Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘John Denver’

November 25

I’ve had readers ask me why I haven’t written Day 365.  It didn’t begin as intentional – I didn’t mean to skip the last day.  I wasn’t ignoring it.  In a way, I wasn’t thinking about it at all.  But then I realized the obligation of writing a daily blog was a kind of practice in meditation – I have been focusing on writing like I focus on meditative breathing; and since I am a beginner at meditation – liable for straying from focus – I would make it a practice to return to the breath, so to speak, to get back on track.  It has been quite a commitment to open myself up to this discovery, or discoveries, that I have hoped would bring me to a higher level of consciousness and enlightenment.

When I realized the analogy of meditation, while it’s equally important to commit to meditation on a daily basis, I also realized that to a Buddhist, days melt together into an infinite stretch.  What is time, anyway?  It’s a measurement man had created for himself – really for farming purposes.  I’m not suggesting there’s no purpose or ceremony in an individual day, but, rather, each day is like a wave on an ocean.  We don’t always look out to the sea and see every single wave that rises, crests and falls.  But those waves are out there, they matter, they keep the rhythm of the ocean alive, they are constant and they follow a larger source and rhythm that we don’t even see.  Most of us don’t even feel it, which is sad.  But, I do.  Feel the source (not see every wave!).  And, thus, are my days – 344, 362, 365, whatever.  It doesn’t really matter.  My journey began long before the blog and my evolution continues to excelerate well past that missed day.

I was going to go back and write it, but when I was collecting the written entries to work this blog into a book project I’m hoping to get published, I realized I had accidentally skipped a day.  So, I’m actually two days short.

But, kind reader, don’t be dismayed that I have skipped or missed two days.  I am not dismayed, myself.  Those blanks, too, have served their purpose in my story.

If there must be some kind of closure to the 365 Days Until Love blog, however, let it be this…

Jane Goodall once wrote:
I have found that to love and to be loved is the most empowering and exhilirating of all human emotions.

And that applies to love in all of its manifestations.

John Denver wrote a song (perfomed with opera’s legendary tenor Placido Domingo) called Perhaps Love.  I write the lyrics below (without permission):

(Placido Domingo)
Perhaps love is like a resting place
A shelter from the storm
It exists to give you comfort
It is there to keep you warm
And in those times of trouble
When you are most alone
The memory of love will bring you home

Perhaps love is like a window
Perhaps an open door
It invites you to come closer
It wants to show you more
And even if you lose yourself
And don’t know what to do
The memory of love will see you through

(John Denver)

(Placido Domingo)
Oh, Love to some is like a cloud
To some as strong as steel

(John Denver)
For some a way of living
For some a way to feel

(Placido Domingo)
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go
And some say love is everything
And some say they don’t know

(John starts joined by Placido)
Perhaps love is like the ocean
Full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it’s cold outside
Thunder when it rains
If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you

(Placido Domingo)
And some say love is holding on
And some say letting go

(John Denver)
And some say love is everything
Some say they don’t know

(John starts joined by Placido)
Perhaps love is like the ocean
Full of conflict, full of pain
Like a fire when it’s cold outside
Or thunder when it rains
If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you

When Denver wrote the song he was thinking about all the ways he experienced love.  He thought about what all people must think of love, and the song came to him effortlessly.  A turning point for him, as an artist and musician, happened when he listened to Domingo sing the song with him in a live concert.  Denver was deeply impressed by the way Domingo sang his lyrics, which, thus, changed the way Denver sang his own songs from there on.  He had said, “when Placido sang the word steel, you felt steel.  When he sang the word cloud, you felt a cloud.”

And that is how I consider my work, now, moving forward, as an artist and as a humble woman – daughter, sister, friend, lover – to say what I mean and mean what I say, to feel and express myself deeply and fully, and to have strength in my love and loving.  And this I mean for love in all of its beautiful manifestations.

Blessings.

L.A.J.

 

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Thursday, June 12

It was hard to say what this day would turn out to be.  I got up, optimistic, and put on a bright green tank top made of super soft organic cotton and a chartreuse colored hoodie.  I packed a pair of bronze flip flops in my car, in the event that it might get warm out…dare I hope!  It was cloudy, overcast and cool in the morning.  I wore my standard black quilted vest over my hoodie and my black Danskos to work.  Still, I hoped for a turn-around in the afternoon.

And I got my wish!  I met a videographer at the Starbuck’s in Sherwood to discuss a video project that we’ll stream on the website and set up as a DVD deliverable.  By the time I had left, the sky was already clearing.  It still wasn’t all that great out, but I could feel the winds-a-changin!

And by the time I went into a meeting about our winery and office construction, the sky was blue, the sun was out and it was spring-like weather again, the good spring weather, I should say.  What a difference the sun makes.  And there’s nothing quite like the sunbreaks in the northwest.

The day seemed to fly by and before I knew it I was on my way home.  It was gorgeous out.  Sunny and warm.  The happiness filled up again.  It was like the universe was back in order.  I could breathe again, and breathe with a sigh of relief. 

When I got home I checked my mail and noticed I received a package from my mom, by way of key.  I used the key in the shipped boxes mailboxes and retrieved a shoebox sized package from my mom. At home, I read some and then gathered some of my writing materials and headed downtown.  I would open the box later.

I was supposed to have a meeting in Newberg with the gals from the San Francisco trip (last April) – but we canceled our tentative New York trip, and, alas our afternoon/evening meeting.  So, onward toward the Pearl.  I parked on 9th and Couch and walked to Deschutes.  It was packed and there was no space at the bar, so I gave up.  On my way out, my colleague Annie, a fellow closet John Denver and Dan Fogelberg fan, called.  Only, the phone call was unlisted, so I didn’t know it was Annie…until I heard this faint, strange music in the background…

“Hello?” I kept saying, but I couldn’t make out much except for the very faint voice of John Denver singing.  And then I knew… only Annie, or her husband, Scott, would send me such sweet song notes over the phone waves!  We briefly chatted after a few laughs – I told her I owed her a video stream in my next email to her.

I walked towards 13th and Glison and worked my way to Bay 13.  I grabbed a seat at the bar.  There were a lot of cute men all over this trendy yet sometimes obnoxious spot.  But, I like the bar.  Anyway, this middle-aged woman was seated two bar stools down and started talking to me right away.  I really didn’t feel like chatting, because I wanted to work on some of my edits, but I got hooked in.  And, to be honest, I felt sorry for her.  She was clearly lonely and just wanted someone to chat with.  Finally, Susan called, after I had half-way finished my Manhattan – the bartender, a petite, Julianna Margulies doppleganger, makes a mean Manhattan.  The best part was the amaretto cherry.  Delish.

Speaking of dopplegangers – I found this pretty entertaining and funny celebrity doppleganger site.  The weirdest one – Bono and Robin Williams.  But, this photo does match them up in an eerie way. 

Anyway, back to Bay 13.  I ordered the ceviche of the day, which was made with swordfish, and the Bay 13 sushi roll.  The kind bartender brought me wheat free tamari for my sushi.  She told me her roommate had Celiac disease.  I always tip extra when my servers and bartenders get the Celiac thing.

By the time my food arrived, so did Susan.  And not a moment too soon.  I was tired of listening to the sad, drunkish lady who kept chatting my ear off and getting too close in to my personal space.

Kerry eventually met us there.  By that time, my dinner was long gone and I was on to a scoop of caramel gelato and a glass of Prosecco.  The food isn’t amazing at Bay 13, but it is consistent.  The ceviche was quite lovely, actually.

After dinner, and after we said our good-byes, after a good amount of time at starting at the very well dressed, handsome men, and contemplating if they were gay or metrosexuals, because it’s quite difficult to differentiate in this part of town, we went on our way.  I walked by myself several blocks back to my car at 9th and Couch.  It was a gorgeous night out, the kind of night you want to take in for a stroll.  The air was clear, the sky was dark, the streets smelled like a melange of wonderful flavorful restaurant spices, meats and grease. 

I got home just after midnight with a runny nose.  I sat on my bright red Ikea sofa while my two cats ran around wild chasing each other, and I opened up the package my mother sent me.  When I tore off the brown paper wrapping, I giggled at the box.  It wasn’t a shoe box, at all, but rather was one of my dad’s emptied gun club target loads boxes by Remington.  Nice.  I opened up the taped box and found a bag of Johnson’s pure cotton balls, no doubt to use with my facial toner, and an object taped in bubble wrap.  I removed the wrap and found a berry bowl by Hutzler – a plastic container and lid that guarantees keeping fruit fresh longer – ideal for strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, boysenberries, gosseberries, grapes, cherries, etc.  I think the label covered most, if not all of the berries out there!  And, this gift makes sense, since I live in the berry capital!  We do have amazing fresh berries in Oregon.  Her care package was very sweet – random – but sweet. 

By the time I emptied the contents of the package, I was pretty tired.  I was really grateful for a sunny day, for a lovely evening walk in my favorite city and for my thoughtful mother.  She has really been my rock of Gibralter lately, well, who am I kidding?  Always.  She’s my true north.  She bailed me out of a credit card fiasco, so that I will no longer have to deal with ridiculous APR fees – something quite generous on her part.  I will pay her back, even though she’s not asking me to.  I’m not that irresponsible.  But, I am simply grateful.  She’s got my back, all the time.  And we all need that one person who, no matter what, always has our back. 

 

Read Full Post »