Heart-Warming Sun and a Gentle Breeze

     I woke up feeling pretty crappy today -- depressed, anxious, disappointed. My usual positive point of view darkened by the situation with my car dying, our financial reality and T.'s bad attitude. And then there's the feeling of a lack of sympathy and comfort.
     I did seek comfort in biscuits, which while comforting at first -- slightly salty, a bit of crunch on the outside, soft fluffy and warm on the inside, the butter clarifying as it melts into the center -- just became another symbol of my misery and the tendency toward excess which got me into this emotional state in the first place as I ate way too many biscuits, so that on top of everything else, I suffer remorse and shame for my appetites.
     As I poured myself coffee this morning, my mind raced through my miserable thoughts playing scenarios of avoidance ("I'm not going to talk to anyone today") to scenarios of confrontation ("I want to talk to you! You are just so. . .") My misery itself a source of conflict as I thought of my friend who recently lost her husband and is struggling with her grief over that tragic death; and another friend who has no money whatsoever but rich, rich aspirations; and another who negotiates his nuerosis and health and personal mess as best as he can. In reality, I have nothing to complain about, and yet. . .this moment, quite frankly, is challenging.
     I took my misery, my coffee and a book into the garden. The garden is fragrant with pink jasmine and lemon blossoms. A chorus of birds call and respond, hidden in the trees of our garden and our neighbor's, their songs the conversation of spring which has arrived with heart-warming sun and a gentle breeze so that within moments of sitting in the comfortable garden chair with my feet propped up, the the dire misery I was almost relishing started to dissipate and the beauty that I noticed in the minutae of our little messy backyard delighted me!
     The succulents in pots on the patio have all grown and those with variegated leaves are particularly charming, reminding me of the finish of vintage pottery -- red-lined yellow leaves blending into green, pink blushed tips, and the silver sentinels of the ice plant. The mallow has grown so now it is a screen across the ragged wood fence making me wish we had planted it across the entire far side, its flowers delicate and lovely magenta-centered-pink mandala's, friendly and lovely. The penis flower bush is erect, almost ready to show its colors, the flower stalks tall, firm, but not yet showing their purple burst. Cat mint is growing back, lush and green at the foot of the lavendar which is sprawling, a hotbed of bee activity. The butterfly bush seems to yet again have expanded its girth. H. placed the bird bath where the pomegranate tree was before we moved it to the front and it makes a terrific focal point with artemesia and licorice flanking its base. And I consider the improvements I would like to make -- replace the bench that was moved when we cleared up, add more irisina, plant white lantana under the lemon tree. . .such forward thinking thoughts themselves a harbinger of hope.

(Photo courtesy of Phil Sellens via flickr)

The Mixin' Kitchen 20 -- Spring

Spring has returned. The earth is like a child that knows poems. Rainer Maria Rilke.

You can listen by visiting ccmixter.org or by playing below.

I Am Breathing

I got stronger medicine.  It works.  I finally, finally feel better -- my energy, enthusiasm, and motivation have all returned.  Perhaps, even too, inspiration is making its way back in.  It is almost spring.  The pink jasmine is bursting into bloom.  This past Sunday, we roto-tilled the front as we move forward on our plan to replace the lawn with a mediterranean meadow that will  use less water, yet weeds are already making their way back -- the sun and nutritious earth promoting their rapid growth.

This week, I started laying down vocal tracks for the latest song we are working on for our album project.  I have started my secret remix.  I have started thinking about T.'s birthday and how quickly she has grown up.  I visited my dear friend whose husband committed violent suicide the week before.

Tonight, I am in San Francisco.  I am alone. As I flew up, I was mesmerized by the view of the earth below me.  The mountains were craggy, sharp as garden rocks, the edges honed by shadows.  I tried to identify the landscape as we flew but I do not think I was terribly successful.  There were unfamiliar mountain ranges dotting the earth, dusted with snow so that they resembled a disastrous attept at cake -- lumpy and uneven, but delectible nonetheless with the promise of powdered sugar sweetness.  As we approached Oakland, we were parellel with wisps of cloud in an otherwise clear cloud.  Wisps of cloud that seemed to race us like ghosts.

After I arrived and checked into the hotel,  I wandered the streets for a while. The tourists were so easy to identify -- I wondered if I seemed like a tourist.  Although I am a native Californian, I am most certainly a southern Californian having spent my entire life living in Los Angeles.  Yet, I did not have a map in my hand as I walked.  On the other hand, I also did not walk with a real purpose or destination -- perhaps a dead giveway of my non-local status.  I considered going out for a drink, a bite to eat.  But I really cannot tolerate eating in a restaurant by myself.  While I thoroughly enjoy good food, it is a pleasure I prefer to share with others, or at least privately with the distraction of reading material or my computer. . .so I didn't go out to eat which may be a bit of a tragedy as San Francisco is a foodie city.  Although after walking around for an hour, and being solicited for money at least 10 times in that short period of time, I was happy to return to the hotel where I had an overpriced but delicious glass of wine and cesar salad with salmon. 

I do value solitude.  To be alone with my inner voice is a pleasure.  I love to be able to visit with myself in that way.  But at the end of the day, I sure wish H. was with me as the room is comfortable and luxurious, and would be better off shared.

The Mixin Kitchen 19 - Feelin' Groovy

Feelin’ groovy! Infused with the groove, the urge to move, and adding cheer to your mood!

You can listen by visiting ccmixter.org or by playing below.

It is Time for Stronger Medicine

So far, this year has been fraught with one illness after another.  No matter how they start -- ear ache, sore throat -- they all end up in my sinuses and reside there for weeks at a time.  And this year, just when I thought I could see the light, I get nailed again.  At this point, I am discouraged, disgruntled and depressed trying to resolve sinus infection number three. 

As I drove home from work yesterday, my eye was struck by the beauty of the green carpeted hills that were slipping in dusk under a thickly clouded sky, heavy with a taste of rain that may or may not come.  I was driving in a technocolor movie set where the expansive beauty of the sky and the hills could only have been created by masterful artisans.  By my heart was not really open to what that felt like. I saw it.  I did not feel it.  That added to my dismay.  I am too stuffed up to feel that which inspired me.

I will see the doctor this afternoon.  I will get anxious as I wait.  I will probably even feel clearer as my adreline will be slightly pumped up by the anticipation of seeing the doctor. I will feel guitly for being there, as if somehow I should not be taking up the doctor's time.  But at this point, as I have not seen the doctor since January when this all started with an ear infection (which at that time, had not yet landed in my sinus), I am resigned to the fact that stronger medicine is required. I have tried a gazillion over the counter, home and alternative remedies.  At the point, I just need stronger medicine.

Meanwhile, my creative activities have been hampered.  I had a day or two in the past couple of months when I was able to sing -- but even those efforts still have some lingering evidence of post-nasal drip.  Also, my energy for such work is completely compromised.  I managed to participate in some big projects -- Box, Window, Door, two impov performances, several podcasts have been delivered (with distinctly adenoidinal voice overs) -- but I was immediately slammed after each effort with a relapse.  I thought I had given myself time and permission to recover, likening the sinus infection to an apt analaogy; after a remarkable year of incredible activity, I needed to take some time to breathe.  I was comfortable shutting down for a week or two -- but this is now too much. 

Spring is imminent and I want my heart to be open to all spring offers -- its delight, its promise, its potential.