Revolution

 Response to Prompt #72 Serendipity Doo Dah

I. Evolution 

The revolution of my bike tires as I venture all over the west side of Cleveland, never limiting myself, never afraid, my bicycle never failing me, round and round various neighborhoods, round and round the wheels went with me on board, alone and free, unbound and exploring.

The revolution of the 78 vinyl on my little record player, Roy Rogers singing "Don't Fence Me In."

Receiving the Beatles single "Revolution" as a Secret Santa gift in 8th grade from a boy in my class. He somehow had paid attention and heard me mention I liked the song.

You say you want a revolution. Well, you know we all want to change the world.

Round and round the turntable spins, weaving musical dreams of love and progression and change.

This was standard fare when I was a teenager. There were dozens of songs with revolutionary messages. But the song that puzzled me the most was "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," and each time it came on the FM radio I found myself straining to decipher the lyrics and stretching to figure out what they meant.

Everything goes round and round as we seek to find our place.

 

II. Education

 In the summer of 1993 I was profoundly changed when I read Revolution From Within: A Book of Self-Esteem by Gloria Steinem. Gloria, through the Feminist Movement, had already taught me how to see clearly about what I learned about the patriarchy and a woman's place in the world. But in this book she helped me see the undoing of childhood messages and trauma is just as important. We must not only unlearn, we must relearn in a healthier and more productive way to find our true self. 

There is a tendency to see Gloria as one who tore down some well-preserved institutions, and think that means she always had it all together. Coming to understand that her biggest hurdle was developing self-esteem within herself was revolutionizing to me, and came at a time when I was faced with a huge new challenge that would change the trajectory of my life.

Ten years later in my Literary Theory class, I learned that the revolution will not be televised because it happens in an instant, barriers crash down, but only after the work of many people, after one thing, then another, then another, has been set into place, the constant motion suddenly reaches a fruition. 

I still recall that moment with clarity. Aha!

Everything goes round and round as we seek to change the world.

 

III. Contribution

Here I sit at 66-years-old, still wondering what my contribution is. I have sought revolution within more than once in my life, and I seek to revolutionize through my work over and over again, wanting something more, hoping the pieces are falling into place, pondering, wondering, contemplating, and meditating.

How to make some long-held dream a reality? Is it happening?  Will I ever know if I will have made that kind of difference? 

It is an on-going question, and time seems to be running out. So, I revolve back to what I know.

I take a hint from the Beatles: seek to contribute, to be the change I want to see.

I take a hint from Gloria: work in positive ways to find my true self and allow the true self of others.

And as I now proceed to the end of another school year, I find myself mapping out my own mini-revolution to transform what has come before, bringing my true self to the learners in front of me. The need is there, more than ever, to bring my authentic spirit forward, and help young people find their true spirit as well. It's an on-going project, and a position I revolve back to every single year. It's as regular as spring.

Everything goes round and round as we seek to implement the dream.

I walk around the block, I walk around the slough, I walk around the lake, revolutions of inspiration and intensity, nature reflecting to me my natural self over and over again.

I have evolved to riding a stationary bike, round and round the wheel goes, building inner bravery, my mind spinning new directions, new poetic lines, new lessons to impart, new dreams not too late to dream.

Everything goes round and round as we seek to be free

of all the things that could hold us back

of all the things that seem to be stagnant and unproductive

to be free in our mind and spirit, mutable and mercurial

knocking down the fences that restrain.

 

 

 

Right On Time

Response to Prompt #61  What About Love


The day Annmarie posted this prompt, I had just watched a Delfest concert from 2019 with Sierra Hull. During her set I was reminded of a song she sang at the end of her show the last time I saw her at the Lyric Theater. Immediately I knew I wanted to create a story around the song, because it fits this prompt so perfectly. I think it is one of the best love songs ever written. (It is posted below the story. Please watch to get the full effect!)

What I can't believe is how long it took me to pull this together. At first I thought it was pretty simple, but as time went on, I just couldn't find the right way in. It finally started to pull together these past five days or so. I hope it works! 

Right On Time

Ted and Trudy met in 1950 when they were seniors

 in high school, and they married shortly after graduation.

I’ve often heard Ted say he met Trudy “right on time,”

as he was planning on joining the army

Now, that’s not a bad thing. But Ted has proclaimed

more than once he loves his life just the way it turned out.

Let me introduce myself.

I’m the grandfather clock that has graced

Ted and Trudy’s living room ever since their

5^th wedding anniversary when Ted surprised

Trudy, giving her me, an unusual version of the

traditional clock. Most clocks like me play 

“The Westminster Quarters”

every fifteen minutes.

I only play on the hour and half hour:

Da de da dum

Da de dum dum

Yeah – I know it's weird.

I suppose that made me somehow defective,

although I never felt that way.

Ted and Trudy love me a lot.

And I love them.

About the time I came into their lives,

so did their son Gerald.

He was the only child they ever had.

Of course, he’s all grown up now, and had a son

of his own along the way.

Joshua.

Who is also all grown up.

Now it is Christmas, decades later,

and the grandson and new bride have come to visit

for the holidays. Little did they know that the night

they arrived, Ted would have a stroke, putting him

in the hospital, and leaving the young couple here

to take care of Trudy.

The sad part about Trudy these days is she has

advancing Alzheimers, and she fades in and out.

Joshua and his lovely wife Shiane are musicians,

so they spend a lot of time playing and singing

various instruments: guitars, banjos, and mandolins.  

Joshua even plays the fiddle.

Trudy loves when they play “Jingle Bells.”

She is able to sing along, every word.

It was wonderful having them here for a week.

I was grateful there was someone to look after Trudy.

It could be the last Christmas here,

from all indications,

and so the future looks mighty uncertain for me.

March

Hospice has been here taking care of Ted.

His days are numbered.

Gerald has arranged for Trudy to go to an

Alzheimer’s facility after Ted passes.

Joshua and Shiane take time from their

busy schedule to come and say goodbye.

While they are here, I notice Shiane keeps

picking out on her mandolin the chime

I play twice every hour.

It was kind of surreal to hear my music

being played back to me. She seemed

to be forming a song around it.

Listening to her create was balm

for my pendulum soul,

as I know Ted is dying in the next

room, and everything else is so somber.

Joshua treats everyone with such tenderness.

I’ve known him all his life, and he has grown

into an exceptional man.

This was reinforced the night

I heard Shiane say to him, 

The way you love your grandmother, makes me love you even more.

If it had been possible,

this old clock burst into tears.

June

The house has been quiet and empty since Ted

passed in late March.

I continue do my chiming duty,

even though no one is around to hear.

One day, to my surprise,

Joshua and Shiane arrive.

They have suitcases and instruments

lots of boxes, and groceries.

They spend the days going through

Ted and Trudy’s personal stuff,

tossing things out,

setting aside other items.

I overhear that most of the

good furniture will be given

to a resale shop.

Every evening, they fill the house up

with the smells of delicious food,

something I’ve missed so much,

being here all by myself.

And music – of course they play music.

One night Shiane plays the song for Joshua

that she has finally completed,  the one

she was working on in March, the one

called “Father Time.”  

When she is done, they go into a very long hug.

I kind of felt like I was eavesdropping but hey,

what could I do?

It happened to be 7:30 in the evening,

and so I struck the time,

and they both turned and looked at me.

Shiane was still staring at me when she said,

Do you think we could take the grandfather clock home with us?

It seems like it should stay in the family.

It didn’t take long for Joshua to arrange it with Gerald,

and the young couple started looking up YouTube

videos on how to dismantle and transport me.

The whole time I was in a bit of a daze. I mean, just

yesterday I wondered what would become of me.

Now I know.

I will be living with the next generation and,

with any luck, generations after that.

Ted and Trudy’s legacy.

But even better, I will continue to be surrounded

with peaceful and gentle love, as well as incredible music.

My fear of being shipped off to some dusty antique shop

 is gone because Joshua and Shiane showed up in my life.

They arrived, right on time.

Four Directions to Surviving Quarantine

 Answer to prompt The Power of Four

By Helen Sadler

Four Directions to Surviving Quarantine

When I wrote this prompt, I was looking forward to getting hella creative with it. I had all kinds of fancy plans, although nothing was really sticking. I was certain I didn’t want to write about the past two months. At. All.

But then, the Trail Brazens started posting. And I read Laurie’s promises, Annmarie’s power statements and guiding poems, and Natalie’s reclamation. Then I knew I could not avoid it. I knew I needed to lend my voice here as well, as we continue to document our journey together on this blog.

I’ve tapped into the four things that helped stabilize and regulate me during this time. For a while emotions were running so high and low, I sometimes didn’t feel like I knew myself at all. I am happy now to document the things that I have found most helpful, although there are certainly others. I’m keying in on the top four, but I could also add exercise, fresh food, and solid sleep.

I am including an added dimension: the meaning of the four directions in Native American culture as a connector.

EAST: asking for wisdom and understanding, seeing things as they really are.

Ye Tang Che

I’m aware I already wrote a blog post about this, but I have to state it again: in times of my greatest despair, this is repeatedly the thought or philosophy that helps me through the most. I am still grateful for the day the Pema Chodron’s book When Things Fall Apart dropped into my lap. I cannot get enough of Chapter 7, where Ye Tang Che is explained in all its balanced wisdom and frank talk. It helped me just let things be what they are. Once I grabbed onto that once again, I found everything stabilizing for me, and I haven’t shed many tears since then – except for the day I went to my classroom.  But that was a blog post, too!

SOUTH: warmth, growth, the sun’s rays

Music in different forms

Anyone who knows me knows music is a huge and significant to me.  Early on in this quarantine, I purchased a vinyl record player. Its presence in my life has added a dimension I didn’t even know I was missing.

Slowly, and deliberately, I have listened to many of my old vinyls. I even bought a few new ones. The best way for me to deeply listen is to lie on the floor with the speakers on either side of my ear, just like I did as a young person. Revisiting the album covers and inserts proved a delightful treat as I rediscovered things I forgot were even there – such as James Taylor’s handwritten words to all the songs on Sweet Baby James.

But even more than that, it is what I am finding in the grooves that uplifted me. I found the roots of everything I love about music. I heard artists, such as Phoebe Snow, from an entirely new perspective and appreciation. Albums I thought would sound dated or weird have surprisingly held up. They are all intricately connected to a time in my life when I was forming myself, so to hear these songs now is truly finding pieces of myself that went missing in the name of electronics.

But that isn’t the only music. The other delight in my life is the Saturday night live stream broadcast of The Grand Ole Opry, albeit an empty auditorium, but artists who are pouring their heart and soul into keeping the circle unbroken. Vince Gill, Marty Stuart, Keith Urban, Terri Clark, Amy Grant, Kelsea Ballerini, Garth and Trisha, among others. I fell in love with Ashley McBryde. I gained appreciation for Lauren Alaina, Trace Adkins, and Luke Combs. There have been many fine moments in this show, but my ultimate favorite was during the final moments of the Garth and Trisha edition, when Trisha launched into an acapella version of Patsy Cline’s “Sweet Dreams,” her voice echoing through the Opry hall, moving me to tears. That was a music moment to remember from this unsettling time.

WEST: introspection and insight, source of the water of life

A Lamp in the Darkness by Jack Kornfield

Every morning I wake and read something inspirational. About four weeks into the quarantine, I became disillusioned with the text I had been reading. It was striking me as shallow, and not helping me at all.  I tried a couple of other books I had here, but nothing was doing what I needed it to do.

Then something came up in Facebook memories: a book I studied in 2012, and used to create inspirational messages for my seniors that year. The full title of the book  is  A Lamp in the Darkness: Illuminating the Path Through Difficult Times. At the end of the school year in 2012, I wrote various quotes from the book on index cards, then had the seniors choose one randomly. We then sat in a circle and they talked about why they felt that message was for them.

I obviously passed one of these messages on to my coworker Natalie, because that same day she sent me the text of the message I had given her eight years ago. It meant something to her that day, and then I knew that I had to pull Jack’s book back off the shelf.

Good move!

This wise and wonderful book provides gentle instructions and enlightening stories for getting through difficult times. After nearly every chapter there is a meditation (a CD is also included for verbal guidance), and even though I have yet to actually do any of the meditations, just the illuminating text has helped me find something solid inside myself that I deeply needed during this ordeal. Or, should I say, helped me light my own lamp. It, along with Ye Tang Che, is bringing me back to a level of equanimity and peace that had been eluding me. It also helped me form a vow, at Jack’s suggestion:

I vow in the midst of difficulties to listen deeply and love.

As Laurie and Annmarie stated on this blog before me, I am willing to keep a promise to myself, beyond the chaos, and see what is helpful and real. This is the ultimate liberation.

North: cleansing, endurance, patience, receiving energy

Write Around the Corner

When my friend Laurie mentioned starting an online writing group, I had every reason to say yes. I love writing and I love talking about writing (duh!).  She opened it up to invite others, and I invited quite a few people, three who have accepted and stuck around. Two are people I knew in high school who still live in Ohio– one whom I had just seen in February and she asked me about what kind of online writing group she could join. (Synchronicity!)  I also invited a rather new friend from work, and it has deepened our relationship being in this incredibly safe writing space.

[Disclaimer: this absolutely does NOT replace the awesome TB group – EVER!]

Laurie has done an inspiring job facilitating our 90-minute Zoom meetings. Please know, I can barely tolerate Zoom in many cases. But in this context, it works just great. There are people from all over participating, and there is no way we could all get together. So this is perfect.

The group has its own FB page, Padlet, and some other fun outer activities.  Each week I find my love and gratitude for this group growing. Last weekend is a case in point. I came away from the meeting totally rejuvenated, and by the next day I had developed an idea for a writing project I am super excited about!  Considering I haven’t had much of an interest in pursuing a project in over two years, this was something.

There are three more things I want to add in this regard.

Write Around the Corner is a perfect title for this group, because when we started we had no idea what was around the corner. As we proceed, we still don’t know. But we are navigating together.

This group has become a North Star for me – leading me to my best multi-dimensional self. What more can I ask?

And finally, the interactions in this group have helped me dream again. And that, my dear friends, is the ultimate healing power of writing.


These video seems to sum up quite a bit here. This is Trisha singing "Sweet Dreams" in 1999 when she was inducted into the Grand Ole Opry. She begins acapella. Try to imagine no audience noise, no other instrumentation. The power of music. The power of dreams coming true.

Music

Response to Prompt #8: The Gift

I've struggled with this prompt about a gift. A memorable gift, good or bad. That's why it's taken me so long to write. I've received various noteworthy gifts throughout the years. I thought about writing a list-like poem of every great gift I could recall. One that comes to mind is the WhirlyPopper my father in law bought me for Christmas years ago- love it and still use it all the time. Another is the beautiful strand of Chinese river pearls my husband bought me a few years back or the diamond studs my mom bought my sister and me in memory of my grandmother when she passed.  I've gotten precious handmade gifts from my son as he grew up, and hand-sewn quilts from my husband's mom and grandma. I recently wrote about one of my favorite gifts from my sister, and on my personal blog, I just wrote about some concert tickets from my dad and my stepmom. I decided to go with an intangible, a gift from my parents since I was a young child- a love and appreciation for music. Here is my tribute:

As long as I can remember there was music in the background. Every room had a speaker, every occasion had music. My parents had tons of vinyl and we were allowed to listen to them whenever we wanted, as long as we put them away. They weren't in any special order, and they weren't treated with kid-gloves like in some homes. Albums were meant to played, and my parents let us. Eventually, my parents would get an 8-track tape deck and the record player would retire to the basement where my sister and I hung out. We played our favorites over and over. Children's albums like Songs That Tickle Your Funny Bone and Free to Be You and Me. And of course Mom and Dad's Linda Ronstadt, Eagles, Simon & Garfunkel, and Olivia Newton John albums, among others. The 8-track didn't last too long, because one summer we came home from camp and there was a whole new stereo system with a dual cassette tape deck. When that happened, the 8 track player moved to my room and boy was I excited! I remember it well, just where it was positioned on a shelf with all the tapes stacked to be played. The ones I played most were the Grease soundtrack, and Linda Ronstadt's Greatest Hits. There were others I'm sure. Even though I had the 8-track in my room, nothing beat hanging out on the floor in the living room listening to cassettes on the new stereo. At that time it was Billy Joel's Glass Houses, and Joan Jett and the Blackhearts' I Love Rock n' Roll. The collection grew and grew until the onset of CDs.

Not only was there music always playing at home, but in the car too! I remember my dad testing our music chops with games. Like Name that Tune, he would challenge us to guess the song or the artist by the intro, before the singing started. Or if we were singing, in the middle of the song he'd suddenly turn it off to see if we knew the next line. He would whistle to the songs, and at the red lights he would bounce the car by releasing and pressing the brake to the beat of the song. My parents also took us to Broadway every year. Around Christmastime, there was always a family outing to NYC. My mom would get us decked out in dresses, tights, and Mary Janes (people used to dress up to see a show in NYC) and we would go to a matinee and out to dinner. I saw Sandy Duncan as Peter Pan, Allison Smith as Annie, and Doug Henning as Merlin. There were many others, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, 42nd Street, and off broadway, The Little Shop of Horrors.  I still love to listen to movie and theater soundtracks. In fact, though I never saw it, one of the albums my parents had that I loved to listen to on vinyl was Hair.

Music was everywhere, and I am thankful for the gift my parents gave me by exposing me to it in all types and forms at a very young age. There are few things I enjoy more than a really good album or a live concert or show. I appreciate all kinds of music and given the chance would have music playing almost all the time, everywhere I am. Though none of us are musicians, we are humongous fans of good music. Music is in my blood and it's a gift that keeps on giving... in fact it's already been passed along to the next generation in my son.