. the think .

. perspective .

2012-01-12T07:11:00.000-08:00

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
~Anaïs Nin

perceptions are a funny thing.

when I was 19, near the Board of Trade and the Starbucks on Clark St. in Chicago, I was hit by a taxicab while crossing the street. I had just finished my shift,I had the light, and crossed the street. The taxi, as most taxicabs in Chicago, was making some interesting maneuvers as it came down the street. I noticed about halfway in the crosswalk that the taxi wasn't stopping. My highly caffeinated 19 year old body ran and arched my body forward in hopes of missing the oncoming vehicle. Thankfully, I wasn't killed or hurt. All that was hit was my book bag. The taxi never stopped.

when I got to the curb, 4 people came running up, including a police officer. The older woman said, "Oh my, he hit your leg and back! Call an ambulance! you should sue!" The drunk guy holding a sign said that I ran in front of the car on purpose. The business man said that the taxi sped up and that I never was touched then continued to bantered with lady that too many people sue over anything. And the police officer said, after he wrote down the license plate, "you were walking with the crosswalk light, the cab was in the wrong" and that I was lucky.

from my point of view, what I felt and lived, yes, I was walking with the crosswalk light. yes, I did run away when I saw the car speeding up. And yes, he didn't physically hit my body parts, but did hit my book bag which later I found that the impact had 2 cracked cassette tapes; not to mention the crazy guy never stopped!

I suppose what I am getting at is that we can be involved in something and people can see things from many points of view. Depending on how we are feeling, where we come from, how we are wired, what our day has been like, etc.; we may not see or experience the same thing as the next person.

this memory came flooding back this morning as i am dealing with a situation that has been weighing on my heart. personal relationships can have very different perceptions and expectations. What one thinks is perfectly acceptable may be completely ludicrous to the other. A heated conversation can start in one world and end up in two different worlds with 2 very different views of how things went down.

due to all the variables, is the result of this perception equation is truly solvable?

No clue. If we are fortunate to have a footing on the same thought wave, or compassion to see the flip of the coin, perhaps.

I think it's important to keep crossing that street. And, while the taxicab is speeding up, act with your gut, trust your heart, and do the very best you can. Hopefully, at the curb, there will be a common ground to exist in.

"What we see depends mainly on what we look for."
~John Lubbock

. the Sailor .

2011-11-18T12:13:00.000-08:00

Oh, the North winds are blowing
and I can't see beyond the fog.
It's been 10 weeks since I've held my son
and my one true love.

The black waters keep rolling
In the distance a lonely horn
and the gael starts screaming
as we sail the eye of the storm.

But in the dead of night, with no land in sight
you feel a silence, a silence deep in your bones.
and the sirens sings and your eyes see things
makes you wonder, will I ever get home?

And the waves pour around us
try and keep a level head
with no sleep and a face full of drink
you think you're better off dead

My father worked on a trawler
and his father too
he said "do what you can, stay on land."
but these veins salt water runs through

And in the dead of night, with no land in sight
you feel a silence, a silence deep in your bones.
though the sirens sings and your eyes see things
you wonder, will I ever get home?

And the haul's on for hours.
My fingers are frozen stone
and my fears play cruel games.
I see lost sailors in the foam.

There's a red sky tonight
and no more lines to set.
Home we will go with riches in tow
but my heart will not soon forget.

In the dead of night, with no land in sight
you feel a silence, a silence deep in your bones.
and the sirens sings and your eyes see things
makes you wonder, will I ever get home?
will I ever get home....

11.03.11
S. Fae Wiedenhoeft

. on the verge.

2011-10-16T15:10:00.000-07:00

i feel a storm brewing
a change is coming soon
the north winds start a blowin'
and the seas grow dark and loom

i do not know what is to come
if illusions will blind my spark
if my true love will stay with me
or if folly will break my heart

there is a change a comin
a laughter is on the wind
the serpent, it is coiling
and a new path begins

the trees are shedding secrets
a wisdom swirls around
my soul is drenched and pining
and light is scarcely found

and yet i am returning
to the birthplace of my soul
to the shores of Eire's dreams
To the shores of Eire's lore

and in my palm is a glowing orb
of hope and love, no fear
to feel the arms ancestral stars
to hold the darkness near

to know the dark is to know the light
without it we lost
beloved sun and crimson moon
caught in the heat and frost

the mossy stones, the oak and ash
a dance to the mummer's song
for in the spring a reckoning
on the verge of lost and found

fae 16oct11

when the surrender button is stuck

2011-05-28T12:35:00.000-07:00

I've been performing in front of live audiences since the age of 12. I've played for family, friends, school functions, choral programs, big stage shows, cafes, pubs, festivals, and international audiences of over 2000. And while I have banked all these stage hours, I still get nervous to get on stage.

This past week was a buzz with the CD finalization, promotion correspondence and meetings, new student preparation, lesson planning for summer programs, etc. I had very little sleep and downtime.

The week started with my student's voice recital on Sunday. What a remarkable experience it was to witness the growth of my young singers/performers. Many of my students were performing for the first time ever. There were little nervous eyes staring back at me during our warm-up/pep talk before the recital. I remember quoting my past teachers and the wise words they spoke to me before going on stage…

My choral teacher, Mrs. Robbins, said, "Bend your knees.. Breathe!. You do not want to faint."

Chuck Soumar, vocal coach for Morton High School productions and from the band The Ides Of March, told me before the opening night of Fiorello, "Sing like you will never have another opportunity to sing again in your lifetime."

Kind and honest words from Tom Rusnak, my theatre teacher, rang out, "Trust yourself. It's all there."

My students rocked the recital! I am so proud of their journey! It was amazing to see them wrangle their nerves, find their breath, and sing out!

Last night at the Northwest FolkLife Festival, I had such a case of nerves.
I was knock kneed, short of breath, and my mind was a flutter. One of my reset buttons when my nerves get jumbled is to mutter internally 'surrender'.
First song... "Surrender"... still short of breath.. can't hear my guitar, ... insert about 4,000 other worries and silly concerns....
Second song... "Surrender"... still jumbly.. still knock kneed... was kicking myself for eating those Might O doughnuts an hour before the show.. Perhaps I was all jazzed up on sugar! Oye!
Third song.. "Surrender".... a bit better. The tune was an old standby for us. It was pretty solid.
Fourth song... the new song... the one I was most tangled about. My hands were shaking; my heart was snuggling up with my tonsils. Deep breath "Surrender.. Surrender.. Surrender..". I ebbed and flowed. The song is deeply personal and that alone is sometimes an uphill endurance adventure. To allow yourself to become vulnerable in front of 50+ strangers is a tough one. By end I think I was surfacing back in the land of the normal.

After the show, many friends and fans greeted us with "well Done" and "great job". We made some great contacts, sold CDs. I am very proud of the band and their performance. They rocked it. I am also my worst critic and felt that I cheated them in some way for being out of the performance for so long. It was my dear friend, Dan Niven, who I believe is truly an angel, that told me, in essence, to relax and to assume the theatrical light. He was so right! I suppose sometimes smiling with your upper teeth while your heart is on Mister Toady's wild ride can be complicated. :D

Full circle

There are days when the freckle-faced, 15 year old, "Sandy" who is getting ready for opening night of Guys and Dolls peeks through my thirty something eyes. She makes me remember that getting lost in my head isn't going to get me through the show; it keeps me from the magic. It is humbling to have these kinds of experiences. Keeps my ego in check, keeps me in the moment, and reminds me to surrender and let it happen.

"Trust... it's all there!"
Thanks TR.

. Gold .

2011-05-10T12:30:00.000-07:00

A new tune written on the may full moon...

.gold.

I need a question without an answer
i need a vast sky to get swallowed in
I need a story with a happy ending
And a new one waiting to begin.

I need a sunset I can hold in my teacup.
I need a horse to take me to the edge of the world.
I need the wonder I held as a child
And a whiskey with my dearest pals

These days roll on like thunder
These years skip by too fast
One day we're running free as naked as a breeze
And the next one could be our last
But i know...
This life is gold.

I need no books on mediation.
I need no fortuneteller to tell me my path
I need a beach, my guitar, and glowing fire
And some friends to share a laugh

I need a day without phone calls and computers
I need a street with no traffic to fight
I need a smile from a perfect stranger
And a clear and star-filled night

These days roll on like thunder
These years skip by too fast
One day we're running free as naked as a breeze
And the next one could be our last
But i know...
This life is gold.

may 9, 2011 s.fae wiedenhoeft

Like a lion in the sky...

2011-03-01T08:21:00.000-08:00

photos by fae.. tulsa zoo 2007

"The March wind roars
Like a lion in the sky,
And makes us shiver
As he passes by.

When winds are soft,
And the days are warm and clear,
Just like a gentle lamb,
Then spring is here."
- Author Unknown

I have a roar.. I am bent up, cooped in, needing nature, ocean, old friends, big sweaters, and a seaside fire. The winter has officially got to me.

As my body is still feeling the effects of this never ending cold, I finally have put to rest my frustration with myself for not completing this year's RPM challenge. This is a challenge that I have participated in during the last 4 years. One has to write a complete album of music in the month of February to complete it. While I was able to create some tunes, nothing seemed to flow. My muse felt chained to a rock. I felt like nothing was fresh.. I was spinning my wheels. This was very hard for me. But quite a lesson for me to just let go....

The month also held for me a great sadness as I am still dealing with the passing of my father. His birthday was February 12 and we happened to have a gig that night. The phenomenal people within my band SeaStar helped arrange a great version of "El Paso" by Marty Robbins. This was one of my Dad's favorite tunes. Falcone sang it so well and Geli played the opening riff with precision! The folks loved it and we had everyone toast to my Dad. I truly believe I felt his presence there with us that night!

About a week before that night, there was a change in our band lineup. Doug decided to leave and that set me for a loop. While bands are never an easy thing to manage, they are a lesson in relationships. We wish him well and are grateful for his contributions to the music.

The upswings of the month were traveling to Index, WA and meeting Pat Sample of Paradise Sound. We will start recording our new CD with Pat in April! It is very exciting! Our pledge drive on Kickstarter has been slow and but steady. We are currently raising money to fund the new CD. You can help by visiting our Kickstarter page. We hope that folks will look at it as a pre-sale to the new CD. We promise you will not be disappointed! We have 30 days to make it to $4500. If we do not make our goal, we do not get the money and you will not be charged. But my fingers, toes, and armpits are crossed that we will make it to our goal and perhaps beyond!!

The band has also had some fun gigs this month! We had a lovely night in Arlington, WA playing the Mirkwood Cafe. Wonderful folks there! I truly love making music with Captain, Geli, & Falcone... Not only are they lovely friends, they make my heart feel free. Big kudos to them.

So.. on to March.. new month, new page.. always feels like a fresh start.
We are playing 3 gigs this montb! Should be great fun. I also updated a new website for the band Trying to keep things neat and tidy.

My fingers are also crossed that I can get away with Captain a weekend this month. I need that seaside fire, the woods, the sound of the water to set me back to me. Funny how life can knock one off balance! Thankfully, I like to get back up.. even if I have to crawl and eat a little dirt. quite the lesson. we are always so hard on ourselves. once we let go.. our shoulders do not feel so heavy and the light can touch our foreheads. true wisdom happens when we just stop thinking.

even the great big sky.. it sheds a tear

2010-11-30T11:23:00.000-08:00

from...Tuesday, November 30, 2010 at 11:23am

the last month has been hard. ... probably the hardest in my life. i find that with each day, it somehow seems to hurt just a little bit more. The reality of death can be so bitter.

I am doing alright, i suppose. Funny, I never thought that I would be dealing with this now when things were going so well for my dad. Acceptance is a thing i never have struggled with; but, now I feel very childlike. I suppose just knowing that my dad will never be there when I have a silly question about how to fix something, or why do i have to do this that way, etc... or just knowing that I will never have another opportunity to hear his voice again is pretty hard to swallow. I know that life is never forever. I can rationalize everything to the ninth degree.... but at the end of the day, the bottom line is that it stinks that my dad passed away. and i feel sad. It's not a bad thing and if I wasn't sad, I suppose, I would be worried.

Beyond my own grief is the constant worry about my mom. I am usually very good at cheering people up, helping them cope, being a support system. And while I think that I have been all these things for her.. she is so broken about this. I fear that her sadness will take her away from this world too. I don't know if I could manage that... not now. i try not to think that way but it pops into my mind. And I know one day that will be the reality. But focusing on it really doesn't do me any good. I am grateful for my sisters and their help. They have been with my mom, helping round the house, there for company, etc.. and it's even harder on them because they see what she is going through first hand while dealing with their own sorrow. I believe that both of them are up for sainthood if there is a poll. :) seriously.

I dont think that there is a magical time limit on how long one should be sad for. I suppose that it will get easier and lighter over time.. Holidays are one of my most favorite times of of the year and I am feeling pretty heavy about them. I am usually Fa-La-la-la-lahing my way through the world right about now, but my Fa-la-la-la is a bit broken. I am so darn thankful for all those acting classes so I can smile with my upper teeth and get through singing Christmas songs in lessons. I put up a little tree in the Caboose to try to get in the spirit.. and my dad would think it was pretty cool.. but every now and again i find myself with a quiver in my lip and my eyes welling up waiting for me to let free.. and the thoughts of Christmas morning without him crushes my breath.. and darn it if these thoughts do not pop up at the damnedest times...like walking to the bus.. cleaning the house.. and i get pretty good at keeping it together.. but other times.. i just cry and just let myself go..

I read that dealing with death is just another adventure in getting older.. then why do i feel so young and so uncertain of how to act, be, think, feel, hope... reading books on grief isn't really helping me. They depress me a little more, actually. I dont think that there is a magic pill or formula that I must follow to grieve. i think what I am going through is pretty normal and i just have to learn this very hard lesson of letting go.

I am very lucky to have such good friends that have helped me with many endeavors this year. It amazes me how many people care about my little projects and my heart. I am humbled, grateful, and honored to have that.

As this day ends, only one more month to go for 2010. I look forward to this year ending.. it was a tough one. While lots of positive stuff happened (opened the Caboose!, new CD, successful summer camps, tour to Chicago, excellent visits with family and friends), I lost so many precious things... my dad, two friends from my childhood, and in a lessor spectrum of value, my favorite brooch and pashmina, both gifts from my dear sister in music. I have learned very hard business lessons, relationship lessons, and personal lessons about being generous to a fault. I truly believe that every experience changes you.. shifting sands, tide and time, sun and storms... and as this year draws to an end, i have more than few scars from the gale in 2010.

I look forward to 2011 and its new adventures. More music, more friends, more experiences! Come hell or high water I will have that new CD finished that I have been talking about. We will go on tour. and the Caboose will be rocking with more music then Country Village has ever heard! I am sure my happy Fae-self will get back to her regular scheduled program of cheer and sunshine...and hope that i can be half as good of a friend as mine have been to me...

"Tough times never last... but tough people do."

This I will not forget.

now.. to the future....

wisdom from a rooster...

2010-06-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I work and teach at Country Village, a little shopping village with trees, ponds, shops, ducks, geese, and chickens. My daily life includes many a serenade by my feathered friends, the roosters. Yesterday, as I sipped my Americano from the Village Bean and watched the infamous "Phyllis Diller" rooster, and I heard more than just his top 40 hit "Coc-a-doodle-doo". The rooster was perched up on a flowerpot staring into the window of Bella & Max. I thought for a moment he was intrigued by the colours of the kids clothing in the store; but can roosters even see colours? Then it dawned on me. He was looking at the rooster he saw in the window, getting frustrated and flustered by the moment, at himself.

Wild, I thought as I put down my latest edition of "Joyfully Jobless", a publication that encourages self-employment and living your dream. How often we are up against ourselves in our day. We can be our own worst enemy. Self-image, self esteem... a frustration of our lack of something, and the feeling of hopelessness that this mirror gazing can conjure…

"Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"... There are days when we may see a great beauty and days when we see a Bloody Mary.

Perhaps I haven't been drinking enough Bloody Marys lately since I have been seriously busy over the last 4 months. Busy in good ways, but I have not had a whole lot of personal time to pause, chill, paint, hit my reset button. I have been extremely hard on myself during all this. While confidence is usually not an issue, I have, at times, doubted my abilities, my knowledge, and have even begin to wonder if I am doing enough. I am working against myself in those times. Not being gentle and forgiving with what the day brings, internalizing too much. Seeing this rooster hit my reset button. I realised that the only person who ever truly judges me, is me.

The rooster eventually walked my way and hung out between the tables and chairs where I was sitting. He faced the brick wall as he groomed himself; making little clicks and grunts as if he was finishing a conversation in his head. It reminded me of all the internal chatter that one can have when leaving a stressful moment, the round and round of thought on repeat playing in the mind. 'Oh, I should have done that, perhaps if I had done this, what if this had happened....' If one continues to follow that worrisome path, one becomes the raving rooster, with daily rants in the mirror and cock-eyed self-perceptions. Hmm... sorta makes chicken little look like a Zen Buddhist.

So, as I finished my last sips of coffee, I looked at my feather friend and thanked him. Things always happen for a reason. And if we are lucky, and really paying attention, we can learn the darndest things from the most ordinary of situations. “It's elementary, my dear Watson!” Let the bad ‘stuff’ fall away from the brow and shoulders, stay focused on the positive and continue to generate good thoughts... after all, the wise TUT says, “Thoughts become things. Choose good ones!”

Coc-a-doodle-doo!!!

Are We Just 15 Seconds?

2010-05-22T13:49:00.001-07:00

According to Wikipedia, a JUDGEMENT is a balanced weighing up of evidence to form a decision or opinion...

Other sources call it "..The act of forming an opinion with or without knowledge."

I am guilty of such a thing when buying wine. Oh, the pretty label will sometimes sway the soul to purchase the bottle, not really giving any thought to the taste of the product inside...

A book.. The attractive cover will sometimes draw me in and fortunately I have been lucky with my attractions...

15 seconds of a song... I have a problem with this. I love music and I don't take the subject lightly. How in the world can we judge a song in 15 seconds? How is it that 15 seconds makes or breaks a performer, their vision, their passion, and their voice...

Entering in competition is something that I almost never do. I hate popularity contests and have never felt that I needed the validation of the public to tell me that I was a good songwriter or not. I am not mainstream, top 40. And I never want to be. I am just a woman who loves music and sings from the heart. The judging process in the Lilith Fair competition for many reasons saddens me. Firstly, you have to vote for songs that don't particularly move you, secondly, you don't have to listen to the entire song, thirdly, most people pass their judgments on tunes that are not professionally recorded, home recorded, or perhaps too quiet the instant that it starts. From looking at the standings, it appears that many just say, 'crap' and push them aside. WhaT? Indie music is just that... INDIE. That means we make it up as we go along, we have to do the very best that we can with what we have, we may not be shiny and polished but if you truly look, you will see the sparkling treasure just below the water's edge.

I have found several songs in this competition that are true treasures! These songs are truthful and from the heart and moved me. They aren't polished and overproduced. They do not sound like everything else that is played on the radio. They are raw and real and I wished that more people gave them a chance.

I find that, just with anything, many people will try to be something that they are not. They will focus their energies to fulfill a certain look or sound that is marketable, thus shelving their artistic integrity for fame. One of my favorite quotes is from Miles Davis who said, ".. You have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself." Be yourself. Or figure out who that person is artistically! You are worth the exploration and being you IS enough. There are a whole bunch of carbon copies in this world. It’s the ones who allow themselves to be vulnerable, to find their voice, to shine their light, that move me. And I applaud you.

"Don't compromise yourself. You are all you've got!" -Janis Joplin

15 Seconds... doesn't make or break me. I long to live in a society with a longer attention span and patience. I continue to support those who are pushing the 'norm' and being true to who they are. I cheer on the ones that perhaps are rough around the edges yet have a truth that is clearer than any million dollar studio album produced. Let your light shine. You are worth it...

Music Origins are a Mystery....

2010-04-23T12:31:00.000-07:00

"Overcome with delight or overcome with grief, a person howls. A child listens to the modulations and textures in her parents voice. Life is so good that one person is unable to keep from dancing, and another is unable to keep from joining them with clapping and stomping. Is music making the enactment of the desire to return to those moments? Music - invisible, fleeting and ghostly..." Kerria Locca from the liner notes on "Black Mirror"

A few weeks ago when I was playing up in Victoria, I met a fellow by the name of Kin. He told me of a project that he was working on, "what was the first song?" What an amazing thing to think about. Our evolution .. our music.. our song. What was it?

Certainly this idea brought forth a crazy journal entry involving prehistoric 'Bam-Bams' and Flintstones jokes.. but then I started to take this more seriously... It actually made me wonder about life without music. What if we had never knew or thought about singing, tapping our toes, clapping our hands!? what if there were no dancing? no evolution of emotion though sound and movement? what if life was just a linear day without elevations of tone, breath, or rhythms... wow. what a different world this would be.

As many of you know I am a bit of a global wander in the musical world. I love to listen to songs from far away places perhaps because I can live within the daydreams of one day seeing and experiencing a streetside concert of locals ala Buena Vista Social Club.. or a busker singing his heart out somewhere in Spain, dancing with the locals in Cameroon or Zanzibar... and of course, hearing a local session in some small pub in Ireland. Such dialects in music.. such life songs that keep history alive just like great stories retold over and over and over again...

I went to the library yesterday and, while perusing the world music section, I came across this album "Black Mirror - Reflections in Global Music (1918-1955)" It is a 24 track Cd with tunes from all over the world that have been captured from old vinyl.. It is AMAZING. From an ancient Syrian violin piece to a Ukrainian melody that will capture your soul.. to an actual recording of Burmese musician just 'jammin' in Myanmar. It's great. Most tracks are traditional, so we get to place an ear up to a window into these far away lands.

How grateful I am to have music! To have this mysterious ghost of our ancestors' ancestors reverberating through my ears and soul. How wonderful to have the ability to flash back into another time just by hearing a familiar tune. Joni said it best..."Songs are like tattoos..." Certain songs are like smells, or photographs that transport me vividly to a day in my past... But mostly.. to hear the old tunes.. I mean the ones from say the 12th Century and much before that! To know these songs is to know that these tunes were sung and performed and sung and performed over and over again to make it to us today...
musical archeology. wow. what a wonderful idea. perhaps I want to do that when i grow up! :)

what was the first song? perhaps I will never know.. but I am thankful to the one who decided that tone and rhythm could be paired together. I am thankful that it wasn't just a fad and that tunes were created for joy, sorrow, love, prayer, beauty, and battle. I am grateful for the singers and players who kept and keep the traditions alive. Just as I am grateful for the singer I am listening to as I write this. Recorded in 1919 in Greece, I wonder if she ever dreamed that someone in 2010 would be listening to her heartfelt song. I wish she could know that her voice has moved me...

music is a beautiful mystery!

If

2010-03-22T13:37:00.000-07:00

by Rudyard Kipling

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

RPM challenge number 4 complete... and next?

2010-03-11T09:25:00.000-08:00

Wow. this year just about kicked my butt. I really had to pull it together, dig deep and hope the muse would guide me. With that being said, this year's RPM challenge became the most personal one yet.

At SoulFood this coming Saturday, I will have it available for sale by donation (recommended $5). 10 songs, lots of personal mojo.. if you wanted to know more about me, you will most likely do so by the end of the album.

The tracks and the stories are as follows:

01 True
A common relationship story.. a flame so burns bright, a life in a fairytale; but, winds come in and the flame flickers uncontrollably. Eventually the flame gets snuffed out by another's hands. Several years go by, and the memory returns...

02 Sage
Originally titled, Man on the Bus, this is a part of a journal entry I made over a year ago while on the bus people watching. This man was wonderful. Old, full of wisdom, with eyes of sunset and wind. The recording that I did for RPM vexes me only in the way that I sang too quickly the word Duwamish. I told myself not to labour over it since this will be one that I will likely want to rerecord anyway. So I hope that I do not offend anyone with this.

03 Orion
I started the lyrics for this tune the night of my wedding shower in Tulsa in the last few days of November 2005. I labour over love songs about Adam since I feel I can never communicate the actual grandeur of the love I feel for him.

04 Sunny
written new the last week of February when I had to go into work and I just wanted to be outside, ride a bike, fall into warm grass and watch spring unfold.

05 North
An anthem for the immigrant. Okay, it's really about me and my love of Canada. It is still my home. Yes, I stole a few words from the national anthem but it was necessary to quote it, in my opinion...AND, as my dear Joni once said, "I stole a lot of lines to sing..." (from the song California), I think I can live with it. I recently sent this song, with the encouragement of friends, to CBC radio. *fingers crossed*

06 Someday
A memory came to me about a morning, from several years back, when i had a huge fight with my ex. I knew that I would have to leave him, and I also knew that I would have to leave Victoria too.. forever hopeful, yet tangled in sadness is a common theme in my writing. :)

07 Hope
at 5am on October 23, 2009 I received a text message from a dear friend, "Quick! turn on the TV!! GreenBean on FIRE! Terrible! Burning Through!!!" It was true. The GreenBean and the 3 businesses that were thier neighbours where completely taken by fire. Over 100 firefighters were called in to try to save it. It was one of the saddest days of my life. The GreenBean CoffeHouse had been such a big part of our start in Seattle. Our film festival found its home there, I played a monthly gig in its wonderful acoustic walls, plus, we had so many friends that this place was the catalyst for. We believed in the message that the coffeehouse stood by, "sit long and talk much" The night of the fire, Captain, Doug & I attended a bit of a wake at the offices for the Bean and experienced all the wonderful stories that people shared about what the Bean meant to them... it was filled with love and HOPE. I'll never forget the 40 or so people jammed in this little office talking, crying, sharing, laughing about the feeling that the Bean generated. It was so much more than those 4 walls and coffee.
As we left the meeting, we walked near the Bean and saw that it was still smoking due to hot spots. We could see the night sky though the broken windows, up where the roof should have been, and I saw a star fall. About a week later, I started writing a song but was hung up on so much emotion. I had to shelve it for a few months. I decided that the 23rd of February would be 5 months since the Greenbean was a victim of arson so I unearthed it. It came together and I felt that it deserved to be the title track to the album.
I performed Hope for the first time at Soul Food's open mic on Saturday, March 6, 2010 and was hit with so much emotion sharing it for the first time with the public. I was fighting back tears as I sang it. I have never had that happen to me before. It was a challenging, yet truly a freeing experience to be so truthful on stage.
The GreenBean has reopened due the generosity of another coffeehouse called the Sip & Ship. The Bean moved into one of the two Sip & Ship locations to run the business until the Bean finds another home to call their own in Greenwood. The arsonist was caught after destroying 4 businesses and delivering severe damage to 10 other locations.

08 Grace
2008 was a very hard year for my family and me. My dad was very sick fighting cancer and we were uncertain of the outcome. During one of the many flights back and forth to Tulsa, I wrote this poem about my Dad. I was unable to anything with it due to its level of emotion. On February 12, 2010 my dad celebrated his 69th birthday. I finally find the music to put to this poem that I wrote so long ago. Love you, Daddio!

09 Enough
Oh, self image. Something I have had a terrible relationship with just about all my life. Boys, magazines, movies, diets, eating disorders, new hair styles, bad fashion choices... *sigh* Been through it all!! And eventually one learns the truth.

10 Home
A song about being in love with a place long after the relationship expired. I fell in love with a boy. Made a home. I fell in love with that place. The boy.. well, he didn't treat me so great after awhile. But we stayed together for a long time...
Perhaps I was more in love with my home than him... without him, I never would have known Home.

That's it!

. muse .

2010-02-23T09:39:00.000-08:00

Oh, Muse... where have you gone?
Cincinnati?

working hard on this year's RPM challenge.
Just posted 2 tunes on the site.

North
An anthem for the immigrant. Okay, it's really about me and my love of Canada. It is still my home. Yes, I stole a few words from the national anthem but it was necessary to quote it, in my opinion...AND, as my dear Joni once said, "I stole a lot of lines to sing..." (from the song California), I think I can live with it.

Man on the Bus (Sage Song)
This is actually part of a journal entry I made over a year ago while on the bus people watching. This man was wonderful. Old, full of wisdom, with eyes of sunset and wind. The recording that I did for RPM vexes me only in the way that I sang too quickly the word Duwamish. I told myself not to labour over it since this will be one that I will likely want to rerecord anyway. So I hope that I do not offend anyone with this.

okay.
enough play time.
back to writing...

here.. musey, musey , musey!
♥

teach street

2010-02-18T10:36:00.001-08:00

I'm a Voice Lessons teacher in Seattle, WA.

. Project Scarf .

2008-11-22T19:35:00.000-08:00

Not too long ago, I was strolling around Ballard with Captain and Doug. The wind was just wickedly cold and the rain sent a chill right to the center of my body. All I could think about was going home to my warm apartment and putting on the kettle. And then I saw a woman, one who i have seen many times before, huddled under an umbrella at her park bench on NW Market. I suddenly felt terrible. She had no home to return to, no place to put the kettle on. Her address is the 3rd park bench on NW market. And i felt compelled to do something. Just that week I had heard the latest news of the city fining a church for having a second tent city established. I was appalled! They wanted to kick out the homeless people in the second tent city because it sent a negative image on the neighbourhood! That's ridiculous! Those are people, not lawn ornaments! Obviously, the first tent city was over populated so a second one was established. *grrrr* With all the money that is out there, why isn't the city doing more to make the situation better for people like her? *sigh*

what can one person do?
i battle with this phrase so often.

we haven't a lot of money, and I know that i cant change the fact that thousands of people sleep every night on the streets; but i know, that perhaps i can make one or maybe a few feel less forgotten.

I am crocheting scarves for those who I see on the street.
I don't know their stories, and perhaps one day I will.
I don't know if they will like them, use them, etc... I just want them to know that someone cares.
I haven't an agenda.
I will not preach the gospel or make them join a 12 step program.
I don't want anything from them nor am I storing up karma points.
I cannot walk by them time after time and put on blinders like most do. They are human beings that have had some experience that left them homeless.
It could happen to me and my husband.
It could happen to you!
Life doesn't always have a silver lining, a backup plan, or a safety net.
It's all just to uncertain.

I do hope that perhaps my gift to them might start a silver lining in their life.. if even for a second... just to let them know that someone cares.
...a silver lining made from wool.

I urge all of you to do something for someone in need.
Even if it's a smile.
Please do not forget that we are all human and that some times all we need is to know that someone out there cares.

thanks for listening..
have a beautiful holiday season.

. nostalgia .

2008-10-18T17:57:00.001-07:00

.. so with the dancing leaves and the light playing hide and seek with the clouds, i find myself falling back into piles of freshly raked memories of youth and candy corn and cold air inhaled on crisp pear picking mornings.

i google earthed my old home and noticed that the pear tree that lived in my back yard had been cut down. made me sad to see my old friend gone from the place where we had so many adventures. i would sit next to it and watch the leaves swirl in the breeze. they danced with the sky as the cardinal sang its song. my dog would bark at the squirrel hiding in its branches only to suddenly hear a THOP! usually, at a fairly significant velocity, a pear would come hurdling out at my canine companion. made me laugh every time. crazy squirrels!

ah.. girl scouts! we would head out to the apple orchard and eat more apples than i think we really picked. our afternoons would sometimes lead to horseback riding adventures and crazy folktales about ghosts in old abandon barns.. or the hitchhiking lady near the cemetery.. yep, gave me nightmares every time.

then there was my mom. she would work so hard on my costume. i remember nights watching her sew on her old sewing machine. it made such a hypnotic sound like the ones you hear near a train yard.. ch-chsh ch-chsh...

Oh! and trick or treating! wow. candy candy! taffy apples and rain.. it almost always rained on halloween. it was always so perfect to end early and come home to catch "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" on the TV. Dad and i would sit on the couch while i held my Snoopy tight as he battled the Red Baron.

a time to talk about thanks and pilgrims, to wonder what all those funky shaped gords were that mom dressed the table with, a time to gather leaves for a leaf book.... i still keep the first leaf i find every year. my hardback books are dressed with little memories of oak and maple..

autumn has always been my favourite time of year. perhaps it's the comfy sweaters or the hot apple cider, maybe the smell of pumpkin pie or the sound of swirling leaves on the sidewalk..

whatever it is, i always feel about 10 years old again. my creativity is sparked and my heart is light. autumn feels like how it feels to be home. a light in the window on a dark day that invites my soul to sit long and sip tea slowly.

. listen to the dancing leaves .
. tell tales and sing songs .
. remember how you felt as a child .

happy autumn!

happiness just isn't a word...

2008-09-01T10:41:00.000-07:00

... its a whole lot of words!!

visit http://wordle.net/

. index .

2008-08-29T07:24:00.001-07:00

we scattered our seeds at the base of the mountain
each with a new dream attached with a thread
of soul's breath and raven's dreams.

the tree brigade whispered, 'not long now'
as the horses murmured with impatience.
the periwinkles ogled the poppies.
so coyly they often play.
dance with me, forget-me-nots, and find
our better days

our sunworn fingers plucked up our past
and made offering to the
last of the snow's great child.
the cold tears rained down the mountain's face
the joys, the winds, the life, the death
of each spring and winter's embrace.
the rush, the breath, the pulse raced on
along the stony lane, past our bygones
to the place where peace welled full and clear
a time of change, the eagle's whisper.

and we cooled our brows
in the waters of the past,
crystalline with futures dancing at last.
and out to the deep, where pure truth lives
swims the sun's golden fingers
urging to forgive.

08.22.08

. texas yeehaw .

2008-08-28T07:23:00.000-07:00

my good friend is about to embark on a new exciting adventure in a small town just outside of Dallas, Texas. wow. i remember my impression of Dallas...

here is a poem i wrote during my stay there...

wandering, wondering on starlight sparkle pathways
lined with the coo coo ca-choos and fallen ice cream smiles
i pass the ladder to the clouds and wonder why
someone has locked up the gardens from my child-eyed frolic

blue monday
art seems to sleep
sirens wail, grackles squeal
and pulse is kept in time with the clip-clop of feet
diverging on pigeon part time pathways
the seas rage/flow
the waves of blue and red
black Pontiac with white Subaru
zipping like schools of fish
in this big time southern ocean
i hold my breath and dive between
the steel sharks and fiberglass fins
joining the rush of this city tide
ebbing to the west end...

Elvis stops and passes me a flower.

the memorial sits in the late afternoon caress
white and neatly boxed
housing yet another curious creation
marked with nothing but a name.
the book depository has changed hands
the rumble of the passing cars that flood
the Elm and Houston crossroads fade
the city scene loses focus and the movie begins to play...
... a motorcade and celebration
a waving beacon of hope casting love
and youth cheering, children, picnic baskets, balloons...
an American afternoon buzzing towards the light
but moths cry out when they get burned
and four casts of light take over the beacon
the tower of Camelot crumbles into Guinevere's white hands
November day, chilly sun filled
births shadows a hopeful era
and in slow motion
history is changed forever
the lense closes
and pans to the sun
condensation to cheekbones
the vision is blinding.

i sigh.

and Elvis tries to sell me a newspaper.

02 may 2005

Zen and the Art of Lawnmowing

2008-07-30T16:40:00.001-07:00

the push of the blade
'gainst the grain of the hillside
rests the heavy heart
and the overactive mind

beyond the hospital smells
and the hand sanitizer
to the buzzing of bees
and the blistering of palms

it's only the third day..
and my soul is old.
how good it is to work.

. we walked in song .

2007-10-01T07:13:00.001-07:00

the freight train has gone
without a sound.

the abandoned, old station
sits in whispers
and hisses of the little legged
creatures who sing in present tenses

dancing flowers and nectar finders
buzz the long rusted iron lane
where the night train would come
and the whistle would sound
as the passengers waited
for the misty cloud storm

cases from places so far
from these parts riddled
the path with colourful arts
as the goodbyes held long
and the winds shshshhhhhhhhhed
a great sigh would song
its night lullaby

from out of these mists
into light of the day
from travelers gone so far, far away
a kind old remembrance that
lives on this path
where the nectar finders buzz
and the flowers now dance

. love and loss .

2007-09-23T16:04:00.000-07:00

. love and loss .

i have always been the type of person who appreciates what is happening while it happens... savours flavours, and remembers silly details about the day.
i associate music with people i love or loath... i even get an emotional recall when the atmosphere outside is a certain stillness, or grayness...or tickles my nose with the play of rain...

my mom called me yesterday right before we were embarking on our whidby island expedition... she called with a quiver in her voice and told me that it had been time for LJ, one of our family dogs, to be put down. funny how sentimental i am. how i get sooo wrapped up in animals as being more as family members than pets...

she had been going down hill for awhile, but the last three days my parents did all that they could for her. i know that it was sooo hard for them to have to deal with this kind of thing. my mom told me it was like having one of her own kids die.. she's strong.. yet broken up by it.

so the last day or so i have been a bit uneasy.. i am fully rational and have accepted the passing of LJ, even happy that her suffering has ended and that her spirit can play and run without any limitations; but, what has been leaving me with anxiety is how Hooch, LJ's sister, will deal with the loss of her sibling. i worry about my dad and his attachment to them... i guess i just feel so far away from them and wish i could do more to help them mourn and cope. i know that we have to process such feelings and in time they hurt less.. but i wish that i could do more.

i talked to my mom for almost an hour and 45 mins today.. and we left with a bit of lightness on the phone. we had chuckled about old times and how life goes by so quickly. we made a little pact that we would try to live fully each day. drink in the sun, and savour our relations with others.

so this is a reminder those who read this, and perhaps myself too.. that we need to live each day being devoted to that day and not in the past or lost in the future. savor the moment when you notice that the afternoon sun is kissing the trees that try to touch the stars.. be present with your families.. even when miles are between you and listen to their words rather than interject the occasional uh huhs.. while you are multitasking...

the moment is real.
i enjoyed each moment with my old friend LJ.. i will miss her soo much. but i know that i truly was in the moment the times i spent with her.

savour each breath.

..Pirates stay Crunchy in Milk..

2007-09-19T07:06:00.000-07:00

It's national talk like a Pirate day and since I havent the time to come up with anything witty at 7am.. i am posting a story that i wrote ages ago about meeting my hubbie!

When last we met, th' Syren had been listing near to scuppers.
Blimey! She was done with the dankness of scurvy scalleywags. All she be needing was th' stars above, shanties to sing, and a thirst for the briny deep. Alas, th' winds decided to set a squiffy course. She found herself marooned and disguised as a landlubber. "'Twas the hempen halter," she thought. "I am sunk." Sink me! What treasure she was about to find!

This landlocked port was dull, full of messdeck lawyers and sprogs. She was in need of a new crew. Mates! Corsair Jacks to help her hoist th' colours. Arr, a treacherous chase indeed!

On th' turn of th' new moon, she dropped anchor at the Gypsy CoffeeHouse to inquire about working her Syren ways. Th' barmaid whispered , "Speak o' th' Captain," and pointed to a dark painted buccaneer in the corner. Her deadlights fixed on the Jack Tar and curiousity filled her sails. The Syren downed a glass o' grog, needin' a bit o' th' Dutch Courage, and floated on th' doldrums to him. With a wink and a knock o' th' table, she nodded at th' Captain. "Ahoy" said she in a voice o' th' wind. He looked up at th' she-pirate as if the he had been ensnared by a mermaid. "That rum from PaddyLack Jim runs a jig!" he thought to himself. Snapping up with a deep blink and a shake, th' old seadog stood up to only to tumble back into his chair as if hit by a rogue wave. Shiver Me Timbers!

"Seems th' clap o' thunder has ye." she laughed extending her arm to help him gather his sealegs. "Arrr, ye be the stars I set sail by," he whispered. And by the powers of Poseidon, before ye could even say 'Walk th' Plank', he scooped her up and pirated the Syren!

Aye, smartly to the crow's nest they weighed anchor for a bit o' rum & um... things that would catch th' sunset in ye cheeks!

Th' two set sail aboard the swift and mighty Phoenix . Stories are told, over many a mead, of two who'd come and go leaving a wake of lemon poppyseed muffins. It is thought that th' old Cap' and th' Syren are now The Dread Pirate Poppyseed and Black Charity.

So says th' legends......

. quatre ans .

2007-09-08T15:01:00.000-07:00

on the 17th of august, we celebrated the four year anniversary of our meeting...

:)

like a treasure on the shore, one finds the most amazing things when one is not looking.

the summer of 2003, my life was dismal at best.
i had just moved my entire life to tulsa, oklahoma from the beauties of victoria, british columbia. i went from cool and groovy to stagnant and suffocating.

my best gurl elizabeth came to visit me 2 weeks after i had moved.
we spent the weekend partying hard in the 108 degree temp, drinking much, and experience the ever so awful night club scene. on the hung over sunday, we decided to head over to the gypsy coffeehouse for a tamer night of coffee and tea and because i had heard that there was an open mike there. I asked the girl behind the counter about the festivities and she told me that i needed to speak with Captain. it was rumored that he might be in tonight.

well with luck, he did arrive. he had decided to pop in before heading out to see autumn shade play at a bar down the way. we talked for about an hour and i felt that he was the first normal person that i had found in tulsa. i definitely needed to know him better...

and on tuesday i went to the open mike, heard him read poetry... asked him if i could buy a chatbook from him and he said, i would like to buy you a drink...
so that thursday, was the day.
i was photographing the HOPE benefit at the PAC and told him that i would meet him after at this place called Caz's...
my sister came with me! OY! but she was worried.. and when i said. .. it's okay, i can take a cab home.. she was hesistant, but complied.
:)

that night we talked and talked and talked!
we walked to the center of the universe...
we danced in ballerina park..
and we kissed on a bridge under the stars..

he asked if i believed in spontanious living..
and i said yes

he's been by my side ever since.

:)

i love being in love.
:)
especially with my best friend.

. f i l t e r s .

2007-08-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

when i lived in chicago, things in life, possessions, had certain society levels that one tried to keep up with or top. purchasing new clothes, 400 count ralph lauren sheets and pier one furniture seems to be important.

funny how these things mean nothing to me.

. p a t t i s m i t h .

2007-08-13T09:07:00.000-07:00

11 aug 07 1:30am
captain woke me up. 'fae. you'll never guess who is playing night...'

..on the anniversary of the death of jackson pollack,
in seattle's old theatre, the showbox...
patti smith, in concert

surprised that i was able to get tickets to the show that was sold out at noon that day (early birds rejoice), we headed downtown in old blue and battled the city traffic and parking woes.
the gods were with us, after all.. we were seeing patti smith!
we found parking 2 blocks from the event... waited in line with an eclectic mix of fans and enjoyed the summer air of the dusk.
at 8pm were were let into the venue where we were greeted by the lovely people at kexp and patti's merch team.
i purchased the book "strange messenger" for $25. I felt that this was a worthy spending of my very low funds since it was signed and books are eternal to me.

Capt found a place near the stage while i went for a beer run. I ran into two lovely folks while trying to find out where the end of the line was for the bar. in a very strange, yet patti way, i made it up to the front of the line and immediately got the folks up there with me. the kind gentleman bought our sam adams... extraordinarily generous! thank you kind folks! you have no idea what your kindness meant!

so with free beers in hand i wandered back, weaving in an out of people, to Capt and we started chatting to the people around us about the last time we saw patti. we met some great people from... Chicago, Houston, Ann Arbor! everyone had agreed that the patti experience was like none other.
a spell
a trance
a drug...
a spiritual breath...
call it what you'd like... but she is transcending.

she finally came out around 9pm, sporting her traditional black suit coat, t-shirt with a hand drawn peace sign and the letters L O V E spelled underneath, and a jeans.. Kimberly started off the set and i was in heaven! Horses is one of my top ten album! SO groovy that the first song was from that album. next a wicked version of Redondo Beach.. amazing!
and then she picked up a clarinet and lowered her mike stand
the lights dropped low to blues and greens as she started to play..
the bass, drums, guitar, joined as they began Are You Experienced.
wow.
killer version. i swear that i hear some parts of third rock from the sun and voodoo child in there. Lenny Kaye and her son Jackson were phenomenal. her purity came through in this song. little squeals from her 'old friend' and her humble smile made me have an enormous amout of respect for her for being so 'real'.

she then did a cover of Within You, Without You to mark the anniversary of Sgt. Peppers.. fantastic! my rock-n-roll gurrl beckie would have loved it!! perfect in every way! george would have been proud!

Beneath The Southern Cross was dedicated to Jackson Pollack... i adore this song, this album Gone Again.
oh
to owe
not anyone
nothing
to be
not here
but here
my thoughts were wrapped up in a memory of my dear friend and nights driving in chi-town with loud music with the windows rolled down in winter. i miss ya, jak

We Three, a song from Easter about seeing Tom Verlaine and his band Televison at the New York punk rock club CBGBs and Summer Cannibals were next. Houston and I had a good time with EAT!! EAT!!

then patti left for a moment while Lenny did Pushin Too Hard. stellar! he hasn't lost it.

stories.. poems..
when patti speaks it's for good reasons.. she told us of her day.
the day that was supposed to be a fasting day
but then after visiting a mission she was tempted by
free sake tasting
free fudge tasting
and free tea tasting!
the wanderers wonders of the streets..
to find those people of the city
who want what you have inside your pockets...
tales of jack and the beanstalk
and little pills of pink, yellow and blue..
White Rabbit was next... move over grace... you no longer own this one! I was lost in enchantment. yes.. down the rabbit hole without taking a pill.
jesus.. this one was intense. dancing.. dancing... rounding my head and neck.. eyes closed and feeling the lights change and flash..
the smell of seattle green in the air...
right into Ghost Dance where i couldn't stop moving! wrists in time.. like some Hindi dancer... this was mediation.
Houston told me to thank god for those wrists.... :)

Because The Night phenomenal... it has to be amazing to be an artist singing a song and to step away from the mike only to hear the chorus of fans singing all the words!
Peaceable Kingdom from trampin' was next... only to be quickly followed with the introduction of Peter Buck from REM! Holy! i couldn't believe it.
Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine!
INTENSE!!!
GLORIA pounded out with mass dancing..
the crowd was a sea, waves and arms!
she asked the house to turn down the lights....
and she began a song that i have a new found respect for...Smells like Teen Spirit

yeah.
it rocked.

Thunderous applause! the sea was swelling and she and the band left the stage.

we cheered
stomped.
screamed
hooped! hollered!
she made us work for it...
and then came out....(with peter buck too!)
for the encore:
People Have The Power such an anthem for the masses.
we can turn the world around
we can turn the earth's revolution
we have the power ...

she then apologies to michael for f*&king up this one and promises another to compensate for this one and its f*&k ups!...
Everybody Hurts was next and it was breathtaking!!! i think that he would have loved it.. i think it was even better than REM.. i wonder what peter thinks! :D

Soul Kitchen was next.. and yes... i really do believe if there could be a female jim morrison this is the woman. damn, i was i awestruck..its a sexxy song.

she finished with
Rock And Roll Nigger
we were energy.. traveling back through time.. a mass of carbon and light!
fierce and unbound, she was boudicca
tossing her fire towards the roman empire.
urging people to take back this country, this planet, this hope.
caught in her web
she is perfect!
and hasn't lost a thing!

the concert ended and i was drenched in sweat, euphoric and wrapt in awe
this was phenomenal.

we left with stories floating in our heads of 'bring blankets to the mission'
and 'turn off the spicket while brushing our teeth'...

thank you patti.
thank you Capt for taking me!
thank you kind people for beer!
thank you Houston for partying!

i cant wait for the next one.
*nod*

. summer rememberance .

2007-07-20T17:02:00.000-07:00

a friend's poem brought forth a memory of sorts...

i recall
the sound of the old iron fan
with its musings whizzing past
the dancing hairs of my younger self

the smell of grass heat and humidity
and the tic-tock of the wall clock
that was aways caught being five minutes late

shadow play on the yellow walls
while toes scrunched in the shag carpet
and my mother
in her blue striped sundress
swaying
making supper.

painting by Jia Tian Shi

happiness...

2007-06-24T12:31:00.000-07:00

is the best face lift...

so has occurred to me that tomorrow marks the 4 year anniversary of me moving out of my apartment in victoria...

at the time ... i was so unhinged. broken.
felt like i was caught in a void that held
no summer nor winter
no chill nor warmth
no light nor darkness..
empty.
the thought of leaving home was so intense that i truly thought i was breaking inside.

and now..
four turns of the wheel..
strange places, odd faces..
new tastes and heart race(ing)
from the dryness into rain..
i was a springtime seed in the wind
and now..
i am growing like a vine
stretching out my finger leaves
embracing the new life.. the new hope.. the new home
that is within me.

leaving victoria was truly the best thing that ever happened to me.

and at times, my homesickness for the island life kicks me back a few notches..
but i am finding that the seattle area is not such a bad consolation prize.
sweetness of cedar.. arbutus daydreams.. vine ripened marion berries.. candied salmon.. ferry boat rides... mountains EVERYWHERE i look.. my own private meadow with robins and stellarjays.. swallows and sparrows.. chickadees and warblers.. a backyard symphony!!
yeah..
and a person who loves me
all the time
not just sometimes
but always.

i feel transformed. and alive.. and young.
my friends tell me that i look better than i ever did in victoria...
the stress is gone from my eyes..
the hurt has healed
and my soul is calm.
perhaps that is the greatest gift of all.

music and creation is my everyday diet.
and with my pirate by my side, great friends to fill the sails with laughter..
the adventure is amazing.

. un thinkable .

2007-04-18T07:11:00.000-07:00

the sky was like the sea
clouds held onto morning's
light like sleeply
children tucked under covers
this monday light
was ordinary
such a light that one would see
on a tuesday or thursday of our life
then the light
that burned so bright
changed so vividly into night
when the stars that twinkle
even in the day
seemed to fall from the sky
and whither away
all too soon
the stars lost their light
all too soon
the stars lost their light

stolen from the sky
by the hands of quiet boy
who in confusion lost his sight
of life and love
of wrong and right
and in the world of
time and thought
the unthinkable happened
on that monday dawn
while those stars
that burned bright
even through the daylight
all too soon
lost their light
all too soon
the stars lost their light

. count down to earth day 2007 .

2007-04-18T07:04:00.000-07:00

photography has alway been a passion...
capturing the simple things that perhaps one would overlook was always a game to me.. like uncovering a secret in the sand and wondering if it was placed there just for me...
sometimes images can be as strong as a touch, flooding back memories like a fragrance of an old love.. or an echo of laughter now departed..
it can be the symphony of the forest or the silent sparkles of the stars..

i believe that a picture can tell a thousand words...
like laundry on a clothesline.. my life has been documented with one photo after another.. zig zaging from one point of my life to another..
*smiles* dad was always snapping that camera..
...from first birthdays to road trips...
... silly sleepovers to serious convictions by the fashion police...
documented... and waiting for a moment of fond remembrance and perhaps blackmail.

i can remember, when i was very young, my mother would bring out this old photo album with all the great, great, great, grandmothers' pictures in it.. i remember the way that it smelled.. dusky musky.. the pages were black and the yellowed photos were held in place by fragile little corners.. the stories that would come from that book.. radio stores, bookees, tales of huge italian dinners that i swear i could feel the humidity from the pasta water and smell the basil and garlic frying in the olive oil... to the warmth of my nana's smile, her perfume and her broken english...

yes, our photographs are the illustrations to our storybooks... such tales!

for earthday, i started a little countdown on my deviantart site...

each day i will submit another photo until april 22.. earthday.
i've been away from taking pictures lately ... so i am back in the swing.
funny how us artist types flipflop between mediums.. it's like we are artistically promiscuous!

anyhoo..
take the time to look around.
taste the air and see the colours around you.
what is your story...

. lilac .

2007-03-03T02:17:00.000-08:00

on a rain swept morning
down past the old bridge
i walked to the water
where my memories lived
they sang the old songs
that my younger days knew
and i saw old reflections
of summer trees and you

bicycle rides
laughter and chess
silly secrets
and backyard picnics
we created new worlds out of
clouds dressed as clowns
as we made our way round
the town we were bound

and i think of the choice
that we had to make
and how the pain hurt so long
how i thought i would break
and you said that you thought
that you'd hold me back
when forward with you
was like rain on lilacs

i haven't been back
to the town where we met
the thought crossed my mind
though i feared the regret
to hear echos of laughter
that rolled through those streets
where we spent summer months
kissing soft with bare feet

do you think of the what ifs
if i'd only stayed
would we be happy and married
or tired and frayed
would i still be that beauty
that you'd use to see
when our days were so simple
with soft grass and tall trees

and i think of the choice
that we had to make
and how the pain hurt so long
how i thought i would break
and you said that you thought
that you'd hold me back
when forward with you
was like rain on lilacs

so many years gone
i'm happy and wed
at times the thoughts of you
are hard to hold forget
i wonder if you are
sailing the sky
like the bird that you were
uncaged and free fly

at daybreak, it's true
the time that i'd say
when the lilacs are sweet
from the dew of the day
that i swear that i catch
the scent of your skin
when the summer was lush
and we walked hand in hand

and i think of the choice
that we had to make
and how the pain hurt so long
how i thought i would break
and you said that you thought
that you'd hold me back
when forward with you
was like rain on lilacs

when forward with you
was like rain on lilacs

. westcoastin' .

2006-08-28T19:39:00.000-07:00

..back to the west coast and i am in bliss..
we spent the entire day swimming at deep cove and ate fresh blackberries until my lower lip was stained a lovely shade of violet...

starlight starbright.. i wish i may i wish i might

i am not exactly in the place i wish, but i will take that i am soo close! i can visit my home all the time and things are falling into place nicely!

my pirate found a rightly ship to work on! it pays a nice treasure indeed!

i am taking my time finding my new employer. i will not be a prisoner like i was for so long.. my time is precious and i will find something worthy..

at the moment all i want to do is strum my guitar and watch the golden light flicker through the dancing trees ... they sway all day. i wonder if they hear my music. i hope that they do!

today my freckles smiled.

. the raven .

2006-02-06T06:02:00.000-08:00

... and with the hum of the tungston stars you shall know that the worst has evolved. never in time has truth been so tangled. the night will be long and the sun will hide in fear. ..

she crumpled up the news paper and let it gather its wings. what do they know!
her whisps of hair danced on the winds advances. she lowered the hood of her cloak down and perched looking out at the old belfry theatre. the leaves danced in the amber glow of the streetlamps and she could taste the beginnings of rain on the air. enough of this.
confidence, truth, belief, defender of mankind...

was it all a lie?

. the syrena .

2006-02-03T21:55:00.000-08:00

The waters were calm as the boatman paddled slowly. His eyes were cast to the sky and he wondered where the players were tonight. The strait from ttaerus and sumgullom was at least an hour's journey on a clear night. The boatman found that the players kept his mind focused and away from the merfolk's attempts on his paying fairs. They prey on the unsuspecting and especially on the ones who keep they gaze upon them. They enchant, they wooo and then steal their very breath leaving the boatman to deal with a soulless body. As the paddle cut through the black waters the sounds of the syrens seemed to echo louder than ever before. He kept his sites straight on and finally, moored at the dock.
Azelow was there cleaning fish. ever seen it like this before? he asked. the slick slice of the knife cut through the flesh. not since the caethwl reign has the night been so.. withdrawn. why the starman hasn't ... a splash in the waters interrupted him followed by a shrill laughter. Azelow's face whitened and he dropped his fish.
it glided through the water as a snake would on its hunts. it seemed to sparkle like the dawn reflecting waves only the sun was fast asleep. this slithering creature was gliding with some speed and was headed straight for the boatman and Azelow. they slowly stepped back from the edge. then, without warning, as fast as the strike of a cobra, water came forward at them as it was alive. it rushed the dock with such force that the little boat broke in half.

. the starman .

2006-02-03T10:10:00.000-08:00

in the old attic of dusty thoughts and old motivations, beyond the collected stamps of foreign lands and the random butterfly wing, sits a girl with dusty fingers flipping through pages of an old diary. above her head are cut out stars strung by string and bits of tinsel. from the portal window, the sunlight streams a waterfall of golden exhales of a bellylaugh and a cigar. and in the corner, tucked away from sight and light, the old Wurlitzer sits ready to sing perfectly poised in anticipation of the crank of the curtainman to begin the show. it suddenly begins to rain...

"... and i waited there with the golden glow and hum of the streetlamps to keep me company. damn, it was cold. it wasn't like the starman to be late. he was most punctual and most of the time early and anxious. my stomach twinged with suspicion.. i looked up at the sky and it was eerily empty. orion was late for his performance. the twins weren't in their places and the seven sisters were nowhere to be found.."

thunder roars. he makes his war call. the old one-eyed cat races across the creaky wooden floor to find a hiding place. the young girl pops her head up and begins to scans the the room like a small animal watching for its predator. 'it's just the rain. it's just the rain. it's light outside. it's only rain,' she tells herself as she nestles her face into the collar of her woolen sweater until only her eyes can be seen. she turns the page...

"... i dug my hands into my pockets and found the feather of brenna. she always left me little reminders of her just when i needed them. i couldnt recall how long it had been since last we spoke. with the delbchaem war over, there wasnt much communication over the lightwaves. we lost touch... but she was always so sneaky. i stood there grinning with a onyx plume in my hand just as Nightwatch dropped down from his silver strand...

caught in her spell again, are you? he laughed knowing that he always caught me in the most human of times.

i coughed and ranted, where is starman. have you seen the sky?

yes, i watch, remember? he spun around like a trapeze artist practicing for the afternoon matinee. he whirled and dismounted with a half twist that left golden sparks against the blackness of night. i dont know. it seems very strange for him not to be here since he is always on us for being late. have you channeled Neeva? she's bound to know...

i was hoping that i wouldnt have to do that. i saw Siofra earlier tonight and she was up to something.. "

'neeerrrNoooooo one to talk with, all by myself, no one to walk with, but I'm happy on the shelf.. ain't misbehavin'... the Wurlitzer began to sing. the girl squeaks and drops the diary. the portal waterfall disappears as the dark clouds smother the day. the attic is washed in an odd blue light.

the girl rushes to the corner and luckily finds a friend, the cat. the Wurlitzer cracks and creaks. soon the sounds of sskip sskip ssssskip ssssskip ssssskip echo throughout the cavernous walls. the stars catch wind and dance over head while two stars shoot down to land on top of the diary. their tinsel ends still dancing in a strange draft. very slowly, she looks around and inches along the wall to the other end where the window lives. she takes a chair and places it at the base of the portal. "it is just a storm. there is nothing there. it is just a storm and there is nothing." with a half-bitten lip and a heavy exhale, the girl places her foot on the chair and pulls herself up. her face is cast in deep cyan and her eyes double in their natural size.

the window breaks and a sweep of air steals the girl away like a lost balloon.

to be continued...

. the sigh .

2006-02-02T20:07:00.000-08:00

listening to : philip glass
sipping: chai with vanilla silk

the randomness of things.

i was in the middle of writing my thoughts when the power just went out.
everything stopped and the light came back on. the monitor light blinked. and blinked again.
and my post was, of course, lost.

perhaps the universe was teaching me a lesson.
. . . a wrinkle of time . . . washed in and out with the wave of the stars . .
time is in motion/moving/constant. . .

begin once more.

the sunset was incredible tonight. the cyan and cerulean were dancing in skirts of clouds. the wisps of imagination spied humpback whales sailing into the deepest of blues. the sky was a symphony of deep ocean tones with the hints of sparkling gold. as if the world turned upside down, it was reflecting the ocean sunsets in the sky. it made me pine for home. the drop of the chest, the softness of eyes. . . it's like falling in love. . and not knowing why.

i've been milling over the idea of nature deficit disorder. my mood has been exceptionally melancholy over the last few months. i haven't had the time nor the desire to be in oklahoma 'forests'. horribly brown, void of colour, the countryside leaves more to be desired.
it hasnt rained in over 40 days where in victoria it hasn't stopped raining in 40 days. my skin is so dry and my heart is most cracked. there are days when i stare into my pictures and visualise myself walking over the moss covered stones, inhaling the perfumed forest air. i can almost hear stellar jays and the cry of the redtail hawk.

document. 'document everything!' i would say. i needed to capture those perfect, beautiful moments in time so that my mind would not forget the feeling of being caught in the web of purity. perhaps i always knew that my time there would be short, or that i knew secretly that i would need these moments in time to keep me alive when the rains would leave.
how my life here is so different! i used to be outside almost everyday in victoria. i would walk to do errands, to find solace, to seek adventure down streets lined with trees (arbutus, cedar, douglas firs, hawthorne, oak and ash and sooo many others). the cherry blossoms in spring ignited my heart like a love affair. as if neruda's words were being whispered cheek to cheek as two lovers whirl in the flowery snowplay. . true bliss.

i miss walking down cook street to dallas road. sipping on saskatoon berry cider from moka house, dodging cyclists and rogue frisbee chasing puppies, i would skip down the vine covered path to the public beach access. oh, the wind rush over the ears! down the stairs, over the driftwood to my favourite place to finally mush my toes into the sunkissed stones at the waterside. oh... they were soooo warm! i would sit and listen to seagull secrets, dream of great love stories (i swear that there were love letters tied to the strings of kites), lament over the relationship that i had (i'd wish that he would surprise me at the waterside just to tell me he loved me but he never did), and to know that all this would oneday pass just as the tide washed in and out. being here in this place always put my mind at ease, even on the saddess of days.

someday he'll come along, the man i love. well, my daydream of that knight in shining armor that we are told about as children did finally come along. i never expected that i would find him in tulsa, oklahoma! the oddity of life!!
there is never a time when i doubt that he loves me. there is never a time when he doesn't give me that.. 'you can do it, fae' or 'i believe in you'. he paints me waterfalls in an endless sky and gives me moments where i can forget about work and life and rent and bills and i can be the girl with braids who likes to do cartwheels and make funny faces. i see the world through the eyes of a child and he never puts me down for that.
rant . . i honestly don't understand why there is soo much negativity and hatred in this country. it makes me mad that bush isn't making any humansense. history keeps repeating itself and this country never learns to just leave somethings alone. simplicity seems to be tossed out the window and bloodmoney and excess is the american way. i am so sensitive to it. i cant help it. i do not watch the news or read the papers anymore since i cannot handle the constant state of the regurgitated union. . end of rant.
back to the man i love... he tells me that i have a big heart, that i am beautiful and loved, and that we will make the world better even if it is baking poppyseed muffins and giving them to a complete stranger. we are not complacent. just poppyseed pirates on the rough american strait to canada. there is a folksong in that somewhere.. hmmm..
i always wanted someone to love me just for me being me and have it be enough... i can not verbalise how incredible that concept feels when it is a reality.

growing older . .while searching for some photographs to place in this entry, i noticed how young i look in these pictures. i feel that i have aged here so much. the dry weather, the homesickness, the constant stress from my job, i now look the age i am.
more reasons to move back to the west coast!!

i am lusting for more. i am thirsty and i want a new life with my husband. i am looking into going to school for holistic nutruition and naturopathy. eco-psychology has me interested as well. its that whole nature deficit disorder thing.. all in all, i need a new path where i feel that i am making a difference and that i am living the life i was meant to live. this path here was to find adam. now that we are together.. it's off to make movies and heal the world, one soul at a time.... or something like that.

sleep beckons..
i'll leave you with this last thought from a great mind...

"the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."
- kerouac, "on the road"

. the think .

2006-02-01T19:54:00.000-08:00

the think.
to think.
think - ing?

think .. i do too often.
the oddities of the think. the continual process of the neurological firings. perhaps i am at war with my own self. or trying out for the debate team.

and to think.
i do it all the time.

think you know someone.... try yourself.
i bet you think you know that person. do you think that they know you? or is this a relationship that goes without thinking?

and to think ... i do it all the time.