she definitely gives both hands a chance!

12 Comments

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