The music Man

 

Dear Blog,  

 

Hi. 

I thought it's about time to spent time with you. I sometimes find the things close to my heart are the things that I keep tucked away, thinking I will share sometime, when conditions are perfect, or when I feel like I know what the right thing to say is.

But the truth is, I don't really know what the right thing to say is.

Only what is on my heart.

And many times I feel frightened because I want so much to love everyone better, but forget to include myself.

To let myself be human. To say how I feel, like I am describing the weather. A view, not something solid. But a moment, snapping a photograph here, and there.

Wanting to focus on that which I want to magnify. 

And yet, there is apart of myself, and every self, I feel that feels afraid of describing the pictures that are sometimes, gray, and sometimes cloudy, and sometimes stormy. 

Yet, as I look at nature. It never holds back, never waits for it's perfect sunset. Never ceases blooming. Never stops. Always gives.

Never afraid of its power, never afraid of its natural expression.  Lightning, or rainbows. Glimmering stars, or billowing clouds.

They are just a moment, a movement, an energy a painting here, and then changed again to something else.

Beautiful in every way. Not afraid of its seasons, or its winters, or summers or springs.

To be thus.

Why does my mind tell me to always wait? For perfection lies in all the inbetween bits, all the little things along the way.

The tears.

The laughter. 

The truth behind the form, always there, looking.

The imperfect bits, that somehow come together in the end. The parts that don't feel beautiful, or perfect are usually the magic elements that show us how similar we all are. 

All dancing. 

All just passing, here, and there. 

I started writing this out under a tree, by our shed built out of old railroad ties in a hammock chair. A floating chair. It is so beautiful, watching the trees, and leaves sway, as I sway too. I see why sometimes God keeps directing me outdoors. It's a gift to find the real places. And the green is so soft, and loving. And I feel lucky to know Mother nature as a kind, and loving friend. 

I find her soft afternoons a calm to my soul.

Walking in the sea of purple blossoms in the alfalfa fields, feels like a caress to my heart. Seeing the bees among the blossoms.

And the waving sunflowers that grow alongside the path that we walk to get to the canal, gives me so very much pleasure. Seeing their yellow blossoms, and silhouettes against the sunset, feel like God's poetry, to be read with reverence, and awe.

To write a sunflower, to sing the poetry of how it follows the light, slowly moving in the direction of the source that gives it life. Following the direction of the sun.

This is what my soul wishes most to sing of.

 And also, of the stars. To give the night a bit of seeing, a bit of glimmer, and knowing. To see the wisdom of both night and day, of the seasons, and the cycles, and the way the stars sing, and the way the clouds and moon, and the sunlight are always painting something beautiful. 

When we sleep outside at night, I find it comforting to have Bessie in the tent on the other side of me. Sometimes when we can't sleep, or there's screech owls, or foxes that go off, we just talk, back and forth, noting our states of mind, and the beauty and soft ambience of the night.

The first couple of weeks in August there were some amazing thunderstorms, quite epic, and coming home from the plays, we usually got the best view.

Yesterday, was a message day.

Bessie’s head was feeling hot, and achy, and she’s been getting over a cold, so she needed a massage. 

My mom’s back was hurting, so she needed some massage.

Then Bessie’s violin student’s arm was hurting. So she also needed some massage from both Bess and I.

Our goat, that’s spotted like a giraffe, hurt her leg, trying to leap over a fence, so she also got a bit of a massage, with some comfrey cream, though she wouldn't hold still. 

Then my sister Jeana came over, and she wanted to show us a runt piggy, that she’d been taking care of. My dad has a friend, and companion, named John, who raises pigs, and this piglet was the smallest one. 

And oh so cute. 

But Jeana's knee has something wrong with it, and it causes her a lot of pain. So she also got a foot, knee, leg, and ear massage. 

We wanted Amelia, our friend and neighbor to see the piggy, so she came, and loved on it. And it fell asleep in her lap. It was so cute.

I thought it should be named Roomba. Jeana calls it Poompa.

So I guess it's a roomba poomba. :)

Afterward, Bess I, mom, and Amelia went to the reservoir, and swam. Well, mostly me and Amelia swam, because it was oh so cold. And Bessie is still trying to get over some flu bug, so she took care of mom, on the shore, who was trying to fish with a magnet. My mom likes watching a show called mud larking. And so I bought her a magnet fishing kit.  

The water was----ccccold. As I took the magnet out into the water I nearly stepped on a wheel, from a toy car, with its spiky rod bit poking out. I thought it funny that I found something metal with my foot, and was glad I didn’t step, step on it. 

Sadly, mom didn’t find anything other than bits of magnetic sand. 

But Bessie in her wanderings on the beach, found a red, smelly candle on the shore, a cool nose plug that Amelia thought was wonderful. And a heart tunnel. Which I thought was real neat. We called it the love tunnel, as it was longer than our arms, and had many levels. Further down, it was warm.

 

 

Anwayz, I can feel an autumn tang, as I like to call it.  

Feeling the wheel shift, as the seasons change. 

And I am awed, and a little baffled by how time seems to march on, even when you hardly notice it. And how the seasons dance so swiftly. You can't hardly a blink, and they change so fast, right as you are getting used to the season your in.  

This month has had so much in it.

I find myself wondering how to describe the comings and goings, the growings, and the knowings. The stillness, and everything inbetween.

I don't know if I can. But I'll try to find a few moments that stand out. A few pictures.

I have been pondering  the play. I usually write about it, every year, and photograph it with words, my experience. And what I have gleaned from it.  I suppose the most beautiful thing that was about the play, is something that is intangible.

There was a seeing that happened, and I felt that a God grid was created by everyone.  A loaves and fishes grid.  

Where everyone brought exactly what they had, and it was enough. 

The car rides two and from the play, were some of my most favorite. Just riding, and driving, and talking together with Bessie and Ameila were special. Bess and I feel Amelia is like a soul sister. She has a very kind mother-like nature. There is something very special, and easy, and real about her. She has a way of making you feel seen, and loved, while making you laugh at the same time. And she’s not afraid of saying her truth, saying how human, and imperfect she is. She is always saying kind things to us. Reflecting light back so easily. Bess and I really love her. And she has taught me about loving myself, just by her being her.

And we really did the play because she did. She kept us going, kept us swimming. "literally." And was the glue that kept us there.  

Our car has two windows that won’t roll up, and the air conditioner quit. So we wondered how we'd get there and back, without cooking.

But Grace drove us there.  

We weren’t really sure we wanted to go to the play, unless God wanted us there. 

And then here comes Amelia, who decided to be in the play with us, and we all took turns driving her car, and it was such a fun car to ride in. And she was so kind to let us use her car. And we’d gas up in a gas station called, “Loves,” which I’d never heard of before. 

One day that stands out was a day Bessie’s eye got hurt.  

The day Bessie and I were supposed to help paint props, and sets, there was so much happening, and so many people wanting our attention.  

Bess was putting together all these wood props for the stable wall, and then our little neighbor friend, who’s about ten years old, came over, and wanted to see our goats. I hadn’t milked goats yet, so I let him milk goats with me, and see the chickens. He likes to bike, and seems quite lonely. The day before, he zoomed past our house on his bike, I clapped and said wow, when he did some tricks, and biked without hands.  

That "wow, " was all he needed.  

He kept zooming back and forth. Doing acrobatics on his bike.

Bess and I took turns telling him how amazing he was.  

So on the day we were supposed to be in a hurry, I took him on a short bike ride down our own trail, to show him a little off road bike road he can take, other than the main road. He was so cute, and so eager to be seen. He loved that bike trail.

Bess had to go to town to gas up the truck so we could haul a bunch of props to the play. 

 

I stayed home to make food. After I’d finished, I wanted to take a quick nap, before we had to head out.  Just before I laid down, the doorbell rang. It was my brother in law. He was standing on the front porch with his daughter. There had been some really tough emotions, regarding my sister's divorce, and a lot of drama, and past things to be seen, and forgiven. 

I felt like God was asking me to look closer, and open my heart more.  

Here was God in drag.

I invited them in, and realized, how afraid he seemed. And I realized he was more scared than I was. I saw someone who was hurting, and needing someone to look. So I got out the guitar Ameila gave us, and plopped it in his hands, and asked him to play, as he used to play. He played some, and then I got the singing bowls out, and showed him and his daughter the wonder of their music. 

By that time, my mom came out, and we all visited.  

Just as they left, Bess came home, with a really injured eye. She had ordered some Plexiglass for a window she was making for a customer. She was carrying too much, and one end of the plexiglass poked her eye. It was all swollen, and watering, and she was real miserable.  

I felt bad, because I had thought I should've gone with her.

She was worried that some of the plexiglass was still inside of her eye. But we were in a hurry, because we had to leave to be on time to help paint sets, as we had told the cast, to come at five.  

Bess didn’t have time to doctor her eye.  

So we went to Fillmore, watery eye and all.  

We didn’t have enough paint, and very many colors. But we brought what we had. And planned to use the colors Doug had a lot of. There was a lot of walls to be painted.

Despite Bessie's hurt eye. There seemed to be some beautiful seeing that happened.

Like everyone working as one.

Bessie is a fabulous leader. 

And people listen to her. 

And follow her.

It seemed magic happened.  

People and paint started to arrive, once we began. It wasn't like last year, in the fact that there was only a few of us.

There was so many. All ready to help. All ready to do their part. And it was beautiful. Especially contrasting it from last year, even though the few of us that were there, had magic moments too. People brought paint, and instead of just doing brown, or yellow walls, we had someone bring blue paint, and someone else brought green paint, and someone brought some extra rollers, and it was beautiful, because people started showing up. More and more. 

So many. That first day of doing sets, we mostly were helpers, directors, instead of painters. Pointers. And they all wanted to help. Even the little bity kids. Bess and I spent most of the time, directing who should do what, and mixing paint, and getting rollers, and Bess is really good at delegating, and showing the guys how to help, and what they should do, and how to put people at ease.

And because she delegated, it felt like everyone was happy. Because they knew what they were supposed to do. And even the little kids felt seen.  

She even showed some kids how to run a drill, which they thought was the coolest thing.  

It was really beautiful. Though Bess was miserable the whole time, because her eye was hurting, real bad.  

But I was really proud, and thankful, and amazed, because everyone wanted to help, and everyone started humming---I mean you could feel the happy hum of their hearts, happy to be present when they got to working, and painting, and I could feel that there was a third thing happening, as everyone put some now, and presence into what they were doing.  

Two girls were working with some others on making the library shelves, and a few books. It was cool because they were using a little bit of the backdrop of the set we painted last year, for the library.  

Bess was working on mapping out the stables, and helping to mix paint.  

Another person was making siding, for the outside of the house, using some cool gray tape, Bess had ordered on Amazon.  

And another man was using a roller Bess had also found on Amazon, and was rolling on beautiful patterns for the inside of the house. 

Another team of women were working on bricks for the library, and even the director was helping them.  

Another team of teenagers were working on the bricks for town hall, and some kids were helping me with the bricks for the side of the store, where two other women were helping widen the window, and write words onto the house. 

That was the first day of working on sets. It wasn’t finished by a long shot. But we did get a lot done, and Bess and I were very grateful for the sense of unity that came because of it. I could feel many who stayed to help felt closer than we had before.

Though, poor Bess, and her eye were so very miserable. She said that night she started crying, because her eye started throbbing, and feeling awful, and it wouldn’t stop running. She was real worried, but she didn’t wake me up, so I felt bad about that.  

The next morning she put some colloidal silver in her eye, and it seemed to help some. But the light bothered it, a lot. And she felt quite destabilized, because of her blurry vision.  

Cast reunion day

Bess rockin her eyepatch.

My niece, and the director, Doug.

 

We had to come the next day---Saturday. Bessie’s eye was hurting. So I dug up an eye patch out of our medical supplies, and she wore it, to practice, and found some relief in it. 

Practice went well but we were all real tired.

Bessie looked quite like a pirate with her eye patch. She had really wanted to be a Pirate in the show, The Pirates of Penzance, we were in from a few years ago.   

Towards the end of practice that day. I noticed people I recognized from past plays showing up. Loads of people. 

Lots, and lots.  

Were they coming to watch us?  I wondered.

Then I realized that this day was the cast reunion.  I'd forgotten.

And poor Bess, with an eye patch. It confused a lot of people. They thought it was part of the costumes.  

And so many people had showed up.  People from past plays that I’d never met. People who helped build the stage. 

I asked a couple if they knew the people who planted the giant trees growing by the stage. And he said he did, but she was no longer here. 

There was even the photographer I’d met at the Topaz museum. He was taking pictures. It was interesting, because there were so many people there, that it looked like we had a great audience, sitting on the grassy hill.  We all watched while some people, and cast members made a speech for Doug, and Lynette, thanking them for all the years they’d done the plays. And, as a thank you, the City was renaming the amphitheater, in Doug’s honor, from the North park amphitheater, to the Jenkins theater. 

They had a nice big sign, and they placed it on the side of the wall.  

After they took pictures of the cast, we were supposed to go to a meal, where they’d made a video of the plays past pictures, which I helped compile.  

Bess, Amelia and I were really tired, and her eye was hurting. So we went home early, without going to the rest of the cast reunion. At first I was a little disappointed. But I realized what a blessing it was to go home early, we were all exhausted.  

And it felt like the most loving thing for ourselves, to go home. 

Phew, just writing about it causes me to feel a bit tired.  

The next Friday, was second day of painting sets. That was another memorable day.

Bessie’s eye was doing some better, but still some blurry vision. She had put some clay on her eye, and it really helped.  

The main girl working on the library set was gone to Chicago, to a concert. So I ended up on the library, and painting books with another couple of girls, and mostly it was an interesting team effort. As there was a lot of stuff to do.  And lots of people wanting to paint, but not having much experience or confidence in painting.

And we all had to be patient working with each other.  

It was neat, though, because Bess was real amazing at giving everyone jobs, and it flowed so well. There was a guy who wanted to do lettering, so he finished the shop windows, and did the lettering.  

And another group of women, and men and helped with the gym and the stables, and town hall, and the house. Yet again, there was this third happy hum. But it was real exhausting, and all of us were giving it our best in the heat, and this was the only day we hadn’t been rehearsing that week.

But Bessie and I both agreed, after working with everyone so closely, and intensely, felt like everyone was more unified, and synced up, in a way that I can’t really explain.  

We had to stop, for the evening, and the next day, was a Saturday practice. Bessie and I both knew that if we had to finish sets, and practice for the play, we wouldn’t be able to do both.  

We also knew that once we got there, we’d be there all day, because we had sets to finish. So we tried to find the loving thyself path, were we did what we thought was the most important, first.  

Bess started cooking some food for the cast members, as she knew they would be very hungry after practice, and probably wouldn’t stay to help, unless we made food.  

So we did animals, and I went and did a quick dip in to the canal, to refresh my spirit.  

We packed up the food Bess had prepared, and then stopped by the grocery store to pick up some supplies, and then went to the play, though we had missed the rehearsal. 

Everyone looked tired and hot. But we got out the food, and offered it to cast members, and they were so grateful. Bess really was inspired. Because many people stayed, and helped. Usually, by this time, everyone was hungry, and left.

But they stayed, for the most part, and it was this third magic day of everyone helping.  

I hadn’t yet put book titles on the books in the library, and a lady had bought big thick markers.  I’d printed out names of books I liked, and also I got the idea to put names of past plays on the books. 

One lady who Bessie had rescued from falling, and hitting her head, during a practice, when they were rolling on a wall, was helping me. And she and I, and her cute daughter, (who reminds me of Anne From Anne of green gables) wrote titles to the books.  

We asked various people their favorite book titles, and the Director got his favorite book on one of the books. I also invited cast members to put their favorite books titles onto the books. Though mostly, us painters of the library wrote most of the titles. Our handwriting wasn’t the greatest. And our younger friend’s handwriting drooped off the books. 

I smiled. Noting that no one in the audience, except us would be able to read the titles anyway.

It was still fun, and satisfying. I thought they needed titles, after all the work of painting the books.  

Many other people stayed and helped, as there was lots to do. From painting sets, to putting up lights, and sound equipment, and netting and so much more. Bessie was really good at helping the guys to know what to do. 

I was mostly with the women, and kids. And focusing on details.

And it all seemed to flow so good. And everyone was grateful to have a job to do. The man painting lettering had to go home to feed his family, so I finished the town hall, that he’d started.  Shading, the pillars and the letters, and painting in the sun, he’d chalked outlines for.  It was real difficult painting that high on the ladder, as I’m not very tall. And it started to storm a bit. 

But all in all. Everything went so very well. 

Two teenagers needed a job, so I showed them how to paint some depth onto the bricks on town hall. And they had a lot of fun. 

Then the director, who usually tosses the extra paint, at the end, gave the extra paint to Bessie to use for her wood business. We loaded up the truck full of the extra paint, and said goodbye to the few remaining people who’d stayed. And made our way home. 

        

  To make a long story less long. The performances went well.

I loved that backstage all the kids had books. And you could see them reading by lamplight. And that was a beautiful thing to see.

There was one kid we made friends with, that was very chatty. He looked at Bess and I and was saying that he'd miss us. And that he wished that Bess and I were sisters.

We laughed. "Wish granted.  We are!" 

It was pretty cute.

Bess, Amelia, and I were always feeding kids backstage. Like little baby birds.

The last day of the play, Monday. We left early, because we left our makeup bag there, and we wanted to get there soon enough, to get ready on time. On the way there, it started raining a lot. Huge raindrops fell, and big beautiful clouds showed off.

         

But the most amazing thing. A double rainbow appeared in the sky. It had a shadow between the other rainbow, and the main one. And it looked like a bridge. A real, rainbow bridge.

          Amelia said, "I would not be sad if you pulled over, and took pictures." That was all I needed. And the whole ride, the rainbow just kept showing off, and we kept stopping to take pictures.

          It felt like a magic rainbow. It was so soft, and airy, and misty, and vivid. I don't think pictures can do it justice.

          It was fortunate that we left a little early.

          Bess and I started singing, "Rainbow Connection."

          All in all, because of the prior rain, the last day, there wasn't as many people in the audience as expected. But it didn't rain on us, and the air was cool, and crisp.

The last day of the play, there's usually funny pranks on stage that only us cast members know about. We all tried thinking of funny things we could do on the last day, on stage---as it is tradition. Everyone thought of subtle, funny things, probably not noticeable to the audience, but memorable to me.

          The rubber chicken was brought on---for the librarian scene.

          When a firecracker goes off, all the Indian girls, dawned sunglasses, like special agents, and took the Mayors wife off stage, like they were special agents.

          And us Grecian urn girls, which Bessie, I and Ameila were part of, got this idea to hold grapes in various poses. And one of the ladies had brought a huge amount of grapes, so it felt like a inspired idea. So it was our little unplanned thing we did.

          One thing that stands out, the closing night, I usually feel a strange sense of wanting to say goodbye to the cast members, but feeling like maybe I wasn't good enough friends to say goodbye. This was it was the first time I felt like there was a third thing that made me feel really connected to the cast members, more than just a sort of a watcher, outsider.

          I felt like everyone in the cast felt seen, in some way.

          I usually feel a bit awkward, kind of like the background itself, not sure if I should say goodbye because I wasn't sure if I'd said hello enough, to say goodbye.  

                    This time, I felt there was a family of souls here. More than any other time. And so it felt just nice, and soft.

          One of the cast members, Mossimo--- if I spelled his name right. Asked for a ride home, back to Delta. He was a main part in the play, quite the good actor, playing the part of the foe. I remember asking his name, and asking the meaning of his name. And he said, the Greatest victory. I thought that was cool.

          Backstage, on one practice, he all of the sudden got a terrible nosebleed, the worst one I'd ever seen. We'd all huddled around him, to try and comfort him. It eventually stopped, but it was really worrisome.

          It made me think of the nosebleed music video I shared, and then I was more concerned. I guess his nosebleeds a lot. Anyhow, the last day, he asked us to take him to the library, in Delta, where his mom would pick him up. I thought it very curious that he wanted me to take him to the library, since this play was centered around a librarian.

          Anyhow, there was tons of lightening, and we took him to the library, where his mom picked him up, she was wearing some bunny pj's.

         For me, the play ended at the library.

          At least it seemed so. I was planning on helping put away props, and things with my sister the next day.

          But I got a really mean migraine, so I stayed home. And Bessie was able to get my mom to go with her, on a road trip. Since my mom hadn't felt able to travel to see our plays, she at least got to see the take-down. And loved the beautiful ride.

 

  So, what would I say about the play this year. How to put into words the essence of the play.

          Miraculous. I would say.

          Bessie and I were this close to not going.

          And I think the director felt bad that we weren't coming.

          Then we came, and I think he still thought we didn't like the play.

          But the day Bessie agreed to help with sets, she told him some truths.

          She told him that we both thought his plays had value. Intrinsic value. Told him that before the plays, Bess and I had been more afraid of people. That we didn't realize how alike we are. That the plays helped us see ourselves in others, better. That they had changed our lives, and others for the better. And though he didn't get paid to do this, and he gave away his summer year after year, we loved him, and saw that his work was beautiful, and added value, and goodness to our lives, and those around us.

          That she saw the invisible bits, that mattered.

  And to you, I say the same.

     The invisible reader.

          And know that behind the scenes, and the play, and actors.

          There is a golden thread.

          And it connects us all.

        And someday, perhaps, we will see all those invisible bits, that helped us along the way.

        But until then. I say thank you.

     The simple act of watching, of being present, changes the very nature of that which is been seen.

          For when one is seen.

          And a bit of presence is given to it. 

          Love is felt, and when love is felt, souls grow wings, and hearts sing.

          And the hidden truth that is ever present knows itself in another.  

         And to know that we are not alone, that we are not separate, like we once supposed, is the most beautiful knowing of all.

          The single eye.

          Something is seen.

          When we see our beloved in another.

          The whole play changes.

          And we begin to remember the our original soul song. Our real nature, beyond the masks and roles given to us by another.

                    And though the more this knowing grows inside of me, the more porous I feel.

And it feels very vulnerable. Shedding old skins, and stepping into the space. And in that space, God provides his presence to sustain the knowing.

           I am learning, little at a time to trust and follow love. And know that it is the most powerful force on this earth.

          And the only thing worth living for.

          My greatest truth I know. Though it is a mystery of mysteries.

          God, day, by day, reveals himself all around me. 

          God drove us there.

          God gassed the car.

          God was our friend.

          God was painting sets.

          God was directing.

          God was weaving.

          God was healing.

          God was helping.

          God was fixing.

          God was taking pictures.

          God was the picture.

          God was in the sky, and in the clouds, and storms.

          God was in the calm.

          In the background, foreground, above, and below.

          If you pause, you could feel it.

          God in the form of our neighbor Amelia.

          God in all of us.

          Love dancing on stage, shining lights, God in the audience, in the paint, in the walls. In hearts, and hands, and feet.

          All there.

          All here.

          In this, my little Garden. Here.