Flyin' Solo Over the Rhine...

I drove to Asheville to see Over the Rhine tonight in concert. Try as I might, I couldn't find anyone who could accompany me. But I made up my mind to go, so I went. As it turns out, a little solo time was just what I needed. Though I sat in a room crowded with people whose names I'd never heard, I was in a world all my own. This was easily the best performance I've heard yet from OtR, hands down.

I am amazed at the power in music. There is a beauty found in music that is indescribable. Music makes something deep inside me move. Sometimes, when I hear good music, I fall into a whirling cyclone of thoughts, memories and fantasies. Other times reality hits like an 18-wheeler. Music is curious that way. It can conjure a different time or place, and can transport the mind onto the pathways of the heart which it would never dream or dare to tread on its own. Music is powerful, much the way words are powerful. I find I connect to so much of myself within music and words. Perhaps that's why I love songs and books so much. I admire those who can weave a rich tapestry with only a handful of words and notes. Over the Rhine definitely fits this description. I will never, ever tire of seeing them perform or listening to their albums.

Tonight, the band seemed so much at ease, having so much fun. Karin, waving her hands high over her head and spreading her arms wide as she sang, as if she were about to take flight; Linford immersed in his piano, eyes closed, head swaying, while the most intoxicating harmonies flowed from his fingertips. I've seen them play before, and they are always excellent. But tonight, they seemed to really be in their element. Although I sat there alone, I was in my element too, my mind travelling, heart pounding in the presence of so much beauty.

I rolled down my windows and breathed deep the fresh scent of the Pisgah woods as I drove down the mountain towards home. Pisgah has the unique quality of always smelling like it has recently rained even when it hasn't. Other than the wind, it was an outwardly silent ride. But inwardly, the music was still playing. Linford's thick, deep chords and Karin's other-worldly voice still ringing in my ears.

I had a nice night flyin' solo. But, next time I'll take you with me. :)

(Photo by Repoort)

freshly baked tears

Today brought with it the marriage of physical exhaustion and spiritual dryness. I came home from work to a quiet house, a sick puppy, and a mess. Without speaking (which is odd for me, even when I'm alone), I turned on some Over the Rhine and began to unpack from my weekend in Charleston. I cleaned in mental silence, folded laundry and occasionally stopped to pet my sad, sick little puppy's face. At 8 O'clock I went for a walk around the neighborhood with Lindy. I just couldn't stop thinking, even though I tried. When I came home I made some dinner and sat down on the porch to read. I finished a chapter and then decided to see if I could muster up something to blog about.

I felt at a loss for words. I couldn't stop thinking. I couldn't stop thinking about all the secret fears which welled up to the surface last night after talking with my roommate about life and loving others. I couldn't stop worrying about my sick dog, and whether she is going to be OK. I couldn't stop feeling guilty for dancing like a crazy woman so many nights in a row that I've become physically exhausted to the point that I can scarcely find the energy to pray. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that my roommate, who I've only just begun to know and love so dearly, closed on her house today, marking the beginning of the end of our tenancy together.

And so, in these moments of being trapped between my own thoughts, I decided to read some of my old posts. I chose to read posts under the label "God's Goodness." I read through almost one year's worth of entries speaking the truth of God's goodness to me. Thick, heavy tears came quickly to my eyes and fell down upon my cheeks like stones being thrown into placid water. They seemed to flow from a deep well mixed with joy and sadness at the same time. The ripples are still spreading out, forming large rings in my heart and mind.

Its amazing to me how God will meet me even in my weakness when I am too weak to pray; to weak to do anything with my fear and worry except lay it out honestly and say "I don't know what to do with all of this!!"

I am glad tomorrow is Friday. I get to be with my community group tomorrow night at Barley's. I get to spend my Saturday at home. I get to rest on Sunday - I get to be with my Father and His family.... I long for the fellowship of the Church. I long for the fellowship of Christ. It is good for me to have solitude sometimes. It is good for me to be quiet. It is good for me to remember what is truly important.

(Photo by Caliope)

addendum to the previous two posts

I forgot to mention the two fabulous dance partners in the video clips previously posted. At the Friday Evening Dance I had the honor of dancing with Wallace Ryerson, and at Folly Beach Pier, Matt Truett.

Charleston Lindy Exchange - Swing Dancing

One more short clip from the Friday evening dance in Charleston. Wallace and I never plan to color coordinate, but somehow it always works out that way. I guess that's what happens when your favorite color is red. :)

Swing Dancing at Folly Beach Pier

I spent the weekend in Charleston, SC dancing at the second annual Charleston Lindy Exchange. Here's a little video of me dancing at the Folly Beach Pier. Dancing on a beautiful day overlooking the ocean has definitely made it into my top 5 dance experiences. It was prime atmosphere.

Disclaimer: please ignore the stupid things I do with my feet. :)

glimpses of light

I realize that I have neglected this blog for quite some time. So much so, that its beginning to look more like an amateur Japanese poetry corner than anything else. I would not be surprised if my few faithful readers had long ago given up hope that I would ever write anything worth reading on the old blogger again. To be honest though, I haven't been writing much at all lately. I've not been doing lots of things. I've just been sort of making my way through each day, one senseless hour at a time, either feeling too much of everything at once or not feeling much of anything at all. And more often, the latter.

This unwelcome numbness has settled into my life at a strange time. It has not settled on me during a time of hardship, sickness, loneliness, or pain. On the contrary I find that most days I want for nothing, and when I think about my life I am astonished at the immense blessing which has been poured out on me.

This evening while I was sitting outside in my backyard reading Oliver Twist I felt a tiny tug against my determined will to finish chapter 34, calling me to let my mind wander. I felt my mind and my senses being awakened, just for a few moments. My insides were flooded with newness and hope in a few fleeting moments as if I had just opened my eyes for the first time. I decided to make a list of all the things that I could think of that do my soul good; things that start sparks in my heart, allowing me to desire Jesus with freshness. Perhaps I can look back to my list when the smog inevitably settles in again, clouding my vision, threatening to quench that desire in me which so longs to burst into abundant flame.

It Does My Soul Good:

1. to be alone sometimes
2. to breathe deep the thick, sweet perfume of honeysuckle
3. to hold the soft face of my puppy in my hands
4. to swing high on the tree swing without fear
5. to listen to very old Rich Mullins tapes (yes, tapes)
6. to read the words that Jesus prayed for me in John
7. to jump in a pile of freshly laundered sheets
8. to drive to the mountains, just because
9. to write a poem for my mama
10. to listen to my sister
11. to clean things
12. to be reminded that I am human, and that life is not about being happy
13. to feel the power of the wind when it almost knocks me over
14. to be honest
15. to stop talking
16. to stand outside and listen to the rain
17. to make good food for someone else
18. to play with children
19. to stare at the many different colors of green in the trees
20. to close my eyes in the middle of the day
21. to rely upon my daddy, and be ok with it
22. to dance till my sides hurt

(Image by inkswamp)

Haiku Tuesday: A Paradox

Haiku Tuesday: Soup Memory

Haiku Tuesday: Angry

Haiku Tuesday: Dance

Rainy Day Writing...

I woke up to this morning to another April shower giving life to the blooming Dogwoods and Redbuds outside. I have the great privilege of spending this entire rainy day at home; alone. My roommate is in Charleston this weekend for the Cooper River Run and I have the house to myself. "What a perfect day for writing," I said to myself as I looked out the window at the gray sky. And writing day it is.

Here I sit in my lovely new study, (compliments of the empty room), with a strong cup of Irish Breakfast tea in my favorite "Hey Roomie" mug from Jenny. My puppy is laying at my feet, perfectly content to work on her "everlasting treat" that I gave her after breakfast. Everything is in place. The lamps are lit, the window shutters are open and Linford is playing a dusty old upright piano somewhere off in the distance. This blog entry is just the preamble. I'm excited to have this day to work on all my random writing projects in turn.

"tip-tip-tip-tap-tap-tip-tip-tap-tap-tap."

The sound of my fingers hitting the keys blends musically with the rhythm of the raindrops. Ahhh.....I have needed a day of solitude for quite some time now. Tis a happy rainy Saturday indeed. :)

Haiku Tuesday (on Wednesday) : Empty Room

Ok, so the Haiku is a little late this week. Better late than never though, I suppose! :)

Showers and Weddings and Brides, Oh My!

I just realized this morning that it has been an entire week since I posted an entry, and I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. "I can't post TWO Tuesday haikus in a row!" I thought. That would just be getting off easy. But the reality is that this past week has been, as Jennster would put it, "insane in the membrane." I feel as though I'm just now beginning to come back to earth as I've been wandering around in "wedding land" for a week and God has been seriously working on my heart through it all.

For those of you who aren't up to speed, I'll fill you in. My roommate just got married on Friday night. I was not in the wedding party, but living with the bride still puts one in the realm of bridedom to a certain degree. I'll be honest and say that it hasn't been easy for me this week, that God has been breaking through giant walls in my life and that it hurts. But at the same time, I can already feel the healing that inevitably comes after God tears down idols and walls in my life. I will not expound too much more about the details of that here. Its one of those things I prefer to reserve for the face-to-face (or telephone) conversations that so often get pushed aside by our easy Internet friendships. Its my contribution to the "get-people-back-in-your-face-and-be-real-with-them" movement. :)

Needless to say, I am very glad it is a new week, and that there are new adventures to be had, new people to know and new beauty to behold awaiting me in the coming days.

This post is admittedly short, but it is almost time for me to leave for work, and I'm not ready yet. And not to worry, the Tuesday haiku will be posted later today, as usual. :)

(Photo by Bondidwhat)

Haiku Tuseday: Junk

Highway to the Danger Zone: Six Speeds

I went to lunch today with my co-worker Betty. Betty is a petite woman in her mid-fifties with a sweet, girlish voice and a delightful laugh. You wouldn't know it on first meeting her that she and her husband ride motorcycles or that she has a serious affection for sports cars. She told me today of all the different cars she's had in her life, almost all of them having been sports cars of one kind or another. Betty just recently got a silver 350Z. When we walked out to the parking lot today to go to lunch, she handed me the keys and asked if I wanted to drive. My eyes lit up like I was a kid again on Christmas morning beholding that beautiful green bicycle, complete with training wheels and new found freedom.

It was quite windy outside and raining, but inside the Z, I was in another world. The black leather seats warmed underneath me with the growl of the engine as I sped up and changed gears. (Side note: I have a secret love of cars with manual transmission - driving is so much more fun with the power to change gears at my fingertips.) Betty turned on the CD player to reveal the soundtrack of Top Gun. I grinned and turned it up loud. Now, I'm sure I looked like a complete idiot cruising along, singing aloud, bopping my head to the beat and grinning so widely that my cheeks hurt. But in my mind I had just been transported to the cockpit of a fighter jet, speeding along through the clouds, racing against the wind and soaking in the rain that pounded steadily against the windshield. Betty just kept giggling at me.

The thrill of driving that fast sports car on a dark afternoon in the rain with the sound of "Top Gun" in my ears lasted for several hours. I have a hard time not grinning even now as I remember it. But this evening, I've been thinking on the words of that song "Danger Zone" that keeps running through my head. I can't help but think of the dangerous roads I've wandered down in recent years, months, weeks, even hours. For example, last night I caught my mind wandering into memories of my past foolishness. This weekend I let myself swim in the depths of my frustration and dissatisfaction. And this evening, as I watched the film "Into the Wild" with my roommate, I found myself longing to leave everything behind and journey out into the world without looking back.

These are all dangerous highways. There were thrilling moments, to be sure, in the beginning. But the thrill usually wears off too quickly. I suppose life is a dangerous highway regardless of where you live or what you do. We're going to make terribly foolish mistakes no matter what. I am reminded of C.S. Lewis' Aslan, fiercely dangerous, yet full of goodness and rightness. I'm comforted to know that Jesus is like that, walking by my side even when I wander down lanes I shouldn't, picking me up when I fall, helping me learn from my mistakes and showing me where the real thrill of life is found: in following Him, on all six speeds.

Of course He isn't safe. Of course He isn't tame for goodness sake. God never promised me that I wouldn't have to live through scary things or that my own sin wouldn't be a danger to me. But he is good. This I know to be true. And I'm not the one behind the wheel, which is also a good thing. So I can be glad to be on this highway, even if it is dangerous at times.

(Photo by: Bill on Capital Hill)

Haiku Tuesday: Clouds

In an attempt to broaden and stretch my wordy horizons and discipline myself to think creatively and write things down, I will be gradually introducing some new practices into my writer's diet. The first new practice is to write a Haiku once a week, on Tuesdays. I'm taking my inspiration from Nelly's Streams for Sunday, and I may end up creating other "days of the week" writing tasks as I think of them. (And if Nelly will allow, I may start streaming on Sundays too at some point...) :) So, here is the beginning of Haiku Tuesday. Enjoy.

the color of dusk

I wish my eyes were like wide lens cameras. I am always wishing that the images I see with my eyes could be recorded, exactly as I see them, for me to come back to and revisit again and again. It would be great if I could flip through the images that enter my pupils like slides on a screen. Or like one of those little Fisher Price View-Masters I had as a kid, with the circular reels of miniature slides. I used to love putting those big plastic binoculars up to my eyes and clicking through the pictures. If my mind’s eye were like the View-Master, each time I blinked it would click to the next image, captured perfectly for me to enjoy again and again.

I was thinking about this tonight as I was squeezing in my run just before dusk. I wished that my eyes were able to permanently capture the beauty in the sky so that I could share it with everyone when I got home. But then, I guess that’s what writing is for, so here goes.

The coming of dusk tonight reminded me of a water color painting that I bought in a snow covered square in St. Petersburg several years ago. The sky was rent with long horizontal brush strokes fanning upward in colors of orange, pink, pale blue and ivory. The colors quickly became richer and thicker, hiding the sun behind dark indigo blue and purple like the color of cone flowers. Slender streaks of rose seemed to extend out from underneath the dark blue cloak of clouds, back lighting the sky with lavender hues. I passed the white steeple of “El Camino,” the Iglesia Evangelica whose bright silhouette stood out as if it were a picture in a pop-up book. It was the opposite of the bare trees whose thin branches looked charred like the color of charcoal against the sky’s canvas.

When I rounded the corner on the last stretch of my run, the clouds overhead had blended into the deep gray of evening. The vibrant colors which lit the sky moments before had faded into darkness now. I looked down and noticed a sharp black shadow moving over the flashing marquee of the S&S Cafeteria and the intermittent blinking of red and green from the stoplights. I didn’t recognize it at first, but after a moment I realized that it was me.

(Photo by jpstanley)

Sun Day = Run Day = Fun Day

I love warm sunny days like today. And now with the saving of the sun I am joyfully surprised again that its so bright outside, even at 7 pm. I decided that a day such as today was a perfect day for a run. So at approximately 6:22 pm I set out on my little neighborhood course under a big blue sky.

For those of you who may be gasping, "Wait...MEL?? RUN??? What about her life motto of 'I hate running'?" Yes, shocking as it may seem, I have finally found the joy of running. I started out slowly, and I'm still working my way up to hopefully being able to run for 30 minutes solid. This week I'm running in intervals of 5 minutes and 3 minutes with walk breaks for a total time of 30 minutes. A couple of weeks ago I participated in my first ever 5k race. I didn't run the whole time, but I think I did pretty well finishing in 37 minutes and 45 seconds. Not too shabby. And the best part is that I had a blast.

I try to change my course a little bit each week so that I don't get bored with the scenery. Tonight I went up my street and over to Azalea Court where I first passed the house with the insta-green-spray-on-lawn. The yard looks like its covered in fur the color that copper turns when it oxidizes. I like to think of it like those spray-on tans, except for grass. I wonder which would look worse in my yard: copper green spray grass or the current muddy slab covered in holes with shards of demolished grass hanging onto to the last possible semblance of life? These are deep curious ponderings...

Next I pass the house I like to call "House of a Thousand Daffodils." I just want to pause here to say that I think daffodils are one of the happiest flowers God made. They just grin at the sky with gladness and wave at me when I run past. Every time I go by that house I want to run over in the yard a pick a whole bouquet full of yellow smiles to take home with me.

Then I circle around on the main road past the Taco Casa (which smells strangely like the state fair to me... maybe its the fried grease...), Fresh Market, Fire Station and 3 dentist offices all in a row until I make it back into the neighborhood. Then I repeat.

As I came down the final stretch towards my house tonight I was thanking God for simple pleasures like running, daffodils and spray-on-grass that make me giggle.

I think running is good for the soul for many reasons, but particularly because it is a metaphor for life and I like metaphors. So I'll end this rambling post with good advice on running (and living) from Shakespeare:

"Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast." (Romeo & Juliet Act II: scene 3)

(Photo by Zed.cat)

Juno: I give it many thumbs up!

Well folks, its my turn to try my hand a little movie review!

A couple of months ago I was riding along in my car, listening to the local "public" radio which is code for "cool indy jazz n blue grass." One of the things I like about this radio station is that they play cool things I've never heard before. So on this particular morning, I heard a song that the DJ said came from the soundtrack of a movie called "Juno." I'd never heard of the movie before, nor did I have any idea what it was about, but by the end of the song I was convinced I would like it. Its funny to me how I can make a judgement call on a film based on the soundtrack. Strange as that may be, my calculations were correct. Two months later, I finally made it to the theater to see Juno for myself.

I think this is one of the most honest films I have seen in a long time. The characters are witty and edgy, yet beautifully human and down to earth. Its the story of a teenage girl who gets pregnant, and how the experience helps her to better understand who she is, what love is really about, the importance of family and how much she has left to grow up. Its artfully done, with an excellent script and creative cinematography. But underneath all the surface humor and candidness are serious life lessons and hard questions that everyone asks themselves deep down.

Its the stuff of life via a mouthy teenager. I love that. Its honest. Its real. And it speaks volumes. Not to mention it has an excellent soundtrack. (If you're into weird music like I am.)

So, I highly recommend JUNO. I give it many thumbs up. Go see it, if you haven't already. This one has definitely earned a spot in my DVD collection. :)

the strong discipline tree

I've been coming to terms with some of my frustrations this evening. The primary one is my lack of passion for anything lately. Its very unlike me. I tend to be an overly passionate, intense person. Its not that I don't have moments of excitement or surges of creativity but lately those moments seem to be short lived and peripheral. I think I need more solitude, and more discipline. I suppose that would help a great deal. Especially with writing and with prayer.

I was talking with my friend George tonight about the curse of the muse. Once you have a muse it seems impossible to create (or write in my case) without one. But in reality I think true art comes from within rather than from without. Depending on some outside muse can easily hinder us from ever really improving. Not that outside inspiration is bad, I just think it can become a stumbling block if it becomes the well from which we draw out the essentials of what we are attempting to create. Discipline seems to be a requirement for genuine improvement in any creative activity. It forges ahead even when we want to sit down in the dust of our dry spells and wait for rain. If we didn't have discipline to move us forward we'd die of thirst before we ever reached another well of fresh water. Discipline helps us grow like trees; unnoticeable and slow, but to great strength and stature in the end. I found some truth and encouragement tonight on the subject of strength and prayer from one of Rilke's letters to his wife.

"Life has unending possibilities of renewal. Yes, but this too; that the using of strength in a certain sense is always increase of strength also; for fundamentally we have to do only with a wide cycle: all strength that we give away comes over us again, experienced and altered. Thus it is in prayer. And what is there, truly done, that is not prayer?"

I think Rilke got this right, at least in his summation of strength and the way giving it also produces it. But I think it produces strength of a different kind; the kind that helps us endure, like trees, for many years through all sorts of weather. And perhaps prayer is like this too. The more we pray and discipline ourselves to it, the more our own prayers enrich and strengthen our spirits to pray more, and as a result we grow.

My problem with disciplines like these is that I lack patience. I would like to make an attempt to find regular periods of solitude in my life. I think I need to stop watching so much television, for starters. I think it would quiet my mind and spirit. Hopefully, I will be able to say as Rilke wrote to Rodin that, "I am able more and more to make use of that long patience you have taught me by your tenacious example; that patience which, disproportionate to ordinary life which seems to bid us haste, puts us in touch with all that surpasses us."

I think this patience is key.

I hope to write more this week. Come back again soon. :)