Category Archives: songs/poetry

If you are

If you are waking up to a grey morning, clouds hanging low and wet like those mornings in China. If you then brew a pot of jasmine tea to break the fog that is in your head from reading history texts until the wee hours of last night. And if you are weary of this day before it has even begun, then this is the perfect excerpt of a song for you to discover in the flyleaf of John Demos’ Unredeemed Captive

Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
It’s how the light gets in.
–Leonard Cohen, “Anthem”

literary tie in?


So I’ve been thinking about making an iTunes playlist of songs with literary tie-ins. I’ll need your help in making my list because it’s pretty short so far (and, yes, I do have an eighties bias, but don’t limit yourself to that era):

“Wuthering Heights” (from Emily Bronte’s novel) Kate Bush
“Calypso” (from Homer’s Odyssey) Suzanne Vega
“Killing an Arab” (from Camus’ The Stranger) The Cure
“The Highwayman” (from Alvert Noyes’ poem) Loreena McKennitt
“Lady of Shallott” (from the Tennyson poem) Loreena McKennitt

for the love…

A poem from Jen

For the love of a tree, she went out on a limb.
For the love of the sea, she rocked the boat
For the love of the earth, she dug deeper.
For the love of community, she mended fences.
For the love of the stars, she let her light shine.
For the love of spirit, she nurtured her soul.
For the love of a good time, she sowed seeds of happiness.
For the love of the Goddess, she drew down the moon.
For the love of a good meal, she gave thanks.
For the love of family, she reconciled differences.
For the love of creativity, she entertained new possibilities.
For the love of her enemies, she suspended judgment.
For the love of herself, she acknowledged her worth.
And the world was richer for her…..

~ Charlotte Tall Mountain

women’s music


.

On Saturday John and I attended a concert, “The Feminine Voice in Music: Past Meets Present.” It was an evening of music by female composers. All of the singers and instrument-payers were also women. We drove quite a ways to attend this concert–two hours up to Ventura thru LA traffic.

Some highlights:
–a poem written by Julian of Norwich (1342-c.1416). It began, “As truly as God is our Father, so just as truly is he our Mother.” and in the middle of the singing switched to a solo where a lovely older woman gave voice to the divine feminine, “It is I, the wisdom of Motherhood, It is I, the light and grace of holy love…It is I who teach you to love. It is I, who teach you to desire. It is I who am the reward of all true desiring. And all shall be well.”
In this woman’s eyes I saw my Mother–the Heavenly Mother that Mormons believe in and revere.

–An original composition called “Mama” that is part of a requiem written by Naomi Stephan about her mother. The song had only one word, “Mama,” but was incredibly complex. Sometimes sung with joy, sometimes with reverence, sometimes with pain and fear. All of the choir members at once giving voive to that same word, repeatedly, in cacophony and harmony. It made my heart ache. I thought of the many times that I was in so much pain that the only thing I could say was “Mommy…Mommy…Mommy” over and over again like a mantra. I thought of the times when my kids both yelling “MAAHHHMMMEEE!!” at the same time was so wearying that I wanted to lock myself away to some private place where I could no longer hear their cries. I recalled the joy at hearning “mamamamama” for the first time from each child–speaking the words to my breasts as I fed them. Such a sweet and powerful word!! Naomi created magic with that song–to evoke such complex emotions with just one word…

–Another poem set to music–this one a delight for its imagery:
“And maybe I shall go with you, my glimmering girl
To the land of Glyn, to the land of Myrrh
Where cats wear gleaming fine faces and purple fur
And the daisies bend down singing lowly: murr, murr.”
This poem made me think of my daughter. She is (and always will be) my ‘glimmering girl.’ 🙂

All-in-all, it was such a delight to hear from these women. Almost all of the singers and composers were crones–not the women that our society usually values or reveres. But their music was so moving. And they women themselves were quite dynamic. Their bodies were of all sizes and proportions, their hair many shades of color from a bottle or a variety of natural grays. They were all so beautiful to me.

Just what I needed this morning….

Yah, a long week at our house. It’s finals week at UCI and we’ve had papers to grade and deadlines to meet and busy kids Oh, and I must tell you E was crowned with the title of ‘Master Artist’ this week by our elementary school district. Her duties will include a presentation before the school board and the city council. And she says it’s okay if her class didn’t kowtow to her (as we did when we learned of her new title), instead they clapped…

But back to this morning. I was busily getting dressed in our bedroom and John was headed into the shower. He was completely naked and singing along with the “Jesus Christ Superstar” songs that were playing over the speakers under our bed. He was gently swinging his hips, eyes half-closed as he sang the refrain from Simon the Zealot’s song:

Jesus I am with you.
Touch me, touch me, Jesus.
Jesus I am on your side.
Kiss me, kiss me, Jesus.

It was both touching and hilariously funny and even a little ridiculous. It was so John–all vulnerable and yet totally living in the moment, surrendering to the music. Totally un-selfconscious. Lovely….

not shining…

As a reward for finishing up a big project today, I dusted off my latest netflix movie and settled in for some entertainment. I felt pretty sure I would like this movie because it’s about a piano player who plays Rachmaninoff.

Well, Shine was a bit disappointing. Though I am always happy to see someone with a physical challenge (like mental illness) portrayed in a positive way, the writers came up with a maudlin and predictable plot. Not even the ugly-man-bare-buttock-humor was redeeming (unlike in Waking Ned Devine, A Room With a View, or Bean).

More than anything I was annoyed that the piano scenes were awful. I wanted _real_ playing, not a poor imitation. And the concertos were all chopped up throughout the movie. What a shame.

Not sure why this movie was Oscar material–feeling pretty disappointed in the sad, sad state of American cinema. Does anyone out there have any really great movies to recommend?

gentle

Yesterday I went to GameBoy’s parent-teacher conference. At his teacher’s request, GB accompanied me to the appointment. What followed was 20 minutes of praise for my super-amazing son.

GB truly is a wonderful human being. He’s humble, generous, thoughtful, smart, and full of delight. GameBoy never does anything halfway. He acts with his whole heart, body and mind. He doesn’t willfully break the rules, or lie, or deceive for personal gain. He is without guile.

I worry, sometimes, what will happen to this sweet child as he enters middle school, as he moves on with his life and encounters people who will take advantage of his sincerity [Though this has happened a few times already, like the naughty boys who taught him the middle finger, but didn’t tell him what the gesture _really_ meant. Then GameBoy demonstrated ‘the bird’ in front of his 1st grade class and got in trouble. silly boys.]

GameBoy definitely doesn’t take after me. He is his father’s son. Like GB, John is so honest that many people don’t know how to react to him, who is so compassionate [even I am often quite mystified by this sensitive creature that I married]. I found a poem a few years ago that always reminds me of John:

There are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men too gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder them for a merchant’s profit and gain.
There are men too gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who devour them with apetite and search
For other men to prey upon and suck their childhood dry.
There are men too gentle for an accountant’s world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant’s world
Unless they have a gentle one to love.
-James Kavanaugh

the sweater song

I have a favorite sweater that I really like to wear
Even on days when it’s covered with the kitties’ hair.
I’ve had it for 5 years and I’ve changed the buttons twice
It’s been to France and England, and it’s been in snow and ice.
I put it in my closet, hiding it from view.
Hoping to stop wearing it because it’s looking quite un-new.
But when it’s cold and dreary, or when I need a hug,
It’s my soft and threadbare sweater that I really, really love.

Written in less than 5 minutes by me. In the few minutes I had today between picking up the kids from school and taking E to girl scouts.

finale



Another night with the Pacific Symphony. Carl St. Clair conducted–his long gray hair flying all about as he leapt around on the podium. I told John that in some ways he looks the very caricature of a conductor–his movements so exaggerated, his whole body leaping dramatically around the stage. But he remains a complete joy to watch.

Tonite was all-Tchaikovsky. The first piece his No 1. concerto in B flat played by a recent Van Cliburn silver medalist. Beautiful & breathtaking.

Then at intermission E and I made the mistake of getting in line for hot chocolate (for her, not me) after using the restroom. It was about 50 degrees and windy in the stadium and E was freezing in her fleece. It seemed the right thing to try to get a quick warm beverage for her. Big mistake, tho. As a result we missed the final call for seating and had to sit outside the stadium (where we couldn’t see a thing!) for Swan Lake. We entirely missed the ballet performance. I was crying as I pleaded with the usher to let us in. To no avail. [FWIW: John had never seen ballet close up before. I think he was a bit shocked. He said the male dancer in his body-baring tights had muscles where he didn’t know muscles even existed…And to think that I missed all of that–Sheesh! 🙂 ]

But fortunately we were able to take our seats for the finale: the 1812 overture complete with cannon fire and fireworks. There was a full moon and the cannons were shooting off adjacent to our seats. They shook the whole amphitheater. It was awesome. Cannons rock! The moon had risen and was just barely visible through the red haze of the display overhead. John tried to take a quick picture (the moon is the glowing white thing in the pic above), but it’s almost impossible to capture that kind of scene on film–the shutter speed too slow, the fireworks exploding so quickly.

What a great end to a great season. I fear it may be years before we can afford orchestra-level season tickets at the symphony again. But I am so glad for these summer concerts and hope to be able to squeeze in a few individual performances again soon.

It seems, in a way, a frivolous thing to pay the outrageous prices of the Pacific Symphony (or any other local symphony, for that matter). Especially when the same amount of money could be used for more important things. I tell myself that I could just buy a CD and listen to it real loud and pretend that I am hearing it live [and then I wouldn’t have to put up with our neighbors who fiddle with plastic bags during performances, or fight for parking spaces, or cry in front of ushers who won’t let me back in after intermission].

But the CD just can’t compare. I want the real thing: the cannons, the tights, the conductor, the family, the summer, the stars, the fireworks…the memories.