The Writing Garden
A place created for great ideas, and thoughts to grow. Here, you'll find tidbits of inspiration, growing buds of hope, ideas about life, health, and happiness. Most of all, by visiting my garden, I hope you will see things you haven't seen before, and connect to raw, real earth, and watch your own 'seeds' grow.
Monday, October 14, 2024
Saturday, October 12, 2024
Finished painting
Friday, October 11, 2024
Wednesday, October 9, 2024
Another beautiful song
Tuesday, October 8, 2024
Autumn recordings
So, my koto teacher had this idea to get a Folk Art grant in the works. As she would like to come to my house, so she can see me again, and so I can learn in person next year, for a week, and to fund some things like koto strings, and other things, and her trip here. I guess it's a museum grant from Salt lake or something.
You know how I said I dislike being filmed. And I am trying to allow the flow of life as it shows up.
So I said I'd try it.
I'm usually the one taking pictures. So hmmm. It's kind of humidifying. Auto correct. Humilifying.
Sigh...
So she wanted me to make some recordings. I made so many.
And there was so much wind the first day.
Second day, family was noisy, and so were the animals outside.
This has been interesting. And so out of my comfort zone.
As my house much noise in it, many times. And people are always coming, and going, and phones a ringing, and I'm not sure what else.
I tried recording some outside.
Very raw. These are the two that sort of turned out.
Nature is beautiful.
But I did record something.
They are so raw. I feel like such a beginner. One video my cat leapt onto the koto. Another video a train came honking its horn, muting the sound. A hawk calling. A sudden mini burst of wind, that turned my music pages.
And a couple times the koto string did a strange hum, that just kept buzzing---I've never had that happen before to the strings in the house. It was like it just kept going, and the sound was loud, and ethereal.
So anyhow. I thought I'd share them here. Imperfect as they are, and windy, and raw.
Now we are free
Bess found a version of this song on facebook, and showed it to me, this morning. It was a beautiful a cappella version. Mom had never heard it before. And it made me wonder what the translation was. I thought it was Hebrew.
A person commented in the video comments that they wondered what language it was. And it sounds like it's a non-existent language. Called "language of heart " the language invented by a singer.
The perfect language.
I found a version with the translation.
I guess a heart one.
So beautiful.
Monday, October 7, 2024
Musical words.
Dear blog,
I keep writing stuff, and backspace. Writing stuff. Backspace. Save as draft.
Hmmm.
Sleepy.
Yawn.
Words.
Music seems more eloquent.
Had quite the migraine last night, so perhaps, maybe it's clearing old files. At least, I'll tell myself that. Maybe that's why I can't seem to put my thoughts down.
Music has such a nice flow to it.
So here's my blog post tonight.
Music.
It has encoded into it.
It's own sound.
Something beautiful. Emotion. Says things words can only hint at.
Speaks to hearts.
Music.
Would our voices could covey our greatest truths.
And our words could harness the power of the heart in such a way, when we spoke, what we said had value, and life, meaning.
Presence.
Honor.
Goodness.
Something worthy to say.
And we'd use our breath beautifully, painting pictures of love. Tapestries of life, woven together, with every beautiful color we could find. Such a rug---Everyone could walk on and feel themselves. And know the ground of their very being.
A sharing of truth, a knowing, a being. A seeing.
Something so real, you felt your own realness.
That is the kind of conversation.
Worth having.
Where the unseen within us, all is heard, and known. And we remember the truth we once forgot. And everyone was fed, and watered.
And their souls flowered and blossomed with such musical words of truth.