Wrapped in Music

Imagine sitting in a room made for music. Imagine closing your eyes and breathing in the simple eloquence of a lone instrument and accompanying musician. Eyes closed, I could feel the notes surround the small crowd in the newly finished concert hall, weaving in and around each of us. No microphones were needed, no curtains, no barrier between the music and the listeners. As Mary Rogers put it, we were wrapped in a blanket of music.



I spent last evening at the Green Music Center on the campus of Sonoma State University. A retirement party was the inaugural event for the Hospitality Center. It was strictly invitation only, a semi-private affair that I lucked into because I am fortunate to be related to one of the retirees. My uncle, Sonny, was one of the two men honored last evening for his many, many years working at SSU. He, along with a team of equally incredible people, is responsible for the at times controversial but irrefutably incredible music center.

I have a complicated relationship with music, but last evening my issues were non-existent. What was on the forefront was family pride and awe. Sonny stepped onto the campus fresh out of high school, and until 2009, never left. All told he spent 45 years of his life dedicated to his academic and professional career at SSU. His mother, my beloved grandmother, died long before the Center was an clear idea. But his father, born a simple farmer from Arkansas, watched Sonny work tirelessly to oversee that the design and building of what is now a world class music center. Sonny and I both missed his parents last night, but I could feel them there. I could feel the pride they felt for him. I could feel their love wrap around our shoulders as surely as the music did.

There wasn't a spot in the hall that wasn't enveloped in the notes that emanated from the piano. Even nearly empty, the hall was so clearly full of the music that will be. The small crowd were merely representatives of the hundreds of thousands of listeners of all ages and all walks of life who will enjoy the variations of the musical blanket that will now, and maybe forever, fill that hall to the rafters.

Rainy Reflections

Most people I talk to are taken aback, and some are even appalled, that I enjoy a dark, cold rainy day. I get it, many people suffer from seasonal depression, so the rain only adds to their already depleted stores of the all important Vitamin-D whose presence can be restore with some sun-shine. They not only enjoy the sunshine, but they like the heat that accompanies it and can spend hours outside soaking in the heart. Not me. The rain re-energizes me as much as it soothes me.

I deal with depression plenty, but it isn't seasonal. Very little makes me happier than being bundled up with good company of some sort–a book, my dog, my honey, a favorite move–and the sound of rain drops outside the window. I enjoy pausing and watching the wind whip the leaves into a frenzy, the heaviness of the water pulling down on branches, or puddling up on outdoor furniture.

I like to drive in the rain, even when I should be safely home behind solid walls, to watch the water build up in the gutters and become small ponds in the street. Like a horror movie or scary story, I am drawn to watching flood waters (from a safe distance) rise above sand bags, or the river creep over its banks. I don't like to watch actual destruction, but the promise or threat of it. It feels a bit like flirting with a bad boy from afar, or playing with a burning candle. I want to get close to the danger, feel its power and threat, absorb the energy that waft off the tiny waves created when the wind coaxes the water beyond its natural boundaries.

When the sun and temperature are high, I prefer to hide inside in the dark. It feels as though I actually wilt in the heat. I feel limp and lifeless, as if the sun absorbed my energy. Isn't that supposed to be the other way around, or am I just thinking of Superman? The sun is supposed to give life, but it feels like it is stealing mine one degree at a time. I never feel daintier or weaker than when the sky is cloudless, the sun is high and bright, and the ground heats up.

El Nino is coming. That's what I have been hearing for months. Today is supposed to be the beginning of weeks and weeks of heavy rain and wind. My memory of an El Nino winter was one that lasted well into June. This is only January; the area is limping into winter after three years of drought. If the rain comes down hard enough, the natural stream systems won't be able to get the water into the depleted reservoirs fast enough and while the major river(s) likely won't flood, the smaller streams might. And the streams is what caused problems a few years ago.

So far today there is plenty of rain, but not enough to convince me that the little boy is back. Regardless, I am reveling in the fact that I don't have anywhere to be until afternoon tomorrow. Until them I'm praying for rain; not because our eco-system needs it, but because I do.

Procrastination and the New Year

If I actually sat down and made a list of all the things I am not doing right now, the "shoulds" of family, house and employment responsibilities, I wonder if I would feel better or worse.

I quietly gave up on resolutions years ago, long before it was fashionable to flaunt my non-conformity, or lack of desire to choose the worst possible time of year to make grandiose pledges to better myself. Two New Years ago we began a new tradition of throwing a presto-log into the fire pit and tossing in bits of wood covered in the our desires for the new year. The desires could be about letting go of old habits, about moving forward, or words of encouragement to the cosmos to bring brighter happier things into our lives. It is another way of making lists, listing out the things we are willing to give up and lists of things we are willing to accept. This year we have already have several "Spare the Air" days and frankly I don't want to acquire any bad Karma for purely selfish reasons. Maybe once this week's rains die down we can safely perform what is quickly becoming a favorite ritual.


But for the moment I will admit to putting off the following:
Writing a letter of recommendation for a dear friend
Updating syllabi
Creating lesson plans and schedules
Putting the last of Saturday's party stuff away
Returning the party stuff that I borrowed
Attacking the piles of laundry in my bedroom
Making my bed
Cleaning out my car
Cleaning my office
Organizing my office
Making plans as to what I am going to move into my new office space
Writing about my upcoming grandchild & my ensuing anxieties
Writing creatively (besides the blog update)
Updating my other blog
Eating
Getting dressed
Drying my hair

One thing that I should do is to meet my dear friend Linelle for coffee. She is a bright shining light in my life. Consider one thing done!

(P.S. This posting sounds much more depressed than I feel.)