Higher Learning

Yesterday Hunt and I spent a day in academia. We were invited to give a guest lecture for the Boston University ethnomusicology department, backed up by scholarship and references. What an enticing challenge! To do what we usually do, but with scholarship to back it up! So in preparation we poured over websites, looked through our own library (and discovered it was far more comprehensive than we had realized!), visited the NH Library of Traditional Music and Dance, emailed notables in the field, (Dudley and Jacqueline Laufman. Photo courtesy of Dudley Laufman)
took notes, made pdf files and posters, and off we went!

(a page from a Vermont dance prompter's book c. 1847, courtesy NH Library of Traditional Music and Dance)

...did I mention that I am an alumna of Boston University? It was eerie, walking into a classroom where I was tortured by 20th century music theory, to deliver "Dance Music, Sedition and Maple Syrup: the Musical Roots of Old New England". I was confronted by ghosts of my past- I swear I met my 20-year-old self in the hallway- yet it was all different, too. I mean, there was never even an Ethnomusicology department at BU 30 years ago! But here we were, and we gave all we could to a group of brilliant, musical, scholarly grad students who welcomed us with courtesy and warmth. I still felt challenged to live up to the impossibly high standards I always felt were just beyond my reach in my undergrad days, so I vibrated like a piano string all the way through the presentation.

We decided to drive home after dinner following the presentation, instead of staying the night in Boston. This gave us time to de-compress and evaluate the experience. We are still processing it, but one thing is certain: we are expanding our horizons, professionally and personally, and we're grateful for every opportunity to learn and grow and make connections.

Next time, I will write about the puppy. Really I will!

Nellie the Dog

Love, relief, and more gratitude

I have been meaning to write on the beauty and mystery of sailing in downeast Maine, the innocence, cute-factor, and overwhelming annoyance of puppies, the bittersweet loveliness of autumn, and more, but today I'm going to write about helmets. Bicycle helmets, to be specific. Beautiful, wonderful, gratitude-inspiring helmets. Especially the one my daughter was wearing yesterday (I wish I had a picture of her wearing it, but these will have to do!).


She doesn't remember what happened, but the first thing I knew I was getting a call from the hospital emergency room nurse in Northampton, Mass. We hopped in the car and drove down straightaway, to find a very bruised and shaken young lady, and a cracked and bloody bike helmet on the floor nearby. After many hours it was determined that she had a few fractured ribs, a broken toe, many bruises, lots of road rash, and a big bump in the middle of her forehead (on her Third Eye?). She was released, and we brought her home to Nelson, where she is getting all the tlc she could want.



I believe she is alive and well because she had the sense to wear the helmet. I'm grateful for her sense of responsibility. I am grateful to the Specialized company for making decent helmets. I'm grateful for the good care she got at the Cooley Dickinson Hospital. I am grateful to my husband Hunt for his stalwart presence through it all. I am grateful for the reminder of the preciousness of life, and how important it is to protect my outer self as well as my inner self, when forging bravely through the world. Too much padding would hinder my ability to fly, but just enough will give me the armor I need to face the challenges and dangers that lie in everyday life.

Compassion

Sometimes I am able to stay mindful, grateful, aware of the abundance of this life. At other times, maybe on a chilly, dark day when it seems that summer ended so quickly and even a wool sweater and a cat on the lap aren't enough to keep back the gloomy thoughts- well, during those times I need reminders, pointers along the way. Otherwise it's easy to slip into ego-centered-ness, irritability, and criticism.

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion. Dalai Lama

I was driving along the road the other day, going the speed limit on a two-lane highway which was about to narrow to a slower route through a local gorge, when I was passed not by one, not by two, but by three large SUVs with out-of-state license plates (clearly loaded with furniture, boxes, bedding), at great speed. My first impulse was to shout, swear, and perhaps gesture towards them. But I caught my thoughts just barely in time and thought, "Oh, well, they're probably headed to college- hope they get there all right"

The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another.” Thomas Merton

Someone I like and have often admired has recently been acting upset, affronted, disapproving- all behind my back. I've tried to communicate, praise, offer love- but it's been rejected completely. I found myself getting so worked up, I would avoid reading emails, dread meeting this person, and spent too much time in the middle of the watches of the night fretting about the situation. So this is my test: can I practice compassion when it hits home, in a way that directly affects me much more than the three speeding SUVs?

Compassionate action involves working with ourselves
as much as working with others. Pema Chodron

Yes, this is the test, and also the way to live truly- learn compassion for others, and in so doing learn compassion for myself. This creates a cycle of love and compassion that can only help me, those I encounter, and in some small way, the world I inhabit.

lazy, hazy, not-so-crazy...

Sorry for the long blank-out. Somehow, even after 2 years of not-teaching, summer means total veg-out, relax, unwind, get in touch with my inner lazy good-for-nothing self. The garden is growing, amazingly well, almost by itself, and about once a week I manage to yank just enough weeds to keep the things that are supposed to be growing happy. We've had lots of lettuce, about 6 sugar snap peas, one string bean (so far!), and we watch in awe as the tomato plants produce stunning globes of green (it's still early for them to turn red) and the squash plant secretly plots to take over the world- it has sent long, flower-laden vines across the watermelon plant, the annual bed (bye bye, nasturiums!), on to the lawn, across the barren waste that I hope to use for planting garlic this fall, and down the rows of black plastic that I cleverly laid between the raised beds to keep them weed free. I hadn't thought of trying to keep them squash free!


We've had visitors, from Oneonta, NY, and my dear god-daughter Hannah from Littleton, MA. We've had just enough hot days to feel like summer, and just enough rain to keep the wells and gardens happy. Animaterra had a wonderful workshop and concert with the French chorus Cantoria and the Vermont chorus House Blend. Hunt and Dan, our wonderful helper, have started work on what will soon be a screen porch with woodshed attached- right now it's a skeleton of wood, and the kitchen and living room have returned to construction site status. But do I care? No! It's summer! I'm relaxed and mellow.


I've been reading brain-candy mysteries (why did I never know until now about the Cat Who books???). But my bed-time reading is once again The Power of Now. At this stage of my life, where I feel I have emerged into a spirituality of my own, allowing my observations thoughts and insights of the All to guide me, it feels strange to say this, but this is one of the books that changed my life. It's only now, on the third reading in about 6 years, that I am realizing how much of this book is with me all the time.
"Nothing ever happened in the past; it happened in the Now. Nothing will ever happen in the future; it will happen in the Now"
"Unease, anxiety, tension, stress, worry — all forms of fear — are cause by too much future, and not enough presence. Guilt, regret, resentment, grievances, sadness, bitterness, and all forms of nonforgiveness are caused by too much past, and not enough presence"
"To be free of time is to be free of the psychological need of past for your identity and future for your fulfillment"
"You cannot find yourself by going into the past. You can find yourself by coming into the present"
and on, and on.
So simple, and yet in an extraordinary way these words "speak to my condition", as the Quakers say. So I guess in a way that's what my summer's been about so far. Being here in each Now that arrives. Yes, I still look ahead to the fall season of Animaterra, and I nearly have all the music ready. Yes, I'm looking forward to our annual week at Pinewoods coming up at the end of the month. But right now, sitting on the couch, with the muggy air being gently blown by the fan, I am savoring this moment with gratitude.

Spiritual acts

Q: What is a sacrament?
A: A sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.

I did have to learn the catechism before my confirmation in 1970 at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Brockton, Mass. Besides the Q/A above, the only other thing I remember is making the rector uncomfortable because another part of the catechism told us to fear God- and I wanted to know why a loving Father God would want us to fear Him? Somehow, although the rector did his best, I wasn't really satisfied with the answer, whatever it was.

I loved the church as a child, into my teens, and as a young adult. I was raised in the Episcopal church, dabbled in college in evangelical Christianity, directed a Methodist choir, thought for awhile I was called to Episcopal holy orders. Was and am a member of the Episcopal Society of the Companions of the Holy Cross. Have spent time with the Unitarians, Quakers, and the United Congregational Church. I loved and still have affection for the ritual, tradition, and especially the music.
But.
My earliest "spiritual memory" is as a child, probably 7 or 8, sitting on a rock by a mountain stream at a rest stop in the Rockies. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and clear, and I knew without a doubt that there was more than met the eye and other senses. Good church girl that I was, I called it "God" and have loved that presence ever since.
But.
The years in church gave me a beautiful container to put that wonder and glory into. That container felt like enough for many years. But more and more, as I have met so many people and have had so many adventures in this life, the box has seemed far too small and shabby to fit the vastness and infinitesimal tininess of It All. All those years, decades, with "God" as my Father and Creator, kept Him separate from me. He was Out There, great and almighty, and I was Down Here, grovelling and small. And even the word "god" put limits on It All.
But now...
I really don't know anything. Of that I'm absolutely certain, and my faith in my unknowing is unshakable. But what I suspect is that there is no "Out There"- It's all Right Here, and we're all a part of It. "God in Me" really means In Me, and in everyone. And in the cat on the couch, the trees in the woods, the rocks and hills and molecules and electrons, protons and muons and quarks- everything.
"God is Love" means that Love is God and we are love and...
Oh, boy, here I go putting finite words on the infinite. Can't be done. It just Is, ok?
Do I pray? Sure I do.
So, what is a sacrament? Everything is a sacrament. Everything is an outward and visible sign. Everything is an inward and spiritual grace.
Is everything good? Hell, no! Oil in the Gulf, cancer, child abuse, sure, there are horrible nasty things going on. But the power and the glory of creation- all of us- is a force that works in a cycle of Life/Death/rebirth, and the good will of those who love, who believe in the goodness of creation, who try to do the best they can for the greater good, that is God, and that is Love, and that is good.

Gratitude

I'm grateful when I wake up in the morning to the cat at my feet, my husband at my side, and birds singing out doors. I'm grateful for the green wall of leaves that surrounds our house this first Spring at Tam Lin, with the sunlight shining through.
I'm grateful for my warm feet on the cold floor, for steel-cut oats and tea for breakfast. I'm grateful for the warm sudsy dish water on my hands, and the hum of the washing machine in the basement. I'm grateful for the baby garden that I'm about to water, and for the second cup of tea I'm about to enjoy.

I'm grateful for the amazing gift of this true friend, this soul mate, this husband of mine who is my companion, my help meet, my best friend, who makes me think, laugh, listen, grow, and smile every minute of every day.

I'm grateful for this community, the friends that have been here all along and the new friendships forming. I'm grateful for the health and strength of my mother and her partner, who are glad to accept a spontaneous invitation and show up for tea (and then supper) an hour later.
I'm grateful for long-planned dances at the Town Hall, and spontaneous house dances planned in a matter of days.

I'm grateful for my own health, and that of my husband, for his hearing aids, my limbs that remind me to keep stretching them daily. I'm grateful for my grown-up children, for their maturity, kindness, and affection.

I'm grateful for this house, that I've longed for for 50 years and now have. I'm grateful for food on the table, most of the bills paid most of the time, and the gift of time. I'm grateful for the jobs that brought me here, the gift of self-discipline and a sense of duty that keeps me from sinking into a total couch-potato.

I'm grateful beyond measure for the music in my life- singing, instruments, dance, recordings, memories. I'm grateful for Robert J. Lurtsema, Sandy and Caroline Paton, John and Carol Langstaff, my parents, and so many others who showed me what music can be. I'm grateful for Animaterra, the folks in Nelson, my dear husband Hunt, and so many others who show me what music can be.

There's oil in the Gulf of Mexico, there's famine in Africa, there's war everywhere, my muscles ache, our bank account is diminished, I don't have health insurance, we have friends and neighbors dying at an alarming rate- but I focus on the joy and abundance of every day. I don't ignore the hard facts, but I try to have perspective and offer amazed and abounding gratitude for each and every gift, including the AFGEs (Another Freaking Growth Experience) that come each day.

I tried all through their growing years to teach my children about having "an attitude of gratitude". It's only truly sinking into my being now.

Joyful noise

“Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.” Plato

As I rest here on the couch, on the Saturday afternoon between the Friday night Animaterra concert in Peterborough and tonight's concert in Keene, my head and my heart are filled with the music of these wonderful women. Music is always on my mind- my daily soundtrack can shift from the songs of the season, to contra dance tunes I'm working on with, to whatever was playing at the grocery store as I checked out. But the best times are when I'm immersed in the creation of the music, and that's what pours through me, lulls me to sleep (or keeps me awake!).

As a child, growing up in the Episcopal church, some of my earliest memories are of the thrill of the music- listening to my mother's alto harmonizing with the hymn melody, delighting in the power of a well-played pipe organ, impatiently waiting to be old enough to sing in the junior choir. I remained in the church for years because of the music, and most of my "spiritual moments" inside churches have been with my voice raised in song. Later, when looking for a house of worship, I would often think, "the people are nice enough, but I can't attend this place- the music is awful!". It took years before I realized that music and my spiritual life are so intertwined that I can do without church, but I can't do without music and a community of people to share it with.



Animaterra Women's Chorus is such a community. I am blessed with the opportunity to spend one night a week, at least two weekends a year, and countless hours of preparation, creating season after season of song for and with these phenomenal women. Last night and tonight we are performing our spring concerts, and looking forward to a few future dates before the fall. The joy I feel working and singing with these women is indescribable- truly a spiritual experience

Hunt and I also make music together. I hadn't considered myself much of an instrumentalist before he came into my life, but the challenge of mastering contra dance piano and accordion, and speeding up my fingers on the concertina, has been exhilarating. Making music with one's soul mate is also an experience of incredible depth and richness- again, spiritually fulfilling.



As a younger adult I felt largely fragmented: my spiritual life over here, my family life over here, my job here and my artistic expression over there somewhere. What an amazing blessing it has been to gather the fragments and feel the integration of body, mind, and spirit into a creative whole. How fortunate I am to be able to live my perfect life, seeing the spiritual in every day life.