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WE WERE THERE

Weren’t we beautiful!  Such a landscape the United States of America styled yesterday! Parking lots of voting stations filled and in constant motion, people standing in long lines with the kids along, or the grandchildren, or meeting someone new from the neighborhood, or getting someone to the polls.  We were stunning and everywhere.  And we had dropped the edge of “who are you going to got for,” and just did our thing!

I was so proud, so entertained.  It was cold, and it didn’t stop anybody.  And the results, WOW!   A victor who was so grateful, an opponent who was so gracious, volunteers galore!  Women were elected in abundance, gay marriage was supported, marajuana made legal.

America, we are growing up.  We are showing up with respect, asking for fairness openness, justice for all, displaying a new conciousness.  With all this transformation, we are on our way to a new paradigm.  We’ve agreed that we can disagree and still respect each other.  We’ve learned a new level of transparency.

I am excited to be an American today, a global citizen and a voter.  I commit to staying in touch, being current, being respectful of differences, and being active.

Now we need to work on peace, bringing our boys home, trusting our new government, staying positive, and all becoming passionate about our lives which will naturally serve the economy, our relationships, and all of life. Life is good!

Amen.

You And Me As Artists

DENNY DAIKELER

There is as much art in creating  life, your life, my life, as there is to creating a beautiful painting, or a marvelous sculpture.  A life that is beautiful to witness is the life that has been filled with well thought-out choices of working, playing and loving.  The “work” becomes easier deeper and fuller when its’ master trusts his or her ability at artistry, their careful considerations,  the clear messages from their heart. It’s the call one answers when they hear the music and the message and have their own way to make it alive and powerful. And real!

This blog has been growing in me through a sharing I did at Del Val College on “Life As Art” to a retirement class.  Then the death of Gabrielle Roth happened, and it all began to come together.

If you don’t know her, Gabrielle Roth is a great example of what I’m calling an artist.  She brought dance off the performance stage and into life. She made dance self-expression, prayer, and a tool for freeing oneself.

As I understand it, Gabrielle  became  struck by dance as a powerful force early in her adult life.  In this awareness she kept moving and feeling  dance herself, slowly growing and understanding that pulling rhythm and music through all of her limbs, and feet, and hands  brought her huge joy and healing. She began getting a very clear personal message of dance as God.  She shared it, taught it,  lived and danced it all for her own expression, and certainly for our enrichment.  She was an artist at work, creating her life.  She didn’t just do it for us.  She did it for herself because it made her come ALIVE.  We were merely the benefactors.

It takes a lot of time to know your call; time to feel, experiment, and decide your own “artful living,” the looks, the activities, the expressions, the  messages that you are compelled to portray.  It takes years of honing, testing, and feeling your Truth.  And as one does that, lo and behold, healing happens because we move away the demons, the  ego, the resistance to expressing ourselves.

I know you’ve been struck at some moment in your life when you’ve observed someone who is doing something with great care, great presence, and abundant energy.  It’s a joy to watch. Perhaps they were sweeping a porch, planting a garden, setting a table, cutting a head of hair, or yes, creative  parenting. And you saw how they were doing it as if the result was  meant to be their masterpiece, their best.

I remember a concert at the Kimmel Center in Philadelphia.  Andre Previn was the guest and I traveled to the city to witness this man whose music, romance, and creativity had always captured me (not to mention his gorgeous brown hair!) I bought a ticket and took my seat with great anticipation.

Suddenly a figure emerged from stage right, and the crowd applauded  brilliantly.  I strained to make out who the person was.  He was round, gray haired, walking with a cane as he struggled across the stage.  “Who is that?” I thought, knowing in my next moment that it was Andre Previn!

He sat down at the piano, raised his arms and began playing the most heavenly music, with great grace, energy, and power. He played as if he was 25.  I squinted at my program and saw that this concert was a celebration of his 80th birthday!

He raised his arms again, bringing in the full banquet of instruments.  He now divided this energy between his own magnificent rendering and the incorporation of all of the instruments, different parts, crescendos and melodies.  What he was doing was a feat for anyone, and he was embodying it all in his 80 year package of creativity, precision and practice.  Andre Previn was living full out! An artist of life, breathing the  power of Self into the hearts of all.

I want to be like Andre and Gabrielle,  sculpting all the feelings, thoughts, messages coming my way, into a creation of felt observation, illustrated message, and directed energy, modeling LIFE from the very source of my own being.  Then I will know I have lived my life as an artist!

The Owl in the Mailbox

Does the energy of a book travel with it? Does the energy of the characters, or the energy of the author? Does a book have energy surrounding it at all?  What is your guess? Will we ever know?

The following is a story of a dear old friend and her experiences with a particular memory, place and book:

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It was early morning and Marianne was preparing for a busy day in her interior design career in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  She had a design consultation with one client scheduled for the day and would head back to her office to pay some much-needed attention to her desk after the appointment.  It was Monday and she felt ready for her week; her client was in the south part of the city in the late morning, which would give her a solid afternoon to hit the office.

Breakfast went down easily; with her briefcase in hand, she climbed into her Audi to hit the road.  There wasn’t much traffic that morning, to her pleasant surprise.  Coasting down 19th Street, Marianne’s mind went to Cameron Lawn, an old estate that she was passing.  It had once been the homestead of John Cameron, Secretary of State during Lincoln’s Presidency.  Years back, when she was a girl, Marianne and I played on those acres – where I had lived.

It was a wonderful place owned by the state.  The somewhat dismantled mansion divided into four apartments, each as large as a single house.  There were other houses on the property as well, each a bit worn. They had been the servants’ quarters. Old carriages of that time were stored safely in the carriage house – carriages that today are seen in the state museum.  As children, we’d sit in those now old, dusty and very quaint vehicles, imagining the statesmen and their ladies going from place to place.   We would climb the beautiful, big, old trees, ride our bikes and plan get-togethers with our other friends.  One day we even got out paint brushes to paint my clothes closet (a divine hunter’s green) with permission of my mother, whom Marianne loved.  Remembering the fun times and experiences entertained Marianne all the way to her client’s home. She smiled, knowing I cherished those years as much as she did.

On her drive back home at the end of her work day, Marianne again returned to the memories and was compelled to drive the winding lane leading up to the manor, just to see if anything looked the same.  But her stomach growled and the desktop nudged; she discarded the idea and headed straight home instead.  She was amazed, though, at the persistence of the old mind pictures of our friendship and fun.  She smiled and continued to enjoy her “windshield dialogue’ of a day gone by when we were junior high buddies.

Marianne and her husband now make their home across the Susquehanna in Lemoyne, Pa. The route home took her across the river, where luckily she still had brief glimpses of the property between patches of trees; the ground extended to the banks of the river.  As she drove, the rolling acreage persisted in reaching out to her.

Turning into her drive, she made a quick stop at the mailbox, as was her habit. To her surprise, she encountered a large white envelope – an envelope from me!  “What has that girl sent me now,” she thought?

Of course, it was my book, MESSAGES.  She was floored for she didn’t know of its release.  She ran into the house, put the book down by her reading chair, made herself a sandwich, and sat down to read.  Randomly opening the book, she turned to page 73, where she encountered a story about my mother.  They had shared the same birthday, March 28th. Her eyes fell precisely there – right on the date.  She was really stunned now.

Her thoughts went back to her morning and the constant presence of our energy – of our friendship. What had precipitated it all? Was it the location of her client near our old stomping ground? Was it the energy of the book sitting in the mailbox, coupled with our history?  Was it one of those moments where you think of someone just before they call?  All I know is that when Marianne called me, she was on fire from the whole experience. And that certainly lit my fire!

I challenge you to look for and follow the messages you perceive in life; you never know where they may lead. Would Marianne have discovered something unique if she had ventured down the lane, or simply extended her nostalgic trip? Follow your instincts and pay attention to what you see. It is certainly a challenge in today’s world of deadlines and white noise, but Marianne was changed by her experience, and I bet you will be by yours as well!

Do you have any particular places that draw these types of memories and experiences? Have you ever felt pulled to something from your past? Share your stories – your MESSAGES!