i am not my flesh.
i do not bow to temptation.
i do not bend to my sometimes broken will.
i will not succumb to my burdens or desires.
my heart beats not for the lesser things in life of fame and fortune.
in my silence i am not sophisticated and my possibility lies in my former errors.
i will not admonish my existence any longer.
the very beat of my heart acts as a spade when i hear a lone trumpeter.
feeling the solitude of my nature destroyed by own voice.
finding rest from my own challenge when i hear those first chords of a song like "Unforgettable"...
seeing the beauty of Love flowing from the Harmony.
the colors emerald and gold, indigo and bright.
i am no the Lyric.
i am not the Beat.
i am not the Rhythm.
...but I am the Music.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Sixteen Candles And A Decade
Today is the widely anticipated and potential angst causing 26th birthday. For many women my age this is merely a precursor to the dreaded by most, bucket-kicking 30th birthday. That's most. We all know I handle things differently than most women in general, so this to be an exception isn't likely.
This morning lying in bed I was trying to reflect on the last ten years, since my sixteenth birthday. The things I have learned... the women I have loved... the people, some very close to me, that I've lost... and of course my locale as well as goals achieved and abandoned. My mind took a trip back to my birthday that year ten years ago. My sister bought balloons and made my cake just like she does every year. My mom made breakfast, lunch, and dinner to my liking. I didn't get the world renowned Pancho right away, but was still alright with that. It was Easter weekend much like it is almost every other year, and the DMV was closed. Aside from that, who wants to spend their birthday dealing with that hateful lady at the DMV (if you're from Dumas, you know the one)?
My family has never really been about gift giving. Maybe we've inherited it from my parents or perhaps it was because we knew some years there just wasn't a way. But my Mom and Dad always managed something special. Going back even further I can remember one year, I guess around ten, that I had been struggling a lot with life. I met ever adversity a child can potentially meet within a twelve month period. In that short amount of time my nine year old judgement got the best of me. I experienced THE black eye, the house burning down, the scar on my leg from the almost 200 sutures, losing the tip of my thumb in my mom's Cadillac door, moving to a new school for the third time. My brother, four years my senior, was 13 and in junior high and I did what every little tomboy sister does and wanted to follow he and his friends everywhere. Much to my dismay, I didn't really get to as much I wanted. He had a new found liberty and friends in our new neighborhood and they were the boys that ran the block. Tagging along your nappy-headed little sister isn't going to increase your chances with the Winnie Cooper's of our neighborhood. After I caught the house on fire and we lost a lot of our material necessities if not from the fire, from the smoke my Mom in her infinite wisdom new that it was time for a Mother-daughter day. That year, I don't remember receiving a gift from them, that doesn't necessarily mean I didn't. It is possible that the gift, whatever toy or puzzle for my little geeky fingers to discover, may have just been overshadowed by the day. In fact, my sister and brother in law have got me something for my birthday every single year that I can remember, so I know that this particular year was no exception. What my Mom did was make a picnic basket full of this amazing food. If my Mom's incredible generosity is stripped away and all her talents and gifts, she'd still have more ability to cook in her little finger than most people do in their whole body. I remember sitting in that little park at the end of Twitchell and 1st street, back before they took out all the dangerous equipment, sitting in this gliding swing with her after we had eaten our food. With tears filling my eyes as my mind vacations there, I don't know how I knew at ten years old that her doing this was a big deal, but I knew. My mom and I bonded the way only daughters bond with their mothers in the still silence with just the two of them there. That was one of the most memorable birthdays so far...
I'd like to tell you that this morning I woke up with profound clarity about my mid-twenties, but I certainly can not. Maybe the libations from the weekend are still lingering around, but I doubt it. There are places I've wanted to visit, people I've wanted to know better, women I wish I would have never met, and degrees that I should have... all this according to my Perfect Little Plan. I mock the idea! I made this plan to be a doctor when I was 18 years old. I also began the list of 40 things to do before I'm 40 around the same time. That list is more appropriate than the Plan. After everything changed when I was 19 I realized that that "plan" was insignificant. All the sudden it was completely irrelevant if I continued on to be a doctor if I wasn't pursuing my passion. And it didn't matter any more that I moved to a far away city if I wasn't in love with the city and the people and perhaps the culture. Everything changed. My senses intensified. My heart softened. I became more passionate about life simply to live my Purpose and feel every emotion and every sense. I think that's when my awakening truly happened. I've thought over the past year or so that it was recently. And in some form, I did have an awakening- but the recent one was more centric towards what I want in a wife and partner. My great awakening happened a little over six years ago. I suppose that is the reason that I'm not worried about turning another year older this birthday. I see my mid-twenties as a stepping stone and want so badly to experience thirty. I will go against the grain of the American culture and embrace aging. :)
The next year will bring much change for me. Assuredly, I will meet many new people, gain new friends, get a new job, find a new home, a new school, a new coffee shop, and favorite restaurant and even a new home base. Hell, I might even buy a new home! I am anticipating the Migration and a little nervous but I am, more than anything, excited.
Thank you all for the last twelve months. God, its been fun. We've spent a lot of hours talking, laughing, eating, and drinking. This last year had some tough spots and I didn't see the other side of the bridge easily some days. But you guys held my head out of the water and encouraged me along the way. You have made this last year the best I've had. I can't think of a time when I've ever laughed more or trusted and loved with such a wholesome heart.
My birthday party was seven shades of ridiculous and an amazing time. I know I said hello to most people that were here, but I barely remember saying bye to anyone. I had a great time! The best birthday party in twenty six years! The drama quickly dissolved and we continued on with our fun throughout the night. If you were on the receiving end of any of that, I apologize on my own behalf as well as the other party's. The drinks flowing freely didn't make the birthday, you guys being there made it. I realize that people will come where the keg is but at one point I was standing out in my front yard, looking at the faces on the porch and looking through the house at the people in there and although, yes, we are in fact the type to follow a keg...I know it wasn't the beer that brought you. I know I must have had a big cheesy grin across my face looking at each of you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And I love you. :)
And to the people that brought gifts... MUAH! Thank you. I drank a hefty portion of each of those bottles-which is why I was virtually dead to the world yesterday. Regardless, the exhaustion was worth every minute of it!
Love, Happiness, and Caviar Dreams~
This morning lying in bed I was trying to reflect on the last ten years, since my sixteenth birthday. The things I have learned... the women I have loved... the people, some very close to me, that I've lost... and of course my locale as well as goals achieved and abandoned. My mind took a trip back to my birthday that year ten years ago. My sister bought balloons and made my cake just like she does every year. My mom made breakfast, lunch, and dinner to my liking. I didn't get the world renowned Pancho right away, but was still alright with that. It was Easter weekend much like it is almost every other year, and the DMV was closed. Aside from that, who wants to spend their birthday dealing with that hateful lady at the DMV (if you're from Dumas, you know the one)?
My family has never really been about gift giving. Maybe we've inherited it from my parents or perhaps it was because we knew some years there just wasn't a way. But my Mom and Dad always managed something special. Going back even further I can remember one year, I guess around ten, that I had been struggling a lot with life. I met ever adversity a child can potentially meet within a twelve month period. In that short amount of time my nine year old judgement got the best of me. I experienced THE black eye, the house burning down, the scar on my leg from the almost 200 sutures, losing the tip of my thumb in my mom's Cadillac door, moving to a new school for the third time. My brother, four years my senior, was 13 and in junior high and I did what every little tomboy sister does and wanted to follow he and his friends everywhere. Much to my dismay, I didn't really get to as much I wanted. He had a new found liberty and friends in our new neighborhood and they were the boys that ran the block. Tagging along your nappy-headed little sister isn't going to increase your chances with the Winnie Cooper's of our neighborhood. After I caught the house on fire and we lost a lot of our material necessities if not from the fire, from the smoke my Mom in her infinite wisdom new that it was time for a Mother-daughter day. That year, I don't remember receiving a gift from them, that doesn't necessarily mean I didn't. It is possible that the gift, whatever toy or puzzle for my little geeky fingers to discover, may have just been overshadowed by the day. In fact, my sister and brother in law have got me something for my birthday every single year that I can remember, so I know that this particular year was no exception. What my Mom did was make a picnic basket full of this amazing food. If my Mom's incredible generosity is stripped away and all her talents and gifts, she'd still have more ability to cook in her little finger than most people do in their whole body. I remember sitting in that little park at the end of Twitchell and 1st street, back before they took out all the dangerous equipment, sitting in this gliding swing with her after we had eaten our food. With tears filling my eyes as my mind vacations there, I don't know how I knew at ten years old that her doing this was a big deal, but I knew. My mom and I bonded the way only daughters bond with their mothers in the still silence with just the two of them there. That was one of the most memorable birthdays so far...
I'd like to tell you that this morning I woke up with profound clarity about my mid-twenties, but I certainly can not. Maybe the libations from the weekend are still lingering around, but I doubt it. There are places I've wanted to visit, people I've wanted to know better, women I wish I would have never met, and degrees that I should have... all this according to my Perfect Little Plan. I mock the idea! I made this plan to be a doctor when I was 18 years old. I also began the list of 40 things to do before I'm 40 around the same time. That list is more appropriate than the Plan. After everything changed when I was 19 I realized that that "plan" was insignificant. All the sudden it was completely irrelevant if I continued on to be a doctor if I wasn't pursuing my passion. And it didn't matter any more that I moved to a far away city if I wasn't in love with the city and the people and perhaps the culture. Everything changed. My senses intensified. My heart softened. I became more passionate about life simply to live my Purpose and feel every emotion and every sense. I think that's when my awakening truly happened. I've thought over the past year or so that it was recently. And in some form, I did have an awakening- but the recent one was more centric towards what I want in a wife and partner. My great awakening happened a little over six years ago. I suppose that is the reason that I'm not worried about turning another year older this birthday. I see my mid-twenties as a stepping stone and want so badly to experience thirty. I will go against the grain of the American culture and embrace aging. :)
The next year will bring much change for me. Assuredly, I will meet many new people, gain new friends, get a new job, find a new home, a new school, a new coffee shop, and favorite restaurant and even a new home base. Hell, I might even buy a new home! I am anticipating the Migration and a little nervous but I am, more than anything, excited.
Thank you all for the last twelve months. God, its been fun. We've spent a lot of hours talking, laughing, eating, and drinking. This last year had some tough spots and I didn't see the other side of the bridge easily some days. But you guys held my head out of the water and encouraged me along the way. You have made this last year the best I've had. I can't think of a time when I've ever laughed more or trusted and loved with such a wholesome heart.
My birthday party was seven shades of ridiculous and an amazing time. I know I said hello to most people that were here, but I barely remember saying bye to anyone. I had a great time! The best birthday party in twenty six years! The drama quickly dissolved and we continued on with our fun throughout the night. If you were on the receiving end of any of that, I apologize on my own behalf as well as the other party's. The drinks flowing freely didn't make the birthday, you guys being there made it. I realize that people will come where the keg is but at one point I was standing out in my front yard, looking at the faces on the porch and looking through the house at the people in there and although, yes, we are in fact the type to follow a keg...I know it wasn't the beer that brought you. I know I must have had a big cheesy grin across my face looking at each of you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. And I love you. :)
And to the people that brought gifts... MUAH! Thank you. I drank a hefty portion of each of those bottles-which is why I was virtually dead to the world yesterday. Regardless, the exhaustion was worth every minute of it!
Love, Happiness, and Caviar Dreams~
Blew Me Away...
Her words begin, "this is how the story went/met someone by accident/ it blew me away...it was in the darkest of my days when you took my sorrow and you took my pain/and buried them away..." however where I deviate from the lyrics that emanate from her heart and strings is that I do not see myself as hiding my heart away any longer. I’ve sought solace in strangers and sought alleviation in friends. I’ve reached for the midnight bottle and the caffeine spurring early in the morn. I’ve accomplished little in my rendering of tears in my solitude. "..If I have all faith, so as to move mountains but don’t have love, I am nothing. I’ve sought laughter, company, solitude, and feeble causes...all the while my ailing soul longed for cool water as that of an oasis. I’ve given up, retracted, given up, and exiled that portion of my heart. I’ve gained many in the last year and lost few. All the while thinking that each was for a specified reason, but perhaps it was for a season. I’ve sang the One Hundred and Twentieth Psalm and have carefully seeded each tear as to mark the time and place the tear will bring forth my fruit of joy. My season of sorrow and tears is over. I must carefully count my paces and step lightly in my own footprints left behind as to avoid rendering harm to my new fruit that have come to me in this Spring of my life.
This written for those of you who were with me during the last year and more specifically the last six months. I didn’t see the light at the end of my proverbial tunnel...you did. There were those of you that stuck with me, holding my hands in yours telling me to be strong. There were those of you that gently pushed me from behind while whispering in my ear ever so softly that I would be delivered from this, patiently waiting on my exit from solitude. And there were those of you that quietly and peacefully walked away. For each of the roles executed during this time, I owe you benediction. You have each exploited great character and for that... you will not go unacknowledged
This written for those of you who were with me during the last year and more specifically the last six months. I didn’t see the light at the end of my proverbial tunnel...you did. There were those of you that stuck with me, holding my hands in yours telling me to be strong. There were those of you that gently pushed me from behind while whispering in my ear ever so softly that I would be delivered from this, patiently waiting on my exit from solitude. And there were those of you that quietly and peacefully walked away. For each of the roles executed during this time, I owe you benediction. You have each exploited great character and for that... you will not go unacknowledged
Music Is My Ancestry
Every great musician gets interviewed. Someone somewhere cares about the musician behind the music. Where their heart lies, what they feel when the crowd becomes alive with the words of a song that were once just a phrase that triggered and emotion and birthed a song, what they like to do while endlessly touring the region, country, or continent in a makeshift home/tour bus. ... We, music lovers, want to know the people behind the microphone.
Now, its no secret that I'm not a musician. At 25 I'm just now teaching myself to play the guitar. I've not mastered any of the instruments I play (djembe, congas, bongos, cajon, harmonica, trombone, etc) but can lose myself in any instrument just as easily as anyone traveling the highways and biways of America. I love acoustic music. The guitar solos, the melodies, the harmonies, the rawness, and especially the idea that most musicians are singer/songwriters. No one can sing your music and feel the emotions better than you, right? But when I think about why I love music so much, I must give homage to my parents's music and the way it set a permanent foundation of my love of music for a lifetime. A lifetime of music appreciation and diversity. Brenda Lee, Johnny Horton, Johnny Cash, Lefty Frizzell, Patsy Cline, Loretta Lynn, and even more modern "classic country" like the Judds, Chris LeDoux, old George Strait (1980s- mid 90s), and so the list goes on of my foundation. Perhaps my favorite thing about Classic Country (other than it giving me an instant 'happy place') is that when someone was raised on classic country and they sing...you can hear it. You can hear Patsy's "Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet dreams...of you" in a musician like Brandi Carlile. The haunting of decades fills the void of time.
I can remember my first record that I inherited (Roberta Flak), the first 8track (Conway Twitty), my first cassett tape (Ace of Base), and my first CD (Creedance Clearwater Revival). I remember moments of time captured by music that surrounded it. Dragging Main Street in my Dad's '84 Ford listening to Redneck Girl w/Karen and Ryan. Skipping school with Amanda to go lay out listening to Strawberry Wine and Shoop... my high school days are set in gold by the music we shared. I can remember the first song I heard after the biggest trajedy in my life, something sacred to me. And I can remember songs I've sang to each of my nieces and nephews, not different from those my Momma sang to Little Crystal that sat on the counter top watching her cook. "Mama's little baby, loves shortenin'...."
Its not irrational to make such a large statement as Music is a major part of my life. The world melts away when I hear certain songs and the world comes crashing down on me in a thundercloud of joy and happiness when I hear others.
Perhaps I'll never be able to describe exactly what it is that music quenches within my thirsty soul... or perhaps it satisfies my wonder-lust.
Shower My Ears
I can hear you. I can feel you. You move me. You are bigger than I know...than I can wrap my mediocre mind around. How can i withdraw you from the place you reside? My mind pauses when i think of you... i am so close to being able to just place my fingers on the frets and pick you out as though you are a new scarf that i know i love at first sight. it will be like that time i heard your sister song Killing Me Softly. Your soft acoustic sound, and rich Americana roots, a touch of classic country, a smidge of rhythm and blues, a hint of British pop here and there, a steady beat that makes my brain bounce and heart beat in syncopation, and tap my feet. Come to me. come to me in the night- in my dreams; in the day- when my mind floats as near you as possible; when i rest; when i work; when i rejoice; or when i mourn... come to me. i am calling upon you but you are trapped there in the wooden cell. the bars restraining you and the chords tying you down... you're stuck in my guitar.
Interpretations Of A Not Too Distant Dream
Late in the night my Father awakened me from a wondrous slumber, with a kiss to my forehead. Quietly whispering to me in His ever soft and gentle voice, "You are not wrong, My daughter." The remark of His dream interpretation is evident to me in the first moment I hear His words. Dreaming deeply of wonderful vibrant colors and sights and sounds to me that are unknown to my flesh, but my heart has seen. The ocean so blue, the the nectar of fruits so delicious and fresh and exploding upon my palette. The smell and taste of the salt in the air, the fresh breeze blowing through my skin to my core and filling it like a sail. I know this beach that I walk upon. This shell in my hand, it has a rightful place in my pocket. Allowing my eyes to trace down my own arm, as though I do not recognize it, to a hand that securely entwines with my five fragile fingers. This person is guiding me. Her hands soft and smooth, but give way to evidence that a stern person stakes claim to it. This is my Muse. I know this somehow without seeing her eyes, her smile, or any other characteristic in complete focus. I feel at peace walking hand in hand with my Muse. I know she will take my vulnerability and match it with her strength and allow my own steps to guide her when the time is right. The waves cascading at our feet as we walk along this beach one of us or perhaps both, know so well eludes to this being her time to step and I follow. I am at home in her comfort. I am...as the singer says, at ease in the arms of this woman. Words seem to fail me when I’m with her as I only see that we still’ve got time. I realize I am falling slowly no more... for I am there, where my Father has intended me to be. I know you -even if only in a dream
Thursday, March 27, 2008
An Artisan War
There is a cadence in your rhythm-a beat to your speech
You seek a greater meaning- a prophetic word.
Perhaps you'll discover that the words of your heart are the very keys to your liberation.
You are your own shackles.
Your hyperbolies are cliche- your metaphors played out.
There is a creature waiting to take flight from within you...a world waiting to experience your gift.
Maybe one day you'll see that you are your own worst enemy----maybe.
I am certain that someday you will see that the sun rises for you.
The moon dances in your name.
The stars spell out your music...The world is waiting to know your name.Pick up your canvas.
Bare your cross for the very reason you've received it.
Your mind. Your voice. Your palet. --- Your passion.
This is your gift. Let it burn through your veins like wild fire.
Feel the warmth of it creep through your every cell.
Lift up your arms and surrender to what it is that dances inside your heart... this warrior's dance. Perfect rhythm. Perfect cadence. Perfect pitch. Perfect tone. Every stroke placed precisely. Every step exact. Explode...before you emplode
You seek a greater meaning- a prophetic word.
Perhaps you'll discover that the words of your heart are the very keys to your liberation.
You are your own shackles.
Your hyperbolies are cliche- your metaphors played out.
There is a creature waiting to take flight from within you...a world waiting to experience your gift.
Maybe one day you'll see that you are your own worst enemy----maybe.
I am certain that someday you will see that the sun rises for you.
The moon dances in your name.
The stars spell out your music...The world is waiting to know your name.Pick up your canvas.
Bare your cross for the very reason you've received it.
Your mind. Your voice. Your palet. --- Your passion.
This is your gift. Let it burn through your veins like wild fire.
Feel the warmth of it creep through your every cell.
Lift up your arms and surrender to what it is that dances inside your heart... this warrior's dance. Perfect rhythm. Perfect cadence. Perfect pitch. Perfect tone. Every stroke placed precisely. Every step exact. Explode...before you emplode
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