Category Archives: music

Jan30

Daylight Come and We Wanna Go Home…

Posted on by
Standard

Life in a human body is pretty terrifying much of the time, isn’t it?! I woke at four a.m. this morning in a state of terror, as I often do. I am talking physiological adrenaline rushing hot nauseous get to the toilet my life is being threatened terror. Not panic – this is not your run of the mill anxiety attack. Xanax won’t help this.

Is my life being threatened? Only by stress. I will spare you the tedious list of accumulated problems, but in fact, I am not in any immediate danger. I do not have any life threatening disease. I am not going hungry. The wolves at the door are virtual…my brain and body, however, are taking the information fed them daily from the onslaught of difficulties, and creating an emotional swamp of harmful interpretations…

Pardon me, but fuck this shit.

At this rate the miss-interpretations themselves might kill me. At four in the morning there isn’t anyone to call…and so, I do the only thing I can do: I turn on the light, sometimes several – and chase the demons by reading from The Course in Miracles. I know some people can get solace from reading the Bible. It doesn’t work for me. This does. Something in these pages seeps in through the heart pounding terror and the tears blurring the pages and slows the effects…even though, most of the time, I don’t understand a thing it is talking about.

The itchy hotness becomes a comforting warmth…my heart rate steadies…I begin to notice clues in my immediate environment that would indicate danger is abated – like my dogs are snoring. And slowly my body begins to relax, and then finally I am in the world…but not of it. Love wins.

This is freedom. The goal, of course, is to live in this state, whether danger is real or imagined…whether pain is physical or psychological, whether the words make sense or nothing does. It takes practice…and it’s the only game in town. This is the science of magic! Sometimes, I even get my sense of humor back…daylight come and we wanna go home…

Jan28

No More Worried Man

Posted on by
Standard

Pete Seeger has died. My Mother was a big Pete Seeger fan…as a teenager, listening outside her closed bedroom door to her morning guitar practice, I heard a timid rendition of Worried Man over and over and over. I thought she was unbearably weird. Had the word NERD but been invented, it could have explained my tortured existence. Trust me when I say that folk music was not cool then.

Little did I know her qualifications to sing the blues, something she kept well hidden from her darling children. As Pete says here, this song is the whole human race. She understood..”a little bitty hand was waving after me.”

But now in my backward wisdom, I believe the old band is getting back together…Mom was nothing if not determined and persistent in her practice, and it’s paying off…listen…hear them?

For Doris, Johnny and Pete, forever young.

Jan4

Don’t Mind If I Do, Thanks…

Posted on by
Standard

But before we get to the interior design stuff…yes, I know I’ve been promising…I’ll make good…but meanwhile – have you noticed something? Is it just me, or does it seem like life has suddenly gotten very real here on earth? There is Pope Francis, who even those of us not Catholic – or even religious – can actually relate to…like he’s a real down to-earth-in-touch-with-what’s-going-on-out-here person…

And then, there’s Commander Chris Hadfield singing to us:

Check out his video series, and his book, An Astronaut’s Guide to Life on Earth…We might be getting the hang of this! And maybe just in the nick of time…our hearts are opening…and we are waking up to the beauty all around and within each one of us.

Happy. New. Year. Yes, Thank you…don’t mind if I do….

P.S: Can’t resist:

Jan1

Something Good Has Begun…

Posted on by
Standard

One year ago I started this blog. I thought it would be a blog about interior design…I just didn’t realize it would be about MY interior – literally. I was in crisis – physically, mentally, and certainly emotionally. I don’t care to review that…I am more than ready to move on. But this has served to help in my healing process in more ways than I could have imagined then. And now – now I am so looking forward to this new year, to see what it holds, to experience the changes that have only just begun to manifest…Thank you for joining me.

Happy New Year.

Nov28

One Day…

Posted on by
Standard

Oh how very, very blessed I am feeling today…a quiet day cooking at home with my son, Steven. We put Playing for Change on the radio as we snack on deviled eggs and prepare our Thanksgiving feast: Roast turkey, baked sweet potatoes, wild rice, steamed broccoli and carrots, a big, bold salad full of olives and avocado, cranberry sauce, and on and on…almost too much. We talk about how fortunate we are. Steven is ten years a survivor of Hodgkins Lymphoma. Most members of our family have survived cancer; we have all survived generations of physical, sexual and mental abuse, and most every addiction known. Steven gets to count today as one successful day without a cigarette.

We are alone today because our family is widespread across the Midwest and south to Florida, with friends around the country…I am estranged from a sister, but spoke to my niece at their house. They are eating well despite the hardships. My father, alive eight years out from a terminal diagnosis, is having too much food with my brother.  The same is true for my other siblings…

Today my heart is overwhelmed with gratitude. I hope yours is, too. My dogs get gravy on their food tonight. I shovel snow to get out to fill the suet cages and watch the patient woodpeckers fly in. I pray for grace for all those displaced and hungry who aren’t enjoying our bounty. I am thankful to all of the soldiers willing to put their own lives aside for this privilege, even as I pray that we soon find another way to coexist on this shrinking planet.

For Steven. Thanks, Babe. I love you.

“Lay down your arms, and come without defense into the quiet place where Heaven’s peace holds all things still at last. Lay down all thoughts of danger and of fear. Lay down the cruel sword of judgement you hold against your own throat, and put aside the withering assaults with which you seek to hide your holiness.” -A Course in Miracles

Nov23

A Walk in the Park

Posted on by
Standard

It is eight o’clock in the morning, and I have been up for two and a half hours. Pretty typical these days, and I find that I love the wee small hours. I am loving my sweet little life right now…quiet and serene…just me and my dogs and my imaginings. Upon waking I slip on jeans, boots (yes, we have ice and snow here now), a coat and head straight out the door with the dogs. The wind blows and the crystals sting me in the face as I head into the dark, flashlight in hand.

Last night I showed pictures of my new home-to-be to a friend. When she saw the beautiful park across the street with willow trees hanging over the river, I explained that this is where we will walk every day. She said, “Perhaps that’s the name of your new house, A Walk in the Park!”

Being a creature of contrast, I was immediately reminded that the house I am selling and leaving has never had a name. All of my life I have named my homes…until this one. I have lived here almost ten years. Then I remembered that I TRIED to name it for about the first year here, but nothing ever fit. Anything I thought of seemed contrived – because it was. This was never my home. This was the house my husband wanted, and where we housed any number of transitioning friends and relatives over the years, including foster children, and my Dad – but I have never been happy here. And yet there were many good times, of course; important always to remember that THESE are the good old days.

This was Curmudgeon Cottage…or maybe Castle. It was the old man’s hangout, recliners and big screen TV’s everywhere, cigar smoke, grease on the stove, yelling so you could be heard house. Yuk. My next home will be A Walk in the Park…I wish you the same blessing.

Jul19

If I Could Reach the Stars…Or, Keep on Dreaming Even If It Breaks Your Heart…

Posted on by
Standard

If I could reach the stars…I’d pull one down for you…and shine it in your heart…so you could see the Truth…

This morning’s meditation whispered that I am hard-headed and soft-hearted, to the point of my own detriment…I guess it’s better than being hard-hearted and soft in the head…although I do think that is often how others see me.

That is certainly how my family thinks of me. My big, violent, addicted family…I recently saw a bumper sticker – on a pickup truck of course- that said I “heart” (it showed a big red heart) my violent alcoholic family…I need ME one of them!

Those of you who know me or follow this blog know that I have been housing my elderly father for seven years now, since he came home from the hospital with Hospice and three weeks to live. Then my brother moved in after his home was foreclosed upon. They were heart broken and world weary…and haven’t we all been there?

But I attempted to heal them- again- as I had in previous years…along with the other four members of my biological family…and my husband…and child…and stepchildren and countless close friends. They’re dropping out of my life like flies around here lately, and my healthier friends assure me this is progress. It is true that I seem to have lost my codependence recently. Perhaps the healing HAS begun. (See Post of May 27th, 2013)

But the truth is that I am broken-hearted for them. They just cannot overcome their addictions and self destructive behaviors. They can’t seem to help themselves, and their lives become increasingly difficult. I can’t live with them any longer; I have let it go on too long as it is…but if I could find the words or any meaningful action that would effect them, I certainly would…

I see their innocence, their inherent beauty; the lost potential of people born privileged by strong bodies and brilliant minds. Only I know the abuses and cancers they have already endured and overcome. I respectfully hold the secrets they cannot voice in hopes they will one day find themselves worthy of telling their own stories. Meanwhile, they still gamble and fall off the wagon and pick violent fights and kick and thrash against life, and stubbornly live on the edge of destruction. I just can’t have it in my life or my home any longer.

So they are moving out come August 1st, and while I will not revisit this decision, I am sick with guilt and sorrow. I will continue to pray for us constantly, for restoration of our health and to our right minds, and I will keep on dreaming for them even if it breaks my heart…

Hearts are resplendently resilient…what would you dare to dream even if it broke your heart?!

Jun25

A House is Not a Home…

Posted on by
Standard

Shortly after the first of the year I began attending a class, a women artist’s support group really, based on Julia Cameron’s brilliant book, The Artist’s Way. When the twelve week program came to an end none of us wanted to stop, so we continue to study with the sequel, Walking In This World.

Any of us women – along with millions worldwide who have studied and worked through these lessons – will tell you, it is life-changing. In my case, it has been life saving.

We meet once a week. We discuss the chapter and our experiences as we work through the tasks, how we are effected by the insights. We offer ideas, support. And although we are careful not to problem solve for each other, problems do seem to resolve themselves mysteriously throughout the following week…it’s uncanny.

Of course, what we are really doing is showing up, being present, learning how to relate differently than the ways that let us down in the past. Somehow we know this is a great privilege, to be here together at this time, and that growing up is a lifelong process.

009.JPG

Susan Steadman, oil on canvas by Lisa Perrine Brown

As we gathered for class last night I complimented Lisa – extraordinary woman and artist – on her choice to paint the living room ceiling of her Victorian home a luscious peacock blue. “Ceilings should always be a color”, I said…and then realized that most of mine are white. It is the first of my homes where I have not painted the ceilings. It is the first home I have never really made my own. My name is on the mortgage, but I’ve never “taken ownership”…it is a house to me. It has never really been my home.

Yesterday, cleaning out a basement shelf, I came upon a box I had never UNpacked since moving in 9 years ago. It was labeled “studio” and contained art supplies. What a metaphor! I had unwittingly packed up my own heart, taped it securely shut, and stored it neatly away on a faraway shelf…

Lucky for me, the heart waits through our slumber to awaken again like a child on Christmas morning. Every morning, Christmas, in our true home, our true heart…where the ceilings glow and the walls shine like diamonds.

Jun11

Perhaps…

Posted on by
Standard

So…continuing with the story of how I morphed into Mary Poppins…or, maybe, as my Mom used to tell me: “Learn to spell guru, and then you’ll never need one: G.U.R.U”…

She would take me shopping for Betsey Johnson dresses for my back-to-school wardrobe, then paint a paisley or flower on my face to match my dress before sending me off to school in the morning…the headmaster would send me home for lunch to wash it off, and she would take hold of my shoulders, rotate me, push me back out the door and get that headmaster on the phone!

And another thing she used to tell me:

For a woman with very limited resources, she knew how to get her point across.

She would have LOVED the other Mary Poppins, the Lady…

Jun4

…if there was a better way then it would find me…it’s all about PERSPECTIVE!

Posted on by
Standard

“I’m good at being uncomfortable so I can’t stop changin’ all the time…but he’s no good at being uncomfortable, SO, he can’t stop stayin’ exactly the same…”

Oh, she’s brilliant:

“Curious, you’re lookin’ down your nose at me…Courteous to try and help, but let me set your mind at ease…”

There is something to be said for being comfortable with being uncomfortable. “I can’t help it, the road just rolls out BEHIND me”…hahahha!  Your assistance is to no avail…and, by the way, I don’t want the bail…

You know who you are…