Sass on the web: Official website launch in 3...2... Wednesday!
Yo! That's right, it's officially here! You've waited, you've whined, and guess what? I actually listened!
SassyOutwater.com and/or SarahOutwater.com will be officially up and flying on Wednesday, March 25, 2009!!! So click on over and browse around!!!
Don't forget to sign up for the Sassy email newsletter to keep up with the latest on my misadventures. Find my other social networking sites, check out my blog, see me in action in the studio and on stage, and find out where and when I'll be performing.
You'll find all the usual links on the site, like bio, pics, music, production info and client profiles, but be looking for some unorthodox cool stuff. here's a preview roadmap:
A childhood cancer resource page linking to great parental support and patient care pages, as well as a list of my supported charities, and their happenings! get involved! I'm a huge proponent of volunteer efforts and fundraising, so I highly encourage you to visit the charities page and open your heart, your wallet and your efforts. Heaven knows we need all the help we can get right now! It feels so wonderful to give back and help one another out, so if you don't know how to get started, you're sure to find something there that works for you. You don't have to be rich, or retired to have enough time or money to help out, I promise. You'll find something there that you can do!
A page for all things Yoga, crystal and aromatherapy related: articles and writings on Yoga, teas, crystalworking, energywork, spirituality, organic healthy eating, book reviews, great places to find yoga-life friendly products and services, and other cool Yogic lifestyle tidbits
Read sample chapters from my memoirs, as well as official lyrics to my songs. Keep up with my ceramics and other artwork I do for fun, too.
blind ambition: A page dedicated to providing answers to frequently asked questions regarding blindness in the work-place, with a special spot for blind musicians to find all kinds of great resources. Info on everything from Guide Dogs to braille, and new technology... you'll find it there.
Instrument FAQ: Questions, answers and commentary on all things acoustic instrument-related. We'll tackle everything from instrument care and maintenance to picking the right instrument and accessories, to preparing yourself and your gear to hit the studio or the stage.
The audio files: Info on all things cool audio gear related. I'm a gear junky, and I'm always trying to get my hands on the latest gadgets, gismos and goodies of my industry. Here's my feedback, fave articles, and opinions good and bad.
The Scottish haven: Tons of cool harp links, scottish lore pages, pages you need to know about if you're in the Celtic community, recipes, Scottish Gàidhlig articles, links to other awesome Celtic artists, you get the idea.
Please be patient as it will take us some time to get everything up and looking pretty for your perusing pleasure. but it's gonna be fabulous once it's all going! Come check it out, and have fun exploring! See you there!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Happy Anniversary, Kodak!!!
Good morning! It's a beautiful, chilly Spring morning in Los Angeles. The birds are just waking up outside the window. Kodak, my yellow Labradorable Guide Dog, is snuggled up in a nest of blankets on my side of the bed, with his head buried in my pilows, occasionally opening one sleepy eye to babysit me. every now and then, he twitches an ear at me when I ruffle his fur, but heaven forbid you wake up Kodak on a Sunday morning for anything less than breakfast or a walk! He'll just steal your covers and grumble something naughty in dog until you let him go back to sleep. I've never figured out how he knows which day is Sunday, but Sundays are the one day when Kodak sleeps in (much to my dismay, since I have to be up early to practice for Church.)
Today Kodak and I are celebrating our three-year anniversary. Sounds weird, I know, but I really do celebrate anniversaries with my Guide Dogs.
Kodak is my second Guide Dog. Arlin, my first Guide, was a giant black Labrador we fondly call the "king of the Guide Dogs." He is a noble monster, with a huge blocky head, big golden eyes, jowls big enough to shelter the state of Texas, and the demeanor of a king. He is an old soul. He has these yellow-amber eyes that look right into the middle of your heart. Most people say they feel like he knows everything about them. When Arlin gives you the look, you feel about three inches tall, and as if you're communing with some ancient being instead of a big stinky drooly black Lab.
Arlin was born knowing how to guide. He's a great thinker, but age caught up with him, and his mind started to wander late in his career. Twenty feet in front of an obstacle, he'd already have his chosen path around it plotted out in his head. He never hesitated, never had to think, and rarely asked for my imput, other than to take general directions. And he was hardly ever wrong. He was an honest, hard worker who really taught me the meaning of dedication and unflagging loyalty. I look up to Arlin's example every day. He was not only a great partner, but a wonderful teacher, and a very good friend.
Arlin is ten now, and lives in Phoenix with my dear friend, Wendy, since I'm not home enough to attend to him as he deserves. I do still see him, and I know he has a wonderful home with Wendy. I miss him desperately, though.
Kodak and I partnered up on March 22, 2006. Arlin had fully entered retirement the month before. If Arlin is the commander in Chief of the Guide Dogs, Kodak is the eager Private First Class--the guy who is the first to yell "Yessir, Drill Sergeant!" He's so excited about life in general, and every time I pick up his harness, you see him quiver all over, as though he's still soooo proud and excited to put on that uniform and go to work!
My dogs are night and day from one another, and yet they are both amazing guides and friends. Kodak lives to work and play, always ready to bounce up and go wherever you say. He's a dilligent worker, quick to try to figure out any problem in front of him, but he is cautious, careful and a team player when we work together, whereas Arlin guided by the seat of his canine pants, figuring everything out by himself on the fly. Kodak is an unstoppable flirt and charmer. Kids adore him, women would do anything for the chance to gaze into those sweet brown eyes and kiss that cute nose, and guys can't help but grin when they see Kodak taking down a tree to get to a squirrel!
Some of my favorite Kodak moments:
1. Kodak has flown the US Airways Airbus a320 simulator for a perfect landing at Seatac Airport
2. Kodak has visited the flight-deck of two southwest planes, and while working for US Airways, had his picture taken wearing the cap of a Southwest Captain
3. Kodak's favorite treat is a bite of your apple, and he'll do any trick to get it, including playing peekaboo, shaking hands, barking on command, and giving hugs.
4. Kodak still is trying to figure out how to get up that tree to eat the squirrel that always sits there on the corner of our street and laughs at us when we walk by every morning.
5. I have a picture of Kodak with an Easter basket stuck on his nose, looking for all the world like Pooh with the honey jar. Kodak always has to investigate everything, whether or not he's supposed to. He's insatiably curious.
6. Kodak holds the record for high-jumping somersaulting, spinning-while-airborne, falling-over-backwards-because-he's-so-excited Labrador.
7. Every dog who meets Kodak tries to be the boss of him, except for Buster. buster, my Aunt and Uncle's cocapoo, is just the perfect size for kodak to boss around. Buster is Kodak's favorite giant squeaky toy.
8. Kodak hates hospitals, but he's been in more of them than any Guide Dog I know, and he loves the chance to curl up on the foot of the hospital bed and snuggle with you, should you be sick and lonely. Nothing cures you better than a big dose of Kodybear cuteness. It's not just me he's helped, either.
9. Kodak's favorite spot in the recording studio is at the window of the control room with his wet nose pressed against the glass to the studio proper so he can see everything going on in there. He's fascinated by recording musicians for some strange reason... like dog, like owner?
10. One of the best Kodak moments: When I first met Gavin DeGraw, Kodak walked right up to him and stuck his nose right in Gavin's crotch. Gavin laughed it off, but wow, was i ever embarrassed!!!
Kodak's nicknames include but are not limited to (mine and everyone else's):
Kody, Kodybear, Bear-bear, Kodman, Kodificus, Kodydog, Guide-worm, Tigger, Little yellow man, Mr. Ko D. Bear, the Magnificent Mr. Spinny, Captain Kody, Koderama, Shmodo... others...
Kodak is the best partner, but he's also an amazing friend. He's the first to leap off the ground with all four feet and do spinnys around the room when he sees me come home from the hospital. He hates hospitals, but time and again, he goes, and sits, and loves. He even gets the doctors and nurses to play with him and it's a running joke that he's the staff therapy dog when I'm in the hospital. He's high energy and loves to play, but there's no one more ready and willing to curl up with me and read a good book or listen to some music when I need to unwind. The Kids in Sunday School climb all over him, and the babies think he's another toy to play with, and Kodak loves every minute of it.
Kodak and I have had so much fun together. even when life gets scary, Kodak can make me laugh, and remind me why life is so wonderful. I'm very lucky to have such an amazing teammate to guide me through life. The amount of love, patience and courage Kodak must have in order to put up with life with me... wow, you go, Kodybear!
So here's to the best yellow teammate ever! Kodak, you rock! I love you, little yellow man! Here's to years and years of more Kodak Moments with you, Kodybear!
Today Kodak and I are celebrating our three-year anniversary. Sounds weird, I know, but I really do celebrate anniversaries with my Guide Dogs.
Kodak is my second Guide Dog. Arlin, my first Guide, was a giant black Labrador we fondly call the "king of the Guide Dogs." He is a noble monster, with a huge blocky head, big golden eyes, jowls big enough to shelter the state of Texas, and the demeanor of a king. He is an old soul. He has these yellow-amber eyes that look right into the middle of your heart. Most people say they feel like he knows everything about them. When Arlin gives you the look, you feel about three inches tall, and as if you're communing with some ancient being instead of a big stinky drooly black Lab.
Arlin was born knowing how to guide. He's a great thinker, but age caught up with him, and his mind started to wander late in his career. Twenty feet in front of an obstacle, he'd already have his chosen path around it plotted out in his head. He never hesitated, never had to think, and rarely asked for my imput, other than to take general directions. And he was hardly ever wrong. He was an honest, hard worker who really taught me the meaning of dedication and unflagging loyalty. I look up to Arlin's example every day. He was not only a great partner, but a wonderful teacher, and a very good friend.
Arlin is ten now, and lives in Phoenix with my dear friend, Wendy, since I'm not home enough to attend to him as he deserves. I do still see him, and I know he has a wonderful home with Wendy. I miss him desperately, though.
Kodak and I partnered up on March 22, 2006. Arlin had fully entered retirement the month before. If Arlin is the commander in Chief of the Guide Dogs, Kodak is the eager Private First Class--the guy who is the first to yell "Yessir, Drill Sergeant!" He's so excited about life in general, and every time I pick up his harness, you see him quiver all over, as though he's still soooo proud and excited to put on that uniform and go to work!
My dogs are night and day from one another, and yet they are both amazing guides and friends. Kodak lives to work and play, always ready to bounce up and go wherever you say. He's a dilligent worker, quick to try to figure out any problem in front of him, but he is cautious, careful and a team player when we work together, whereas Arlin guided by the seat of his canine pants, figuring everything out by himself on the fly. Kodak is an unstoppable flirt and charmer. Kids adore him, women would do anything for the chance to gaze into those sweet brown eyes and kiss that cute nose, and guys can't help but grin when they see Kodak taking down a tree to get to a squirrel!
Some of my favorite Kodak moments:
1. Kodak has flown the US Airways Airbus a320 simulator for a perfect landing at Seatac Airport
2. Kodak has visited the flight-deck of two southwest planes, and while working for US Airways, had his picture taken wearing the cap of a Southwest Captain
3. Kodak's favorite treat is a bite of your apple, and he'll do any trick to get it, including playing peekaboo, shaking hands, barking on command, and giving hugs.
4. Kodak still is trying to figure out how to get up that tree to eat the squirrel that always sits there on the corner of our street and laughs at us when we walk by every morning.
5. I have a picture of Kodak with an Easter basket stuck on his nose, looking for all the world like Pooh with the honey jar. Kodak always has to investigate everything, whether or not he's supposed to. He's insatiably curious.
6. Kodak holds the record for high-jumping somersaulting, spinning-while-airborne, falling-over-backwards-because-he's-so-excited Labrador.
7. Every dog who meets Kodak tries to be the boss of him, except for Buster. buster, my Aunt and Uncle's cocapoo, is just the perfect size for kodak to boss around. Buster is Kodak's favorite giant squeaky toy.
8. Kodak hates hospitals, but he's been in more of them than any Guide Dog I know, and he loves the chance to curl up on the foot of the hospital bed and snuggle with you, should you be sick and lonely. Nothing cures you better than a big dose of Kodybear cuteness. It's not just me he's helped, either.
9. Kodak's favorite spot in the recording studio is at the window of the control room with his wet nose pressed against the glass to the studio proper so he can see everything going on in there. He's fascinated by recording musicians for some strange reason... like dog, like owner?
10. One of the best Kodak moments: When I first met Gavin DeGraw, Kodak walked right up to him and stuck his nose right in Gavin's crotch. Gavin laughed it off, but wow, was i ever embarrassed!!!
Kodak's nicknames include but are not limited to (mine and everyone else's):
Kody, Kodybear, Bear-bear, Kodman, Kodificus, Kodydog, Guide-worm, Tigger, Little yellow man, Mr. Ko D. Bear, the Magnificent Mr. Spinny, Captain Kody, Koderama, Shmodo... others...
Kodak is the best partner, but he's also an amazing friend. He's the first to leap off the ground with all four feet and do spinnys around the room when he sees me come home from the hospital. He hates hospitals, but time and again, he goes, and sits, and loves. He even gets the doctors and nurses to play with him and it's a running joke that he's the staff therapy dog when I'm in the hospital. He's high energy and loves to play, but there's no one more ready and willing to curl up with me and read a good book or listen to some music when I need to unwind. The Kids in Sunday School climb all over him, and the babies think he's another toy to play with, and Kodak loves every minute of it.
Kodak and I have had so much fun together. even when life gets scary, Kodak can make me laugh, and remind me why life is so wonderful. I'm very lucky to have such an amazing teammate to guide me through life. The amount of love, patience and courage Kodak must have in order to put up with life with me... wow, you go, Kodybear!
So here's to the best yellow teammate ever! Kodak, you rock! I love you, little yellow man! Here's to years and years of more Kodak Moments with you, Kodybear!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Sláinte! Musings from the green-eyed lass about lookin' on the bright side! Happy ST. Patrick's Day!
Sláinte!!! Happy St. Patrick's Day!
keep your itchy fingers to yerself, lads, I am wearing my green, and I already consumed my share of Irish food and music last night. Yes, there will be more tonight, don't you worry! I plan to break more than a few strings and at least one bow and one heart tonight! :-d
I am celebrating this morning by listening to Moia Brennan, and a collection of some of my other favorite artists, including Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh, The Red hot Chili Pipers, (yes that's an actual band), and good old Capercaillie (even though they are Scottish.) I love my celtic music! Nothing makes me smile more than a good hot fiddler, wooden flutes and the cry of the pipes, a sexy harper, crazy drumming that makes you want to get up and dance, and those accents!!! *jigging around to Drowsy Maggy and Silver Spear*
*Trips over sleeping Guide Dog, and crash-lands to earth with an unpleasant bump*
Oops, , sorry, I'm back. Was getting lost a little bit, there. *picks self up and sits back at computer with a saucy wink and an Irish smile* but hey, that's why I made this music my life. Wouldn't you???
Okay, I promise, I did have something productive to say in this post aside from giddiness over the holiday and its accompanying return to my roots (Scottish, not Irish!!!) Okay, this time, I'm really done... IT's just, how often do I really get to let my red hair down and celebrate like the Celt I am at heart? Allow me my fun or go "boil yer heads, the lot o' ya!" thanks, Hagrid. :)
Okay, back to the blog. this past week found me sick, but with a perpetual smile glued to my lips. remember last post where I talked about "doing the dream?" Things have been falling into place all over my life. Not that things were drastically out of place when I started the Artist's Way, but... it's back to that "once chance, twice coincidence, three times conspiracy" theory I wrote of last week. too many things are happening that lead me to the conclusion that my artistic pathway is exploding into full fruition! (Wow, and you can't tell from that last sentence that I am a hippy and a sagittarius, can you? That sounds too artsy/philosophical almost even for me! But hey, it's the truth. I'll own it.)
This week I'll be signed to a production contract I've waited over two years to get. patience, hard work, and perseverance do pay off! Producing a good friend is one thing; producing someone you believe in with all your heart and soul, and know will go to the top like a rocket is quite something else entirely. I can't say more until the contracts are inked and on record, but this project means the world to me, and I'm so grateful this chance has come my way.
I was thinking a lot this past week of the chances we are given in life. Last night I was at a Church function with a friend. We were done with the class and the meal, and were sitting around chatting near the end of the event, when a gentleman approached my friend, and in a very soft voice, began to tell her he had heard of a woman in China who recently regained her sight after having lived most of her life as a blind person. He leaned close to my friend and told her he'd find the information for her and that there was probably help for me.
I bit my tongue and looked away. I've heard this so many times, but it still brings up a mix of emotions for me. I appreciate the fact that they feel compeled to help me. I'm grateful they care enough to want the best for my life. But if they stopped and took the time to learn about who I really am, they would know that A: I hear a conversation taking place about me five feet away... and B: my life is hard, but beautiful, and I would rather they, like me, find hope and strength in my blindness instead of fear and pity. If I do get the chance to get my sight back someday, I may take it, but for now, I wouldn't change that part of myself. I've learned to live with it, and in many ways, to love it.
Part of me wanted to speak up in anger and say "Don't feel sorry for me! Don't judge me and pity me! and don't talk about me as if I'm deaf and unaware of what you are saying!" Another part of me wanted to reach out and touch the man and say "Thank you for caring, and god bless you." Still another part wanted to say "I wish you really could grasp how wonderful my life is, and how my blindness is truly a God-given blessing." Really deep down, I just wanted to crawl under the table and hide... why do I have to be singled out wherever I go? Can't I just enjoy an evening with friends without being stared at in horror?
But my heart really went out to my friend. She listened, thanked him for his concern, and said there was no hope that I'd get my sight back. "But I don't think she minds," she said.
At this point, I did speak up. I hate butting into conversation, but when it's about you, and your friend is on the spot... "I wouldn't change the way God made me," I told him. And that's the honest truth of it.
A few weeks ago a good friend was visiting me. She's never really had the chance to explore Los Angeles, and she decided not to rent a car. Whether her intention was to save money, or to live like me for a few days, we wound up taking public transit all over the city together. This is a daily regularity for me, but I think it was a shock of reality for her. More than once she got fed up with the long waits and the people sharing the trains and buses with us.
Yes, I do my share of getting annoyed, too. It just comes with the territory. Buses will not fail to be late on the mornings you're early. They will pass you when you have a business meeting you have to be on time for. You will step onto a crowded train after a long day of work, and all you want is to find quiet and solitude, and some homeless stinky man will come and insist on praying over you and ranting about saving your poor blinded soul. The driver will not call the stops on a new route, or I'll wind up getting lost because I got off at the wrong stop in an unfamiliar part of town. All of these things have happened to me more than once. It's just life on the public transit systems of west coast, spread-out, car-crazy cities like Los Angeles and Phoenix.
But those pain-in-the-ass public transit systems constitute my freedom, too. I can't just run out to the car in the driveway and go anywhere I want like you probably can, but I do have the luxury of independently traveling anywhere I want to go in this city, so long as public transit goes there! Kodak and I can handle anything this crazy city throws at us, and we usually enjoy the challenge. I love public transit, purely for the fact that it's my link to my independence and my freedom. I could sit there and wish things were better, or I could take what's in front of me, use it to the best of my ability, and do all I personally can to make it better. It really is that simple, in my estimation. I could sit at home all day afraid of getting lost, afraid of the weirdos haunting the unsafe streets. I could wait around for someone to come and take me everywhere I want to go on their time table... or, I could get up, and go explore this really cool city I'm lucky enough to live in. Who knows what cool people I'll meet or the new fun places I'll stumble into when I do get lost? (that part, sooner or later, is inevitable.) I can take precautions against the bad guys by carrying a cell phone, letting people know where I'm at and when I'll be back, and knowing how to fight back. And most of all, I can go when I want, and not ask anyone else to be responsible for my life.
Please do me a favor and remind me of the fact that I wrote this when I get home and whine about a really bad bus experience. I have to go back and forth to a conference in west L.A. every day this week. Two-and-a-half hours each way... that's five hours on public transit every day for the next four days... lucky, lucky me! But hey, I'm going to do the only thing I can! Be grateful that the conference is happening, and that I don't need to rely on anyone except L.A. metro to get there! *crossing fingers*
Ultimately, the circumstances we find ourselves in boil down like this: in essence, you can take what you're given and see the negative, or the positive. It may not be convenient, fast, easy or luxurious to travel on the trains and buses, but at least I'm getting there in the end. I may be blind, but at least I'm alive and doing what I love. There are a lot of people who go through life cheating themselves, never doing what truly makes them happy. I'm lucky enough to have the chance to make music for a living, to be doing what I was born to do. Being blind is hard, yes, in many ways, but it's also made me a wiser, stronger, more open-minded, gentle person. I've learned to be tough, and to never quit just because something is hard. Life is only as hard as you make it out to be; I've tested that statement, and found it to be so true. I'm learning every day to look for the good in every situation, and let the negative go. Why dwell on the bad things when there really is so much good in every chance we're given, even if it isn't readily visible to the naked eye? You may have to work for it, wait for it, pray for it, and hurt for it, but in the end... if you look, you'll find the good side.
So, you guessed it! Your turn. Have you ever had something really bad happen to you that ultimately made you stronger, or wiser or better in some way? What things help you see the bright side? have you ever had one of those moments where you're sitting there and you wish people looked at who you were, not what you were? Please, share those stories with others around you, and help them to understand that it's not what we're afflicted with in life, it's how we deal with it that really makes a difference!
Now lads, go find a comely little lassie, and have yerselve's a turn or two... and lassies... run like the devil and be the keeper of yer virtue! :-d
Slaitcagh, (Gaelic for cheers) to all! *raises glass to you* To your good fortune, your hard work, and your wonderful chances! *dances off with a twinkle in her green eye*
keep your itchy fingers to yerself, lads, I am wearing my green, and I already consumed my share of Irish food and music last night. Yes, there will be more tonight, don't you worry! I plan to break more than a few strings and at least one bow and one heart tonight! :-d
I am celebrating this morning by listening to Moia Brennan, and a collection of some of my other favorite artists, including Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh, The Red hot Chili Pipers, (yes that's an actual band), and good old Capercaillie (even though they are Scottish.) I love my celtic music! Nothing makes me smile more than a good hot fiddler, wooden flutes and the cry of the pipes, a sexy harper, crazy drumming that makes you want to get up and dance, and those accents!!! *jigging around to Drowsy Maggy and Silver Spear*
*Trips over sleeping Guide Dog, and crash-lands to earth with an unpleasant bump*
Oops, , sorry, I'm back. Was getting lost a little bit, there. *picks self up and sits back at computer with a saucy wink and an Irish smile* but hey, that's why I made this music my life. Wouldn't you???
Okay, I promise, I did have something productive to say in this post aside from giddiness over the holiday and its accompanying return to my roots (Scottish, not Irish!!!) Okay, this time, I'm really done... IT's just, how often do I really get to let my red hair down and celebrate like the Celt I am at heart? Allow me my fun or go "boil yer heads, the lot o' ya!" thanks, Hagrid. :)
Okay, back to the blog. this past week found me sick, but with a perpetual smile glued to my lips. remember last post where I talked about "doing the dream?" Things have been falling into place all over my life. Not that things were drastically out of place when I started the Artist's Way, but... it's back to that "once chance, twice coincidence, three times conspiracy" theory I wrote of last week. too many things are happening that lead me to the conclusion that my artistic pathway is exploding into full fruition! (Wow, and you can't tell from that last sentence that I am a hippy and a sagittarius, can you? That sounds too artsy/philosophical almost even for me! But hey, it's the truth. I'll own it.)
This week I'll be signed to a production contract I've waited over two years to get. patience, hard work, and perseverance do pay off! Producing a good friend is one thing; producing someone you believe in with all your heart and soul, and know will go to the top like a rocket is quite something else entirely. I can't say more until the contracts are inked and on record, but this project means the world to me, and I'm so grateful this chance has come my way.
I was thinking a lot this past week of the chances we are given in life. Last night I was at a Church function with a friend. We were done with the class and the meal, and were sitting around chatting near the end of the event, when a gentleman approached my friend, and in a very soft voice, began to tell her he had heard of a woman in China who recently regained her sight after having lived most of her life as a blind person. He leaned close to my friend and told her he'd find the information for her and that there was probably help for me.
I bit my tongue and looked away. I've heard this so many times, but it still brings up a mix of emotions for me. I appreciate the fact that they feel compeled to help me. I'm grateful they care enough to want the best for my life. But if they stopped and took the time to learn about who I really am, they would know that A: I hear a conversation taking place about me five feet away... and B: my life is hard, but beautiful, and I would rather they, like me, find hope and strength in my blindness instead of fear and pity. If I do get the chance to get my sight back someday, I may take it, but for now, I wouldn't change that part of myself. I've learned to live with it, and in many ways, to love it.
Part of me wanted to speak up in anger and say "Don't feel sorry for me! Don't judge me and pity me! and don't talk about me as if I'm deaf and unaware of what you are saying!" Another part of me wanted to reach out and touch the man and say "Thank you for caring, and god bless you." Still another part wanted to say "I wish you really could grasp how wonderful my life is, and how my blindness is truly a God-given blessing." Really deep down, I just wanted to crawl under the table and hide... why do I have to be singled out wherever I go? Can't I just enjoy an evening with friends without being stared at in horror?
But my heart really went out to my friend. She listened, thanked him for his concern, and said there was no hope that I'd get my sight back. "But I don't think she minds," she said.
At this point, I did speak up. I hate butting into conversation, but when it's about you, and your friend is on the spot... "I wouldn't change the way God made me," I told him. And that's the honest truth of it.
A few weeks ago a good friend was visiting me. She's never really had the chance to explore Los Angeles, and she decided not to rent a car. Whether her intention was to save money, or to live like me for a few days, we wound up taking public transit all over the city together. This is a daily regularity for me, but I think it was a shock of reality for her. More than once she got fed up with the long waits and the people sharing the trains and buses with us.
Yes, I do my share of getting annoyed, too. It just comes with the territory. Buses will not fail to be late on the mornings you're early. They will pass you when you have a business meeting you have to be on time for. You will step onto a crowded train after a long day of work, and all you want is to find quiet and solitude, and some homeless stinky man will come and insist on praying over you and ranting about saving your poor blinded soul. The driver will not call the stops on a new route, or I'll wind up getting lost because I got off at the wrong stop in an unfamiliar part of town. All of these things have happened to me more than once. It's just life on the public transit systems of west coast, spread-out, car-crazy cities like Los Angeles and Phoenix.
But those pain-in-the-ass public transit systems constitute my freedom, too. I can't just run out to the car in the driveway and go anywhere I want like you probably can, but I do have the luxury of independently traveling anywhere I want to go in this city, so long as public transit goes there! Kodak and I can handle anything this crazy city throws at us, and we usually enjoy the challenge. I love public transit, purely for the fact that it's my link to my independence and my freedom. I could sit there and wish things were better, or I could take what's in front of me, use it to the best of my ability, and do all I personally can to make it better. It really is that simple, in my estimation. I could sit at home all day afraid of getting lost, afraid of the weirdos haunting the unsafe streets. I could wait around for someone to come and take me everywhere I want to go on their time table... or, I could get up, and go explore this really cool city I'm lucky enough to live in. Who knows what cool people I'll meet or the new fun places I'll stumble into when I do get lost? (that part, sooner or later, is inevitable.) I can take precautions against the bad guys by carrying a cell phone, letting people know where I'm at and when I'll be back, and knowing how to fight back. And most of all, I can go when I want, and not ask anyone else to be responsible for my life.
Please do me a favor and remind me of the fact that I wrote this when I get home and whine about a really bad bus experience. I have to go back and forth to a conference in west L.A. every day this week. Two-and-a-half hours each way... that's five hours on public transit every day for the next four days... lucky, lucky me! But hey, I'm going to do the only thing I can! Be grateful that the conference is happening, and that I don't need to rely on anyone except L.A. metro to get there! *crossing fingers*
Ultimately, the circumstances we find ourselves in boil down like this: in essence, you can take what you're given and see the negative, or the positive. It may not be convenient, fast, easy or luxurious to travel on the trains and buses, but at least I'm getting there in the end. I may be blind, but at least I'm alive and doing what I love. There are a lot of people who go through life cheating themselves, never doing what truly makes them happy. I'm lucky enough to have the chance to make music for a living, to be doing what I was born to do. Being blind is hard, yes, in many ways, but it's also made me a wiser, stronger, more open-minded, gentle person. I've learned to be tough, and to never quit just because something is hard. Life is only as hard as you make it out to be; I've tested that statement, and found it to be so true. I'm learning every day to look for the good in every situation, and let the negative go. Why dwell on the bad things when there really is so much good in every chance we're given, even if it isn't readily visible to the naked eye? You may have to work for it, wait for it, pray for it, and hurt for it, but in the end... if you look, you'll find the good side.
So, you guessed it! Your turn. Have you ever had something really bad happen to you that ultimately made you stronger, or wiser or better in some way? What things help you see the bright side? have you ever had one of those moments where you're sitting there and you wish people looked at who you were, not what you were? Please, share those stories with others around you, and help them to understand that it's not what we're afflicted with in life, it's how we deal with it that really makes a difference!
Now lads, go find a comely little lassie, and have yerselve's a turn or two... and lassies... run like the devil and be the keeper of yer virtue! :-d
Slaitcagh, (Gaelic for cheers) to all! *raises glass to you* To your good fortune, your hard work, and your wonderful chances! *dances off with a twinkle in her green eye*
Monday, March 9, 2009
doing the dream--God's footprints in the sand
It's past midnight on a Sunday night. I just got home from watching chick flicks (Jane Austen bookclub namely), at a friend's house. I've had a busy week, but that's no excuse for not keeping up with my Artist's Way stuff.
Time to check in after a little over two weeks of Artist's Way work: how am I doing?
I have to say, this stuff works! Have you ever read The Secret, by Rhonda Byrne? It is one of those trendy self-help books that claims it can solve all your problems by teaching you "the law of attraction." What you put out comes back to you, basically. A friend introduced me to it a couple years ago. since I'm into the Tao and Yoga, I read it for purely amusement... or that's what I thought. Then, as I pondered what I read, and started really researching and thinking on the Tao, and upon lessons offered in my Yoga journeying, I began to see the truth and the wisdom in the words. Put a thought or a wish out there, and you don't need a gini to make it happen. What you need is positive thinking, courage to believe, and conscious work toward your goals. IT doesn't make every dream come true on your time table. (You are not in charge. God is.) But it does happen. If you pray, it is the veritable answered prayer. If you call it the law of attraction, it's your change manefesting itself. Whatever you call it, karma, reflections of thought... It works. .
Before you write it off, try it and just watch what happens. Don't expect the universe to bow to your every whim (nothing about life would be a surprise then, and things would get really boring). But the things that have happened since I started the Artist's Way are just too coincidential to be all chance. Or, as Skif reminds us in Mercedes Lackey's Arrows of the
Queen (great read by the way), "Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is conspiracy." For me, these prayers have far exceeded the conspiracy stage, and it's just on to plain miraculous. Only God could dream up this stuff, and make it happen like this.
A good friend called me this week, and told me about an Irish fair happening this weekend. I went online to check out the band list and see if there was anyone going I could network with, new or old. Just by chance, a band I used to sing with was going to be there. I was excited to catch up with them, but I really wanted to meet some new musicians--(drop a few demo CDs and cards... make nice...). It was just chance that I walked in to the LA Irish Fair, and there they were. We literally ran into one another! We haven't seen each other in well over a year. They invited me to reunite with them for a couple songs, and i was a bit unsure of it, since I haven't done their music since the autumn of '07, but once we got onstage together and got the vocal blend going, it felt like I had never left. All the old music came back with just a little memory jog, thankfully. Our voices sounded great together in spite of the time and the sound system, and even though there were carnival rides and bagpipers nearby, you could have heard a pin drop in our pavillion during the last verse of each of the acappella songs we did.
I've been offered a small business opportunity that's a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I can't talk more about it yet, but this is the chance I've been waiting for, and I'm going for it.
So many other things have happened recently that have just brought my mind to bear on how much things change for the better when you stop the mad rush of chaos and actually pay attention to your life and what you want out of it. I wasn't necessarily thinking of performing again with The Muses, but I have been wishing there was a bigger Celtic presence in Southern California, and thinking a lot about how much I miss playing the music I love so dearly. Low and behold, the Celtic Arts Center has a jam session every week just a couple miles from my house! They have a Gaelic choir, and tons of other opportunities I've been missing. Just goes to show what happens when you leave yourself open to possibility.
We let ourselves get so caught up in what I like to call the "what-the-world-wants" insanity. We rarely stop, turn in, and listen or respond when we do hear something. Those things we want, those conversations we feel we should have... we become so good at putting them off for a better time.
If surviving cancer three times has taught me anything, it's that there will never be a better time. That old proverb of don't put off tomorrow what you can do today! You'd better believe it, and heed it, and please, act upon it! When I was told this past summer that I'd have to have neurosurgery to remove three brain tumors, I felt like the world had come to a screeching halt. I was shattered inside--scared, angry, sad... I didn't know if I'd get another chance to do all the things I still wanted to do. I put those feelings aside, and just did what I had to do in that moment. I just fought the cancer, loved my family, lived for nothing but the moment I was in, and treasured that moment, good or bad. I've never been one to take life for granted, but I'll never forget the lessons I learned this summer, or the things I learned about the people in my life. IT took living in the moment to a whole new level for me, and made me see some things about myself and those I love I hadn't wanted to face. I find that when I live like that--open to possibility, reaching for the things I want--life goes into full bloom. I'm not the greatest at this; I lose sight of what's important quite often, but when I do things right, I'm always amazed to watch what happens.
I've always had my mind on what's ahead, what could be, what I could have done better. They call this vriti in Yoga. Our mind is like a two-year-old, or a colt in the field. Mind likes to run everywhere and get into everything, but it rarely likes to sit and stay in the moment. It's planning or remembering, never just doing the dream. I finally reached a point where I grabbed the little hellion and said: "Si'down, mind, and shut up! Live right here, right now!"
So, what would happen if you took that dream of speaking another language fluently, and acted upon it, instead of sitting on it. What about that portrait you've always wanted to paint, or that instrument you've always liked but never tried to play? I bet it looks and sounds a whole lot better when your butt isn't smothering it. We all have these things we want to do, but there's always some reason to keep using them as mental cushions instead of making them realities. Don't you think those dreams are there for a reason? Is it so hard to believe that those dreams you have held for so long might be things God plantedin you and expected you to nurture and grow?
Hello!
He would not have put them there if he didn't want you to take care of them! Dreams are like flowers, or fields of wheat. You sit on the seed, it's dark under there! It's not going to do anything but wither and die under your backside! Give it water, room to grow, and light, and you can feed yourself for months on the fruits of the field, or walk in your garden for hours with the smell of God's plans for you in the air. How cool would that be? Just a suggestion! Get up off your dream, and do it! Today I was sitting in Church, and a missionary got up to speak. He reminded us that living life is like going up a down escalator; if you stop, you go backward, and you watch the things you want drawing farther and farther away from you. You have to work twice as hard to get to where you want to go.
He read us the footprints poem. A man is standing on a beach, looking back at the footprints he made in the sand throughout his life. For most of his life, there are two sets of footprints in the sand--his and God's. Then the man points to the places where there is only one set of prints in the sand. He turns to God and says: "During the times when I was lowest in my life, there are only one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, would you abandon me and not walk with me?"
God says: "I did not abandon you, my child. I love you. Those are the times when I lifted you in my arms and carried you."
Amen.
Time to check in after a little over two weeks of Artist's Way work: how am I doing?
I have to say, this stuff works! Have you ever read The Secret, by Rhonda Byrne? It is one of those trendy self-help books that claims it can solve all your problems by teaching you "the law of attraction." What you put out comes back to you, basically. A friend introduced me to it a couple years ago. since I'm into the Tao and Yoga, I read it for purely amusement... or that's what I thought. Then, as I pondered what I read, and started really researching and thinking on the Tao, and upon lessons offered in my Yoga journeying, I began to see the truth and the wisdom in the words. Put a thought or a wish out there, and you don't need a gini to make it happen. What you need is positive thinking, courage to believe, and conscious work toward your goals. IT doesn't make every dream come true on your time table. (You are not in charge. God is.) But it does happen. If you pray, it is the veritable answered prayer. If you call it the law of attraction, it's your change manefesting itself. Whatever you call it, karma, reflections of thought... It works. .
Before you write it off, try it and just watch what happens. Don't expect the universe to bow to your every whim (nothing about life would be a surprise then, and things would get really boring). But the things that have happened since I started the Artist's Way are just too coincidential to be all chance. Or, as Skif reminds us in Mercedes Lackey's Arrows of the
Queen (great read by the way), "Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is conspiracy." For me, these prayers have far exceeded the conspiracy stage, and it's just on to plain miraculous. Only God could dream up this stuff, and make it happen like this.
A good friend called me this week, and told me about an Irish fair happening this weekend. I went online to check out the band list and see if there was anyone going I could network with, new or old. Just by chance, a band I used to sing with was going to be there. I was excited to catch up with them, but I really wanted to meet some new musicians--(drop a few demo CDs and cards... make nice...). It was just chance that I walked in to the LA Irish Fair, and there they were. We literally ran into one another! We haven't seen each other in well over a year. They invited me to reunite with them for a couple songs, and i was a bit unsure of it, since I haven't done their music since the autumn of '07, but once we got onstage together and got the vocal blend going, it felt like I had never left. All the old music came back with just a little memory jog, thankfully. Our voices sounded great together in spite of the time and the sound system, and even though there were carnival rides and bagpipers nearby, you could have heard a pin drop in our pavillion during the last verse of each of the acappella songs we did.
I've been offered a small business opportunity that's a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I can't talk more about it yet, but this is the chance I've been waiting for, and I'm going for it.
So many other things have happened recently that have just brought my mind to bear on how much things change for the better when you stop the mad rush of chaos and actually pay attention to your life and what you want out of it. I wasn't necessarily thinking of performing again with The Muses, but I have been wishing there was a bigger Celtic presence in Southern California, and thinking a lot about how much I miss playing the music I love so dearly. Low and behold, the Celtic Arts Center has a jam session every week just a couple miles from my house! They have a Gaelic choir, and tons of other opportunities I've been missing. Just goes to show what happens when you leave yourself open to possibility.
We let ourselves get so caught up in what I like to call the "what-the-world-wants" insanity. We rarely stop, turn in, and listen or respond when we do hear something. Those things we want, those conversations we feel we should have... we become so good at putting them off for a better time.
If surviving cancer three times has taught me anything, it's that there will never be a better time. That old proverb of don't put off tomorrow what you can do today! You'd better believe it, and heed it, and please, act upon it! When I was told this past summer that I'd have to have neurosurgery to remove three brain tumors, I felt like the world had come to a screeching halt. I was shattered inside--scared, angry, sad... I didn't know if I'd get another chance to do all the things I still wanted to do. I put those feelings aside, and just did what I had to do in that moment. I just fought the cancer, loved my family, lived for nothing but the moment I was in, and treasured that moment, good or bad. I've never been one to take life for granted, but I'll never forget the lessons I learned this summer, or the things I learned about the people in my life. IT took living in the moment to a whole new level for me, and made me see some things about myself and those I love I hadn't wanted to face. I find that when I live like that--open to possibility, reaching for the things I want--life goes into full bloom. I'm not the greatest at this; I lose sight of what's important quite often, but when I do things right, I'm always amazed to watch what happens.
I've always had my mind on what's ahead, what could be, what I could have done better. They call this vriti in Yoga. Our mind is like a two-year-old, or a colt in the field. Mind likes to run everywhere and get into everything, but it rarely likes to sit and stay in the moment. It's planning or remembering, never just doing the dream. I finally reached a point where I grabbed the little hellion and said: "Si'down, mind, and shut up! Live right here, right now!"
So, what would happen if you took that dream of speaking another language fluently, and acted upon it, instead of sitting on it. What about that portrait you've always wanted to paint, or that instrument you've always liked but never tried to play? I bet it looks and sounds a whole lot better when your butt isn't smothering it. We all have these things we want to do, but there's always some reason to keep using them as mental cushions instead of making them realities. Don't you think those dreams are there for a reason? Is it so hard to believe that those dreams you have held for so long might be things God plantedin you and expected you to nurture and grow?
Hello!
He would not have put them there if he didn't want you to take care of them! Dreams are like flowers, or fields of wheat. You sit on the seed, it's dark under there! It's not going to do anything but wither and die under your backside! Give it water, room to grow, and light, and you can feed yourself for months on the fruits of the field, or walk in your garden for hours with the smell of God's plans for you in the air. How cool would that be? Just a suggestion! Get up off your dream, and do it! Today I was sitting in Church, and a missionary got up to speak. He reminded us that living life is like going up a down escalator; if you stop, you go backward, and you watch the things you want drawing farther and farther away from you. You have to work twice as hard to get to where you want to go.
He read us the footprints poem. A man is standing on a beach, looking back at the footprints he made in the sand throughout his life. For most of his life, there are two sets of footprints in the sand--his and God's. Then the man points to the places where there is only one set of prints in the sand. He turns to God and says: "During the times when I was lowest in my life, there are only one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, would you abandon me and not walk with me?"
God says: "I did not abandon you, my child. I love you. Those are the times when I lifted you in my arms and carried you."
Amen.
Monday, March 2, 2009
A Visit to the Hall of Heros in the Memory Museum
I confess, this week's Artist's Way work has been very hard for me to sit down and do. I keep finding other things to write or read. I'm in the middle of designing my website, applying for a business grant, rehearsing for upcoming shows, blah blah blah... Everything takes precedence over me opening doors for myself. Unacceptable! It's 2:00 in the morning, and I've finally logged off the website, closed the ebook I was reading, put aside the notes on the lyrics I was working on for my latest song... I've parked my butt in the chair, poured a fresh cup of tea, and I'm face to face with time. *hides eyes*
Today, we're taking a field trip to the Memory Museum. More specifically, we're touring one wing of the museum: Sarah's Hall of Champions. Please make sure you turn in your permission slips before you board the bus, and stay with your group... I refuse to chase you down if you get lost in there! I'm your tour guide, not your chaperone! :-d
Every tourist likes to visit local museums, right? My museum looks like an ancient Scottish castle. Some parts are crumbling away, teetering on the edge of the cliff, slipping slowly toward the ocean far below. Other parts jut sky-high, grandeur in every fluted parapet railing and tower turret.
As we approach, griffins beside the heavy bronze and oak doors spring to life and glare at us from heavy-lidded eagle eyes. A docent sitting nearby on the bench treats us to a broad smile. "Scratch the one on the right on the head, and he might stretch a wing to you," she advises with a wink. "but beware, the one on your left might snatch you up in those lethal talons and bear you away to his lair if you annoy him or don't feed him a bit of your lunch. Watch your back pocket, he might try to steal your.-- Oops, sorry. So much for your chocolate stash. I was trying to warn you. Come on in before anything else happens. Please don't feed the ego-griffins, thank you. We're trying to keep them on a diet..." Her voice is lost as you enter the building and the doors swing softly shut behind you.
Inside the main entrance of the museum, a hush prevails. Huge paintings in gilt frames hang before you on a long stone wall, lit by a skylight above. I know the faces well. Come this way and let me take you on a guided tour of my hall of heros. No, don't go down those stairs! That's the hall of bad memories and villains... that's for later.
Today, let's go wander up this curving staircase to the first balcony. That woman in the gorgeous portrait with the soft knowing smile and the eyes you'll never forget... that's my Mama. See those hands, so small and gentle? They're more delicate than mine, yet I still marvel at the strength in them. She's elegant, yes, her hair covered, her face care-worn but alight with inner beauty. I haven't seen for twenty-five years, but when I'm stuck on a hard line of music, I remember that small smile that starts with slightly parted lips, and ends with the gentle upward curve of the corners of her mouth. It begins in the depths of her eyes, and shows up before you know what hit you.
But here, in this next portrait, she's not smiling. She's not crying; she's just standing with her hand outstretched--guiding, comforting, leading, supporting. My mom can do all four of these things simultaneously far better than anyone else i know. When a choir teacher told me I didn't belong on stage my freshman year of high school, Mom was the only one who said I knew where I belonged, and no one else knew that for me. "Only you can do what you need to do." she told me that night in my room before I got up and sang despite the warnings of that teacher. I've never forgotten those words. "No one else will be you for you, Sarah."
In this next picture she looks like she might sprout wings and breathe fire. When she gets that tone in her voice, I feel about two inches tall. But I always deserve it... We each have to learn life for ourselves, but moms are *never* wrong. Or at least, if I'd listened to mine, instead of doing my own thing, I would have saved myself a lot of pain. But I would have missed some very important life lessons, too.
Yes, this next one is the last big picture in this gallery. I hear they're planning to add a few more later on... But in this one, we're standing on a balance, clasping hands across the distance. She's watching with that same smile, but her eyes are a little sad. She nows I'm on my own now, but neither one lets go. She can't guide me by the hand as she used to, but my mother still guides me by the heart. She's my greatest hero, an angel walking this Earth. There are so many people looking up at her standing on that balance. They all need her and love her, but sometimes she's so busy watching me and hoping she won't fall that she doesn't know they watch her like that, with admiration and gratitude in their eyes.
Around her gallery, fountains splash and dance, casting rainbows from prisms suspended above the pools. Motes of sunlight pierce through stain-glass windows, and the scent of lavender and black tea fills the air. Soft cello music plays, and peach-colored tapestries of silk hang against the cold stone walls. It's a beautiful place. A table set with a delicate tea service glints in the afternoon sun. Hummingbirds zoom around jasmine and hybiscus flowers trailing on an arbor near the low table. Steam rises from the teacups. Mom passed her philosophy on to me that a cup of tea can cure anything wrong with the world. I wish we could linger here, but there's still more to see. Come on.
just down this corridor is another gallery. In here, you smell ginger and molasses. Peter and the Wolf themes play from a live chamber group seated in a circle at the center of the room. Snowflakes fall through the air (the special effects in this place are fantastic!) Over in the corner is a big pile of red and gold Autumn leaves for you to play in, and a grand piano with music on the rack sits in the opposite corner. The window over the piano looks out on a summer garden full of blooming fruit trees. The tick-tock of all kinds of clocks suddenly stops, and as you look up, they all begin to chime. But it's not a discordant sound; they all somehow go together--the cuckoo, the bong of the grandfather clock, the ding of the french clock, the chime of the little Big Ben, and the soft ring of the antique weighted clock sitting on the mantlepiece of a blazing fireplace. Above the mantle rests a wonderful painting of a sweet-faced, well-dressed woman. She sits in a dark blue wing chair beside the same hearth you see before you. on the hearth sit three wooden ducks with their heads turned at commical angles, as if they are inspecting you curiously. beside them sits an old ceramic porch dog, his mouth open, tongue lolling, with a few pieces of popcorn stuffed into his mouth by a sticky-fingered granddaughter. The lady's hands are folded primly on top of a book, and she gazes out at us from steady, clear eyes, her lips set, her back straight.
This is my mother's mother. grandmama took me to symphonies and concerts as a child, and exposed me to all kinds of classical music. She encouraged me to play make believe with the ducks on the hearth and the old porch doggie. Grandmama always brought me along when she went around the house to wind the clocks with her. We'd walk under her fruit trees and look for ripe fruit. (My favorite was the crab apple tree just because I liked the funny words "crab apple.") Grandmama was a musician herself, but she died of brain cancer when I was twelve, long before I came into my own as a full-fledged musician. Before she passed away, she had a very special medallion made for me that bears the words "live, love, laugh" in tiny Braille dots, dripped as molten gold. I've never forgotten those three simple words, and I think of her and ask her to stay beside me whenever I perform. If I do have a guardian angel, she looks and sounds like my Grandmama.
on the other side of the room, near the pile of leaves and the snowman (sorry, I forgot him when we walked in) is another painting. This painting is of a tiny woman with the cheeriest smile, and the merriest eyes you've ever seen. in her lap sits a ball of yarn, a half-finished blanket, and a pair of knitting needles. Children crowd about her as she reads from an old book with an apple tree on the cover. A shaded lamp casts a golden glow on her walnut skin, and makes you want to curl up in that blanket she's knitting and listen to her story all day long. Behind her in the painting, a porch window looks out on a green lawn sloping down to the blue-green waters of Pleasant Bay, cape Cod. the edge of an old weathered baby grand piano is visible in the right-hand side of the painting, and to the left, you can just make out a bookshelf, and a child's fingers fiddling with the tattered edges of one of the bigger volumes.
This is my other grandmother. Grandma Outwater is the ultimate super-grandma. She could beat her grandchildren on a ten-mile bike ride, ski the steepest slopes, race us on the beach, and tell the best stories. With her hands over mine, I learned to knit and bake, pack snowballs and feed chickens, catch fireflies and explore the keys of a piano. She, too, took me to orchestral concerts, and played records of ballets and concertos for me. She taught me about Papa Haydn, beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Vivaldi. Sitting in her kitchen eating cookies, I met Choppin, and mozart, and Bach and Schumann. She made them come to life for me, sit across the table from me, and fill my ears with their musical stories.
I'd love to stay here all day and play, but there's still one more place I want to show you. Just up these stairs and through this maze of years...
We enter a long gallery with vaulted ceilings and more sky-lights. A jazz band sits on a stage at the far end of the hall playing songs that make you alternately sit and think about life in the sumptious-looking leather sofas along the back wall, or get up and dance beside the stage. Along both walls are portraits--of teachers and friends. There's Andy in his boots with that unstoppable grin. I learned to be an eternal realist thanks to that veteran audio engineer. He taught me life is hard and no one will believe in you if you don't know you've got it in you ahead of time. "I've never heard of a blind audio engineer before, but if you want it bad enough, you'll make it happen. I have no doubt, sarah," he said.
There's one of my high school teachers. "You're blindness isn't a hardship to you, Sarah. It's a challenge to you, something you just make the best of." He told me.
There is an old choir director, a stern hard expression on his face after I confronted him about losing a solo. "I pick the best singer for the music, Sarah. be the best for that song, and you get the part. Sometimes you've got the voice, sometimes you don't. welcome to music."
There's my friends teaching me to dance, to move and enjoy the stage. There are Tori and her mom reminding me to have faith, and gently unclenching my fingers from the choke-hold I had on my shame. They gave love like the sun gives light. There's Jason singing "Don't stop believing" when I wanted to give up. There's Rob and Bren, Kate and Troy and Makenna standing beside me as I fought to get better this summer....
And we've reached a stretch of blank wall... waiting to be filled by more heros. WE've missed pictures, and I'm sure we'll come visit again, but you've met the stars of the show. Some spots are darkened, as if a picture once sat there and has been taken down and moved. Yes, of course that's happened. Life changes, people change us, some stay and some go. Some you'll meet deeper in the museum some other time. For now, it's time to get out of here.
Hey, aren't you in luck! As we walk out, there will be a gift shop on your left. stop in there, and buy yourself a few extra minutes. What a precious commodity!
Take your few minutes out to a nice lunch, or a quiet afternoon in the park. Sit down, just you and your "free" time that you just bought (love that paradox), and explore your own museum of time. Don't go to the cavern of the villains and bad things just yet. Walk the hero halls where the champions of your art reside. Remember them, visit their faces, remember their voices, re-live their influence on your life. Replenish yourself from their words or their actions. Take heart from what they sacrificed for you, or helped you do. Then, through your own words and actions, without consciously trying to do it, build yourself a gallery in someone else's Hall of Heros. And don't look at me like that! It is not that hard to do! Go see for yourself.
Today, we're taking a field trip to the Memory Museum. More specifically, we're touring one wing of the museum: Sarah's Hall of Champions. Please make sure you turn in your permission slips before you board the bus, and stay with your group... I refuse to chase you down if you get lost in there! I'm your tour guide, not your chaperone! :-d
Every tourist likes to visit local museums, right? My museum looks like an ancient Scottish castle. Some parts are crumbling away, teetering on the edge of the cliff, slipping slowly toward the ocean far below. Other parts jut sky-high, grandeur in every fluted parapet railing and tower turret.
As we approach, griffins beside the heavy bronze and oak doors spring to life and glare at us from heavy-lidded eagle eyes. A docent sitting nearby on the bench treats us to a broad smile. "Scratch the one on the right on the head, and he might stretch a wing to you," she advises with a wink. "but beware, the one on your left might snatch you up in those lethal talons and bear you away to his lair if you annoy him or don't feed him a bit of your lunch. Watch your back pocket, he might try to steal your.-- Oops, sorry. So much for your chocolate stash. I was trying to warn you. Come on in before anything else happens. Please don't feed the ego-griffins, thank you. We're trying to keep them on a diet..." Her voice is lost as you enter the building and the doors swing softly shut behind you.
Inside the main entrance of the museum, a hush prevails. Huge paintings in gilt frames hang before you on a long stone wall, lit by a skylight above. I know the faces well. Come this way and let me take you on a guided tour of my hall of heros. No, don't go down those stairs! That's the hall of bad memories and villains... that's for later.
Today, let's go wander up this curving staircase to the first balcony. That woman in the gorgeous portrait with the soft knowing smile and the eyes you'll never forget... that's my Mama. See those hands, so small and gentle? They're more delicate than mine, yet I still marvel at the strength in them. She's elegant, yes, her hair covered, her face care-worn but alight with inner beauty. I haven't seen for twenty-five years, but when I'm stuck on a hard line of music, I remember that small smile that starts with slightly parted lips, and ends with the gentle upward curve of the corners of her mouth. It begins in the depths of her eyes, and shows up before you know what hit you.
But here, in this next portrait, she's not smiling. She's not crying; she's just standing with her hand outstretched--guiding, comforting, leading, supporting. My mom can do all four of these things simultaneously far better than anyone else i know. When a choir teacher told me I didn't belong on stage my freshman year of high school, Mom was the only one who said I knew where I belonged, and no one else knew that for me. "Only you can do what you need to do." she told me that night in my room before I got up and sang despite the warnings of that teacher. I've never forgotten those words. "No one else will be you for you, Sarah."
In this next picture she looks like she might sprout wings and breathe fire. When she gets that tone in her voice, I feel about two inches tall. But I always deserve it... We each have to learn life for ourselves, but moms are *never* wrong. Or at least, if I'd listened to mine, instead of doing my own thing, I would have saved myself a lot of pain. But I would have missed some very important life lessons, too.
Yes, this next one is the last big picture in this gallery. I hear they're planning to add a few more later on... But in this one, we're standing on a balance, clasping hands across the distance. She's watching with that same smile, but her eyes are a little sad. She nows I'm on my own now, but neither one lets go. She can't guide me by the hand as she used to, but my mother still guides me by the heart. She's my greatest hero, an angel walking this Earth. There are so many people looking up at her standing on that balance. They all need her and love her, but sometimes she's so busy watching me and hoping she won't fall that she doesn't know they watch her like that, with admiration and gratitude in their eyes.
Around her gallery, fountains splash and dance, casting rainbows from prisms suspended above the pools. Motes of sunlight pierce through stain-glass windows, and the scent of lavender and black tea fills the air. Soft cello music plays, and peach-colored tapestries of silk hang against the cold stone walls. It's a beautiful place. A table set with a delicate tea service glints in the afternoon sun. Hummingbirds zoom around jasmine and hybiscus flowers trailing on an arbor near the low table. Steam rises from the teacups. Mom passed her philosophy on to me that a cup of tea can cure anything wrong with the world. I wish we could linger here, but there's still more to see. Come on.
just down this corridor is another gallery. In here, you smell ginger and molasses. Peter and the Wolf themes play from a live chamber group seated in a circle at the center of the room. Snowflakes fall through the air (the special effects in this place are fantastic!) Over in the corner is a big pile of red and gold Autumn leaves for you to play in, and a grand piano with music on the rack sits in the opposite corner. The window over the piano looks out on a summer garden full of blooming fruit trees. The tick-tock of all kinds of clocks suddenly stops, and as you look up, they all begin to chime. But it's not a discordant sound; they all somehow go together--the cuckoo, the bong of the grandfather clock, the ding of the french clock, the chime of the little Big Ben, and the soft ring of the antique weighted clock sitting on the mantlepiece of a blazing fireplace. Above the mantle rests a wonderful painting of a sweet-faced, well-dressed woman. She sits in a dark blue wing chair beside the same hearth you see before you. on the hearth sit three wooden ducks with their heads turned at commical angles, as if they are inspecting you curiously. beside them sits an old ceramic porch dog, his mouth open, tongue lolling, with a few pieces of popcorn stuffed into his mouth by a sticky-fingered granddaughter. The lady's hands are folded primly on top of a book, and she gazes out at us from steady, clear eyes, her lips set, her back straight.
This is my mother's mother. grandmama took me to symphonies and concerts as a child, and exposed me to all kinds of classical music. She encouraged me to play make believe with the ducks on the hearth and the old porch doggie. Grandmama always brought me along when she went around the house to wind the clocks with her. We'd walk under her fruit trees and look for ripe fruit. (My favorite was the crab apple tree just because I liked the funny words "crab apple.") Grandmama was a musician herself, but she died of brain cancer when I was twelve, long before I came into my own as a full-fledged musician. Before she passed away, she had a very special medallion made for me that bears the words "live, love, laugh" in tiny Braille dots, dripped as molten gold. I've never forgotten those three simple words, and I think of her and ask her to stay beside me whenever I perform. If I do have a guardian angel, she looks and sounds like my Grandmama.
on the other side of the room, near the pile of leaves and the snowman (sorry, I forgot him when we walked in) is another painting. This painting is of a tiny woman with the cheeriest smile, and the merriest eyes you've ever seen. in her lap sits a ball of yarn, a half-finished blanket, and a pair of knitting needles. Children crowd about her as she reads from an old book with an apple tree on the cover. A shaded lamp casts a golden glow on her walnut skin, and makes you want to curl up in that blanket she's knitting and listen to her story all day long. Behind her in the painting, a porch window looks out on a green lawn sloping down to the blue-green waters of Pleasant Bay, cape Cod. the edge of an old weathered baby grand piano is visible in the right-hand side of the painting, and to the left, you can just make out a bookshelf, and a child's fingers fiddling with the tattered edges of one of the bigger volumes.
This is my other grandmother. Grandma Outwater is the ultimate super-grandma. She could beat her grandchildren on a ten-mile bike ride, ski the steepest slopes, race us on the beach, and tell the best stories. With her hands over mine, I learned to knit and bake, pack snowballs and feed chickens, catch fireflies and explore the keys of a piano. She, too, took me to orchestral concerts, and played records of ballets and concertos for me. She taught me about Papa Haydn, beethoven, Tchaikovsky and Vivaldi. Sitting in her kitchen eating cookies, I met Choppin, and mozart, and Bach and Schumann. She made them come to life for me, sit across the table from me, and fill my ears with their musical stories.
I'd love to stay here all day and play, but there's still one more place I want to show you. Just up these stairs and through this maze of years...
We enter a long gallery with vaulted ceilings and more sky-lights. A jazz band sits on a stage at the far end of the hall playing songs that make you alternately sit and think about life in the sumptious-looking leather sofas along the back wall, or get up and dance beside the stage. Along both walls are portraits--of teachers and friends. There's Andy in his boots with that unstoppable grin. I learned to be an eternal realist thanks to that veteran audio engineer. He taught me life is hard and no one will believe in you if you don't know you've got it in you ahead of time. "I've never heard of a blind audio engineer before, but if you want it bad enough, you'll make it happen. I have no doubt, sarah," he said.
There's one of my high school teachers. "You're blindness isn't a hardship to you, Sarah. It's a challenge to you, something you just make the best of." He told me.
There is an old choir director, a stern hard expression on his face after I confronted him about losing a solo. "I pick the best singer for the music, Sarah. be the best for that song, and you get the part. Sometimes you've got the voice, sometimes you don't. welcome to music."
There's my friends teaching me to dance, to move and enjoy the stage. There are Tori and her mom reminding me to have faith, and gently unclenching my fingers from the choke-hold I had on my shame. They gave love like the sun gives light. There's Jason singing "Don't stop believing" when I wanted to give up. There's Rob and Bren, Kate and Troy and Makenna standing beside me as I fought to get better this summer....
And we've reached a stretch of blank wall... waiting to be filled by more heros. WE've missed pictures, and I'm sure we'll come visit again, but you've met the stars of the show. Some spots are darkened, as if a picture once sat there and has been taken down and moved. Yes, of course that's happened. Life changes, people change us, some stay and some go. Some you'll meet deeper in the museum some other time. For now, it's time to get out of here.
Hey, aren't you in luck! As we walk out, there will be a gift shop on your left. stop in there, and buy yourself a few extra minutes. What a precious commodity!
Take your few minutes out to a nice lunch, or a quiet afternoon in the park. Sit down, just you and your "free" time that you just bought (love that paradox), and explore your own museum of time. Don't go to the cavern of the villains and bad things just yet. Walk the hero halls where the champions of your art reside. Remember them, visit their faces, remember their voices, re-live their influence on your life. Replenish yourself from their words or their actions. Take heart from what they sacrificed for you, or helped you do. Then, through your own words and actions, without consciously trying to do it, build yourself a gallery in someone else's Hall of Heros. And don't look at me like that! It is not that hard to do! Go see for yourself.
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