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Archive for July, 2009

Her Finish Line

Friday, July 31st, 2009

I can picture myself in the hospital room with her.

I can picture her sitting there, looking a bit drained as she thinks about the road she’s had to travel on to get to this moment, but also with a smile on her face, as this chapter in her life is nearing its end. She projects a sense of pride for having pushed through. She fought the fatigue, she battled the nausea, and she enhanced her emotional & physical endurance.

She may lay her head back on the chair or bed she’s in and close her eyes, trying her best to relax. And however successful she may be at accomplishing that, she will also be ready to leave when it’s done, and not waste time locating the nearest Exit so she can travel back home, away from the sterile white walls.

While we’re there, I can picture myself kneeling down and taking shots below her; standing on a chair and taking shots above her; sitting beside her and taking shots with her. I can see myself holding the camera up as we both make goofy faces. I can picture asking one of the nurses to take a few photos of us together. I can also picture myself being nervous about them dropping my camera, but I will push that feeling down, and just make sure the neck strap is on securely.

Once we’re out of the hospital and surrounded by the familiar life that is her family, I can picture her in the kitchen making a snack for her son. I can picture her sitting on the couch reading a book to him afterwards. I can picture the two of them playing outside as her partner looks on smiling, and as her dog lays beside them, expressing his excitement that they are all together in his own way.

I will take photos of her doing day-to-day things. Some of those things will remain intact long after her body is cancer free. Others won’t.

She will still brush her teeth.
She won’t always brush her wig.

She will still put one foot in front of the other when she walks.
She won’t always do that on the way to chemo treatments.

She will still clean her house.
She won’t always lack the energy to finish.

She will still eat dinner.
She won’t always have graham crackers for it.

She once told me to process things hour by hour — Get through one before thinking about the next; deal with what you’re feeling in that moment, and wait for the rest until it’s in front of you.

She is strong.

Through our conversations, I can tell she’s never emotionally run away from this portion of her life, nor has she let her optimism get lost in the crowd.

She’s processed, accepted, and is running towards the rest of her life.

And she’s almost to her finish line.

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The Thriving Artist

Thursday, July 30th, 2009

Pain is a very troublesome emotion to feel. It can kick you when you’re down and leave you begging to be let back up. But pain is also a feeling that a specific group of people in this world can appreciate when it becomes tangled up in their work. It marries itself to their craft, pushes their limits, and triggers their passion.

Yes, it’s true — In moments of distress, artists thrive. Shocked? Somehow I didn’t think you would be.

When going through the “tough” in life artists get up, dust off, savor the moment, and continue down their respective creative paths even more enthusiastically than the day before.

Analogy.
The clock is pushing 1am and you’re still an hour away from home after a nice, long, relaxing weekend. You’re getting tired but don’t want to pull the car over (which I agree is not the best approach but for the sake of this stay with me). The sleep begins to take you over; your eyes shut without warning and that scares the hell out of you. What happens next is not exactly pleasant, and you know it won’t be ahead of time, but you do it anyway — You smack yourself in the face a few times with a decent amount of force to get the blood flowing, and to ‘about-face’ your senses.

Once you pull into the driveway you’re grateful that the mobility of your hand was useful.

You did what you had to do.

Everyone has it in them to overcome a situation and fight the effects, but are you one who will do it? In the car scenario, would you pull over, or push on through? Artists push on through. It’s not always the best decision. We don’t always do it with grace. And it’s certainly not the easiest road. But it’s second nature.

We don’t take a time-out to heal.

We create to heal.

An artist overcoming pain can dish out some of the best paintings ever painted, the best photos ever taken, the best films ever filmed, the best songs ever written. Raw emotion combined with imagination produces pieces so far outside our conscious realm it’s overwhelming and powerful.

And it’s so important to capture that moment as it’s happening.

Tapping into such a deep place can’t be done manually — You have to clutch that moment it in your hand, and hang on until you feel cleansed and satisfied.

It’s tough, if not impossible, to recreate the way your body feels, the way your mind works, or the way your words sound when moving towards recovery after turmoil. And it’s in that recovery process that our creative spark plugs switch themselves out for a new set, and push us to new heights of creation.

Don’t take these times for granted as a creator.

These are the moments when pure emotion turns itself into art.

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A New Routine

Tuesday, July 21st, 2009

Today my routine shifted.

Today I did not wake up in my own bed. I did not get ready in my own bathroom. I did not feed my cats, I did not let my dog out. I did not meet my neighbor at six fifty-five to drive to the train station. I did not stop at my usual coffee shop.

This evening I will not pull into my driveway. I will not put my key in the back door as I have everyday for the last year and a half. I will not be greeted by three small-to-medium sized furballs waiting for their dinner. I will not sit on my front porch sipping wine. I will not cook dinner on my grill. I will not watch the news on my tv while sitting on the couch come six-thirty.

As the week goes on, I will not be putting the trash & recycling out on. I will not be worried whether or not the fan is on in the bathroom after I shower. I will not empty the dehumidifier in the basement. I will not water the plants. I will not clean the house. It will no longer be my concern when the neighbors are screaming at each other.

Yes, today was a shift in my routine, alright.

I have migrated from everything in its own place to my clothes in bags, and whatever breakable items I have wrapped in towels stuffed in laundry baskets because I didn’t have enough time to get boxes and tissue paper.

It’s a nightmare to be this unorganized.

But here’s what I will do.

When I get off the train in about thirty-five minutes I will walk to my car. I will get on route ninety-five south. I will pass by my old exit. I will wind through providence until I come to exit fourteen-a. I will take it. I will end up at my parents house, where all of my bags and towel-wrapped glasses are being stored. I will shower. I will dig for some clothes. I will head out, close the door behind me, and forget for the moment that tomorrow night I have to sort through my belongings.

I will also keep my head up. I will remind myself that I took a big step in leaving, and that it’s to benefit myself in the long run. I will remember that as hard as it may be to believe the cliché saying, it is for the best.

Today…. there was a shift in my routine.

But what I did today will become a familiar routine to me soon enough, and take the place of the one I seem to be missing.

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Thoughts at a Park

Thursday, July 16th, 2009

Too many people bury their heads in cell phones nowadays, and miss out on the natural beauty surrounding them.

Many don’t walk with confidence; it’s sad to think we’ve become a society of insecurities. Walk with your head up, already! Be proud of who you are.

If I could rewind the clock and go back to playing all summer long with neighborhood friends, where my biggest decision of the day was which flavor of ice cream to have after dinner, I would. But just for a day.

There is a man sitting next to me smoking an oak colored pipe and reading. I enjoy watching him because he looks so peaceful, and so in the moment.

There are some very high-end baby carriages out here. How much do these things cost? I just saw one that matched it’s owner – The baby was comfortably relaxing in his Burberry-lined bed on wheels, whereas his grandmother was rocking a pair of closed toe Burberry shoes.

Why aren’t more people here? It’s windy, and a bit cloudy, but overall not a bad day.

An artist is paining a landscape in the corner. It looks good. A bit vanilla for my taste, but still, nice job!

This will be direct. Dirty flip-flops are unappealing. Stay away from light colors if you can, unless you’re able to properly take care of them.

This grass could use some help.

The Prudential is to my right; I can only see the top of the building. Damn. That’s high.

People have the ability to become much more interesting when put to music; Music has the ability to become much more interesting when paired with people.

Someone forgot their yellow dump truck in the middle of the grass.

Three venti Starbucks mocha frappuccinos with extra whip just walked by. To quote a new friend, “Why?”

A little bird is hopping around me. Does he think I’m food?

There are two sets of boys playing basketball. One set is getting every basket in. The other set, which consists of 3 well-to-do white males, have made 0.

The peaceful guy from earlier is now cleaning his pipe. Book is down.

An overweight black man just rode by me on his bike. There was a bell on his handlebars.

It’s starting to rain. Oh. Wait. Maybe this is why people aren’t here today…

Posted in New England, Personal | No Comments »

Walking in Memphis

Monday, July 13th, 2009

I forgot quite how much I loved this song until today. It usually pops up when I put iTunes on shuffle, but lately I’ve been selecting individual artists and putting them on shuffle, so Marc’s taken a backseat. But today, here he is! And what a great version this is; it’s from Join the Parade (Live).

“Walking in Memphis” recounts a visit Marc took to Memphis in 1986. Much of what he mentions I’m sure you can recognize easily — Elvis, Graceland, W.C Handy, Beale Street. But what about that last part? You know the one I mean; the one at the end that’s bound to give you chills:

Now Muriel plays piano, Every Friday at the Hollywood, And they brought me down to see her, And they asked me if I would — Do a little number, And I sang with all my might, And she said — “Tell me are you a Christian child?”, And I said “Ma’am I am tonight”.

To many people’s surprise, a gospel singer named Muriel, Muriel Wilkins to be exact, did in fact play the piano every Friday night at The Hollywood Cafe, and was Marc’s inspiration for writing “Walking in Memphis”.

Marc had been invited by Dr. Frank Witherspoon, a long time friend of Muriel’s, to come visit him in Memphis and then go down to Robinsonville to meet a sweet lady that played piano and sang. Marc Cohn remembers having to sit close to Muriel as she played that night in 1986 because she was unaccompanied by any amplification. During a break they began talking and she asked him to tell her about himself. He explained his life story and that his mother had died at an early age and how he seemed to be in a rut with regards to his writing. During her next set, she asked him if he would join her on stage. Muriel sang “Amazing Grace” a capella and asked him if he would do the same. Then she asked him to sing some songs with her, whispering in his ear the lyrics that he did not know. Marc recalls that before leaving around two a.m., Muriel “whispered things to me about my mother. Then she told me it was time for me to move on.”

Delta Magazine said, “Webster’s defines graciousness as being marked by tact and delicacy, kindness and courtesy, charm, good taste and generosity of spirit. Muriel Wilkins was all of the above and more. She began playing the piano and singing in Sunday School when she was three years old. She continued to practice that never-ending love of hers for 64 more years.”

One of her favorite quotes — “You must be ALL that you can be”.

As for The Hollywood itself, it serves up a classic Southern menu, complete with Fried Green Tomatoes, Fried Catfish & Frog Legs. And if you ever go be sure to save room for dessert — Blackberry Cobbler! That would just about hit the spot right now.

Enjoy the song.

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