Life While-You-Wait

I rarely re-post things that others have sent via email on the same day or even in the same month, but this incredible poem really called out to me to "send it along." A large and warm "hat tip" to Joe Riley and his ongoing sharing through Panhala, and to the poet, of course -Wislawa Szymborska. The photos are from me. ~ Enjoy, mlp

Life While-You-Wait.
Performance without rehearsal.
Body without alterations.
Head without premeditation.

I know nothing of the role I play.
I only know it's mine. I can't exchange it.

I have to guess on the spot
just what this play's all about.

Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,
I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.
I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.
I trip at every step over my own ignorance.
I can't conceal my hayseed manners.
My instincts are for happy histrionics.
Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more.
Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.

Words and impulses you can't take back,
stars you'll never get counted,
your character like a raincoat you button on the run ?
the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness.

If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,
or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!
But here comes Friday with a script I haven't seen.
Is it fair, I ask
(my voice a little hoarse,
since I couldn't even clear my throat offstage).

You'd be wrong to think that it's just a slapdash quiz
taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.
I'm standing on the set and I see how strong it is.
The props are surprisingly precise.
The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.
The farthest galaxies have been turned on.
Oh no, there's no question, this must be the premiere.
And whatever I do
will become forever what I've done.
 
~ Wislawa Szymborska ~

The Territories of Joy and Sorrow

How does one who lives a wild and untamed life keep the inevitable sadness that goes with such a life at bay? Because, it's true. To live in the fullness of a passionate life that is creative, intentional, in motion and ever-changing, one must be prepared for unexpected risks into the deepest territories of both joy and sorrow. The joy...well, most of us risk-takers know exactly what to do with joy. But the sorrow can be a bit trickier to manage. Either way -  learning to completely embrace either state of being is not for the faint of heart.

T.H. White wrote, in a conversation between Merlin and Arthur in the novel The Once and Future King a bit of wisdom that helps me when I find myself disoriented by fear of the unknown, or despair over the state of the world, or the simple but profoundly intense experience of missing someone I love.

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.

My current "to learn" list looks something like this:

• a new language
• the fiddle
• more patience and trust
• all the new web-building programs that my boss has asked me to digest
• how to streamline my practical tools (camera, computer, phone). Whew!
• more kindness
• more surrender
• more faith - that all will be well
• and maybe a wee bit of step dancing...because, when I'm truly sad, dancing is a temporary and wonderful remedy.

So that seems like plenty for now. It may not abolish the sadness completely, but it will - at least - keep my wild and untamed fire burning while I wait to turn the next corner into the realm of joy!

 

 

That's No Ordinary Vacation...

Recently, my amazing daughters and I attended Alasdair Fraser’s Sierra Fiddle Camp. Wait. Hold on. Before you go too far down the road with images of gnarled old farmers sitting on dusty front porches playing twanging tunes, let me explain:
This was eight days of creative immersion into a community of people (many in whole family units) of all ages, drawn together to learn a variety of Celtic and Galician-influenced music though fiddle, cello, mandolin, piano, bag pipes, dance, guitar and singing classes. We went to classes all day, participated in family-style meals, danced late into the night - every single night - and were essentially bathed in round the clock music making.

But fiddle camp is much more than all that.

When you get 175 like-minded folks together for over a week who genuinely want to learn, grow and feel, and then toss in twenty-one world class musicians who have donned their teaching hats as well as extracted their hearts from their pockets and placed them out for FULL sharing -- what emerges among the community is nothing sort of miraculous.

For Sarah and Ginny and I, the event was a rite of passage that we experienced both individually and separately, and because we were there together we had the honor of witnessing one another’s blossoming. Thank goodness I was present to be a part of what occurred for Sarah and Ginny, and I am equally grateful that they got to watch their mom change. To all you parents who drop their kids at camp and return a week later to pick them up...and you wonder why the kid you’re taking back home isn’t the same one you left off in the packing lot on Monday....I would suggest that it’s true: You may be picking up a very different person than the one who waved good bye. Instant community in a very safe and tremendously creative container can radically create shift in folks of all ages. If you’re not there to participate, then odds are - you’re not going to fully fathom what happened to those who did.

Since cancer has come and gone came from our lives many things have changed about the way our family lives life, including a far greater commitment to pay attention and participate - especially where my children are concerned. Yes, many among you would argue that taking time off from a brand new job was impractical; yes, for some of you the notion of trailing along behind one’s kids to summer camp sounds completely ludicrous; yes, it was both of those things. As a matter of fact, two weeks ago this morning as we drove South to Nevada City, California, I could have listed about fourteen reasons why it was down right stupid for me to be going to camp with my kids.

But I‘ve learned too much this year - and at too great a price - not to pay attention. So when Sarah said in earnest, “Mom, this is one of the best things that I do, and I really want you and Ginny to be there too.” She had me - no matter what.

Perhaps we could’ve had as profound a journey simply by taking a family vacation, but I seriously doubt it. Sarah watched Ginny and I pick up and begin to learn to play violins for the first time ever, while Ginny and I listened to Sarah take her music to a whole new level with joyful determination; Ginny tackled the navigations of getting to know many new teachers and friends, while Sarah and Ginny watched me interacting with other men and women who share the same passions. Surrounded by truly creative peers, Sarah spread her wings to full span and showed her remarkable authenticity, Virginia was wonderfully independent and bright eyed, and I was simply and wildly happy. My girls saw me laughing and engaging more than they’ve seen in years, and while we only ate a couple meals together all week long - we harmonized in singing class every day and danced together every night.


Just as Alasdair, upon introducing the musicians at our final public performance - went to great lengths to explain to the audience that “We are NOT a symphony. No. We are 175 wild, unruly and untamed fiddlers!” So too I say:
This was definitely NOT the typical American family vacation.

And we’re so much the better for it until next year, when you’ll find me driving as fast as it’s legal, kids in tow - to get to the dance floor at fiddle camp and strike up the music of our hearts.

Snapshot!

Yikes! I've been busy, full up, to the rim, nearly overflowing, juggling many plates and multi-experiencing many different activities and time management challenges since starting my new job.

It's all fairly good, but I do miss the daily checking in with my muse and this public journal - better known as blogging. Loosening my grip on this too, is another lesson in surrender. (More to come on that topic when I have some extra minutes to ponder before composition!)

And in the meantime, I thought y'all might like to see the end result of one of my many recent projects, the website: Village Birth and Herbals. 

Stella is quite extraordinary, and I believe you ought to check out her skills and talents. If you're from the Palmer, Alaska area - you're in luck because she is about to be located there for a very long time. If you're elsewhere, you're still in luck because her herbal wares are available by phone order (and soon via a webstore).
I hope you find her site interesting, educational, resourceful and appealing. Drop her a note and let her know you've been there.


Enjoy! ~ mlp

No One On The Line

Billy Collins, a long time favorite poet of mine, is "famous for conversational, witty poems that welcome readers with humor but often slip into quirky, tender or profound observation on the everyday." This piece is a gem and particularly thought-provoking and apropos to some of the comments I occasionally hear regarding people's willingness staying in touch with their "friends."

Just as in the horror movies

when someone discovers that the phone calls

are coming from inside the house

so too, I realized   

that our tender overlapping

has been taking place only inside me.

All that sweetness, the love and desire—

it’s just been me dialing myself

then following the ringing to another room

to find no one on the line,

well, sometimes a little breathing

but more often than not, nothing.

To think that all this time—

which would include the boat rides,

the airport embraces, and all the drinks—

it’s been only me and the two telephones,

the one on the wall in the kitchen

and the extension in the darkened guest room upstairs.

"The Breather" by Billy Collins

"If the phone doesn't ring, it's me." Jimmy Buffet

 Photography and design by Martha Lee Phelps

i carry your heart with me

Fifteen years on June 6th, one of the most remarkable human beings I have ever been blessed to know - came into my life. She arrived with beauty, grace, steadfast intention, a will to be completely present and love that radiates. This collage of photos and the words of cummings, are for Sarah Grace - then and now. Happy birthday, wondrous one!

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)

 

i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;

 

and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

 

i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) 

i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
 

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
 

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
 

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
 

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart 

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e.e.cummings

...when shared

"Happiness is the only thing that doubles when shared." 

~ Albert Schweitzer

Photography & Design by Martha Lee Phelps

What's Left

I used to wait for the flowers,
my pleasure reposed on them.
Now I like plants before they get to the blossom.
Leafy ones – foxgloves, comfrey, delphiniums –

fleshy tiers of strong leaves pushing up
into air grown daily lighter and more sheened
with bright dust like the eyeshadow
that tall young woman in the bookshop wears,
its shimmer and crumble on her white lids.

The washing sways on the line, the sparrows pull
at the heaps of drying weeds that I’ve left around.
Perhaps this is middle age.  Untidy, unfinished,
knowing there’ll never be time now to finish,
liking the plants – their strong lives –
not caring about flowers, sitting in weeds
to write things down, look at things,
watching the sway of shirts on the line,
the cloth filtering light.

I know more or less
how to live through my life now.
But I want to know how to live what’s left
with my eyes open and my hands open;
I want to stand at the door in the rain
listening, sniffing, gaping.
Fearful and joyous,
like an idiot before God.

by Kerrie Hardie

Hanging In

This blogging stuff is an interesting business. What started as a cathartic process to help ease the long days of my boy’s chemotherapy treatment, then evolved into a creative palate and idea platform, and has occasionally merged into community-level public relations spots for clients of my studio.

Turns out my blog page, An Untamed Life On Purpose, has a small following. With the number of daily visitors ranging between 20 and 40 folks, I am grateful for your time and especially appreciate your thoughtful comments. Mainly though, who you all are is a mystery to me, and I enjoy the surprise when someone unexpected reveals that they are a reader!

The other curious wonder about this blog is which posts elicit more attention and responses than others. I was convinced back in mid April, that what people most enjoy are short thought-provoking quotes accompanied by photographs, like “A Simple Quote.”  Nonetheless, the last three entries in April (the three part letter, A Lifetime Love Affair, to my daughter) and May pieces such as, “Standing Fast” showed me that audiences are equally enthusiastic about reflective writing. Other May favorites have included “Supporting Folks We Believe In” (thanks to all Stella’s friends in Palmer, AK for dropping by), the whimsical and mildly interactive “Summertime Checklist” and the purely visual “And Later That Day.”

When I started actively blogging, on Monday, January 11th, I committed to post on weekdays for ninety entries. Today marks the 93rd blog post for Martha Phelps Studio since that day.

Thoreau said, “Things do not change; we change.” I know this wisdom to be true.  It’s no coincidence that as I approached my benchmark of ninety, I was offered a part time job that will, among many things, encourage me to tap into my skills as a writer and creative thinker. It’s part time, which is just right for this juncture. It’s for a local company I respect and admire, which makes it easy to be passionate about. My new “boss” wants me to learn and grow, which makes me feel very happy. And my schedule still gives me freedom for m.l.p. studio clients and the art-making that occurs here during the summer months.

Outside of taking time off to travel every now and then, I’m going to hang in with this blog for as long as it makes me happy. I hope that my readers will hang in too, as well as share it with friends. If there’s something you’d like more of, please let me know. I like a good healthy challenge on occasion! 

All will be well, mlp

For any and all you who may be interested, I have a public Facebook Page whose purpose is positive, unusual and thought provoking quotes and the subsequently interesting exchanges inspired by said quotes. Please visit and become a "Friend" to the page!