Thursday, December 29, 2016
Little Feathers: Stories
Little Feathers: Stories: Ever since Homer sent Odysseus on a hero's journey. Ever since Beowulf chased the dragon Grendel. Ever since Hamlet gave us sympathetic ...
Stories
Ever since Homer sent Odysseus on a hero's journey. Ever since Beowulf chased the dragon Grendel. Ever since Hamlet gave us sympathetic eyes into a suicidal soul. Ever since Margaret talked to God as only a twelve year old can. Stories that wrestle with the fundamental questions we all ask sometime in this life give us new perspective, new compassion. New heart.
I love good writing. But even more than that, I love a good story. When a book has both, it is pure magic. Some incredible wordsmiths paint memorable pictures. But some great story tellers never use complex sentences or four syllable words. They simply take us to a place where we need to be. They simply lay bare the human condition and let us feel life along with the characters. Sometimes it's fun to read about someone like me, with a life like mine. But the big payoff for me comes when I read about something I could not have known from living my particular life.
Yesterday we saw the movie Manchester By The Sea. It was powerful. And it did what good story telling does. It fleshed out the character of a man broken by a horrible incident. Not a two dimensional character. Not the one we hear about in a news report who did something terrible, that we would label as a complete and utter loser. But a news report doesn't take us into the man's heart and let us see pain so big that he will never get past it.
Here's to the writers who have a story to tell. Here's to the writers who brave rejection and self doubt and more rejection, but keep after the story they have to tell. A hero's journey takes many different roads. Just ask Harry Potter. Now, there's a great story!
I love good writing. But even more than that, I love a good story. When a book has both, it is pure magic. Some incredible wordsmiths paint memorable pictures. But some great story tellers never use complex sentences or four syllable words. They simply take us to a place where we need to be. They simply lay bare the human condition and let us feel life along with the characters. Sometimes it's fun to read about someone like me, with a life like mine. But the big payoff for me comes when I read about something I could not have known from living my particular life.
Yesterday we saw the movie Manchester By The Sea. It was powerful. And it did what good story telling does. It fleshed out the character of a man broken by a horrible incident. Not a two dimensional character. Not the one we hear about in a news report who did something terrible, that we would label as a complete and utter loser. But a news report doesn't take us into the man's heart and let us see pain so big that he will never get past it.
Here's to the writers who have a story to tell. Here's to the writers who brave rejection and self doubt and more rejection, but keep after the story they have to tell. A hero's journey takes many different roads. Just ask Harry Potter. Now, there's a great story!
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Little Feathers: In the Middle of a Phrase
Little Feathers: In the Middle of a Phrase: Sally Nava, our beautiful middle child, teaches music to young children and the adults who love them. A couple of days ago she taught some h...
In the Middle of a Phrase
Sally Nava, our beautiful middle child, teaches music to young children and the adults who love them. A couple of days ago she taught some holiday classes to her families, and I got be a part of them, singing along and reading the Night Before Christmas.
One activity she taught was a simple line dance to a Christmas carol. She changed her mind about which song to use, and that meant that the "turn one quarter and face a new direction" happened in the middle of a phrase. Which is exactly what I need to practice!
Rarely do all my ducks line up before an event. Rarely does every detail fall into place. My check list always has blank boxes, including sometimes failing to make a check list. Rarely, rarely, rarely am I able to meditate without the tugging and pulling of rogue thoughts sneaking into my space. So I thought, when I was dancing with Sally's class, that it is really quite wonderful to learn early on that freedom comes with flexibility. That I can't wait for the next musical phrase when it's time to begin a new dance phrase. You turn one quarter and go!
Christmas comes to those of us who celebrate it, whether or not the preparations have been completed. Parents with young children know that better than anyone. Except maybe pastors and church musicians. Christmas comes and somehow we arrive at the day, take a deep breath of family love or friend companionship or travel wonder, and all the lists fall away.
There is great freedom in being able to sit with the chaos and meditate in the vortex. There is great freedom in feeling absolute whimsy at moving to the right four steps in the last quarter of musical phrase. Try it. Try beginning your Silent Night vocals on the second beat. I dare you. You'll laugh and start over, guaranteed.
We're in the middle of a phrase, Bob and I. We'll be putting our house back on the market soon. It's tricky to wait and see where we want to live next. While we're still in the middle of this house. I want to know, know, know so I can be ready to turn one quarter and face a new direction. Being patient with the phrasing isn't natural. I'm convinced that impatience is basic human default thinking. But then, so are a lot of other things I spend my life working to overcome. So we'll just keep turning one quarter and stepping out.
Wishing you all joyous Holidays. I'll see you on the dance floor.
One activity she taught was a simple line dance to a Christmas carol. She changed her mind about which song to use, and that meant that the "turn one quarter and face a new direction" happened in the middle of a phrase. Which is exactly what I need to practice!
Rarely do all my ducks line up before an event. Rarely does every detail fall into place. My check list always has blank boxes, including sometimes failing to make a check list. Rarely, rarely, rarely am I able to meditate without the tugging and pulling of rogue thoughts sneaking into my space. So I thought, when I was dancing with Sally's class, that it is really quite wonderful to learn early on that freedom comes with flexibility. That I can't wait for the next musical phrase when it's time to begin a new dance phrase. You turn one quarter and go!
Christmas comes to those of us who celebrate it, whether or not the preparations have been completed. Parents with young children know that better than anyone. Except maybe pastors and church musicians. Christmas comes and somehow we arrive at the day, take a deep breath of family love or friend companionship or travel wonder, and all the lists fall away.
There is great freedom in being able to sit with the chaos and meditate in the vortex. There is great freedom in feeling absolute whimsy at moving to the right four steps in the last quarter of musical phrase. Try it. Try beginning your Silent Night vocals on the second beat. I dare you. You'll laugh and start over, guaranteed.
We're in the middle of a phrase, Bob and I. We'll be putting our house back on the market soon. It's tricky to wait and see where we want to live next. While we're still in the middle of this house. I want to know, know, know so I can be ready to turn one quarter and face a new direction. Being patient with the phrasing isn't natural. I'm convinced that impatience is basic human default thinking. But then, so are a lot of other things I spend my life working to overcome. So we'll just keep turning one quarter and stepping out.
Wishing you all joyous Holidays. I'll see you on the dance floor.
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Little Feathers: Cindy Lou Who
Little Feathers: Cindy Lou Who: Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you? The commercials this time of year are full of luxury cars, diamond rings, fantasy vacat...
Cindy Lou Who
Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you?
The commercials this time of year are full of luxury cars, diamond rings, fantasy vacations. All with a big red bow tied on top. Churches are extra beautiful, with greenery and poinsettias everywhere. Every store wants to sell us the perfect gift. Because if we spend enough, our loved ones will get what they want, and that will make us happy.
The news footage doesn't share the vision of sugar plums. Aleppo. China installing weapons systems in disputed waters. Homeless people literally freezing to death. Murderers everywhere. Slanderers running amok with fake news.
Where are you Christmas, why I can't I find you?
Some say there is a war on Christmas. I agree. But I don't think it is because of different cultures or political correctness or Christianity falling out of fashion. It should never have been the fashion to begin with, if fashion is all it was. The war on Christmas is coming hard and breaking in wave after wave of assault. And it's coming from the great disparity between those who can put the big red bows on gifts and those who can't put food on the table for their children. In every war there are permanent casualties.
Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you?
America is fractured into groups who've lost the ability to talk to each other. We talk at each other, spouting ideology, but if everyone is screaming, who can possibly be listening? Good people believe we must help the poor. Good people disagree on how that should be done. Meanwhile, good people are rolling up their sleeves and doing it. That work is urgent. It is necessary to our very survival as a civilized people. It does not depend on government programs or elected officials. It depends on the Cindy Lou in each of us to find the heart in the Grinch. Who is the Grinch? Our own miserliness that demands our own way or fights so hard to keep what we have that we turn a blind eye to our own power for good to help those in need.
Where is Christmas? It's not in the gifts or the tree or the light or the music. Those only serve as the backdrop. Christmas is in the cold, the damp, the animal stable. Christmas is in the hope born to a mother who dared to say yes to the ridiculous, a father who put aside his own pride and married a pregnant girl. And not just that one baby 2000 years ago. Hope is born again and again every time someone takes a chance on the ridiculous notion that giving is the thing that will save us. That giving will save Christmas from becoming actually ridiculous.
What can I do today to stand up for good, to offer help in this cold winter? Imagine if all of us spend time each day seeking out a way to help. What if the first thought in our morning mind was, how can I be of service today? I say the world would change. I say the war on Christmas and every other thing would be over. Because good will triumph if enough of us say that it must with our deeds and not just our lips.
Where are you Christmas? "To be determined". By us.
The commercials this time of year are full of luxury cars, diamond rings, fantasy vacations. All with a big red bow tied on top. Churches are extra beautiful, with greenery and poinsettias everywhere. Every store wants to sell us the perfect gift. Because if we spend enough, our loved ones will get what they want, and that will make us happy.
The news footage doesn't share the vision of sugar plums. Aleppo. China installing weapons systems in disputed waters. Homeless people literally freezing to death. Murderers everywhere. Slanderers running amok with fake news.
Where are you Christmas, why I can't I find you?
Some say there is a war on Christmas. I agree. But I don't think it is because of different cultures or political correctness or Christianity falling out of fashion. It should never have been the fashion to begin with, if fashion is all it was. The war on Christmas is coming hard and breaking in wave after wave of assault. And it's coming from the great disparity between those who can put the big red bows on gifts and those who can't put food on the table for their children. In every war there are permanent casualties.
Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you?
America is fractured into groups who've lost the ability to talk to each other. We talk at each other, spouting ideology, but if everyone is screaming, who can possibly be listening? Good people believe we must help the poor. Good people disagree on how that should be done. Meanwhile, good people are rolling up their sleeves and doing it. That work is urgent. It is necessary to our very survival as a civilized people. It does not depend on government programs or elected officials. It depends on the Cindy Lou in each of us to find the heart in the Grinch. Who is the Grinch? Our own miserliness that demands our own way or fights so hard to keep what we have that we turn a blind eye to our own power for good to help those in need.
Where is Christmas? It's not in the gifts or the tree or the light or the music. Those only serve as the backdrop. Christmas is in the cold, the damp, the animal stable. Christmas is in the hope born to a mother who dared to say yes to the ridiculous, a father who put aside his own pride and married a pregnant girl. And not just that one baby 2000 years ago. Hope is born again and again every time someone takes a chance on the ridiculous notion that giving is the thing that will save us. That giving will save Christmas from becoming actually ridiculous.
What can I do today to stand up for good, to offer help in this cold winter? Imagine if all of us spend time each day seeking out a way to help. What if the first thought in our morning mind was, how can I be of service today? I say the world would change. I say the war on Christmas and every other thing would be over. Because good will triumph if enough of us say that it must with our deeds and not just our lips.
Where are you Christmas? "To be determined". By us.
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