"Lent offers us an opportunity to slow down, to meander rather than to rush, to allow life to sink in a bit, to find ways to go deeper and not always stay on the surface. A time to observe, to pay attention, and then to act — and in so doing provide the space to move from rush to replenish. When we take this practice seriously, we plant its blessings so that they benefit not only us in our lives for this season, but also extend to the world around us."
~Erin Dunigan, from "The Induced Meandering of Lenten Season"
Photo by Trey Ratcliff
An awesome piece of inter-species jazz shared by a listener in response to this post on the blog:
Do you know about David Rothenberg? He’s a jazz musician and philosopher who plays with animals, including whales. He has also played with birds, even cicadas! Amazing musician.
I hear echoes of this T. S. Eliot poem everywhere, but especially today, on Ash Wednesday:
Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee.
(Photo by Bob Mical on Flickr)
Just love the poetry of Lia Ices’ harmonies. A soundtrack for your contemplative Tuesday evening :)
It’s nothing less, nothing less between the worldly
And the one self
All this breathing and the truth that’s in your last breath
Don’t it make you want to cry?
So fly, fly and we’ll wear you like a leaf crown
Fly cause your truth is in the solid ground
"Joy is everywhere; it is in the earth’s green covering of grass; in the blue serenity of the sky; in the reckless exuberance of spring; in the severe abstinence of grey winter; in the living flesh that animates our bodily frame; in the perfect poise of the human figure, noble and upright; in living; in the exercise of all our powers; in the acquisition of knowledge; in fighting evils; in dying for gains we never can share. Joy is there everywhere."
~Rabindranath Tagore, from Sadhana: The Realisation of Life
These nuns playing basketball in 1965 bring a smile to my face. What joy!
(Photo by Express Newspapers/Getty Images)
While in college, I went to see Paco de Lucia with my dad at the Guzman Center for the Performing Arts in Miami. My father plays classical guitar and Paco de Lucia was one of his heroes so seeing him in concert for the first time together was a really big deal for both of us.
I will never forget how my dad’s eyes lit up as he watched this master flamenco guitarist play, how he tapped his fingers along with the music. 66-years-old was far too young to lose this legend. RIP.
~Lily Percy, senior producer
Though my colleague can’t imagine why anyone would dare try to cover this GNR classic, I can’t resist. I love covers for the exact reason that songs are meant for interpretation. Meet Miche Braden and friends with this very sweet version.
The last phrase of this charming memory from hallywoods is absolutely pure, “learned to appreciate the beauty and serenity of working a cultivated environment.” I suspect this applies to a world much greater than the fertile earth beneath him:
Been reminded lately about family and folks I’ve cared about who are now gone. It’s good to remember, I think.
Lillie married José at sixteen. The oldest of a large family, she was a pastor’s wife, had ten kids, lost two in infancy. The last kid she had was born when Lillie was forty. Shortly thereafter she went back to school to become a nurse, a career she then gave herself to for twenty years. Lillie had her share of shortcomings, could talk her way into (and out of) just about anything. I’m pretty sure she loved her daughter the best she knew how. Sometimes, that’s the best we can expect.
José was born in Mexico and was a talented guitar player and singer. Like most religious leaders in the charismatic Pentecostal movement, he was equal parts showman and shaman, mystic and holy man, counselor and friend. A man of passionate words behind the pulpit and few words in front of it, he had an open mind and an open heart, and willingly shared his gardening duties with me, from which I learned to appreciate the beauty and serenity of working a cultivated environment.