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Posts Tagged ‘musings’

random musings: words images music

Posted in Inspiration, Music, tagged , , , , , , on July 3, 2012| 1 Comment »

Recently I had a conversation with that fellow in my life about how we have used music to better understand each other.  Where words have failed, sometimes our different reactions to music have revealed something important about the other.  The most humorous moments have occurred when he has tried to share classics with me like Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana and in my head pop images of King Arthur racing across a moonlit field to battle (i.e. the movie Excalibur by John Boorman), or as he talks about Wagner’s The Ride of the Valkyries and I suddenly hear “Kill Da Rabbit” … or the whir of helicopters blades  in Apocalypse Now.   He quickly learned that I have been well schooled in music … through the movies.  Since he’s more into books than cinema, I compiled a CD of mostly movie-related music — pieces that move me, that I feel sweep the listener along on a journey, that make a body pause and feel.

“I was born by the river in a little tent

Oh and just like the river I’ve been running ever since …“

I now realize that I lost the CD and made no backup.  I didn’t even write down the playlist.  But below are some of the more dramatic pieces that come to mind this bright day.  Warning, there is a certain sorrow to some of the songs, but there is uplift as well.  See what you think when you have a few moments to procrastinate.  FYI, in the spirit of pairing words/images/music, these are all links to YouTube renditions but these videos are just a tease.  I highly recommend viewing the entire movie to see the scenes and/or hear the music in context.

  • A Change is Gonna Come, Sam Cooke, 1963 (moving movie moment is the conclusion of Spike Lee’s movie Malcom X)
  • Henryk Gorecki’s Symphony No. 3  (moving movie moment is the conclusion of Julian Schnabel’s movie Basquiat and there’s also the beautiful final scene in the movie Fearless)
  • Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings (played throughout Oliver Stone’s Platoon)
  • Especially after sharing Adagio for Strings with my guy, he introduced me to Ralph Vaughn Williams .  I love his Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis but it is Vaughn Williams’ Dives and Lazarus that I most often listen to when working past a writer’s block.
  • Anything by composer James Horner moves me deeply, but especially his music for the movie Glory.  And then there’s the campfire scene.
  • I’m still not sure if I like the movie Cold Mountain but Gabriel Yared’s soundtrack makes me think of home at the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains.  It is the sacred harp singing that makes S. weep each time.  I always see fields of gold when I listen to this song.
  • There’s that repetition by composer Philip Glass that drives some people crazy, but even if you hate his music, please close your eyes and listen to the music from the final scenes of Martin Scorsese’s Kundun.  Ah, when that flute sounds …
  • There is Hans Zimmer’s Journey to the Line in Terence Malick’s Thin Red Line.  First time I saw it, I found the movie too chaotic.  I did not want to like it.  But I could not get the words, images and that music out of my mind.  It’s now one of my favorite movies.
  • And, finally, Moby.   There are two songs in particular that I bow down to him for producing.  The first is the music underscoring the final scene in Michael Mann’s movie Heat as DeNiro and Pacino have their final confrontation.  I believe the song is called God Moving Over the Face of the Waters. The second is the song Natural Blues.

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the why of it all

Posted in Contributing Writer, Inspiration, Publication Updates, tagged , , , , , , on June 18, 2012| 2 Comments »

Okay, yes, that’s me in my mother’s arms a few days out of the hospital.  I won’t tell you how long ago. But I will share this essay, just published in Talking Writing Magazine.  People sometimes ask why do I write about a leaf blowing in the wind or photograph a sliver of light.  This essay helps to explain the why of it all.  Enjoy.

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colorful clutter

Posted in Branches, Inspiration, Kitchen Inspirations, Nature Notes, tagged , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2012| 4 Comments »

Last night I stood in the kitchen, trimming the sage, snipping dead thyme and bundling dry lavender branches.  It kept my hands busy as I talked with a friend.  In the end I tossed the litter haphazard on a white piece of paper that just happened to be on the table.  In the morning I rose, drank my coffee and prepared to sketch out my day.  And then of course I glanced at the paper, at the textures and colors, the shadows in transit… what could I do but run to get my camera?   A few more leaves crushed, petals pulled from various nooks, colored paper unfolded, an old bird’s nest found …  and somehow my morning became special.

 

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Raspberry Dreams

Posted in Inspiration, Kitchen Inspirations, tagged , , , , , , , on May 30, 2012| 1 Comment »

When I looked outside my ktichen window this morning I saw a blanket of clouds covering the sky.  Every color was muted.  People moved by at a meandering pace with umbrellas tucked beneath their arms.  No one seemed particularly sad or depressed by the weather, just lost in thought, as if walking in a waking dream.  Dreams … that’s what I thought of as I snapped these photos of raspberries from this morning’s breakfast.

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Encounters

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , on May 10, 2012| 3 Comments »

Recently, on a warm day in the city of Boston, I raced through one of its many squares toward my favorite hot dog vendor.  I’d already spent most of my half-hour break running errands and knew that I was going to be late returning to work, but darnit, I needed to eat and wanted a good hot dog.  As I made my way through the square, an elderly man stepped into my path.  He said, “Can you spare a quarter?”  I gazed into his watery blue eyes and said, “No, but would you like a hot dog?”  I don’t know why I said what I said that day, and he certainly wasn’t expecting me to say what I said.  He frowned and blinked a few times and then said, “You don’t have a quarter?”  I didn’t quite put my hands on my hips in exasperation, but I did raise an eyebrow as I repeated, “Do you want a hot dog?”  He shrugged.  “Okay.”

He walked with me to the hot dog vendor.  We stood in line together, a small brown woman and a tall older white man.  He told me about his son who was going to give him money later in the week.  He asked me questions about myself  including where I went to school.  I gave him mostly vague responses, not wanting to share too much, but I did admit that I’d studied history at one phase.  He nodded, and then said with great pride, “At university I studied philosophy.”  He then proceeded to tell me about Kierkegaard.

As we moved to the front of the line, the hot dog vendor said, “Hey, dear.  Your usual?”  I nodded and then added, “And this gentleman has an order too.”  The man cleared his throat and then ordered a small dog.   “What about a drink?” I asked.   Like a child, he thought a moment and then said, “Oh, yes.” He looked over the line of drinks displayed on the cart and picked an orange soda.  The hot dog vendor kept looking at me, a quizzical expression on his face.  I just smiled.  The vendor shrugged and began to fill our orders.

“Where do you work?” the man asked as we waited.  I paused, and said, “Many places, but part-time in that church over there.  That’s where I’m coming from today.”  He nodded, his face taking on a sage expression.  “G.K. Chesterston,” he said.  “He wrote a book called Orthodoxy.”  I took my hot dog from the vendor.  “I’ll check it out,” I said and then walked away.

Though I have been in the square many times since, I have yet to see this man again.  Other people, men and women, come up to me and ask for money.  I say no.  I have not been compelled to offer up anymore hot dogs.  Perhaps that moment will come again.  Meanwhile, each week, there is a gentleman I see in a wheelchair with his sign and his cup.  I do not give him money either, but I do smile and nod in greeting as I walk by.  He smiles and nods back, and that seems to be enough.

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Found …

Posted in Inspiration, On the Road, tagged , , , , , , on May 6, 2012| 3 Comments »

… a coin at the bottom of a suitcase, and with it, memories of a lovely trip to Japan.  I tossed the coin on a tabletop and that’s where the sun touched it.

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light/dark in old words

Posted in Inspiration, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 26, 2012| 2 Comments »

In an old journal, I found the following words.  Perhaps one day I will polish them, but even a bit rough, I feel inclined to share them, paired with some new images.  I suppose I should be sharing a poem, given that it’s Put a Poem in Your Pocket Day, but perhaps there is poetry embedded in these words and images. 

Journal Entry:  Several friends think that I never go to the dark places. That I always see the light in the world. The glass is always at least half-full.  Lemons can always be turned into tasty lemonade.  There is no dark so dense where some bit of brightness cannot be found.  At such accusations, I usually say nothing or  I perhaps point out the beauty of fallen petals upon the ground. I do not to say with indignation, you are wrong because I do go to the dark places. Don’t we all?  I do not say, I have seen the dark clouds descend from once-bright skies and settle over once-clear roads.  Haven’t we all?  But, for me, you know what always happens … even upon the darkened road … eventually?  Winds come and blow the clouds away.  If there is a lingering dark fog, the sun rises and burns it to a cooling mist, refreshing upon the skin. When I’m in the darkest place, pitch black, I don’t always see the light but I know it’s there somewhere.  It has to be. I can feel it even if I cannot see it.  Don’t the blind feel the sun on their faces?

Maybe that’s why I write, why I photograph.  To show that no matter how dark, light penetrates and reveals certain glories. In the contrasts, the shadows created, the silhouettes that emerge, unique beauty is revealed. That is what I want to convey, in whatever medium feels right in the moment.  The simple beauty in this life.

I do not want to ignore the dark, or the fears that spring to life though I may not always share such fears with friends.  I will walk the dark roads until the sun rises.  I will carry a flashlight or a lit candle and if these items should fail then I will take a deep breath and raise my eyes to the sky and focus on the tiny beacons of the stars.  And who knows, I might even see a sliver of moon. All I know is I may walk in the dark – we all do at some point in our lives — but I will not stay there.  I will not.

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through the looking glass(es)

Posted in Branches, Inspiration, Nature Notes, tagged , , , , , , , , , on April 17, 2012| 4 Comments »

Today I was a bit housebound with various projects.  Still, the sunlit landscape called to me on many an occasion. As I have written before I am lucky to live in an old house well-kept in its old style with many windows of ancient rippled glass on all sides, some of which are double and even triple paned.  It is both exhilarating and calming to move from pane to pane, over time, and try to capture an ever-shifting beauty from sunrise to sunset.

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Dead Tree, Beautiful

Posted in Branches, Nature Notes, tagged , , , , , , on April 15, 2012| 3 Comments »

One day, the landlord will have to cut down this tree before a strong wind blows it down on top of the house, a car or a person.  Branches have already begun to break loose and litter the ground.  But for now it stands tall, if a bit rickety, creating great beauty in its silhouette.  I took this photo through the sheer cotton curtains covering the kitchen window.

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Beauty in the Darkness

Posted in Inspiration, Kitchen Inspirations, Nature Notes, tagged , , , , , , , , on April 4, 2012| 1 Comment »

Ever have a period in your life when you’re feeling just a bit out of your routine, or as my fellow likes to say, “discombobulated?”  Well, I’m certainly feeling that way at the moment.  Not sure if it is cosmic in origin (there’s a lot of cool astronomical stuff happening right now) or if it’s regular life stuff (lot of different projects coming due).  To give myself a break over past day or so, I’ve wandered with my camera outside and around the house.  I have found myself drawn to the concrete, like the above dark pansy growing in what has become a local restaurant’s outdoor ashtray, and to the more nebulous and ethereal like these shadowy branches of a dead tree dancing on a wall in my apartment.

Yesterday, I found myself in the kitchen mesmerized by herbs in silhouette like this dill against a clay saucer and rosemary in relief upon the table.

There was the lovely coil of copper surrounding a single strand of thyme …

… and three shells collected I can’t remember where, but now sitting in the hallway amidst all sorts of plants.

Part of me would love to sit with these images and see what writing they inspire.  Perhaps later.  Right now, I must rise from this chair, and get ready for a gig.  There I will do my best to stay disciplined and quite focused, and not lose myself in the shadows and other dark beauty revealed by the spring light.

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