Tag Archives: love

After the Peter Mayer concert

Peter Mayer from Minnesota playing "Blue Boat Home"

Peter Mayer from Minnesota playing “Blue Boat Home”

Okay, so if you read the previous article, you know I REALLY love me some Peter Mayer. His music is considered folk but to me it’s just excellent. He performed back in February at our Sunday Service which was really incredible in and of itself, but his warmth really stood out in my mind. He really doesn’t get why people love that he plays guitar and sings. He loves that he can make a living at it, but it truly baffles him.

Tonight, while he was playing, he forgot some lyrics from one of the songs he was performing. He glitched. He apologized but kept going. I fell madly in love with him at that moment. Not the kind of love you give to a spouse or a best friend, but the kind of love that makes that moment stand out as truly significant. He was beautiful before as I’ve gushed and fan-girled, but that moment, a tiny error of perfection exploded his colors into rich sapphire blues, deep royal purples, and such incredible beauty of humanness that I got the leaking wellies.

I sat at the back of the sanctuary weeping with the knowledge that someone I listen to, someone I know only through music and a couple of random conversations, was absolutely human just like me. It was a profound moment as I heard him asking his Sister Hawk to teach him, his Brother Whale to teach him. As the concert continued he quoted Carl Sagan that we are “…starstuff contemplating the stars…” It meshed completely with what I tell the children when they don’t feel important. I tell them, “Oh but you are, my dear friend. We are all made of stardust and oceans. If we are all oceans, we fill the world with tears. If we are all stardust, we lose our shine. But if we balance between the both of them, there is no end to whom we can become.”

That moment of his human self felt like an emotional anchor snapped taut, that in that moment, I was breathing the same starstuff as my ancestors, of his, and of everyone in the room. It was incredibly moving to me. He was even gracious after the concert when I told him of how beautiful I felt that was. I gave him an Always Beautiful card I like to share with people who move my spirit. He accepted it. I don’t think I could have gotten any more happy than I felt at that moment. Thank you Universe for arranging the starstuff precisely right tonight.

Me and Peter Mayer after the show.

Me and Peter Mayer after the show.

Again, if you want to learn more about him, visit his webpage at http://www.petermayer.net or look him up on YouTube and you’ll hear why I’m such a fan of such a perfectly kind human being.

Peter Mayer Concert!

I am so excited to go see Peter Mayer tonight. Well, technically I’m working the concert, but that still means I get to benefit by hearing him play live. His lyrics are so rich with imagery, peace, and a feeling of passionate comfort with his spirit.

Peter Mayer is performing in Oak Ridge, TN tonight! WOOT!

Peter Mayer is performing in Oak Ridge, TN tonight! WOOT!

When he was here in February, I got to talk to him. I asked him if his lyrics came easily to him. He looked at me as if I’d grown another head. He said it was the hardest part of what he does. He works and reworks the lyrics until they breathe on their own. He was not condescending as he spoke. I described how it feels when I get the poem spark, where the lyrics sing on their own. He spoke warmly with me. I was an instant fan.

I’m sharing two videos with you. One is where the lyrics are so perfect, it made sense to me. If it doesn’t for you, that’s okay, but I hope you’ll give it a listen.

My favorite song by him:

To learn more about this incredibly gifted performer and lyricist, visit his web page so you never have to be out of the know again.

http://www.petermayer.net/news/

The Blank Canvas

I should be painting right now, but I’m staring at the canvases lined up thinking of you instead. I say I don’t think of you, but I do. It’s usually late at night in the silence of a sleeping house. I just get the feeling that if you were here, things would be better. I mean, I know they wouldn’t be, they’d be the same, but I could talk to you about them. I could ask for your wisdom and you’d laugh at me.

“Wisdom isn’t something that can be taught,” You’d laugh. “It has to be learned. The only thing I could possibly do is guide you away from what I’ve already tried that didn’t work.” Then you’d ruffle my hair. I’d act annoyed but I wouldn’t forget.

I look at the canvas and I think, “AHA! I’ll paint you!” Because you were always so beautiful to me. So real that even my own body sometimes felt alien, unkempt, and unruly as I watched you move with grace even though your shoulders were hunched over and you shuffled your feet. I don’t know how to capture everything you meant to me. I don’t know how to not cry when I remember the jokes you told me, how you cheated at cards, your morning prayers, poker with buttons, or sauerkraut making in the basement with the family.

How can I capture the truth of what it felt like to be with you? What it meant to be the most important person in the world in a room full of people with every one of them feeling the same way. You never excluded anyone from your love. You never turned anyone away who came asking, or just to be near you. You were filled with an unending capacity that I strive to achieve because I admired it so much.

I sit here looking at the colors of paints in messy bottles, well loved paint brushes drying after last nights foray, and I wish, I just wish I could hug you again. I wish you could tell me with your heart that you love me too.I wish I could coax the colors to obey my command regarding you. But they sit as still as a stalked mouse with me the pouncing cat. The brushes feel like hammers in my hands, refusing as well to obey.

I feel you sometimes, particularly in the wee hours of the morning. It’s usually when I pour my first cup of coffee from the still brewing pot. I sit down at my table and I look at the spot where my husband and usually the guests sit. I can see you sitting there with your own cup, smiling at me. Together we take that sip and the hot bitter beauty washes my tongue with scalding hot communion. We exhale and whisper the prayer together. Then, you usually go wherever you go while I talk to my ceiling and look to the sky.

My canvas is still blank. My heart remembers you. And for no particular reason, my wish is that you hear my words, “I love you so very much.”

The pocket full of happiness

I keep a pocket full of happiness with me almost always. It contains: two rubber ducks (one yellow with the word Believe on its chest, the other silver), a squishy rubber pig, an alpaca, a scarab beetle, a small handmade book, and a full sized harmonica.

Top Hat Ravioli

Top Hat Ravioli

I use it to bring smiles to children and adults alike. I change it up sometimes so there are different things, but those are typically the staple items. If you want to see someone smile really big, pull something they’d never expect from your own pocket. Fussy kids? No problem, pull out a rubber pig. Cranky adults? No sweat, a rubber duck usually does the trick. Giving them an unexpected surprise from a stranger’s pocket (that isn’t disgusting or ethically challenging) brings joy which is kind of a trademark of mine.

It’s the Monday after payday and our finances have hit as close to nada as they’ve ever been. The ban on overtime (even the measly four hours my husband would get a week) really hurt. Our groceries came out of that overtime and boy are we feeling it.

I felt a tremendous amount of stress when I went to Pet Supplies to get food for the cats and dogs. The bags of food glared hatefully at me, “You don’t have enough money to feed them and you too.” The prices exclaimed disdainfully. I started to cry. I broke down in the middle of the aisle while my frequent companion, six year old (nearly seven) neighbor Nicholas, was off looking at fish, and a guinea pig he insists is a hamster, and scorpions. I just flat out couldn’t keep my cool.

“How can I afford to feed my cats and dogs and my family.” I bemoaned. Despair washed over me as I tried to do math in my overloaded brain. My little dog Piggy needs to have grain free food. She doesn’t do well if there is grains so tack on another 5 bucks just for not having filler. yay.

One of the young women that worked there disappeared as soon as the tears started. I felt really alone. I picked up a 5 pound bag of food for 12 bucks. I went to the cat food and picked up a 20 pound bag for the same price. Here came the young woman who gave me a five pound bag at just over 10 with no grains in the ingredients. She said she was sorry she couldn’t do more.

When I got into the car, Nicholas said, “Are you in a bad mood today, Mare?”

“No, Nicholas. My heart is just sad because I don’t have many dollars.”

“You know what you need, Mare?” He asked while waving out the window absently.

“No, what do I need.” I asked, impatiently waiting for the light to change. I wanted to be home sulking.

“A pocket full of happiness that has $100 dollars in it.” He said just as matter of factly as if he were telling me the weather.

“Indeed, that would be a happy pocket.” I chuckled. Oh, the wisdom of children. Then I remembered, I get to work for some dollars this weekend as a dishwasher. I’ll have enough. I forgot all about it until he reminded me with happiness.

I promised him a Dunkin Donuts (our favorite) when I have dollars again. He was pleased he made me laugh. I was pleased he prodded me to remember to look forward in hope.

PART II

A Pocket Full of Happiness!

A Pocket Full of Happiness!

Thank you to whomever left the pocket full of happiness tacked to my door with a nose magnet. The gratitude I feel for this is just magnified. I will obey the command that Nicholas get his doughnuts. Thank you.

I asked Nicholas as he walked up the hill to his home after getting off the school bus, “Guess what I got on my door today?!’

Nicholas was so overjoyed to declare it before I even said anything, he said, “A pocket full of happiness with dollars in it so I get Dunkin Donuts!”

I laughed. “How did you know?”

“I just knew it!” He grinned while swinging his Spiderman (his favorite super hero) backpack from shoulder to shoulder. Man, I sure do love that little kid.

We went to Dunkin Donuts as the instructions commanded. Nicholas had a raspberry cheesecake doughnut, an Oreo cookie cheesecake doughnut, a milk, AND a cinnamon munchkin. I got a small coffee and a chocolate coconut doughnut. I mooed every time Nicholas lifted his milk up over the bag we place in the middle of the table. He laughs hysterically every time. Then he started doing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” on my arms and hair so I screamed playfully.

“YOU SCARED ME!” He said as he dropped his raspberry doughnut splatted on the floor while he farted. While we both bellowed peppery laughter, he declared, “Excuse me!” We laughed even harder than the cows. It really was a pocket full of happiness. Truly, thank you with all sincerity.

Between the Worlds

A Snow Owl

A Snow Owl

I wander along in blues of sparkling seas

I witness a sail in the distance waving at me

I place hand over eyes in familiar stance

I wave back with my hips, a shift of my dance.

The forest closes in with a crackle of leaves

I’m not afraid, it’s welcoming me

The music turns up with bird songs and buzzies

The brook tells a joke that gives me warm fuzzies.

In a blink of an eye, my feet hit the sand

the painted desert that smells like Christmas is where I am

A solar flare singes my skin hot and prickly

but pain is small price when one lives this richly

A single leap, a precarious bound

I’m traveling highways, heeding the sound

of the zephyrs of change as they dervish round

Should I see you as I move, ever by the winds tug

You may not know my face, but you’ll know me by hug.

Storms and Kisses by Joys of Joel

Storms and Kisses – a poetry by joel f. found at www.joysofjoel.wordpress.com

A quote by Anita Krizzan inspired me to create a poetry

Why do you expect a rainbow

when you’re afraid of storms?

Did i let all my fears

stop you from being near?

Why do you expect a sunrise

when the moon didn’t say goodbye?

Do you expect it to follow

every dawning of the sky?

Then why do you want my kisses

if you only want the roses?

Because you think that all the tears

are not really worth it?

And if you say goodbye

because you hate to cry

I won’t stop you from leaving.

I hate to see you grieving.

**You can’t blame someone for leaving if you never gave them a reason to stay.

via Storms and Kisses.

Art OUT, Knoxville Pride

"L" is for the way you look at me

“L” is for the way you look at me

"O" is for the only one I see

“O” is for the only one I see

"V" is very, very, extraordinary

“V” is very, very, extraordinary

"E" is even more than anyone that I adore

“E” is even more than anyone that I adore

And love, is all that I can give to you

And love, is all that I can give to you

The original is being donated to Art OUT Pride event in Knoxville, TN because LOVE seems like the best reason to give to great causes, isn’t it? I saved the scan so that prints can be made available for anyone that needs a bit more love around them can buy them. I feel like singing about love today. How about you?

Be gentle

Better than tulips!

Better than tulips!

Be gentle with me for I am but a fragile human

whose eyes may not see

the expression of your sexuality

as a sign of unsuppressed individuality

because I may be jaded or blinded by misogyny.

Be gentle with me for I am but a fragile human

whom is terrified to be

the open-hearted embracing destiny

to stake my claim on my personal history

as one not bound by mainstream society.

Be gentle with me for I am but a fragile human

whom is unafraid to be

every breadth and depth of clarity

a shining hope against disparity

standing human by human in equanimity.

Be gentle with me for I have stepped outside of me

the one they knew can no longer be

because who I am, I was born to be

I can no longer hide, I am finally free!

Be gentle with one another

treat neighbors like sisters and brothers

for as difficult as it seems

we all long to meet our dreams

so we fight the hard fight

sometimes not recognizing the hopeful light.

Be gentle of heart

but wild with your grace

May hate never play a part

in your peace or your faith

Be rich, my friend, with philanthropy

Be gentle, so very gentle, with this fragile human;

me.

Preying Hands

Preying hands

Preying hands

I took my vow of silence when I unwillingly walked the aisle

I knew that once sealed, I was lost. I hoped to be.

I kissed his lips knowing they were poison

I tenderly held his hands that blessed me with curses;

beat me, berated me, tore me down to the floor where

I prayed at his altar with bloody knees,

“Please! I won’t sin again!”

I genuflected my resolved acceptance

of my worth from his unholy blessings and unlawful prayers.

I lay prostrate, willing myself to Mother Mary

Falling short of grace;

denied her forgiveness.

With the community choir ignoring the sermon

of discipleship he insisted I learn,

fifth in hand

I begged physical communion

I knew he’d lay down the fists for lustful sins

grunting self-satisfied “amens” of self-approval.

While I lynched my own redemption

on the clothesline laden with our dirty laundry

begging silently with screaming stains of humiliation

Betrayal drip drying fresh spilled secrets

Everybody listened

Nobody came.

Everybody knew

but denied my name.

Until

I found my voice

Until

I left six bullets in the clip

putting them safe in my pocket

one still in the chamber.

I knew you were a crappy shot

I won my life in a daring public race of rushing roulette

As I ran among my neighbors that I’d shared bread with

taken their children on vacation, gifted with Christmas

Challenging them to shine a light,

to allow me one phone call from my personal prison

Each house darkened but one remained.

My prayers finally answered

by confused badges of protect and serve honor.

I surrendered my protection

my haven

my home

because his shame lied

lay bruises on my arms.

Hear this, Father of my ex-communication,

I am again holy.

I am true in spirit.

I walk in grace while you walk in your valley of darkness

I pray you find your way to your own righteousness

I pray you never feel the transgressions you offered to me

visited upon your person

I pray that understanding of your offense

be never washed in the blood of another.

Amen and Blessed Be