the art & science of being a whole person

If we follow rather than fight anxiety to where it will lead us, we make additional and extraordinary discoveries. We realize that our supreme anxiety and our supreme values coincide. We are most anxious about losing the things that matter most. . .It seems we can choose our lowest despair as our highest goal precisely because that is the one way we can savour and see the fullness of our existence.

-Peter Koestenbaum, Freedom and Accountability at Work

Oh, My Space

So, I got some old files back and my old My Space blog was on them. Below is some kind of storytelling ascii thing. Fun to scroll through. Not really sure what exactly I was trying to do, but it made me smile. Hope the formatting stays in line . . . 

******

Resonance:

Her earliest memory is a jumble of many memories and part recurring toddler dream. She remembers a large rambling house and empty rooms and she wandered and was scared. she had only lived in a "ticky tacky" house and so this is the part that was probably a dream. 

She remembers sitting on her dad's lap and how he smelled like drywall dust that had soaked up beer. She remembers sitting sideways on the stair while her mom read to her and her big brother.

                                o
                             |_t_   0  O
                                   |_T   |---[I]
                                         |  |==o
                                                 |//,,

These are the first things she remembers. All of her other memories are compilations of stories that were told to her and pictures she has seen of herself along with her version about the way things should have been or simply the way they felt and perhaps weren't, actually.

These collections of memories and their varying degrees of accuracy are all right with her, but there are discrepancies. She remembers how things felt as opposed to how things were. How things were is not what is really important. You don't take were with you wherever you go; you take felt with you and keep it always either near or far from your heart.        

                                                            feelings

                                                  feelings                    

                                                                     

                                                                                          feelings

                                           feelings                  feelings 

          

                              feelings                              

                                                                                    feelings

Were

Were

Were

Were

Were

When her mom got pregnant with her little sister, things changed. She had to share a room with big brother. This was okay, except she liked her yellow bedroom better than his blue one.

                                       O
                                   <

The blue room had bunk beds. Her brother slept on the top bunk and she had the bottom. The baby got the yellow room and slept in a crib. The baby was small and squishy and red-faced when she cried. Her brother would roll over in his sleep and fall off of the top bunk into a tangle on the floor. She would wake up when she heard him land. He wouldn't. 

                           ___
                          /     /
|                               |
                  ,,----/-o /
|                           z  |
                        z  
         ''~~ ~~|-O 

Polyphonic Culture Smash

I'm pretty sure that Mom and her boyfriend Jose´ have never heard the Moldy Peaches, but they've perfected their polyphonic singing-over-each-other style. They were thrilled when they discovered they both know the same song in different languages. 

Here we have a beautiful culture smash of simultaneous renditions of "In them Old Cotton Fields Back Home" in both Spanish and English. According to Mom, this is probably the first song I ever heard in my cradle. Somehow I had a Southern/Appalachian upbringing smack dab in the Midwest. 

Mom & Jose´s rendition:

Many artists sing the song including Lead Belly, Johnny Cash and Creedence Clearwater Revival. 

Lyrics if you're curious:

When I was a little bitty baby
My mama would rock me in my cradle
In them old cotton fields back home
Now, when them cotton balls get rotten
You can't pick very much cotton
In them old cotton fields back home
It was down in Louisiana
Just about a mile from Texarkana
In them old cotton fields back home 

Spare

I've reviewed my life's list and I have decided that I'm done being so-so-careful with people. It is as if (using only eye contact) I grab you by your upper arm firmly until it is understood that my spareness isn't a lack of passion, but a winnowing down to the authentic--substituting meager with minimal and austerity for a simple abundance.  The difference? I think attitude. 

What's the BIG IDEA?

I really like the way Cuyahoga Arts and Culture is engaging citizens to vote which projects get funded. Six BIG IDEAS are online at  www.cacgrants.org/vote until February 20th. Cuyahoga County residents get to help decide which two new creative projects will be brought to life in our community through Cuyahoga Arts & Culture's Creative Culture Grants program.

Many of the projects are in the public space, uniquely Cleveland and oh, so creative. Many of them are designed to bring people out of the house, out of their car and into the neighborhoods to interact with the City and with each other. This is going to be a hard choice!

Classical, Bluegrass, N'awlins . . . Awesome

As part of the Cleveland Orchestra's Fridays @ 7 Series, Bela Fleck played with Cleveland Orchestra. Afterward, he let loose with a trio featuring New Orleans-based musicians Johnny Vidacovich (drums), Mark Mullins (trombone), and Roland Guerin (bass)  in the Grand Foyer. 

The best part? A surprise cameo by Bela's wife Abigail Washburn! She sang Nobody's Fault but Mine and His Eye is on the Sparrow. 

The demographics of the crowd was a little younger and a little less stuffy than the typical orchestra audience. Between Friday's @ 7 and the concerts at the Happy Dog, the Orchestra is being creative and clever about building new audiences in Cleveland. 

The Right Side of the Sofa

You were a Wild Turkey
Sharp as a tack, good as gold and bad as sin 'til the end
My memories of you are a paltry honor to the vigorous life you lived

You through a haze of cigarette smoke pulling me somewhat unwilling 

onto your knee 

saying, "c'mere goil (girl)" in your cotton country accent

  Smiling while smoke blows from your nose 

Me, wondering if your one, light-colored, milky eye

 was proof of our kinship

(this was before I knew about that fish hook)

Hitching up your pants before you sit down on the right side of the sofa

Grandma chastising ornery you with a graceful hand draped over her hidden smile

Road trip to West Virginia to watch those dogs run that track

Jesse McGowan was your name, and no, you were not Irish

You are my working class hero who lived your 90 years with unbeatable charm and an abundance that defied economics. 

Grateful for your genes and your genius
Thank you Paw Paw

My Lovely Commute Today

I walked in dewey, cooling weather to the Rapid Station and saw  some eco-conscious urban art that gave me hope,



got off the train and saw an angel in Tower City,



and finally, was amazed by the raw Soul Train talent shown here:

I love you Cleveland.