Be kind. Don’t hurt. Make yourself useful.
What a blessing, what a gift! We’ve just come through a couple of hurricanes, Harvey and Irma by name, and it’s been rough for a lot of people. Rough? More like devastating. It helps, though, that we can have warnings and information when this happens. And it’s a downright miracle that we can stay in touch with our loved ones as the storm rages around us.
Let’s offer a mighty thank you to the scientists and tech innovators who push us forward. They’re in government, academia and business. And they rock.
What a blessing, what a gift! All over the world, people of faith and good will join their hearts together. We share love, we uplift each other, we raise up the energy of the world. And who knows, maybe we even make the waters move. God moves in wondrous ways.
Let’s offer a mighty thank you to all the big hearted people who join hands across the water and pray us into wholeness. They’re all over the world. And they rock.
Geeks and prayer warriors: I think we just might make it.
P.S. I know, storms don’t rage, but it made for a good sentence, don’t you agree? 🙂
10. Work and play are interchangeable words.
9. When I wave my arms, people speed up and slow down. Sometimes they speed up and slow down when I’m not waving my arms. This teaches me to be patient.
8. Green rooms.
7. It’s the second best connection you can make.
6. Applause and money are nice, don’t kid yourself.
5. The notes are an awesome, intricate and endlessly fascinating structure. The space between the notes? That’s where God lives.
4. Any rock musician who’s honest will tell you that wires and amps and guitars and keyboards and drums are just cool all by themselves. Many rock musician spouses do not subscribe to this philosophy.
3. Reading a chart, writing a song, improvising or working a dance groove are all a rush, not unlike riding a bike or driving a car, or, I would imagine, walking a high wire. It feels good to move forward, and the knowledge that you could crash and burn at any moment concentrates the mind. Very Zen, eh?
2. Speaking of Zen, making music is it. You lose yourself, the spirit moves and the mystery shakes you. World within worlds, atoms and universes, same thing.
1. Nine is enough. What are the top ten things you like about your life?
10. You say you’re looking for pure being and a glimpse of the Way? There are moments . . .
9. When you cross that finish line, even if the race was only a mile, the whole world will open up for you. Have you spent your life thinking that you were incapable of rising higher? You just proved that you’re more capable than you thought.
7. Partly the legs, partly the mind, mostly the heart.
6. The runner’s high is a real thing. Gives new meaning to the phrase ‘better living through chemistry.’
5. Runners tend to be really nice people and great encouragers for each other. Definitely a community. Good at raising money for helping folks, too.
4. It’s an honorable thing to come in last.
3. Stronger, leaner, tanner, fitter, healthier . . .
2. You can spend as much money as you like on running, but you can also enjoy it for very little. Decent pair of shoes, and off you go. Oh yeah, and pants. You’ll want pants.
1. Great legs.
Artists Paula Davis and Adrienne H Lee will make their debut this week as Kindred Spirits. An artistic dream team, I’m thinking! Please join us. By the way, it’s indoors.
The event: Big Bang Bazaar
Time and place: August 26th, 2017 from 11-5
Central Florida Fairground
4603 W. Colonial Dr
Orlando, FL 32808
Did I mention that it’s indoors?
More info here:
I am an art historian who loves to connect with people through a shared love of ART. My specialty is bringing art history into the 21st century and illustrating how we are creating the art history of the future via today’s pop culture. I am also an artist, a freelance writer, an avid reader (I love research!) and a world traveler. I am taking a creative approach to life with an emphasis on all things ART. My journey might look strange, but don’t worry – I’m not lost, I’m just wandering.
“It’s amazing what one can make from a ball of clay, or coils of clay, or a slab of clay. The finished artwork can be functional or sculptural, or sometimes both. Creating with clay is playful, challenging, calming, and rewarding. It is sheer joy to open the kiln after a glaze firing and behold the finished glazed pieces (mostly), like opening presents on a holiday or one’s birthday! I could live ten life times and not exhaust all that can be created with clay.”
Paula has been associated with Crealdé School of Art pretty much the whole time we’ve lived in Central Florida. One of the many cool things they do is a summer program called ‘Art Camp.’ It’s basically a day camp where kids between the ages of 4 and 17 create art projects under the direction of professional artists. Paula teaches photography and pottery and has always had a blast with it. Although I’ve heard rumors that some of the other teachers get a little frazzled by summer’s end. Maybe. Ahem.
Anyway, once the classes wrap up, the teachers collect the work and get together midweek to mount a display in the school’s gallery. Then on to opening night! The kids and their parents come out on a Saturday night to enjoy their creations and bask in their glory.
And you know what? The work is, in fact, glorious. Painting, sculpture, clay, photography, wood cuts and more. The place is a riot of color and energy. The work itself is fresh, unselfconscious, uninhibited and surprisingly sophisticated.
> video coming soon! I’m on the road today. <
We had gone to Pennsylvania for a gathering of Paula’s family (highly amusing yet heart wrenching blog entry yet to come on that one) and decided to treat ourselves to a couple of days in Asheville on the way home.
The drive from Pennsylvania to Asheville is nice, not thrilling until you get to the last hour. We approached the city going west on I-40. The climb is pretty intense, you’re seeing some elevation now, and the mountains ahead of us were shrouded in a thick mist. As we got closer, and you can believe me or kiss my butt, a shaft of sunlight broke through and shone straight down on the city. Was this a sign, a message from above, or had we wandered into a Monty Python bit? As it turns out, Asheville is just that way.
Tim and Andrew have driven up from Florida to meet us. Ten hours for them, ten for us. We arrived within a few minutes of each other, with them just ahead. When we get to our rental cabin, they’ve got it unlocked and are situating things. Our sons are strong and resourceful men, and I am flooded with gratitude once again for them.
The cabin is really a small house that leans up against a mountain. It’s perfect. Well done, o goddess of on line research!
We’re actually in another tiny town. This one is Marshall, North Carolina, half an hour from the big city. We can walk a hundred yards or so down a lane that takes us to the main (only) street in Marshall. What a find it turns out to be! It’s a hippie heaven.
Our first stop is at a converted church that is now a restaurant called Good Stuff. The outside area is crowded with a convivial bunch who advise us that it is taco night and that we should not miss it. Inside we go. They are correct. The tacos are pretty much the best we’ve ever had, and of course a little ale is indicated. Something local? I believe it was.
A couple of folk singers are alternating sets. They’re both very good, with that nu-hippie, organic, occupy thing going. The people are mostly outside though, and our singers compensate a little too much. It’s cool, it takes a while to learn how to feel a room.
The owner has been making a go of this place for six years after having moved out here from Asheville. He feels that Marshall is what Asheville used to be. That, and he can afford a house here. Tomorrow we shall see.
There are several good places to eat here. Last night we had earmarked a cafe called Zuma, although Tim had re-dubbed it ‘hippie breakfast.’ As in, hey, let’s go for hippie breakfast. It turns out to be another excellent find. The food and bean are superior, and the people are talkative and friendly.
As a matter of fact, almost everyone we will meet in Asheville turns out to be open and welcoming. I went out of my way to start conversations, partly just to see if the pattern would hold, and partly because, let’s be honest here, I just love to bullshit with people. These people are up for it.
Hippie breakfast concluded, we set out to explore.
Our directions coming into Marshall were slightly confusing and heading back into Asheville is no different. We find ourselves on a winding river road that seems to take us deeper and deeper into the great outdoors. Tim is surreptitiously checking his gas gauge. Soon enough though, we blow into town on fumes, gas money didn’t give out in Gurney, and here we are.
A church feeding homeless people. An old neighborhood full of architectural marvels of many styles. A lush park where we walk. Graffiti. Old factories converted into an arts district. A dizzying profusion of magnificent old and new buildings. Food. Art. Street musicians. Craft brews. Obama stickers. Motion, energy, vitality, creativity, color. And everywhere, we talk to people. They are open, friendly, diverse, optimistic, liberal, full of life. Asheville is alive.
Time for dinner, boy are there a lot of choices. We end up at Tupelo Honey Cafe: southern food updated for the 21st century, bless our hearts.
Exhausted and exhilarated, we head back to Marshall. There’s one last stop to make, though. The Moog factory is here. They build synthesizers, and you can take a tour and see them do their thing. It’s late, and they’ve long since closed for the day. No matter, we go there, and Paula takes my picture leaning against a brick wall with a giant painting of the company’s iconic founder Bob Moog.
Back to the cabin. Sleep, gratefully.
“Hey, who’s up for hippie breakfast?”
It’s actually hippie lunch by the time we get packed and underway. A last pass through Marshall and we’re off.
The trip home is uneventful except for the fact that the boys vector off for further adventures on their own. We’ll see them a little later.
A brief moment of sadness as the mountains recede behind us. Mostly we’re happy and grateful for our beautiful family. Such love.
As for you, Asheville, we’ll see you again soon. Who’s got gigs?
Two close boyhood friends grow up and go their separate ways. One becomes a humble monk, the other a rich and powerful minister to the king. Years later they meet. As they catch up, the minister (in his fine robes) takes pity on the thin, shabby monk. Seeking to help, he says: “You know, if you could learn to cater to the king, you wouldn’t have to live on rice and beans.”
To which the monk replies:
“You know, if you could learn to live on rice and beans, you wouldn’t have to cater to the king.”
Most all of us fall somewhere between the two. Where do you want to be? What’s important? What do you really want? Please offer your insights in the comment section!
P.S. I borrowed this from Mr. Money Mustache. I know, cool name, eh? Go ahead and google it for a fresh and inspired look at money and life. Also bicycles.
What’s the good word?
I do most of my day to day running on the West Orange Trail in Central Florida, and most of the races I’ve done so far have been in that general neighborhood. There’s a lot to see there.
The Trail is a definite mish-mosh: you’ve got runners, walkers, bikers, recumbent bikers, stroller pushers, roller bladers, dog walkers. Kids who are just fooling around, some high school runners who most assuredly are not fooling around and an occasional homeless person. Colors, languages, personalities and levels of fitness are all over the place. Political affiliations? Probably a pretty good spectrum there too.
You start to see some familiar faces after a while. There are varying degrees of greeting and interaction. Some folks have a hearty howdy for you, some just manage a grunt or a wave depending on how badly they’re kicking their own butts at the moment.
One elderly gentleman doesn’t run at all. He sits in a chair next to his house, which abuts the trail, and offers helpful commentary.
Some folks are totally intent and they don’t look up, period. The Bicycle People ™ travel in packs, and they greet runners by shouting “on your left!” This can be translated to mean, “get out of the way, or we’ll run you down like a herd of wildebeest on wheels.”
Can a path through the woods be a community? I’d bet that if you got all those people together in a room, different as they all are, it would be a mighty sweet party. Or a mighty sweaty party! See you there.