Archive for October 2010

a year of live music

October 18, 2010

Big Head Todd and the Monsters brought me back to life.

It wasn’t that I was without music.  My house was full of music: songs on the radio, kids singing in the backseat, lullabies while rocking the baby and my own voice, full of song and sound.  It had just been ages since I’d seen a show live.  I didn’t even realize how much I was missing it until that February night at the Paradise in Boston.

The Paradise is a funky, intimate club.  In my memory, everything has an aura of red: the stage lights, the carpet, the chair cushions.  We found a spot along the rail to the left of the stage, crowded, dark, loud.  Big Head Todd and the Monsters have been playing live together for a long time; they are tight onstage.  The man I was with had been doing his best for months to hold me together with kisses while things within me fell apart.  He stood behind me, arms around me.  We danced with the crowd as lyric, melody, bass combined to create that mystery of energy we call music. I closed my eyes. Connected for a moment to these strangers; Big Head Todd the thread tying us together, having fun and grateful for it.  There, in that moment, I came fully into myself for the first time in far too long for memory.

Thus began the year of live music.

Next was Leo Kottke; phenomenally talented on the guitar. A pleasure in itself.  It is his storytelling, though, which blows my mind.  His guitar becomes an extension of his words and wit as he plays and sings and weaves tales I don’t want to end.

Then came Alison Krauss and Robert Plant with T. Bone Burnett, supporting their incredible collaboration. I’d gotten tickets for my son for his eleventh birthday. I love Alison Krauss and live, she is brilliant. It was Robert Plant, though, who made me giddy.  Both Zeppelin fans, my son and I, struck speechless by his version of “When the Levy Breaks”. Well, we just stood dumbfounded throughout the show, disbelieving the chemistry and joy of the whole affair.  After the show my son told me “until my own children are born, seeing Robert Plant will be the highlight of my life”.  The man has still got “it”–that charisma and voice.  Combined with T. Bone and Alison Krauss, “it” was magic, indeed!

I spent that summer going to local shows in Gloucester.  I was in love with a bassist and those shows were less about the music and more about friendship and romance.  We had an awesome party full of music when the guys from Brian Wilson’s band came to visit overnight.  We played a game trying to stump one very talented encyclopedia of music named Probyn and gave up when he busted out a perfect version of “My Pal Foot Foot” by the Shaggs.

I took my best friend to see George Michael that summer.  It was a birthday gift for her, which was really just a gift to myself!  One of my guilty pleasures, George Micheal, creating the backdrop to time spent with one of my favorite people.  George Michael holds nothing back: enormous light show, video, sixteen piece band with six back up singers.  He’s all fun and light.  We danced in our seats and screamed like teenagers.

Then there was Weezer and every moment was nostalgia and present thrill all in one.  Not long after, I spent a fortune for floor seats to the Killers. That was just a party I’d attend every day if I could.

I reconnected with a dear friend who is an incredible singer and songwriter and spent lots of time at local pubs and venues drinking Guinness and singing along. Mercuryhat is the soundtrack to memories of girls’ night out with some of my favorite people; laughter and connection and a platform for loving and being loved exactly as we are.

And I realize that as much as I love creating and hearing and seeing and participating in music, as much as I would wither without it, it is just this which truly brings me to life: the connection. Music as a pathway to time and place, memory and emotion, yes. But also, music itself creating the energy which draws me in with my eyes closed and my heart open; having fun and grateful, tied to the moment, loving and being loved.

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10 things

October 7, 2010

10 Things Which Make Me Happy

1. My children. Deeply happy in that “I can’t believe how blessed I am that I get to parent these incredible beings” kind of indescribable way. That “this is love in its purest form for me” way.

2. M&Ms. How can I go from #1 above to candy coated little chocolates? Easy. It’s pure pleasure, an m&m. The little clinky noise they make when poured into a bowl. The little rush of chocolate after a tiny snap of crunch. The bright colors. The way they are fantastic on their own but also amazing mixed with cookie dough or ice cream or peanut butter. Oh, yes. M&Ms.

3. Music. The way it invades the soul without asking, creating connection to memory, time, place, present. The way it evokes emotion or carries lyric as though musician and listener are sharing an intimate secret. The way it can prompt action: laugh, party, shake it, shake it, shake it, let go and belt it out off-key if you must.

4. Gardens. More specifically, my hands in the soil. No– any gardens, because even looking at photographs of gardens zones me out. Color, texture, scent, taste. The task of planting a seed, saying a blessing over it and watching as it transforms: joy divine. The task of weeding or digging or hauling rocks taps into some internal bliss akin to religious rapture. Hallelujah.

5. Friends. I have the best collection of inspiring, creative, accomplished, devoted, loyal, loving, fun and funny friends. They nurture me. They heal me. They bless me with their presence, true presence in my life. They honor me with their trust. They crack me up. They remind me what is beautiful and right about connection and love.

6. Words. Serendipity, Avocado, Scootch. Sounds and symbols together creating meaning, which we then convey with voice or pen or keyboard. Conversation and connection and lyric and poetry and understanding.

7. Food. The way it can be central to the experience of connection. Yes, it literally nourishes. The act of preparing and sharing becomes nourishing. “Let me feed you” moves into a metaphor for giving of self. Levels of satisfaction from the genuine pleasure of tasting a perfect strawberry to the craft of creating flavors and textures to the delight of hearing “oh my gosh, this is amazing” when a friend bites into a lovingly prepared meal.

8. Laughter. Yes, of course, if I’m laughing it must be because I’m happy, right? But I’m talking about hearing others laugh, especially about sharing a laugh. The kind of satisfaction that comes from creating a laugh response from someone else “oh yeah, you get it”. It’s validating, “I’m funny!” It’s genuine pleasure. It tickles.

9. Water. Being near the ocean calms me like nothing else, even when the ocean shows its power. It’s like instant savasana. Primal. Lakes, rivers, puddles, even rainfall–pleasure within. The liberation of swimming underwater: quiet, dark, cool, a little mysterious and complete joy.

10. Clean sheets. Oh my gosh! Sliding into a well-made bed. Cool sheets (line dried and smelling of sunshine?!), letting go of the cares of the day surrounded by comfort and pleasure, a hug shepherding me into sleep. Bliss!

night terror

October 3, 2010

To shake you awake from this nightmare

Or scream you awake

Screams of my own terror

You’re going to kill yourself

You won’t stop

Until you’re dead.

I cannot

bear the thought nor can I

hold you as a child; when everything was somehow

simple

Even though that is a lie.

Chaos, insecurity, scarcity

I know my own version of that story

Everyone does-

Well, everyone we’ve loved, anyway

And the cruelest lesson of all:

Love cannot save you because you won’t

Give it to yourself

I cannot love you enough to make you

happy, content, peaceful

Though I would tear out my own heart

Just to give you one minute of

knowing