i spent the night with...

kenny rogers.

so here is a little secret about me. i love kenny rogers. i love him in an i-loved-singing-his-songs-into-my-fisher-price-cassette-recorder-as-a-little-girl kind of way. i was probably two or three when i started singing, "oh ruuuuuby... don't take your love to town." and one of my favorite lyrics of all times comes from "coward of the county," "...but you could of heard a pin drop when tommy stopped and locked the door." the dramatic pauses in that line just make my heart happy. i have seen every kenny rogers made-for -tv movie. yes, i have. and i bet i am not alone. but coward of the county is the only one i have on tape somewhere. i love that movie.

tonight, my husband was excited to show me this on vh1.com (you can see videos online at this site). When our new paper delivery person didn't get the morning paper here in time for jon to read it before school, he started watching vh1 and mtv while eating breakfast - going back to his high school 80s days. there are a few favorite videos he wanted to share with me. i am kind of take it or leave it with videos. i love listening to music, but i don't always enjoy sitting and watching videos for a long period of time. but this was fun! and you can search for so many artists on this site. so yes, i searched for kenny rogers and enjoyed some old-school kenny videos. this led me to iTunes to share some of my favorite kenny songs with jon. which led me to download this, his twenty greatest hits.

i probably saw my first kenny rogers concert when i was three, and we went again and again throughout my childhood. i saw him with dottie west, crystal gayle, the gatlin brothers, gallagher (yes, that comedian with the exploding watermelon), ronnie milsap, and maybe a few others.

some of my favorite memories involving kenny

...my mother, father, and i are walking from the car to the ACC at Notre Dame (the basketball arena where concerts are held). my dad picks me up so i can ride on his shoulders. i am probably four. A tour bus pulls in. yes. oh yes. it is kenny. the back windows weren't tinted like they are now, and he is sitting in the back with the curtain open. he waves to me. to me! i remember giggling with delight and marveling later that the man singing all those songs i love waved at me. he knows who i am.

...i am visiting my grandparents. i am probably six. it is time for my grandfather to take the garbage to the dump, and that means one-on-one time with him in the car. i get to ride up front and help him. he starts singing, "you picked a fine time to leave me lucille" and adds words of his own. and i say, "no, no grandpa, that's not how the song goes." on other trips he will start singing and say, "now, who sings better me or that other guy?" the little girl inside me remembers just reveling in this attention. feeling amazement that my grandpa really thought he could sing as good as kenny. we laugh about this still.

...a few weeks before fourth grade, the summer of 1985. and my mom, my brother, my aunt, cousin, and i are all driving from indiana to south carolina for a family reunion. kenny is on the tape player singing "fighting fire with fire." you might not know this one, but at 10, i knew all the words. one line made my mother pause, turn her head around to the backseat (she was driving), and say, "do you know what that means?" the line: "any place he touches or kisses diana, is someplace i've already been." ahhh...no, i didn't so much know what that meant then.

...boarding school. over a weekend at home i find a pin that says: "i spent the night with kenny rogers." if you knew my parents you might find this to be kind of odd - how old was i when they bought that for me? i wear it as my kilt pin throughout my senior year. hiding it from the powers-at-be because it was definitely "non-reg" and not part of the wardrobe. could i have been any cooler with that pin? goody-two-shoes liz with her scandalous kilt pin.

...my wedding reception. i don't throw the bouquet. instead i present it to the couple who has been married the longest. my grandparents. fifty-seven years. and then i dance with my grandpa; jon dances with my grandma. the song. kenny singing "Always" by Irving Berlin. a favorite song of mine. a way to blend the sentiments of this song - love between my grandparents, my love for them, my love for jon - and the memories of kenny and my grandpa singing. this gave us one of the best moments of the evening. if i close my eyes, i can see the look of bewilderment, embarassment, pride, and love on my grandmother's face as i share with our guests how much she and my grandpa mean to me. the tears of joy as jon and i walk over to them and give her the bouquet. jon takes her hand. my grandpa takes mine. i hear my grandpa's laughter as i say, "grandpa, can you tell who is singing this song?"

and tonight, as i listen to these songs, i am reminded of words i have known for over 25 years. part of the soundtrack of my childhood. some words resonate with me even more now. other words make me giggle as i join kenny in a duet. a few words bring tears to my eyes. all of these words invite me to sing and sing and sing. tonight i wrap myself up in the memories of these songs...the words swirl around me...and i feel at peace. it has been a good life so far.

finding the happy

happiness is...

an unexpected late afternoon walk along the shores of puget sound with my husband. finding sea glass. laughing. hearing a group of girls singing about how they are celebrating abby's birthday. coming across the names of boys that they "love" written in the sand.

watching a movie just for fun, just to laugh, just to rest the brain.

being able to get into my blog after it seemed to be lost for the entire day. glad it is still here!

reading the poems people choose to share and create for Poetry Thursday. this idea is catching on...

facilitating a positive yoga experience for a new student. "this was wonderful." thank you. feel the space you have created inside you with this awareness of your breath. so good.

buying myself these earrings and this bracelet. i have not taken the bracelet off; it is my talisman to remind me that i have the power to do anything. i am my own superhero.

connecting with more bloggers every day. this medium is such a bright spot in my life. (thank you. yes. you. thank you.)

letting this little dancing artist inside me out to play. the ideas are swirling around in my mind, and i am so happy that i am giving myself permission to create.

a long warm bath reading the poetry of Diane Ackerman. followed by my favorite polka dotted flannel pjs. (and even though i wish it was warmer outside, i am kind of glad it is still chilly enough for me to wear them.) a mug of jasmine green tea and a little bowl of ice cream.

what are you happy about right now?

poetry thursday

My readings of late, blogs and books, have had a theme. Recognizing your fears, recognizing the life you want to live, learning to let go of fear to begin to live that life. I have spent some time synthesizing my thoughts about all of this. But I am not ready to write them yet. Today, on Poetry Thursday, I will let the words of Mary Oliver add to this theme.

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom; taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

Mary Oliver (from the book New and Selected Poems)

If you are not yet a Poetry Thursday participant, and you would like to share a poem today, post one on your blog or share one here in the comments of this post. If you would like me to add you to the list of participants, please send me an email and I will add you to this list.

And if you feel moved, print out a poem you read today or find a favorite book of poetry, run a bath, and have a Poetry Reading in the bathtub. Just you, the words of another (or your own), and your voice vibrating around you.

{SPT} tea time, a cupcake, a new 'do

Taking time for tea, week two.
Continuing the process of letting go of my self-criticism as the picture develops. Some days are harder than others. I think, "I look that tired?" or "double chin, that bad, i look huge" or "I need the sun! I am so pale." Then the next day, I look again and realize that this is one very brief moment in time. One look. One pause. And it does not represent my whole being, who I really am.

(Well, I like to think that the first picture kind of does. I was laughing about how I am posing in front of the camera every single day. Who does that? And this photo captured me in a moment of joy, silliness, and wonder. I would like to think that this is me - at least the very best of me inside and out.)

And yes, I did get a haircut and a new color. You can't really tell with these little polaroids (and the fact that sometimes I have done nothing with my hair). But it is in fact a bit red now. Imagine taking dark brown and adding purple and magenta. This would be the color of the hair on my head.

If you click on the photo it will take you to my flickr page and you can see what I am really drinking every day, the time, and the date.

Be inspired by other SPT bloggers here.

inspire me thursday. a sense-less maze.

a sense-less creation.

close my eyes and choose random paper. keep the eyes closed and tear the paper. open my eyes. i do not love the colors i have chosen. but then i turn the papers over. interesting.

there is no sound. no music. the dog sleeps at my feet. if i really try to hear something, the clock ticks. i quickly glue the papers to the page. a bit of a puzzle. i take a break. i am hungry and need to taste and smell.

come back and spend a few minutes thinking about moments when we might really lose our usual sense of senses and have to rely on our senses in a new way. a maze. use the white oil pastel because i have a hard time seeing it myself.

there are many ways to get to the center of this maze. and many ways to get lost. i am not even sure if you can get to the center. you might just have to turn around and find another path all together. kind of like life...

see other inspire me thursday creations here. enjoy!

serendipity in blog world

Last summer I was reading a few blogs on a daily basis, though I hadn't started my own. One afternoon I linked to a new blog, then another, then another and at some point I read a post that had a link to a webpage of artwork by an artist that that blogger loved. And there I found this. And my eyes filled a bit because this was it. What I had been looking for that combined my grandmother's love of hummingbirds with her love of gardening. That summer my husband and I had started a garden for the first time, and I felt a connection to my grandmother every time I walked around to see what was growing or found the perfect plant to attract butterflies and hummingbirds. Even though I couldn't talk to her about it, I could feel like her spirit was with me during these moments. We had been to several art fairs and garden shops but I had yet to find what I wanted. Something I could have that would remind me that she is with me.

I remember calling my husband into my home office saying, "look at this, it is perfect!!" He immediately agreed and said I should buy one of them. But they were out. And I was so sidetracked by that thought that I didn't bookmark the page. And could never find it again. I would think about this Hummingbird Lady every now and then and wish she was living in my home, but again, I couldn't remember the webpage or the artist's name.

Then in January I started reading Alexandra's blog. And then she introduced her friend Laini's blog. I was drawn to Laini's artwork and one day ventured out onto her webpage. I was linking from page to page and found this (which speaks to my soul) and in trying to find out if she had prints for sale, I linked to a page and suddenly I thought, "I have been here before." And then I linked on to Laini's Ladies...and gasped. The Hummingbird Lady. Laini (my new blog world friend) is the creator of the Hummingbird Lady. Amazing. Simply. Utterly. Fantastically. Amazing.

So now, I am blessed with a Hummingbird Lady in my house. She sits above me as I work, create, write, dream. She watches the hummingbirds out the window. She looks over my ever-present tulips. She reminds me I am not alone. Thank you Laini.

This month delights me for many reasons, the main one: Spring. She is trying to spread her wings and sing her song. We may have had traces of snow here (SNOW!) but the flowers are blooming and the sun is shining. At the same time, I am reminded that this time last year, I was able to call my grandmother to say, "the daffodils are blooming and my tulips have buds." And I certainly would have called her for tips about what to do with the snow and my budding plants. This time last year, we were having our last few conversations but neither one of us knew it. Later in March, last year, she was going through many tests and was tired and the doctors could not figure it out. I am entering that time when the anniversary of her death looms in front of me. It is still a month away, but it sits heavy on my heart.

Yet, in the midst of it, the serendipity of the blog world brings a smile to my face. Earlier this week, Hobess sent me a beautiful collage she had created for me. (Thank you my dear.) It touched my heart and reminded me again that through this grief, something amazing is blooming. New friendships, I am learning so much from others and myself, my own creativity is bursting...life through death. The cycle.

My grandmother is smiling more than she ever did while she was here and laughing louder than she ever would and flying with the hummingbirds.

pilgrims

As part of the two year yoga teacher training intensive I am taking, we have to write a paper and present a project. My project is about journal writing as a practice. Part of the research I am doing has led me to this book:
Life's Companion
Journal Writing as a Spiritual Quest
by Christina Baldwin

It is resonating within me with intense vibration; I feel like I might have been led to this book. And I have to share part of the first chapter.

We go to work, come home tired, make supper, do laundry, watch over the children, talk to our spouses or lovers or friends. There's nothing good on TV. We try to glimpse life's meaning in trips to the grocery store, talks about the weather, thoughts about how things are at work or at home and how are lives are turning out. We feel vulnerable and perhaps disappointed. Something has sifted under us that we thought we could count on, an assumption about reality we never named, and now it isn't there. We're trying to figure something out and we don't know how to help ourselves. We are waiting for the way to be made clear, only there doesn't seem to be "a way." We are alone with ourselves as we are, and life as it is, learning to attend to what Willa Cather calls "that which is about us always." This is a perplexing situation, but confusion in the way pilgrimages and journals most often begin.
Despite the pressure of the times, the journey cannot be forced to grow like a hothouse bulb. The best any of us can do is ready ourselves with spiritual openness that we have practiced during the lulls in our life, so that when the turning point comes, we have structure in place to help us decide which way to turn. We practice finding spirituality in the ordinary so that we may recognize it in the extraordinary.
What I think we are up to, we throngs of journal-writing pilgrims, is reclamation. We are searching for ways to reclaim a sense of place, a sense of empowerment, a sense of healthy relationship between our lives and times. We look for whatever can help us make sense of the moment.
We write.

Do you want to know why I come to this screen and write? This is why. We are pilgrims together on a journey. Pilgrims. Reclaiming our dreams, hopes, desires. Living.
What we are afraid to let out into the world, we can let out here. What we think no one else might understand, we can put into the universe through the written word. This is so powerful.

(on a side note: is there a book about journal writing that you recommend? Or about art journaling? Or about writing as a practice? i would love to hear from you if any come to mind.)

poetry thursday

Unknown

Like a spider suspended
from a beam, the moment
swayed. The silk
of the web was invisible.
Belief seemed an unlikely thing.

And the spider herself was monstrous,
a spotted bulb with transparent legs
sharp as hooks. She fidgeted in midair,

plucked the strings of the web
to re-create a keyhole,
to make herself
the key into the next passage.

Nothing seemed apparent.
The breeze moved through the keyhole.
I wanted to flatten
against a wall like a moth.
Two lips holding back a cry.

Jennifer Grotz

This is from Grotz's 2003 collection of poems entitled Cusp. I chose it this morning because, for me, it speaks to this idea that is turning around in my mind (that I wrote about yesterday). This idea that we need to let it out. To let go of the fear of the unknown...

Please join me and post a poem today. If you accept my invitation, send me an email and I will post a link to your blog in my sidebar here. If you don't have a blog but would like to share a poem, please leave it here in the comments of this post.

May the words you read today invite a shift in your perspective.