Silent night

 Merry Christmas!!!!! I hope you all have a beautiful day. There was an online koto music sharing event, and I said I would get some music recorded for it. I wasn't sure if was really going to happen. As we only had a small window of time to do it in, and I am still very much a beginning koto player. We did several songs in one evening this week. It was a rare thing for us, as the house was quiet. And we haven't attempted to record any music in a long time. The phone didn't ring, or anything. So it really was a silent night. We recorded several songs, imperfections and all. I'm just learning koto, so Bess had to be patient with me. Some videos I swear you can see my thinking. This is Silent night on the Japanese koto, with Bessie Skeem playing her violin, and both of us singing.

 

 

 

 

This one is We wish you a Merry Christmas. Short and sweet.

 

                                                This one is I Saw Three Ships. Totally improvised, and very clunky, and I don't know why I'm sharing this one, as I had zero idea how to play the tune, as you will soon see. Bess is so good at the violin she's always the one to make me experiment. Oh my...

                                                       Here's another one, Jingle bells. Bess is doing her magic on the violin, and I'm playing koto, just imagine Christmas on the a farm. And it seems about right.

 

                                                       

                                    This just a random bonus song. As we were recording, I decided to enlist my mom who plays the bodhrán, (she didn't want to be on camera) and since we were feeling the Christmas spirit, we decided to do keep the camera rolling while we improvised. Bessie is on the violin, doing her magic, and I'm on the jingle bells, and the mountain dulcimer. You can see my other koto in the video, a half size koto that I bought from Japan, that I painted a Japanese Crane on. It's still a work in progress.

Hanukkah

 

 

I realized this morning that yesterday was the start of Hanukkah, the lighting of the candles. 

            I  thought that it that it's been very dark time for so many people. I thought, perhaps, in my way, I'll share a poem that keeps telling me that it wants to be shared. Oh, and a Jewish song that I enjoy listening to repeatedly. And a Ukrainian Folk song that I can't stop listening to.

 And in my own way, light my own menorah.

                

 

Yourself?

Robbed.

Blind.

And you didn’t know.

Who took it from you?

Which way did they go?

All your love. All your light.

They stole it from you in broad daylight.

Who was the thief that robbed the train? Who took away the engine and stole your heart, and rewired your brain?

Who was the one who rewrote your will? Who took away your inheritance, and your freewill?

Who was the one who signed the paper, that took from you your own grace, your savior?

Who stole your sight? And made you blind, to the truth surrounding you all the time?

Who was the culprit that made you chase, after other Gods, with a different face?

Who moved into your house, and stole your land? Who pillaged your temple, and robbed you, again and again?

Who stole your name, and made you bow down, who forced you to wear an iron crown?

Who was the one who made you forget, who you were, your place, where you and your beloved met?

Who took your voice, and all your power, who stole your one true lover?

Who took from you your light? Who made you wander the earth, from dawn, till night?

Who made you look for the love that you are, who made you forget, that you are the beloved, the fixed, shining star?

What kind of lie did you ingest?

That turned you into your own uninvited guest?

Who was the one who made you drink the poison, who took from you, your one enjoyment?

Who was the one who stole your youth, that took from you the wisdom you could have taken with you, your truth?

Who will confess at the Passover feast, who was the Judas, who wanted the silver, who was the double-minded thief?

Who was it that nailed love to the cross?

Who was it that turned on life itself?

Who was it that didn’t believe that God could raise himself?

Who was it who wasn’t his brother's keeper?

Who was it who told the lie, that blamed another?

Who was it who saw and watched it all?

Who was it?

And why don’t we see?

That who we are looking for, and the person we blame, is our head and our heart playing a strange sort of game.

We split ourselves in a thousand pieces, and toss away the bliss, the prince—of all the pieces.

And the person we blame, is one of the twelve, a double minded soul, that hangs himself.

And so all our silver we spend on a potter's field, on our own grave.

Lost ourselves, because we think it’s only our bodies we save.

Sold our treasure.

For pottage. And we bought a lie.

When will we stop? When will we wonder why?

When will we see his kingdom come?

When will the moon be turned to blood? When will the sun stop giving its love?

When will the stars fall from the sky?

When will the earth give up her dead?

When will we ever see the end?

When will we heal, when will we mend?

When will we gather the whole, and love all the missing parts?

When will love be the one we crown?

When will truth be told, and when will it abound?

When will the captives be set free?

When will then lost tribes finally see?

When will we gather all the pieces of real gold?

When will we toss out the lies, and live the higher law from above?

When will we rise from our own dark tombs?

When will we shake off the pain, the gloom?

When will the stone be rolled away?

Who will be standing there, what angels will light the way?

What second coming would we recognize, a raised Christ we walked with in disguise?

What sort of coming, in glory, and splendor, would bring an end to the war, and the hunger?

When will love stand supreme?  Truth light, love, spirit, unified, a glorified being.

When will we be one with life?

When will we stop chasing silver instead, of the light?

When will we free the one who loves us best? When will we put love where it belongs? When will we raise up, the hallelujah, and fan the palms?

When will we crown the rightful king?

When will we let him ride through our streets?

When will he be an invited guest?

When will we let love, be the one we love best?

When will we stop washing our hands, looking the other way, and giving in to other people's demands?

When we stop accusing love?

When will we stop nailing it up?

When will we bring his kingdom down, to a place in yourself, to your own hallowed ground?

When will you let it crack the law? When will you let Christ tip over your tables, where you tally, and claw?

Who is the one who holds the whip? Who strikes love, who makes it slip?

Who is the one who barters for love's clothes?

Who stands guard to watch its dead bones?

Who is the one who will raise from the dead, the light, the love, the heart, the body, the head?

Handel's messiah and solar christmas lights

  Hey!

I thought I’d stop in, and say hi.

I keep rearranging words…yet I can’t seem to get into the flow of writing. My mind is full of jumbled thoughts and letters, some I can grab and pull down, and turn into something, but all the things I write for my blog feel like random words on a scrabble board. Or odd journal entries that I don’t finish.

So scrabble night it is.

                Not a blog post.

                My mom and sister love scrabble.

I. Do. Not… like scrabble.  You have to be good at spelling. 

A few times we did a scrabble game where we got to make up words, and when we set the word down, we had to describe what our made-up word meant. That was the best version of scrabble I’ve played. No shame for creating wonderful words, with meanings you assign them.

                I feel wired, and tired. My throat is a bit sore from singing.

                I’m not quite sure how it got to be this time of month.

                Christmas?

                Oh my gosh.

               Where did the month go?

               I should maybe think about doing normal Christmas things….hmmm…

              Normal? 

              Normal is not on my scrabble board, anywhere. 

            It went missing long ago.

            If I find it, I'll frame it like a photo of a friend I once knew. Maybe stare at it from time to time. 

Mostly, this month was hijacked by music, and singing in choirs. That’s a pretty good way to bring in Christmas. 

                My sister and I just got home from performing in our last performance of Handel’s Messiah. The general vibe of tonight was friendly, yet a bit fearful. Maybe heavy is more accurate feeling of tonight. 

My favorite part about singing in the Messiah is singing the Hallelujah chorus, when everyone stands up, and the drums sound. I also like the trumpet bit, but we had zero trumpets this year. My sister was in charge of helping with the Messiah on our side of the county, so last week was a totally different vibe as I was also helping my sister pin on flowers onto soloists shirts, and passing out programs. That performance started out feeling constipated of soul, then something switched, and it felt like the "Christmas spirit appeared!"

Tonight it was, and then it wasn't as much. 

                I came home and ate some clove oil, just to ward off any stray germ from being around so many people. It’s been my favorite spice of choice since October when I made some Soul cookies, and decided cloves are lovely.

                I also have enjoyed making a spicy milk tea. I mix together cloves, and turmeric, lion’s mane mushroom powder, organic cocoa powder, and cinnamon, with goat milk, and stevia. I warm it up on the stove, and drink it.  It’s very calming, and though many might think gross, I enjoy it, and find it comforting.

             I’ve been griding cloves, and putting them in my shakes, and things. And the oil, I use it often. 

                Anyhow….what the heck was I talking about?

                I told you this was a scrabble post.

Now that nearly all our Christmas music programs are all done, maybe I’ll put up the Christmas tree. 

Last year I bought a fake Christmas tree because it had snowed so much on the mountains, it wasn’t an option to get a real tree. It went against my only real tree policy, and also I think a real tree makes the air in the house feel fresh---it was the first time in the history of my house that a fake tree had been brought in.

And I guess, it will probably be what I’m putting up this year.  So, it's one more tree not chopped. It’s weird but I really enjoy not trying to figure out how to make our real tree stay upright. One year we had it tip over multiple times…oh my gosh. I’d wake up in the morning and wonder if we’d have to redecorate it yet again.

One thing I did do ahead of time for Christmas was buy some solar Christmas lights. I strung them around my yard and lit them up on Thanksgiving. Becoming one of “those” people who welcome in Christmas just as Thanksgiving ends.

                Can I just say, solar Christmas lights are wonderful! One meager benefit from our lovely the forest of trees being cut down is that my front yard has tons more light.  So my solar lights now have plenty of sun to charge.

My mom liked the solar lights so much she bought another box for me to find homes for.

                                                         I.           Solar lights are so much easier to string up.

                                                       II.           You don’t have to use extension cords.

                                                     III.            You don’t have to overload the electrical system with too many light strands all feeding into each other.

                                                    IV.            You don’t have to be strategic and make the lights codependent. They are their own little solar system.

                                                      V.            Solar lights can be placed anywhere, as long as the sun can find them.

                                                    VI.            The creative possibilities are mind-blowing!

                And it’s so fun.

                I spent the day before thanksgiving actually really enjoying putting up the rest of the strands I hadn’t already strung up. It was sunny, and so satisfying to get them all up. When it gets dark, they can turn themselves on. And those itty bitty lights shine brilliantly. I don’t know how many years I have fretted over lights, and this year was not one of them.

                At least the first time I put them up….

                It was a breeze!

                Until….

                                Yeah….

                                                You were waiting for me to say that.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Until…my goats discovered how delicious Christmas lights are.

                Yes.

                They like Christmas lights.           

                Solar Christmas lights.

                Munching them, along with tree leaves. Apparently copper wire and Christmas lights make a great electrifying side dish.

                                If you asked the goats how the lights tasted, they would say they taste sparkly, like stars, and sunlight, like gingerbread and Christmas.

                                The first strand to become a Christmas feast was the strand I strung on their fence. Yes, that was a ‘brilliant’ idea. But I wanted to light the way to the barn as I’m always walking out there in the dark, and it looked so magical.

                                Sigh…

                                Past tense. Looked.

                                I didn’t know how much they enjoyed my lights until I noticed my path was dark. I did a close inspection and found the wire detached from the solar panel, chewed on.  And then I noticed that they had munched it in four or five places, split the wire into frayed bits.

You’d think they were deficient in copper, because they seemed to use it like floss.

I brought in the strand of lights, and tried fixing them, as they are mostly copper wire, and little solar lights.  So far, I haven’t gotten them to work.

In meantime, I had fenced the goats off from getting into my ice-skating area, so I could work on that.

So what did the goats do?  They flooded into my yard, and began uprooting my other Christmas lights, and munching them, snipping them in half, and eating them.

It was a far cry from my lovely lit up yard of Thanksgiving. It felt like, one by one, the light in my yard was diminishing.

                I pretty much restrung every working strand of lights, moved them to higher ground, and have them now---out of danger, we hope----!

                My yard is lit up once again!

As penance for eating Christmas lights, I hope the light munchers become enlightened, and perhaps glow in the dark. Who knows, maybe St. Nicholas might think them useful and use them for his magical sled. But I’d have to tell him to keep his bag of goodies away from their mouths, because they might eat everything in it.

 

 

 

 

               

               

 

 

 

Lovely things

 

I’ve not been feeling so good as of late. It's not something particularly explainable. I feel like I'm disintegrating….or at least parts of me.

        

I have been feeling so tired, and light-headed. I wonder sometimes If I’m picking up on the collective distress, or if my liver is cleaning out...probably both.

                       

I woke up and felt some distress, or static in the air, and tried writing, but I was distracted, so after I milked the goats, I sat with sun, it felt soothing, but the noise outside was so disturbing as a whole crew of prison people were making war on the lovely grove of trees by the ditch that had grown up into a forest of sorts.  

 I watched the men with chainsaws zipping them down, and my heart just ached.  

I loved those trees, and had appreciated how big they grown, how the light shown through them, and watched as their leaves changed color, and now…the sacred protectors of the land, the trees that watch silently, are falling, becoming someone else's fuel.

I swear, if the world ends, it's mans stupidity, not Gods.

The men chopping the trees down would be far better off if they would sit beneath them and ponder God, and their own precarious spot in this world.  

It feels the cutting, severing, splitting wood energy is too close for comfort.

I told my sister the other day that most people are so split themselves, they can't help but try to split you, like wood, so they can burn you as fuel.  

Yet, I feel that most of our souls are so leaky, and split that the chopping energy is running rampant, as we’re all so leaky of soul. The karma only stops at people who don't become splitters, and choppers, even if they may have holes and leaks themselves---why not try to fix the holes in their own boat as best they can, without passing the holes along.

There has been such an influx of beautiful energy, grace energy, peace, warmth, goodness in this world, I'm not sure if many feel it. But I have.

     Yet, light also reveals shadows, like someone lifting a old log, and squashed grass and bugs underneath are the first thing you see.

The influx of so much light has caused all of us to see our own holes, and shadows. I think that's why there's been such a frantic, hungry, searching energy sweeping through the earth, everyone looking for the illusive, "it."

The leaky soul has a hard time feeling where the "it" is found. Hence chopping happens.

There's been so many people in distress, so many people ill, and so many people that have made a mass exodus from this world, I worry about everyone, and hope they can be lucky as me, and find the lovely bits, and see that everything is far more beautiful than it is ugly, despite what sometimes looks like the end.

               

  Sitting here, writing this got me to thinking about how this is Thanksgiving week. And there has been so many wonderful beautiful, delicious, things in my life. And since my computer has been resurrected for the time being, though it's breathing is quite labored, I can now post pictures!!!! I am grateful for that. I won't post a picture of it, as it's lying on it's side slightly dissected.  

 

Another beautiful thing I am grateful for is, Sophy. She's a funny bird who loves music. Her story began when I was walking in the yard with my sister, and I saw, under one of our tallest trees, a bird just sitting there on the ground. I watched it for a minute, and thought perhaps, she was injured. I took a step towards her. She lifted her feathers, just a bit, so I could see a little head beneath her wings. I took another step, and she bolted. Underneath her was the cutest baby bird.

   Oh my gosh! My heart was touched that this beautiful bird would stay with her little baby, on the ground, where danger lurked, keeping her safe. I was worried that my cats would make a quick meal of the now exposed baby bird. So I made a barrier around the bird, with an open top, and kept on checking on it. But sadly, it's mom didn't return. So I scooped it up, and have been caring for her. Now, Sophy, that's what I named her. She likes to sit, on my keyboard, and clean the keys. She went through a phase of hitting the home button, and qlikes the lettrerr e. Thotse typos are hers. 

Now I know ehere typos com from. She keeyps geeting in my pay, way. gosh. I ope she doesn't poop on them. But I don't have the heart to scoop her off, as she's having such great fun. Crumb scavenging, as I my fingers scavenge for words. yWho know words could be so delicious?!

Now if she hits the delete key, I know I shant post this. Never has she had so much fun. The other day, while I was playing koto, she kept hitting the tuner buttons on the tuner, and changed the key sharper than it should have been.

            Anyhow, I had been writing about...oh...gosh, she did poop....!!!

Give me a minute... my fingers are covered.....so are the keys.

Minute up.

 Anyhow, what was I saying? Oh I just wanted to give her a bit of credit for this blog post.

                        She was making some really weird noises, and she rarely makes sounds. Yesterday she was going on, as if she was trying to tell me something very important,  and this morning, as well. So I thought, well, the wordless one is making some noise, why don't I....

                        Sophy is so cute. I took this video, and as you can see, she loves music.

                                    Loves it. 

This video makes me happy. I wanted to share it.

I really love her.

 

Something else that gives me great pleasure is my greenhouse.  I took this picture just before the frost got it, as it's not quite warm enough to sustain cucumbers. But I still have flowers blooming, and some other plants left.

The sunflowers that survived my goats decapitation. Each got their own photo shoot.

The moon. It's so very under appreciated. How I love it.

My garden, before it got messy. And frosted, and bugged, and chickened, and eaten.

The beautiful rivers...

The fact that I get to paint my floors...

My odd friend, bug that follows me while milking goats.

Weeds, and wild things.

popcorn clouds!

Angel ray clouds

The reflections in the river nearest my house.

My bestest biking buddy.

Milkweeds!

My two favorite palls.

The little patch of wilderness by my house, and rainbows!

 

 

 

 

 

 

       Which reminds me, I don't have a picture of it. But I love my rainbow vacuum cleaner, is freaking awesome. I love it so much. A lady came and did a demo, and tried to get us to buy one for the price we paid for our car....

                However, you could use the vacuum, as a vehicle, and drive it into town, that could be a perk. You'd be driving and cleaning the roads at the same time. Finally, the world would be made clean again . But sadly, as the worlds most eco-cleanest friendly car has not been invented yet, so we declined, her offer. But the desire had already been planted to someday own one, it took a year or so to manifest, but I shopped around on ebay, and eventually pieced together all the makings of the said, vacuum, without having to use it as a car, and it is my favorite, most satisfying vacuum I have ever owned. I like it so much I think I could make entire post dedicated to its abilities.  It's like I bought a colin for our floors, that you get to clean, and see the grime and mud all sloshed inside its water canister. 

        Another thing I'm grateful for.

        The top of my chicken coup.

        It is a wonderful place to watch the sky.

        Yes.

        I am so very grateful for beautiful words, and beautiful people.

        Trees.

        And skys.

        And stars. 

        And paint.

        And noodles.

        And soft things. And colors. And sweet aromas. Rain, and wind, and thunder.

        Authentic laughs, and candid moments. 

        Music, and singing, and songs, and sounds....

        Autumn, and winter, and spring, and summer, and the inbetween bits.

      The teachers both sweet, and sour, salty, and bitter, smiles, and frowns, and silence, and words filling the silence. Hope, and anger, and fear, and, all the seasons of emotions that are all ours to glean wisdom from. Success, and failure, and broken things, and fixed things, and things that work, and things that don't work. And cut down trees, that make me appreciate the trees that are still growing, and the warmth I have in my own fireplace.

        Herbs, and plants, and growing things. Water, and ice, and fire, and air.

        Friends, and enemies, family, and cloud people that drift in and out, that you appreciate from a distance because you can see the entire sky, and their place in it.

            Simple food, and simple places, simple people, and simple days.     

            Butterfly wings, and feathers, and fluff.

            The blue in bluebird eggs, the red of a robin's chest.

            The sound that wings make when they take flight.

            Fallen pencils, so you can pick them up and hand them to a stranger, forgotten wallets, that you can return just before their owner drives away.     

            Open doors, and locked doors.

               Windows, and glass, and crystal, see-through things.

                 Warm clothes out of the dryer.     

                The happy squeal of delight of my mother when she finds something she loves.

                Movement, and dancing, and bare toes on wet soil.

                 Happy accidents, and aligned moments.

                  Knowing glances that need no words. 

                Being still in the stillness. 

            An empty mind, a full heart.

              Strong arms.

            Gentle hands.

            My sister who always helps me carry things I couldn't carry alone.  

            Poetry, and movement, and motion, and dance, and the spots and speckles on animals fur.

                Butter, and bread, and peaceful people who are present in their task, deliberate, and content. Delicious people who need nothing, because they love what they have. 

            Summer, and rivers, and oceans, and wells, and springs, and brooks, and dew, and the patterns of frost on my window.

                Green leaves, and crunchy leaves, and leaves decayed. 

           Silk sheets, and silk pillow cases, and weighted blankets, soft fluffy coats. 

            Gloves, and hands inside the gloves.

              Steamy warm drinks, and cold lemon juice.

            Dragonflies, and lightening bugs, and caterpillars, and butterflies.

            Lost things, and found things, and things found you forgot you lost.

            Old purple bottles, swirly, ancient marbles.

           Glittery dew on a spiders web.

            And dewy glitter as the suns rays hit the water.

            These are a few of the lovely things I love.