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Let Them In

by John Gorka 

On this Veteran's Day, my favorite stunning song by John Gorka. Youtube version here.

"Let Them In" was made into song by John Gorka from a poem found in a hospital in the Philippines during World War II. The nurse that found the poem kept it all these years until the recent war brought out all the memorabilia. Luckily, her daughter sent a copy to John. 

Let them in, Peter

They are very tired

Give them couches where the angels sleep

And light those fires

Let them wake whole again

To brand new dawns

Fired by the sun not wartime's

Bloody guns

May their peace be deep

Remember where the broken bodies lie

God knows how young they were

To have to die

God knows how young they were

To have to die

So give them things they like

Let them make some noise

Give dance hall bands not golden harps

To these our boys 

And let them love, Peter

For they've had no time

They should have trees and bird songs

And hills to climb

The taste of summer in a ripened pear

And girls sweet as meadow wind

With flowing hair

And tell them how they are missed

But say not to fear

It's gonna be alright

With us down here

Let them in, Peter

Let them in, Peter

Let them in, Peter

© John Gorka, all rights reserved

Foreign Objects

Sometimes...

sometimes this life is a foreign object to me.

It's like something shiny but odd-looking,

that one comes across on the beach.

You pick it up

- two fingered because of the sand and the muck -

And notice right away that there's that one wicked sharp edge...

too sharp, in fact -

to smooth with the fat skin of your thumb.

But by using the edge of that soft old warm sweatshirt,

protection is gained as well as a glorious and unexpected sheen.

Thus pocketed, the mysterious find is safeguarded amongst agates, sand dollars, purple lint and torn grocery lists that you saved because the last item read:

"and I love you, my darling."

november 2010 © martha lee phelps

The Way It Is

There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change.  But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

 

~ William Stafford ~

 

 

Small Things

"Do not think that love in order to be genuine
has to be extraordinary.
What we need is to love without getting tired.
Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies."
(Mother Teresa)

Small things....like threads in an intricate and perfect web - a thousand tiny lifelines that keep one's heart intact at just the right moment... 

Small things...like whispering joy that rustles across the pavement below your open window - late autumn leaves dancing one last time before the rain falls...

Small things...like beads on a string, slipping easily into place - tiny yet essential to the whole....

Small things, small prayers, small dreams...

the power of one - multiplied by faith and love.

Knowing, Understanding, Accepting, Allowing

"A friend is one that knows you as you are, 

understands where you have been,

accepts what you have become, 

and still, gently allows you to grow." 

— William Shakespeare

The Pine Reel

One Sierra mountain night,

just a few hours before dawn,

(after I had bid the dance hall adieu and

started the slow walk up the trail toward sleep)

there was this moment...

(how do you 
say, “silhouette” in your language?)

when the sky glowed as silver as smooth abalone, and

a solstice moon, through pale gauze clouds,

became back-light to four ancient pine trees.

I was stopped by the beauty of it all:

the perfect relief of form from darkness, and

the Milky Way’s delicate swath high overhead,

stretching across indigo velvet.

I was stopped and so awed that I held my breath

for fear that even the smallest
 disturbance
might wrinkle the night air around me.

And in that moment of reverence,

that one breathless point in time,

I heard an audible sigh from the evergreen quartet.

Mountain air pushed aside the wine,

poured across my face and stung my eyes

as, I stared willfully

into the shadows, and gained clarity just in time

to watch long lacy lower boughs of

those four ancient folk, lift and tremble

in the pearly light.

Back down the hill, music continued filling pockets of night.

Dreams wrapped themselves on blissful pipes,

strokes of bow against strings and laughing drums,

carried more songs of weary but willing revelers.

While out inside the silhouette,

out in the fierce breathe of dawn and miracle,

the trees had joined the reel!

Each strong branch began to bend and bow in rhythm.

What once was rigid, became supple.

What once lived rooted, was set free,
and with silent grace, 
their needled-skirt hems rose over the ground
and four solid trunks were revealed -

shaking off earth and swaying into a motion

that none upon the dance floor would witness,

yet was happening before my eyes with the surety of the sun’s arrival.

Life’s sharp joy pressed against my heart like a prayer,

like a song, and like one trembling, breathless dance
at the glowing edge of moonlight and dawn -

where all things are possible.

2010 © martha lee phelps

You Reading This, Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?
 
Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?
 
When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life -
 
What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?
 

~ William Stafford ~

 Photography by Martha Lee Phelps

The Inside Cusp

You went away on the inside cusp of springtime,
just after the last,
hard frost surprised us and killed the young tomato plants
that I had already put into the heavy damp earth.

The morning that you left,
the snow line pushed clear down
into the foothills one final time
as if to say, “Fuck your human calendar, I’ll do what I please,”

and it rained, cold and hard
for two full days -

soaking my heart in the grayness
of your new absence.

You went away after scoffing any fond farewell
or tender sigh -
refusing even the smallest nod.
And you knew you were hurting me, as
you slammed your suitcase abruptly.

It was easier to study your plane ticket
than look into my eyes.

And now it’s been a month.

And summer is drawing herself
like a chalk game on the neighborhood sidewalk

and the only evidence that spring ever was, is
the way the buds,
that once held themselves in tight protection against the chill,
are eagerly open and hungry for heat

and I can go for hours without remembering you.

The Inside Cusp © by Martha Lee Phelps

The Eye of My Heart

This link is a small (created to run on an iPhone) version of a 12 minute slide show I've created of the 2010 Alasdair Fraser Sierra Fiddle Camp:


Sierra Fiddle Camp 2010 Slide Show 


It opens a Quicktime version of the slide show that downloads fairly quickly; however, because it is small in format - so are the images. If you open it with Firefox, it stays small and crystal clear. If you open it with Safari,  you get arrows in the bottom right corner of the video that allow you to view in full screen but not such great resolution.


For those of you interested in seeing a larger rendering of the show, try this link in Safari instead:


Sierra Fiddle (large file) Slide Show

This is a substantial file that may take a few minutes to download. It is SO worth the wait! For those of you with faster connections, it shouldn't present any problems, and the images will be lovely. For those of you still enjoying the meandering pace of a dial-up internet connection, forget about it. Sorry. Current Mac systems are going to have the best luck! (Hmmm, is this because Macs rule? Probably.)


At any rate...having my camera with me at this program was an amazing privilege and gift. I was reminded that if a photographer behaves herself, she often get the most intimate view of how life is unfolding around her. With that view comes responsibility. I've often learned to love the expressions, individual composition and inner light of my subjects before I even know their names. It makes me love them even more when their name finally comes to me.


Part of the reason this experience touched me so profoundly was because I saw things that no one else saw. How can I be witness to such intimacy and not be forever changed? Tell me. How will I ever be the same? May this show give you a taste of the magic.


With the eye that is also my heart, Martha

Y con amor y respeto por los talentosos músicos: (Slide show songs in this order)

Na Seitura Do Barros, played by Carlos Beceiro, Album: Mandolina

Giga De Tenerife, played by Alasdair Fraser & Natalie Hass, Album: In The Moment

Fox Trot De Algora, played by Diego Galaz Y Carlos Beceiro, Album: Bailes Vespertinos

The Artist And The Dancer , played by Hanneke Cassel Album: Some Melodious Sonnet

El Zángano. Diana, Segovia, played by Carlos Beceiro, Album: Mandolina

95% Bullshit Free

Here’s the truth of it: some days just kick my ass. I get scared, lonely, tired and overwhelmed, and then I sort of wade around in it for a spell trying to remember how to stand up straight and move forward.

This is not a confession, because anyone who reads between the lines probably already knows that I am not as strong as I profess to be (nor as confident). In fact, the sole brilliance I may possess (outside of making very tasty pies) - could very well be my ability to act as though I have all the confidence in the world.

In some circles this is also known as “bullshitting.”

For years and years, I sharpened my bullshitting skills. It wasn’t uncommon for me to leap before looking, raise my hand first (even if I didn’t know the answer), get mad rather than show pain, and generally act as though nothing could frighten me. The bad news about all this behavior is that, over time - I liked who I was pretending to be less and less.

Now, the funny thing about traits that we practice for years and years, whether they’re good or bad, is that they take can take root deeply. To really and truly dislodge one’s negative roots can be very very difficult. It requires not only awareness and practice...but maybe even a life changing event - or two - to shake you to your core and start mixing things up.

A year ago I was plodding along, considering the pros and cons of being just a tiny bit less of a bullshitter. I wasn’t much liking myself, but change felt like an awful lot of work. I suspect that I may have even been attempting to bullshit myself into believing that happiness and connection and forgiveness and faith - were perfectly attainable - without requiring me to make too many adjustments in my behavior.

Enter life changing events: a career unfolds, a marriage ends, a child becomes ill. Family falters, relationships are tilted on their axis, 2 A.M. takes on the gray streaks of loneliness and creativity has flown the coup. Nasty shit. Sort of like copper cleaner. It stinks; it’s poison; you really ought wear protective gloves when using it, but man oh man - with just the right amount of rubbing and attention to detail - it sure does make the metal gleam like sunlight.

So, what I said in the beginning - about “some days” ??  Right. Well, I had one of those today. I was tired, frightened about a simple thing, didn’t like being alone and feeling especially sorry for my sorry little old self. Compared to some of the days I’ve weathered, it really was NOT that tough of a day, but for some reason, maybe because my bullshit tools are growing rusty from disuse, I not only allowed myself to honestly feel, but I also asked for help. (And guess what?) Help arrived in spades!

I was assured, treated with respect, reminded to keep a sense of humor, shown kindness, offered love - and even told that I really AM strong (without pretending).
 
So, at the end of this day that I was pretty convinced I couldn’t be done with quickly enough), I am now savoring.

Sarah, thank you for making sure I ate breakfast  and getting me to smile. Roanna, thank you for letting me be grumpy and still being my friend. Carlos, thank you for calling me all the way from Spain - twice - to reassure me. Steve, thanks for being a boss who supports learning and for making me laugh at the small stuff. Aidan, thanks for starting and ending my day with your care. Carolyn, thanks for checking up on me. Maylee, thank you for catching me with tenderness and for the beautiful flowers! And all my friends paying attention out there - you twinkling points of light and life - thank you for reading and posting and asking great questions and making honest observations.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. From the depths of my much happier, much more vulnerable and 95% bullshit-free heart - I thank you. ~ mlp

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