the dream life

Gettin' back to where I once belonged

Since the first time I met Tracy's friend Jeff, I've wanted to go hear his band (I feel compelled to mention that as much as I deeply, deeply love the John Hughes contributions to film, when I watch Sixteen Candles as an adult, I am stunned by the character of Long Duk Dong, which has to be one of the most offensive presentations of Asian stereotype ever. This is just an aside, and I'm certainly not blaming the band for that...so, anyway.) I've wanted to hear them for a long time. First of all, I just really like Jeff a lot and second of all, they are an 80's cover band. They are, in fact, Lexington's premiere 80's band.
They play frequently at an Irish bar that's near our house and I routinely check their website to see when they're playing and I suggest that we go, but then we do whatever else we have to do and by the time 9 p.m. rolls around, we are either too exhausted or already wearing pajamas or actually in bed. Tracy doesn't drink at all and I drink alcohol about three times a year, so we just don't find ourselves in bars very often (even though I like bars for the darkness, the neon signs, the appetizers and the people watching.)
But last night, we went on a date.
Chad and Chloe graciously offered to take us out to thank us for a recent babysitting gig and even though we feel no thanks are necessary for that, and even though we really wanted to pay our own way, we were thrilled to go out as adults and have a time together. We knew we would go to Nagasaki. (Yes, I know that fish are not vegetables. The fact that I have allowed a little bit of fish back into my diet is the subject of another post) then we would do something fun like Karaoke or bowling or some such thing. So, of course, I checked the Long Duk Dong schedule, and they were playing.
Last night we headed out to Nagasaki and had a great meal.

(Although, I didn't pay attention to what I was doing and ordered up a bunch of expensive rolls. Sorry, Chad and Chloe), then, we actually did a little grocery shopping. I'm not lying. We needed some essentials so we stopped by Fresh Market and got them. Then, we went to O'Neill's. The timing was actually perfect. We got there just before the band was set to go on. The place was pretty well packed, but we found a table. The bartender immediately brought us a sample shot of Ale8 and Knobb Creek slushie. Since, like Tracy, my brother doesn't drink, and my sister in law doesn't do bourbon, I was the only taker. I didn't even drink all of it (and it was a shot), but that wasn't because it didn't taste delicious. This is all just to say that we aren't your typical partiers.
But, we sure did have fun.

The show began with 80's videos - some that I'd forgotten about but love like the Eurythmics Here Comes the Rain Again-and that immediately lulled me into an 80's reverie that made me feel really weird in a really good way. Then the band came on with a light show and they were so good. The thing that makes them so good is that they are a great band. They aren't getting by on a gimmick. They are seriously good musicians and can genuinely deliver the songs they play and the songs they play are - you know - the songs that people of a certain age remember in a certain way.
As Chloe put it, "I feel like I'm in my bathroom, there's a few inches of snow on the ground, and I'm hot rolling my bangs."
Exactly.
The crowd was a mix of people who were in their twenties during the 80's, people who were in their teens during the 80's, and people who were little bitty babies during the 80's, and we all grooved on the 80's vibe, remembering our memories and singing along. As I watched the dancing that was going on next to the stage, I saw for the first time in a long time, dancing that I know how to do. You know, high school dance dancing. I can't express how happy that made me. It was good, good stuff.
We left by 11 so that Chad and Chloe could relieve their sitter, so Tracy and I were actually home and in bed at a reasonable hour.
Next time, I'm going early, and getting a table up front.

Instant shaman, just add water

For a long time, I sort of forgot about baths. We have a lovely bathtub, but I'm a fan of the hot shower and it used to be that whenever I heard people talk about soaking in the bath, I didn't really get it. Mostly, when I tried to relax in a bubble bath, I got a little bored. About a year ago, however, when I was doing my cleanse and getting Reiki treatments, I used some Little Moon Essentials Letting Go bath salts and I loved them.
A couple of months ago, I ordered several different bath salts including Eastern Temple from Lilithsapothecary and a few things from Mystique.
As per a friend's advice, I started thinking about bathing in a whole new way -- cleansing not just for the body, but for the spirit as well.
Evening baths have become a meditation space for me. I find that during the day I look forward to the time when I can light my candles, put on my Shamanic Healing playlist, light some incense and slip into the steaming water. As the day's journey leaves my body, I focus on each chakra and release that which no longer serves me.
I ask for healing and feel myself healed. Sometimes I experience messages or visions, just as I do in sitting meditation, but even when that doesn't happen, I float into another world, one that is quiet and full, one that smells like ylang-ylang and patchouli, one where the sound of ritual music thrums through me.
It's become a wonderful tool of both grounding and transformation, a surprising and simple gift that I highly recommend.

From the playlist:
Spirit Gathering Kamal
Shamanic Gateway John Dumas
Vision Quest Ancient Brotherhood
Shaman's Healing Shastro

I love the Beatles & the Beatles love me

In elementary school, I learned about music from my older friends and my friends’ older siblings. At home and in our car, we listened to Charlie Pride, The Carpenters, John Denver, Tom T. Hall, Ray Charles, but it was because of Jill’s older brother that I was exposed to Sugar Hill Gang. John Allen’s older sister introduced me to the ways of the Piano Man, and I can clearly remember the day that Heidi brought her LP of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band into my life.
I was in the fourth grade and what I knew of the Beatles was Michelle and Yesterday – the Beatles that my mom liked, the Beatles most likely to be played on the soft mix station. I don’t imagine that Heidi, who was in the fifth grade, said anything like, “Get ready to have your mind blown, man,” but that’s sort of what it felt like. I remember her showing me the album cover, which had all the lyrics printed on the back, with the sort of reverence that you might show someone the arc of the covenant. I remember that when I first heard those songs I couldn’t believe my ears. It was an incredible experience and everything else in the world seemed to stop.
I found my own copy at the record store and listened to it incessantly. I set about drawing illustrations for Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds and learning all the words to everything and truly, my mind was blown, man.
As much as I love and adore Lennon and McCartney, (I don’t know. Would we even still be here without Lennon and McCartney? Don’t they somehow keep us alive?) I have to give props to George Harrison for Within You Without You, which is just the most perfect and transcendent song ever.
And then there’s A Day in the Life. Hearing that completely changed and rearranged my understanding of what music was and what it could be and who I was and who I could be. It was almost frightening in its power. It still makes me feel sort of pinned to the earth and floating through the stratosphere at the same time.
And I still love St. Pepper’s as much right now as I did right then except, of course, I love it more. Loving it led to my loving the White Album and Let it Be and Revolver and Rubber Soul. Because of the Beatles, I decided at a young age that it was okay for me to venture out of the pop section of the record store and venture into the Rock n Roll section and buy things that were recorded before I was born, and because of the Beatles, I decided that I would buy what looked good to me – that I would listen to albums – not just singles, but the whole albums. I decided that I would give music my full attention because I knew there were messages in it and I loved the way it made me feel.
Because of the Beatles, I changed my bedside radio station to Double Q. It was a clock radio that looked a lot like this and I listened to it while I went to sleep. I listened and listened deep into the night. I remember the first time I heard White Rabbit come out of that thing and I lay there mesmerized, stunned, completely.
As I moved through my life, I listened to a lot of teen idol/Tiger Beat/satin jacket wearing music, and I don’t in any way want to slight Leif Garret or Olivia Newton-John or even Shawn Cassidy, but while I listened to them, I also listened to David Bowie and the Rolling Stones and all the Lennon/Ono stuff (I love Yoko. A couple of times, I stood at Strawberry Fields and looked toward the Dakota and wondered if Yoko was looking back at me. I think she probably does that. If I were her, I would.)
Because of Mandy, I discovered Fleetwood Mac and Stevie and had that magical experience all over again – the one where the music just comes shooting straight into your heart and you recognize it even though you’ve never heard it before and you love it so much that you keep playing it for people and saying, “Oh my God, did you hear that?” the kind of music you are convinced is about you because it communicates something so primal and deep in you that you can’t even name it.
Because of Lisa, I discovered Bob Dylan and fell in love with the lyrics to Highway 61 Revisited.
Because of Tracy I know Walter and Todd Rundgren. I know the deep ache of Torch Song and the love in I Saw the Light.
And all this, really, this beautiful journey, was born on the day Heidi brought Sgt. Pepper’s to school and showed me the cover and I knew that I was looking at something that held tremendous life changing power.

I’m not sure why I’m thinking about the Beatles today, but I am thinking about them. I’m thinking about how it was with vinyl -- that warm crackle and the giant puffy headphones. I’m thinking about how the first time I heard, I’d love to turn you on, it opened me up and poured all kinds of stuff inside me. It still does that. I'm still deeply moved by the Beatles and I always will be. Early Beatles, late Beatles, all the Beatles in between.
And, for some reason, I just needed to tell you that.

Walter Egan rocked Tracy's birthday

The reason for my unusual silence these past few days is that I've been completely and utterly preoccupied. Tracy turns 40 next Saturday and pretty much since his birthday last year, I've known what I wanted to do for him this year. When Mandy was here after Christmas, I told her my idea and she thought it was feasible. She was so into the idea, in fact, she went straight home and started up negotiations. Since then, we've been hatching the plan and watching it grow. In January, I let Tracy's brother and sister in on the planning and these last few days, covert operations have really heated up with lots of secret rendezvous and new surprises and twists and turns coming in daily.
You may recall that Tracy is a huge Walter Egan fan. It was his sister who introduced him and his brother to Walter's music when Tracy was ten. They got to go backstage and meet Walter and they've loved him ever since. When we were first dating, Tracy and I rode around in his car and listened to Walter's music and I, too, became a fan. The music has significance to Tracy and his siblings and to me and Tracy. About four years ago, Tracy and I drove to Nashville to see Walter play and Tracy was so happy. It just so happens that Mandy, who lives in Nashville, knows Walter and thus is in possession of his e-mail address...
So for Tracy's birthday this year, I planned a private Walter Egan concert.

Tracy's sister graciously offered her house as the venue and she made the food which included three stellar cakes. Mandy brought guitar-shaped chocolates from Nashville. Balloons were tied to the banister.
Tracy is not really a party guy - so my dream was always to keep the festivities intimate. I only invited family and his closest friends. Tracy's niece, Lindsay, flew in from Florida and a dear family member, John, flew in from Oregon.
The event went off as scheduled on Saturday night (Walter wasn't available on Tracy's actual birthday) and it was absolutely fantastic. It was - in all seriousness - awesome.

How to have a perfect day

Wake up way too early for a Saturday morning but get out of bed anyway. Drink coffee with half and half then take a long, hot shower.
Get an early start on your errands and realize, when you step on to the porch, that although it's windy and chilly, the sky is blue and for the first time in what seems like many, many years, the sun is out.

Fill up your gas tank, climb into your car and switch on your new Saturday Errand playlist that begins with Escape (The Pina Colada Song) then moves into Where is my Mind and The Kid is Hot Tonight.
Arrive at Michaels to see that the parking lot is empty. Buy markers and a paper and a basket to put them in so that your niece can have her own stash of art supplies at your house. Go next door to the pet store and stock up on your pug's favorite peanut butter bones, then head on over to the Co-op where you remember to buy shampoo and conditioner and purchase ingredients for a wholesome organic meal and Valentine treats.
Come home, straighten the house, serve a slice of red velvet cake to Tracy then walk with him and the sweet pug around the neighborhood where you see a group of young boys making the best of the storm damage of a few nights ago by building forts out of felled tree limbs.
Spend the afternoon in your sunny studio listening to Hay House radio and beading pink necklaces.

Late in the day, come downstairs, turn on XM Radio Kids and discover that it is by far the best station on XM. Dance to all the songs as you cook macaroni and cheese, rolls and peas. When Tracy comes home, express your love of XM Kids by singing Witch Doctor Chipmunk style.
Serve up dinner for Ava and Tracy. Tell Ava that yes, absolutely, she may bring the cup of M&Ms to the table.

After dinner, get out the art supplies and put on a They Might Be Giants DVD.
While the three of you watch, color wooden doll likenesses of yourselves.

After that, put in disc 2 of Sleeping Beauty and watch all the bonus material including games and quizzes.
After several hours of hanging out, walk Ava home while holding hands beneath the stars and enchanting moon.
Back at your house, light some candles

and cuddle with Woody while watching VH1.

A map of the world

Remember when I posted the video of the vegetable orchestra? I, along with Woody, was captivated by the concept and the sound. “Using things differently,” as they say below, thinking about things differently, living differently than usual is important to me and I love to see this sort of creative energy. I confess, though, that when I first viewed the video my knee-jerk reaction was that it seemed like a waste of food given that there are people starving all over the world. Tracy pointed out that carving instruments out of vegetables is a more ecologically sound endeavor than producing instruments the other way, and I knew that he was right.
Today, I was made aware of the vegetable orchestra website, so I checked it out and saw that they address the issue on their questions and answers page:

isn't it an ethical problem to play on vegetable instruments while elsewhere people die of starvation?
we have heard this question very often. if you are really concerned about the distribution of wealth then do something about it! read books about the real cause of hunger. change your own life and try to change politics. buy and support the right things. it is not people using vegetables differently than usual that make the world a bad place. it's all of us wanting too much. our own car, a new cellphone, a bigger house with air condition, more money...
actually our instruments cause less problems than traditional instruments, laptops, etc...
their production needs much less energy and resources and they are bio-degradable.

So, there you go. I thought it was a good answer. It’s certainly true that the real cause of hunger has nothing to do with a shortage of food and everything to do with distribution of wealth and the choices we all make everyday.
Thinking about this reminded me of a conversation that I had recently with a young woman who was tremendously poised and well-spoken. She is an environmentalist and describing how she came to her awareness about the cause she now works for, she said, “I realized that my consumption and my decisions do have impact beyond me. We have a global economy and that’s convenient because it keeps our prices down, but it’s foolhardy to pretend like there aren’t other ways that we interact with our global neighbors and one of the ways is that our consumption has a spill-over effect.”
When I was this woman’s age, there’s no way I could have put thoughts together and presented myself the way she did. I was so impressed by her and her mission and her outlook, which was overwhelmingly positive. She told me that her generation is tired of negativity, that they don’t feel the global situation is hopeless, that they’re working on an inclusive way to craft solutions.
I thought about her today as I shifted my awareness of the vegetable orchestra, and I thought about world hunger. It’s easy to get bogged down in the belief that the suffering in this world is too great, that we can’t undo the damage that has been done. It’s easy to fall victim to apathy or fear-mongering and feel paralyzed – unwilling to look head-on at the pain of others, the fallout of climate change, the line around the block at the soup kitchen, the homeless woman walking down the street, or the atrocity of human rights violations that play out on the nightly news, because we simply don’t know what to do about it.
The vegetable orchestra answer urges us to do something – change our own lives. We can, I believe, change our own lives, and thereby change the lives of others, and we can change them in small shifts, in leanings and moments. We don’t have to do everything. It’s not all or nothing. We can change the way we live in our own communities, in our own homes, in our own kitchens, and those changes will ripple out and be felt by the larger world.
We can even do something really, really small like clicking a button.

It’s a message not unlike the one I heard Mary Robinson deliver several months ago. Mary Robinson, I believe is (very much like Jimmy Carter*) a walking around breathing saint. I sat enraptured by her, not because she was the most dynamic speaker I’d ever heard, but because of her steady sure-footed compassionate work. Because she has seen the very worst the world has to offer and she has not given up. And because she is nice. She is still a nice, warm and forgiving person.
Robinson directly addressed this issue, this feeling that the problems are too great, that the things we are able to do won’t really make a difference. Begin, Robinson told us, right here. Begin in your home, in your town.
“Everyone has duties to the community in which alone the free and full development of his or her personality is possible,” she said.
And she quoted these remarks made by Eleanor Roosevelt (oh, how I love Eleanor Roosevelt! Remind me to tell you sometime about visiting her house) to the United Nations in March of 1953:

Where after all do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home – so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any map of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person: The neighborhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman, and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere. Without concerted citizen action to uphold them close to home, we shall look in vain for progress in the larger world.

Hunger is a human rights issue, whether here or in Africa or anywhere. The environment is a human rights issue. It’s all tied together, one big cosmic ball of cause and effect, and we are not, as individuals, powerless. Isn’t it good to think that we aren’t? I mean, what’s the point of thinking that we are? We have this amazing gift of free will. We have choice and each and every moment presents the opportunity to make a different one.
It’s just like the nun said to Scott Baio last night, “The best thing you can do for your child is love his mother.” What, you are thinking, in the Sam Hill does that have to do with global human rights? Well, partially, I just really liked that message. Scott Baio showed his emotional side. It was very touching. But, I’m also thinking that it does relate to what I’m trying to say here – it’s the idea that it begins at home – the change we want to see—with something really simple and enormous--Love.

*On a side note, I love this story about Jimmy Carter. Maybe not so pacifist, but so what. The Elders are my super heroes.

Start slow, taper off

Today was supposed to be a writing day. I had a great and helpful KaPow! session this week at which I decided that the project I'm working on is a novel - not a collection of related stories as I had been thinking - and I was excited to spend all day with it. I felt focused and I announced my intention. Today, I said. Today is a writing day.
I poured my morning cup, opened the blinds, lit my candles

and settled into my chair at my desk.
The trouble is, writing is work. Even though it's soul work - even though it's the kind of work that I crave to do - it's work that takes energy and discipline and I'd already been at work all week. Come Saturday morning, my brain is tired of work.
So, I did a lot of distracting myself. I checked out the beliefnetcommunity and listened to a lot of Todd Rundgren. I read a tiny bit and listened to more Todd. Then some Warren Zevon. Then Astral Weeks, which is a fine, fine album of goodness. (I know it's not actually an "album" anymore, but you know what I mean.)
Suddenly, it was five-thirty and Tracy was home so I made dinner and the day was just gone, poof, gone.
Partly, I'm getting dragged down by the cold and the grey but partly, I just seem to be in some sort of dormancy.
Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

The end of Monday

I started off my day by making carob chip scones.

This is not a bad way to start a day.
I continued my cleaning project, then I met Jene' and Lily at the Mad Potter. I'd never been to a paint your own pottery place before and I was very taken with it.

Lily put her handprint on a trivet (with a little help) and I painted a mug that I'll be able to pick up in a few days. I could see how it would be possible to become addicted to the Mad Potter, especially on nights when they have live music. I'm giving serious consideration to throwing myself a Mad Potter birthday party, or better yet, convincing Tracy to go with me to the special Valentine's night event. (This is not likely.)
When I came home, I worked on clearing space in the bedroom,

swept the floors, did some laundry and got caught in an iTunes frenzy of buying back a few favorite albums that I either never had on CD or used to have and misplaced like Rust Never Sleeps and Warren Zevon.
I was impressed with how much I was able to accomplish just by letting go and not holding myself to any particular expectations. It was especially nice to leave the house and do something fun with a friend. The sun even came out for a little bit.
The atmosphere in the bedroom is so much lighter than it has been in a while and I'm enjoying my perch here on the bed with the straightened blankets, Ghost Hunters on TV

and the incense scented air.

Vegetable orchestra

Woody really loves this video of the vegetable orchestra. He digs their sound, man. Tracy is thinking of making a carrot instrument, playing it for Woody, then letting him eat it. That would pretty much be a pug dream come true. Especially if the carrot had peanut butter on it.

On Vox: Christmas playlist 2007

I thought I'd share my Christmas playlist with you today. I hope wherever you are, you've got your music on and your lights burning. Here's wishing you all of the warmth of the season.Carter's Chord - O Come O Come...

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