LYRICS: Your Great Design (An Artist's Prayer)

Came back to revising and refining this song tonight, first begun in '08. These things sometimes take time to find a clearer direction. Or maybe it's the writer who first has to find a clearer direction.

Your Great Design

(An Artist's Prayer)

words and music by Kay Pere

My heart is a parchment. My hand holds a quill

I dip this pen, quiverin', afraid the ink might spill, ...the ink might spill.

I long to draw you to me, Great Mystery within.

Move my hands, move my heart, guide this pen, ...guide my pen.

Though I try to sketch the future, only Your hand turns the page.

You erase the stains and smudges of my past mistakes.

So I ask, please, grant the wisdom to know where to draw the line.

And provide a clearer vision of Your Great Design.

The pattern of Your stillness rests upon my open book.

A still life of Your Spirit shines wherever I might look, ...if I just look.

Great Artist, who arranged the stars and fashioned each small flower,

My hands and heart are Yours to move in the quiet of this hour, ...this quiet hour.

Though I try to sketch the future, only Your hand turns the page.

You erase the stains and smudges of my past mistakes.

So I ask, please, grant the wisdom to know where to draw the line.

And provide a clearer vision of Your Great Design.

Only You can grant the wisdom to know where to draw the line.

Only You provide a vision of Your Great Design.

©2010 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

New Rule: The Ordinary Rules

Haven't posted here for a very long time.

Most of my useful computer time for the past month or so has been focused on getting my recording studio rearranged, up and functional again, then getting work done for a very patient client.

Or I've been distracting myself from the frustration of the studio rearrange by endlessly checking email or Facebook, or reading news online, or reading other peoples blogs, or indulging in random websurfing.

For some reason I'd gotten all self-conscious about always needing to say something here that would be super meaningful, which sort of misses the point of living the Quiet Little Life--that meaning is found in the ordinary.

So I'm back, to resume writing about the ordinary stuff of daily life.

And I resolve to post here even if it feels vacuous to do so.

I hereby give myself permission to be banal, insipid, stilted, awkward, or . . . whatever else it is I'm afraid of being.

I absolve myself of guilt if I write but don't include illustrating photographs. Similarly, I intend to remain guilt free when photos appear without annotation.

Whose blog is this anyway?

Who made up all these rules about how it's supposed to be done?

Oops. I did. Or at least I bought into them.

I'm an artist, darn it! I live the creative life, right? Why can't I uncreate rules--especially the ones saying that things always have to be fancy-pants, intensely interesting or . . . (gasp) creative?

Today, I rip away the ratty old cardboard rule-box, step beyond its stale confines, and begin again.

New Rule: The Ordinary Rules.

Turntable Turns the Tables on Time

I've just returned from a trip to California for a family visit and work on a special project.

I dug into the stacks of old 45s, 78s and LPs we listened to as kids.

Took my ION portable USB turntable and converted childhood memories into digital audio files (wav and m4a), complete with all the nostalgic crackle, pop and hiss. We played those records by the hour, way back when.

The turntable is durable and lightweight, fit easily into my carry-on bag, raised no eyebrows passing through airport security, and was easy to set-up when I arrived.

When I got back, I found an amazing website that has dozens of Kiddie Records and their associated artwork (jackets, books, etc.) from the mid 1940's through early 1950's available for free download.

[I should make it clear that I wasn't around to hear these records when they were new. They belonged first to my older brothers, my parents and grandparents--already scratched and well loved by the time I came along.]

What does all this have to do with the creative process or living a more contented life?

It's all about reclaiming the vividness of happy childhood memories.

Creative art making is dependent upon the ability to tap into childlike playfulness and curiosity at will. What better way to access this mindset than to revisit joyful times from ones distant personal past?

For me, the pull of these old recordings was irresistible. As I played them I found myself wearing an unsuppressible smile. I finally had to get up and gave in to the urge to dance around.

For me, living a contented life is all about enjoying what is. Happy memories from my childhood are things that will always be mine to enjoy. They cost nothing and offer a guaranteed high.

They also have the added benefit of helping to free my creative work in the present.

When I revisit the things I enjoyed as a 5-year-old it becomes impossible for me to take myself or anything else too seriously. This sort of time travel enables me to approach my art with the spontaneity and fearlessness I felt back then. I can transport those feelings into the here-an-now on the scratchy strains from an old 45.

Now if you'll, please, excuse me. I'm going to go listen again to my favorite well-worn recording of "I'm a Little Teapot," then the "Hukilau" song, followed Guy Lombardo and his Royal Canadians playing "Stumbling" (link to an original piano roll MIDI file).

(c)2009 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

2009 Intentions

Things that are calling to me for 2009, in no particular order:

• learn to bake bagels
• record the next CD
• finish the garden fence and arbor
• plant lots of flowers and veggies, and enjoy them
• get a first draft of the writing project done
• be healthy
• bake lots of bread and desserts (not mutually exclusive with the previous item)
• have adventures
• sit and do nothing more
• sing and play
• make stuff
• read
• listen
• digest
• live in gratitude
• love and do good where I can
• love and let go where I can't
• breath

More:

• continue to reduce my ecological footprint through ECO ACTIONS

Time Between Years

Each year for the past several I've taken the week between Christmas and New Years to dive into the process of cleaning and reorganizing my studio, and other parts of the house, with an eye toward what I envision accomplishing in the coming year.

It's always a time of reflection, a shifting of energy from past ways of being and doing toward ways that are a better fit for where the new year finds me and where I hope it will take me.

This is one of the few times of year when I don't have music students coming and going on a daily basis, or weekly rehearsals in our home with the 20 or more kids in our ensemble. I'm able to shift my focus from helping others define and achieve their goals toward looking at and working toward my own, without distractions.

It's always a relaxed, playful and intense time.

Here are some of the results from previous years:

Little New Year's Things - JAN 2006

Time Between Years - DEC 2006

Don't know what I did between Christmas and New Years last year at this time (12/07-1/08). Maybe I'll dig back and see if I can figure that out.

This past year has been a bit of a bumpy ride, with the bumpy bits that I hope will not repeat in the year ahead, or any other for that matter. 4 months of less than optimal health, plus another encounter with the darker side of the human condition, are things to be left in the past, if at all possible.

We don't always get to choose what happens to us, but we can choose to continue making plans and working to make them real. I'm actively choosing to move forward into the coming year, making my plans based on the likely assumption that these difficult things won't repeat in 2009.

And even if they do, or some other challenges come along, well ... here I am anyway. And here are the ones I love and the life we have together.

Here's to making life simpler.

Here's to enjoying what is.

Started last night disassembling all the recording and audio equipment in my studio, to be simplified and rearranged.

I've removed the things I no longer use (maybe never used) and the things that have worn out or broken from frequent use (an old amplifier, a CD changer/player and a cassette tape deck), and have begun to arrange the few things needed for my new set up in a way that will make for easier work flow. And maybe some actual recordings.

Between each thing that gets moved or removed there's pausing, looking, thinking, wiping up dust and grime, imagining whether this is the best way.

It's hard work to rearrange.

I'm trying to keep in mind that "good enough" and done is far better than the perpetual struggle for an ideal "best" that's forever incomplete. (Same goes for the editing/re-editing of this blog post.)

Now, back to it.

Powering down. Disconnecting.

Reconnecting in a new way. Powering back up again.

QUOTES: "Miracles" from "Leaves of Grass"

WHAT shall I give? and which are my miracles?

Realism is mine—my miracles—Take freely,
Take without end—I offer them to you wherever your
feet can carry you, or your eyes reach.

Why! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the
sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the
edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the
bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at the table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a sum-
mer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars
shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new-moon
in spring;

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread
with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of
men and women, and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

~ Walt Whitman, from Leaves of Grass, 1867 edition

[excerpted, read the poem in its entirety HERE]

STUDIO WINDOW: other things to think about #1

Because life is not all gloom and doom, not all health concerns and financial contraction. ..

I'm going to make an effort to post quick snippets about happy everyday things, as an antidote.

#1 OUTSIDE MY STUDIO WINDOW

There is a dogwood tree right outside my studio window who keeps me company as the seasons change. In the past few weeks it has lost all its vermilion leaves. A fine filigree of branches remains, outlined against the sky.

All day squirrels use its branches as a highway from one tree to the next. Fat grey clowns in flannel suits, they carrying nuts too big for their mouths to hold, performing acrobatic feats as they hurrying past on their way to some secret cache.

Occasionally one will catch sight of me watching through the window and freeze in place, as if hoping to become instantly invisible. This is usually followed by loud, menacing chirping sounds and wild waving of a long fluffy tail. The cat may be intimidated by such antics--I just smile.

My studio window faces west, with my computer monitor on a desk in front of it. This morning, over the top if my screen, I watched the last quarter moon on her way toward the horizon. This evening, if I'm lucky, I'll catch sight of a brilliant sunset sky behind the silhouette of my companion dogwood tree's branches.

These are my simple joys today.

:-), Kay

BOOKS: Slow and Messy

Recent reading has included topics often pointed to as character flaws in our hurry-up and get organized culture--slowness and messiness.

While I'm sometimes criticized for moving too slowly and being habitually untidy, I find these characteristics to be essential for my creativity and enjoyment of life.

I need time to think and an abundance of materials around me in order to do any original work. Without the freedom to savor life at an unhurried pace the joy goes out of it. I'm willing to live frugally with both time and money, foregoing things like TV and many consumer goods, to maintain the balance that suits me.

Apparently there are many others who feel the same way. "In Praise of Slowness: Challenging the Cult of Speed" by Carl Honore explores the Slow Movement as expressed through the food we eat, the ways we choose work and live, and the ways we relate to one another.

I highly recommend it.

I've just begun to read "A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder," by Eric Abrahamson and David H. Freedman.

Already I'm feeling better about the messy though functional piles that surround me here in my studio.

This book asserts that the hidden costs of organization can, in many circumstances, out weigh the benefits. It challenges the culturally held assumption that messiness is always detrimental to productivity, offering examples and research in support of the opposite view.

Three chapters into this book, I'm excited to see where it is going. I've begun to breath easier after releasing a huge load of guilt over my perpetually untidy surroundings.

Even my reading habits don't flow in an orderly manner. I'm not a one-book-at-a-time kind of reader. I wouldn't want it any other way

At any given moment I'm in the midst of reading dozens of books, fiction and nonfiction, on a wide range of topics, spanning various historical periods. Ideas bump up against each other in the slow turning of pages. They linger together and form new relationships.

Given the choice, I'll let the value of original thought and enjoyment of simple pleasures trump swift and orderly completion, every time.

BTW - On the frugal front, I unsuccessfully attempted to find these books through the public library before resorting to used copies through Amazon.com. Ownership does allow the luxury of making marks and taking my time.

Music for Cleaning the Studio

I've spent all day cleaning my studio.

Well, not actually cleaning. That would involve a broom and dustpan, a bucket of warm water and damp rag. Haven't quite gotten to that point yet.

Mostly I've just been putting music books and sheet music back where they go on shelves, making piles into files. At the same time, the copier has been working hard cranking out the "Daily Practice Record" sheets that go in my students binders. The printer has been cranking out another run of my color business cards. Needed to restock on both of these essential items.

In the background, I've been listening to a couple of favorite folk CDs:
Tim Harrison's "Wheatfield With Crows"
Full Frontal Folk's "Storming the Castle"

The Full Frontal Folk CD has a track, "Another Train", done with such beautiful 4-part harmony that I found myself hitting the repeat button on my CD player another 6-7 times, singing along at the top of my voice.

I did a search on the title and writer's name, and located the original "Another Train" by Peter Morton, complete with lyrics and MP3.

This is one of those majorly uplifting songs. Definitely going to go on my own song wishlist of songs I want to learn--words, chords, all of it.

Between picking up in the studio and listening to music, I've done some other web surfing.

In the most recent eNewsletter from some talented musical friends, Mad Agnes, Margo gave a link to the blog of a friend of hers, Lisa Nash, who's been traveling in India and reflecting on living a deeper, more spiritual and intentional life.

Listening to these tunes and reading these thoughtful words has brought a sense of sacredness and centered calm to a very ordinary day.

Just thought I'd share these here and maybe pass on a little of that peacefulness.

GAIA LUNA: Seeds

Been gone from the blog for about 3 month since my last post.

Just living and doing, and living and not doing.

I've rediscovered the joys of just sitting and thinking, or sitting and not thinking about anything in particular, staring at passing clouds and light on tree branches like I did when I was a kid. I highly recommend it. Thoughts wander in wonderful directions when allowed the space to do so.

Last night I ordered FREE 2008 seed catalogs from the following sources.

Johnny's Select Seeds
Seeds of Change
Kitchen Garden Seeds
White Flower Farm
Burpee
Park
Gurneys

I'd fallen off their mailing lists because it has been so long since I ordered anything. Had them sent to my PO box so they wouldn't get mixed in with all the other junk mail and accidentally sent to the recycling bin.

Some companies sell organic seeds, others do not.

In anycase, I'm beginning to feel anticipation, looking forward to March planting of early vegetables this year.

Creative intentions are being readied for planting, too.

As always at this stage, they are numerous and unsprouted, like seeds held in the hand before the soil has begun to warm. Those that eventually reach the stage where they can put on leaves and set fruit will be something I'm willing to write about. For now I keep them cradled within my cupped palm and curled fingers.

Meditation

~ excerpts from today's journal writing

Deep breaths
Calm body
Still mind

Over the years, I've asked for advice and permission far more often than I really should. I need to give myself back the authority I've handed over to others.

My creative work is both hopeful and haunted. I have both strength and weakness and can hold these two, one in each hand, as I work. Passion and detachment. Independence and interconnection. The synthesis of opposites necessary for growth.

Life is filled with unresolvable contradictions. This is fertile ground for creative work.

©2007 Kay Pere ~ Effusive Muse Publishing

The Chanteuse & The Recluse

I've been in a deep hibernation this winter. Now, with Spring officially right around the corner it seems like the right time to step back out onto the big stage, maybe on different terms.

I'm a quiet person. A thinker of deep thoughts. A real artsy fartsy kind of geeky music girl. And I'm OK with that.

For a while, I thought I had to be like so many performers who live life on the go, working constantly at self-promotion, seeing the world as one big business opportunity. Nothing wrong with that. Just not my style.

I've realized that my center of gravity is in a completely different place.

For me, the public moments of performance and risk taking will always require a counterbalancing time of cozy contemplation at home. Without this, life begins to spin off center.

I can't deny that both the Chanteuse and the Recluse are part of who I am. I create the things I do because of these counterbalancing forces. And I'm OK with that.

It's taken a while to get to this point.

The downside is that so many people see this whole music/art thing as one big competition, like a sporting event where there always are winners and losers. Many people make their music/art/entertainment/fashion choices based on who they think is going to be a winner rather that what really speaks to them. We are a culture of success by proxy.

It's like during the Olympics when the women skaters were being interviewed after their world class performances. The guy behind the microphone just didn't get it. One skater, who had come in 2nd, was asked on national TV if she was disappointed about "only getting the silver". She had done beautifully, worked for years to get where she was, had just come off the ice after an extreme effort. Her presence at the Olympics made it obvious that she was one of the best skaters in the world. The interviewer's question showed a lack of understanding and respect for what she had accomplished.

He was more interested in whether she'd won than what she'd done.

Typical of our culture right now.

Real life is about doing. It's about not being a spectator. It's about bringing a little bit of beauty out to be shared with others, taking a chance that it will inspire just one person along the way.

Real life is about forming real bonds with real people though conversation. It's not about making heroes out of distant entertainment icons, or comparing ourselves with them. When these entertainers fail to satisfy our needs, we denounce them as losers and move on to the next big thing.

Sadly, the fear of "losing" and appearing foolish keeps a lot of people from getting out and doing the things they were meant to do. We spend our own lives sitting at home in front of the TV when we might have been out discovering what we're capable of creating on our own.

We all lose when this happens.

I've rambled on long enough. I guess this is a pep-talk is for me as much as anyone else. I'm preparing the Chanteuse to emerge from her long hibernation, to discover how she's been changed by the self-prescribed seclusion.

I will take the doing beyond my own front door.

And I will still make time for cozy songwriting and art making. Time to cook another big pot of lentil soup to package up for the freezer. Time to put a log from the old apple tree into the woodstove. Time to clean out the barn and the attic, to make room for this new phase of life.

Quiet doers unite!

COPYRIGHT 2006 - Effusive Muse Publishing

Love Triangle

Had a realization this morning.

I've always existed in a sort of love triangle between imagination and that thing most people call reality.

I wondered whether it would be best if I became more grounded. My imagination can fill me with worries. Sometimes I lose perspective. Sometimes the world inside my head acts as a shield, keeping me from experiencing the present moment as deeply. Sometimes it closes me up inside walls where only the steady hand of a trusted love can reach in and bring me out.

At other times imagination is a window, a source of creativity feeding countless possibilities. Life becomes hollow without this. Inner vision allows me to shape experiences and be shaped by them. It keeps me open. It brings things into being from nothing but raw materials and focused attention.

Recognizing this love triangle is freeing.

It's all a part of who I am.

I've decided it's OK to love the vividness of life while loving the ideas it inspires just as fiercely. It's OK to keep my imagination close to my heart while looking outside myself for new experiences to fall in love with.

Each creates the other. No need to choose between them.

Circumstances aren't always a matter of choice, but I can choose how my imagination interacts with the circumstances of my life.

I'm grateful that my life is mostly very happy. It's so much more difficult to imagine good outcomes when illness, loss and conflict dominate the landscape. I'm sure these will visit my life again. All part of the human condition. Maybe I can strengthen my inner vision and be a little more prepared for difficulties when they reappear.

COPYRIGHT 2005 - Effusive Muse Publishing

HOW TO BE AN ANTI-DIVA

I want to be an Anti-Diva.

An Anti-Diva is true to herself. She knows herself, her values and spiritual beliefs. She shows integrity in all she does.

An Anti-Diva encourages others to reach their full creative potential, as she does her own creative work.

An Anti-Diva values teamwork over competition, but when she must compete she does so in a way that's respectful of the needs of others.

An Anti-Diva isn't into conspicuous consumption or materialism. No "bling" as a way to show status. The one concession an Anti-Diva makes is to say, "One can never have too many sequins."

An anti-diva is eco-friendly and works for social justice. She strives to be aware of the ways her choices effect others, both in her personal relationships, as well as in her local and global community.

An Anti-Diva values relationships more than "connections." She values creating a meaningful life over making a living.

An Anti-Diva would rather work in the garden than go shopping for shoes.

More to come.

COPYRIGHT 2005 - Effusive Muse Publishing