#SpreadMusicNotHate No.3

Hans Zimmer’s “Time,” from Inception, performed by the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Martin Gellner. Always an all time favorite. Oh, and that’s Hans Zimmer himself playing lead guitar.

This is the most peaceful (in my definition and experience of peace), beautiful piece of orchestral genius I have ever heard in my life. I bawl (usually on the inside) every time I hear it and it’s so healing. It’s on my list.

Before the end of my life I want to play this with an orchestra. The swells. The hidden notes. The soul. The high. The sounds – the language – of the cosmos within it… 😭🎶🙌

I wish I’d never given up music professionally. I wish I’d never studied anything else sometimes. I wish a lot of things, but I chose what I chose. Maybe it’s time to change what I chose because I was “supposed to” at the time, and choose what my heart wants now… My heart is not really at home anymore. It lives someplace it can never really belong, except maybe on that stage, making one sound out of many with all the other musicians, and touching the hearts of others listening (although the practices are the best – when there’s no audience but the orchestra and conductor).

That’s what I’ve come to realize in these months since mama died. I’ve spent all this time trying to figure out how to do life now, and it suddenly hit me why it never feels right now matter what I do. You know? ❤️

What about you? What are your real passions? What is your heart’s truest desires – the things (or thing) that makes you feel like you’re truly where you’re meant to be and not just there because you were shaped or conditioned to be there? What would you do if you didn’t have the responsibilities you have now that you feel like you can’t leave behind?

I’d play the music and move people’s souls – at least, the one’s whose souls are moved by music. We’d travel, and we’d live wild and free in a world of art and music. That’s what we’d do. 😌

What will you choose?

Hey there… I’m about to catch up on my #spreadmusicnothate posts, but first some morning thoughts:

No altar, no belief, no holy book…have ever been able to reconcile the rich and the poor, the exploiter and the exploited. And if Jesus himself had to take the whip and chase them from his temple, it is indeed because that is the only language they hear.” -Thomas Sankara

No – it’s not ALL rich people, and I’ll gladly point that out. Look at Dolly. Look at Keanu. Look at Paul Walker (before he died in that crash). Many “rich” people care and give to and for the higher good. It’s not even specifically normal people who are richer than me and many of us financially. But this spoke to me on levels of Jeff Beezos. Both “Walt” families (Walt Disney’s and Sam Walton’s). I could go on… That top 1%…

Kindness is so important – giving, helping, encouraging. Not just money, but also words and comfort. Don’t underestimate that.

Jesus did, in fact, flip tables and run people out of his temple with whips, see John – chapter 2. He – as a pure soul in a human form – lost his temper more than once. But he did it in situations that required it. How do you think he would enjoy “church” now?

The point is this: frustration and speaking/acting out for injustice is OK. It’s ok to not feel or be happy all the time. ALL of our emotions serve a purpose.

If Jesus can acceptably lose his temper, use his anger for change and defense of the abused, then it’s ok for you to get angry and fed up, too. To call out injustice and to stand on the side of the less fortunate or unfortunate.

Don’t think that Love itself (as Christ is generally defined) wasn’t sometimes reprimanding and influential of change in ways that don’t seem kind to the one getting “in trouble.”

Don’t think love doesn’t need to get “tough” on you sometimes or that generally always kind people are fluffy bunnies who never turn into lions. How many of you are parents? 😉

That said, don’t down the “fluffy bunnies” – it is my belief that some of us are here for that purpose specifically. Someone has to try to help keep the balance between fear and love, and that’s what everything really boils down to. Love isn’t necessarily unafraid – sometimes it takes big courage and strength to choose love. Fear is afraid of everything. That’s what fear is, in and of itself and by it’s definition.

I once wrote a whole post about how EVERYTHING is either love or fear, the difference between love and fear. If I can dig that up I’ll reshare it and/or add a link here.

There is a fine balance in all things. Whenever possible? Choose love – even if your love sometimes has to hold its own. It’s not always rainbows and unicorn droppings, but it’s always worth it.

#SpreadMusicNotHate No.2

Day 2 of the #FavoriteSongsChallenge to #spreadmusicnothate: Moonlight (Quasi una Fantasia) in C# (from Beethoven’s 14th Sonata), performed by Fazil Say. I love this version. It’s a favorite classical piece, but this version is beyond moving because of who he is as a musician….the way he plays it…

I love the way he connects with his instrument…how he treats the music as though it is a tangible, material thing. It’s as though he is not only feeling but also respecting the beauty of what is around him, inviting it into existence, communicating with it, cherishing it, unaware that he is creating it with his tool (and what a tool those Steinway and Sons pianos are) and his skill and gift. It’s all an extension of itself, connected by his innermost being. He breathes it from depths only the sound can express, yet it is almost like you can see the music in a literal sense. It’s so ethereal.

I’m moved. What else can I say. I know this sounds wild to a lot of you…but it’s just so profound to me. Anybody can play – just like anybody can take a picture – but it is the heart and the life and the love of the art that makes it different from what “just anybody” can do. This is how I feel with music… he personifies what happens inside me when I listen to it, or make it. He is literally breathing it in, absorbing it. Beautiful music feeds my soul like soul food feeds my stomach. LOL

Beethoven is one of my favorite classical musicians/composers and Moonlight Sonata is one of my favorite of his works. I’ve never had chill bumps from it the way I did when I listened to this and saw him interacting with the music with such grace and feeling. ❤️

#SpreadMusicNotHate No.1

So I saw this challenge in the blogging community where you share a favorite song of yours each day, in no particular order, and as many days as you like (so we’ve got an eternity’s worth here in my “favorites” playlist 😂), and share why you love the song.

#dailymusicalinterlude

For day 1 of the #FavoriteSongsChallenge to #spreadmusicnothate, I give you one of my favorite film songs (and yeah, there’s a lot of scores in my favorites) – Vide cor Meum, from Ridley Scott’s adaptation of Thomas Harris’ book, “Hannibal.”

There’s no reason I love the song other than it’s incredibly moving to me and I am, behind closed doors, a hopeless romantic who loves Dante Alighieri, beautifully moving classical/orchestral pieces, and Hannibal (one of my favorite novel and film trilogies).

Vide cor meum (See my heart) is an aria composed by Irish composer Patrick Cassidy based on Dante Alighieri’s Vita Nova, specifically on the sonnet A ciascun’alma presa, third chapter.

The translation from the lyrics (and the Vita Nova) is:

While thinking of her
A sweet sleep came over me
I am your master
Here is your heart
And on this burning heart
Your heart
(she) obediently fed
Then I saw him (Amore) leaving in tears
Joy became bitterest lament
I am in peace
My heart
I am in peace
See my heart.

The music (not to mention Sir Anthony reciting Hannibal’s interpretation of the Vita Nova) of “The Burning Heart” (another song, from Hans Zimmer’s Hannibal score) is also fabulous.
WTH. I’ll share both for day 1. LOL 🥰❤️

From The Burning Heart:

“He woke her then,
And trembling and obedient
She ate that burning heart out of his hand.
Weeping, I saw him then depart from me.”
Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for her
And find nourishment in the very sight of her?
I think so. But would she see through the bars of his plight… and ache for him?

Fun related fact: Dante’s “Inferno” is one of my favorite books. Should we do a favorite books and favorite films tag, too? I say yes. I like seeing the things that make you who you are and having a bit of artistic culture in the mix. There’s more to the world than memes, politics and conspiracy theories. 😉

I love insomnia. 🙂

I learned…

You have the power to overcome conditioning –
especially conditioning you’ve done to yourself…
Patterns.
Obstacles.
Regrets.
Even fears.
It takes bravery, but it rests within you.
Be compassionate toward yourself,
Believe and see – you have the ability to heal the wounds that bring your anger,
that slice you open,
that feel like ghosts who just won’t follow the light and leave you be…
Forgiveness of self,
understanding is yours…
Now take the reigns and seek the changes,
do not doubt,
do not fear.
Know that you can change these patterns –
thoughts,
wants,
expectations of self…
You can do so much,
you can pray so much,
you can love so much –
others and yourself.
But
life will always happen
on life’s terms.
There is no other way.
Understand that no matter what you have chosen
or what you choose,
what you know,
or think you know,
what you wish for,
or what you loathe,
life will rise and fall,
come and go.
There is true peace to be found,
and felt…
but only within yourself,
and only when you let go and allow it…
only when you give yourself the opportunity
and the gift you need…
Only you know what that is.
It’s the only way.
~C.

Thoughts from 1993

Ahhhhh memories. Snowmageddon in Alabama, this week in 1993.

I was 14, and I remember my dad yelling at me because I would not come inside once it started snowing. I had never in my life seen snow like this snow – I was completely fascinated. It was different snow. I swear it was physically different than any snow I’d ever experienced up until that moment in my life.

I remember being out there in the backyard, in the dark, at something like 11:30PM, bundled up and just sitting there letting the snow fall on my face and consciously feeling the snowflakes melt on my skin in a way that connected with my soul. I remember thinking about magic and all these ideas I had that were “sinful” according to the cult I was raised in but that were so beautiful to me and how it WAS magical, even if the biblical God created it.

Like, how could those two things not go together, in my mind? They believed in a “holy ghost” that they willingly allowed to possess them and speak in unknown languages through them that wasn’t supposed to be real unless someone in the immediate vicinity could interpret the message.

First of all, why couldn’t God just give it to them straight, and secondly WHY? That was me from about age 2 until the day I die. WHY? What? Constant curiosity. Constant trying of new things. Constant exploration of self and soul and consciousness and the physical earth. None of it ever made sense to me from a religious aspect. Why couldn’t it all just be signs and magic and the fates and wonder and beauty? I still want to know that – where do people go in their life experiences that makes them forget the magic? The spark? The music…?

And yet, here I am. Deep in the depression and what to others seem to be mere suicidal thoughts when those thoughts are really so much more than that. But, we will visit that notion a bit later on…

I remember the “good” things but I remember the “miserable” things, too. And in reality, they weren’t miserable things to me. No power? That’s fine. We had kerosene heaters and propane gas in a tank outside that I used to pretend was a horse and I couldn’t tell you how many cows I roped that were actually logs I’d stood on end or how many criminals I’d captured by shooting them in the leg with hip shots that were actually soda cans I was shooting with a BB gun. We were warm. It was fine.

I remember not having power because I remember the coolers on the back deck that were buried in the snow with all the cold stuff in them, and I remember my dad being a smart ass and using the BBQ grill with an iron skillet to cook eggs just because it was “a fun new way to grill chicken” even though we had a gas stove. Ha! But I remember being completely unbothered by the lack of power. Why? Because of the time I spent with my dad. I remember my dad building a snowman with me that he named Larry and making a tiny one with me that I named Mo.

Curly never got made (built) because that was my mom’s choice but she never came outside and my dad said that if Curly was being built she had to make him with us or her snowman wouldn’t be magical (without her energy in him), so there was no point building a snowman with no magic in him. My dad was an evangelical deacon and that was the first time I ever heard him mention magic from the perspective a kid would and not from the perspective of evil. My mom said to my dad, “oh, fiddlesticks. Magic is not reality.” I will never forget that. It crushed my soul in some way. What happened to the “magic” that had brought me into her life? Did that not exist anymore, or had it ever existed for her at all? That was heartbreaking to me.

My mom did play the piano, though. And instead of being filled with the sounds of Andy Griffith and Lucille Ball and Perry Mason, I was surrounded by the comforting sounds of old (what I thought at the time were just) Southern hymns like, “It Is Well,” How Great Thou Art,” and “I Surrender All,” and classical “hits” from Pachelbel’s “Canon” and beautiful Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” I adored Beethoven. I adored romantic era classical music. I adored music washing over me. I adored my dad’s voice. I adored singing with him. There was that…and laughter. Not so much my mom because she was busy with needlework and knitting and incessant organizing, but my dad and I were having a ball.

I remember walking in the woods behind where my grandmother’s giant garden always lived in a path he cut out for me in this deep ass snow – we walked to this specific place that he would often visit just to sit and reflect on life in the quiet (and magic) of nature, crossing the frozen and snow filled wet weather stream and climbing over mounds of snow on fallen limbs and logs on the way and me being glad the fae that lived in the holes in the bank had “moved away,” as my grandmother had told me, so that they weren’t blocked inside their little fairy houses and if they were ok (the fae in the holes turned out to be snakes, I later learned when I tried to catch a fairy at the age of 7 and ended up pulling out one of those little grey ring neck snakes that I tried to keep as a pet but that went suspiciously missing overnight, only later to learn that my father had let it go – I was so distraught and depressed by this reality that my grandmother literally told me they’d just moved away or gone on vacation and the snake was protecting their homes…ha!).

I digress – as usual… Anyway, we got to this specific place and my dad and I sat there on a log he had cleared of snow. He proceeded to have this talk with me about my religious beliefs and the difference between that and spirituality. He didn’t yell at me for being a sinner or for not believing in or for questioning the cult (obviously, he never thought of it that way but I always did – even before I understood cultism – it NEVER made sense to me how this was love and freedom). He simply quoted to me for the first time in context two scriptures that have always stuck with me (hey, the literature of the Bible is really rather brilliantly written – it has everything good and terrifying in it).

He explained his thoughts on death and salvation to me and I remember very specifically and vividly him saying to me that it didn’t matter WHAT I believed, really, about religion. What mattered was that there was, in his perception, absolutely life after death because how could there not be? Our souls had to exist before we were born in order for them to enter our bodies, he said, and so we must logically still exist once our bodies died. That made sense to me.

That was the day – maybe two days after the snow had fallen – that he told me that the only real truth was the truth in my heart, and that was always the truth I should follow – and seek out, and sometimes chase in times of great despair. “Wherefore, my beloved, as ye have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” It’s Philippians. Chapter two I think (I’m not looking it up, I’m lazy right now).

And then he told me – at 14 and a fourth years old – something that I remember very clearly but am struggling with since he (since they all) died. “We all die, but we never leave the ones we love. I will always be with you. Our Gods may not have the same name but they are one and the same being – love (which I questioned deeply and still do because the God of the Bible is only rarely ever what I would call “loving” – he has to invent a son before he becomes that, which to me is kind of this whole personification of the experience of growing and learning and becoming better and letting go of who you thought you had to be in order for life and your world to work).

Then he quoted another scripture to me that has been my north node for the past five and half years since his death. “And Ruth said: “Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.”

I want to believe that they are still here. I used to be so faithful to the idea of spirit and energy that it didn’t matter whether I could see the energy with my eyes in a physical manifestation of itself – it was just there, even if it wasn’t, in some form. Now? I don’t know what I believe anymore. Do I still believe that? Absolutely. Scientifically. I mean, hello, gasses that can’t be seen or smelled but can still kill you. Energetic, invisible death.

But in that sense of spirituality and magic? How does that energy put pennies in my bathtub or place heart shaped rocks and leaves directly in my oath where there should not be rocks or random fallen leaves (like in paved parking lots or on concrete pathways in well manicured city parks? I don’t know. Where do the random smells of bacon cooking or the paper mill or even jasmine and smoke when no one is smoking (Dorie) come from? Where does the audible sound of the piano or a typewriter come from when there are no working typewriters in my house (a couple of broken ones, though) and no one is there but me and I’m not playing the piano?

Are these experiences a mere wishful figment of my imagination? Or are they my people, who are still in some way my people, that have not left me? DO THEY still dwell where I dwell, just in a different dimension?

I want to believe that. I choose to believe that. But sometimes that belief hurts…because when I “feel them there,” it’s not enough. I want to hug them and hold them and say the things I didn’t say to them and apologize for things I did say that I wish I hadn’t said. I want to feel their warmth and hear their breath and their voices. I long to just sit with them for a moment and hold their hands in mine. To sing with them. To laugh with them. To feel the safety and the gratitude of their physical presence. But none of our bodies are safe. They will die. They are literally dying now – and have been from the moment we were born. But what about our souls?

I want to go there. I want to know. So when I say I’m ready for that trip? It’s curiosity and it’s existentialism and it’s wonder and in all of my thoughts about it, that place is so much better than this one. It’s not that I don’t deeply love and want to be around the people I love and call friends and family now. It’s missing the soul connections with those people because the physical gets in the way of that in this society and in this world today. It’s not as magical as it used to be.

Things are no longer filled with so much color and shine – although for a moment they were again, for a recent moment…a moment I sometimes wish I’d never had now because the taste of that and then seeing the mirage that it was…that hurts almost worse than losing my people to death, because maybe, just maybe, they still exist where that never did.

These are the thoughts in my mind tonight – or this morning – at 3:33AM. I know they may sound a little delirious and maybe they are. Are my thoughts any more or less real than my soul? Or are they one and the same? This is why I studied and continue to study human behavior and human cognition and spirituality and philosophy. Because I NEED to know. And one day, I will. But not today – because today things need to be cleaned and washed and taught to the boy. So not today…and I should try again to sleep.

Spark, No Fire…

I feel like a lighter that is out of fluid. Like, myself and everyone around me keeps clicking me but just a tiny spark comes out and there’s no fluid to make the spark into a flame. LOL I have no idea if that makes any sense – it likely won’t because I’ve been very vague about what’s going on with me and my life (totally unlike me, I know) lately.

It’s a tough time. I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t need to know – none of us, do really. I have been trying to remind myself that the Universe doesn’t care what MY plan is… Thing will always ALWAYS always work out the way they are meant to, no matter what our best intentions and efforts are. Have you ever noticed that?

The things that are meant to be truly do flow easily and quickly and fluidly, and the things that are not meant to be are the things that feel strained and difficult – things that make your heart hurt and keep you up at night trying to plan and plot your next move when the reality is you know and see what is right in front of your face but you can’t REALLY see because the forest always gets in the way of the trees.

We push on, though, don’t we. When do we finally say, “Ok, have it your way, Universe. You take my life and mold it.” When do we finally come to peace with what we already know about ourselves? When do we face our demons and change our ways? Usually when it’s too late. And it feels like that’s where I am now.
Maybe it’s time for another break…maybe it’s time to just let it all go… ((shrug))

Sometimes, when we feel like this, what we need is the same thing a dead lighter needs that’s running on fumes. It can still manage a flame, but it needs another lighter to get it’s fire from so that it can burn again. I have always tried to be that for other people…and sometimes failed… Right now, I need that – I need an established fire to help me burn again…without being the type of fire that will burn me to ashes.


“Before the soul can see, the harmony within must be attained, and fleshly eyes be rendered blind to all illusion.


No man can swim unless he enters deep water.” — Helena Petrovna Blavatsky