Thursday, February 21, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Valentine's Day Wisdom
Your heart is a muscle roughly the size of your fist,
But the trouble with fists is that they don't hold very much (especially when clinched).
To hold more of this incredible world in your hands
Unfurl your fingers (like a flag or flower).
To hold more in your heart
Just keep it
Open.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Take Cover Immediately
Recitative: Last night during the final half hour of my MLAS course, life imitated art in an extremely surreal manner. We were in the midst of discussing and dissecting the hilarious chaos in the final scene of Act I in Rossini's "The Barber of Seville" when the campus tornado siren started it's eerie cry in the night. The entire class quickly evacuated into a stairwell and then proceeded to be further evacuated to the basement below Ingram Performance Hall.
Our prof said to imagine the popular chorus from this opera playing in the background as we stood in the stairwell. With that planted in my mind many of the moments to come would have coincided with superb comedic timing to this delightful Rossini chorus.
Cantabile: At first, our class of adult grad students we were the only ones seeking safe shelter, but were quickly joined by aloof, but albeit younger students, incredulous profs and a few walkie-talkie toting maintenance workers. It was an intriguing, if vanilla, peek at the underground behind the scenes world of the Blair School of Music.
Our evacuated state hiliarously reminded me of the scene we were discussing in "The Barber of Seville" . The cast was showcased on a split stage in what seemed to be the orchestra pit while the star ensemble sang a sextet layered above on the mainstage. The group was moving furniture and perhaps stealing it out of Bartolo's house, talking amongst themselves like they were at a fraternity mixer.
Cabaletta: A sign taped haphazardly to the wall pointed down the hall to the Blair Opera Costume Shop (more than a few of us wanted to be adventurous). Chairs were stacked to the ceiling, the duct work and plumbing hung above our tired heads. It was warm, but about to get warmer when a group joined us of tsarist-era Russians whose "Fiddler on the Roof" dress rehearsal was cut short. A crying peasant went hurtling past and collapsed on the floor in tears of real fear. Many were quick to comfort her. An Asian Hasidic Jew took a post on the wall next to one of my classmates joined by another young man with extremely bad fake facial hair (at least close up it looked hideous).
A few of us adult geeks talked of our addiction to online scrabble. For the most part, the voices were boisterous and appreciative of the much needed safety precaution. I had wanted some excitement since I was missing Mardi Gras on this evening, but didn't expect anything quite like this.
It wasn't until my dark and windy drive south on Hillsboro Road did I receive the campus-wide text message to take cover immediately. It was a tad too late for that, but it made me pause to think of the calm I felt in the midst of the Blair's basement chaos. I was surrounded by my friends and I felt so incredibly relaxed and safe.
After I arrived home our county tornado siren again interrupted the night and it sounded like it was located right across the street. We took cover immediately upon learning we were in the path of yet another storm.
Another mini-chaotic scene ensued as we rushed to get pillows, blankets, a flashlight that didn't work, a hyper dachshund, American Girl Dolls, Chewy (my daughter's beloved stuffed animal) and Victoria the hermit crab and ourselves into our safest interior space (in this case a tiny half bath). I held my daughter and shaking puppy tight as the wind whistled and the meterologists tried to outsing the storm with their many warnings. This was a new kind of safe for me, wrapped in the love for my child and presence of peace among my friends.
Our prof said to imagine the popular chorus from this opera playing in the background as we stood in the stairwell. With that planted in my mind many of the moments to come would have coincided with superb comedic timing to this delightful Rossini chorus.
Cantabile: At first, our class of adult grad students we were the only ones seeking safe shelter, but were quickly joined by aloof, but albeit younger students, incredulous profs and a few walkie-talkie toting maintenance workers. It was an intriguing, if vanilla, peek at the underground behind the scenes world of the Blair School of Music.
Our evacuated state hiliarously reminded me of the scene we were discussing in "The Barber of Seville" . The cast was showcased on a split stage in what seemed to be the orchestra pit while the star ensemble sang a sextet layered above on the mainstage. The group was moving furniture and perhaps stealing it out of Bartolo's house, talking amongst themselves like they were at a fraternity mixer.
Cabaletta: A sign taped haphazardly to the wall pointed down the hall to the Blair Opera Costume Shop (more than a few of us wanted to be adventurous). Chairs were stacked to the ceiling, the duct work and plumbing hung above our tired heads. It was warm, but about to get warmer when a group joined us of tsarist-era Russians whose "Fiddler on the Roof" dress rehearsal was cut short. A crying peasant went hurtling past and collapsed on the floor in tears of real fear. Many were quick to comfort her. An Asian Hasidic Jew took a post on the wall next to one of my classmates joined by another young man with extremely bad fake facial hair (at least close up it looked hideous).
A few of us adult geeks talked of our addiction to online scrabble. For the most part, the voices were boisterous and appreciative of the much needed safety precaution. I had wanted some excitement since I was missing Mardi Gras on this evening, but didn't expect anything quite like this.
It wasn't until my dark and windy drive south on Hillsboro Road did I receive the campus-wide text message to take cover immediately. It was a tad too late for that, but it made me pause to think of the calm I felt in the midst of the Blair's basement chaos. I was surrounded by my friends and I felt so incredibly relaxed and safe.
After I arrived home our county tornado siren again interrupted the night and it sounded like it was located right across the street. We took cover immediately upon learning we were in the path of yet another storm.
Another mini-chaotic scene ensued as we rushed to get pillows, blankets, a flashlight that didn't work, a hyper dachshund, American Girl Dolls, Chewy (my daughter's beloved stuffed animal) and Victoria the hermit crab and ourselves into our safest interior space (in this case a tiny half bath). I held my daughter and shaking puppy tight as the wind whistled and the meterologists tried to outsing the storm with their many warnings. This was a new kind of safe for me, wrapped in the love for my child and presence of peace among my friends.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
What Matters Most
Tonight we were the only car on the road. Everyone else was tucked safely in their homes, positioned in front of the television watching the Superbowl. ½ tuned into the frenzy of 2008 and ½ tuned out. By the time I sat down during the 4th quarter and watched the end of the game – I had claimed the team I was rooting for. It didn’t really matter this year, other things, real things mattered more.I spent Friday night at home with my daughter and Saturday morning running errands with my sister. Put my feet up for a few minutes in the afternoon before visiting with and kissing my sweet grandmother. Saturday evening we celebrated the 40th birthday of a good friend. Sunday morning my mom stopped by on her walk and we all acted silly with the dog. Went to church, talked on the phone with one of my best friends to check in on each other and asked how to make her special casserole. Cooked dinner for a sick friend, delivered it with a smile, but cried a few prayerful tears for her on the way home. Ended the evening writing in my journal to yellow lamp light and finished an assignment with snoring puppy and snoozing 8 year old wonder lying sweetly beside me.
I am so blessed and my life is so full - the Superbowl seems so inconsequential
Disclaimer: (However, I must admit I am THRILLED that Eli Manning and the New York Giants beat the Patriots!!!! – SEC baby)! Belichick is a baby - sad to see a grown man be SUCH a poor loser.
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