Now I become myself. It's taken time, many years and places...
- May Sarton
she lived daylight
in upside down
ochre daydreams
but knew by heart
the fullness of the moon,
every slanted angle.
the cunning starlight
aghast! in wonder
told her secrets to the wanderlust of the wind
and soon even
unexpected adjectives of the ocean
recognized the heartbeat red folklore
of her murmured name.
I believe that, for the creative soul,
a horizon line is a psychological imperative,
the physical embodiment of
the infinite expanse of all things.
- Richard Horan
Today I am slowly treading in the coolwarm September water of these words.
*Photos taken by Bud one day last winter.
Sunday we lounged in the backyard, moving from sun to shade with cups of coffee and The New York Times, the day stretched out before us. We stayed until it was time to turn on the fairy lights and bring out the grill.
Yesterday, after a full morning, I opened the door to the backyard hoping for just a little bit of that same level of relaxation.
Rave raced out in front of me and within seconds had caught a cat.
Oh, oh, my. He dropped it immediately upon my (shrieking) command and the trespasser darted up a tree and over the fence intact.
That dog isn't always as placid as he appears in photographs.
* I found this book exquisite.
August pulled me outdoors, the way the summer months do. My computer bit the dust and though I've felt a bit out of touch, I have appreciated sitting with pen and paper under the shade of a beach umbrella on the sand or in the solitude of our humble garden. There have been afternoons spent on the wicker sofa outdoors napping with Rave or with my nose in a book, intermittently distracted (and sometimes downright startled) by the vibration of hummingbird wings speeding past to reach the feeder. On weekends we've awakened early to run errands and then head out to watch a polo match and buy jumbo artichokes at the farmers' market. We sit on the front steps watching sun bleached sailboats lilt to the wind's call while the smell of charcoal and lighter fluid predictably penetrate the neighborhood in the late afternoon sunlight.
Last week I had the pleasure of spending time with Liz in Washington. She and Ellie Jane took me scouting for sea glass along the shore and we met Martha and her dog Lily for an afternoon in Seattle at Pike Place Market. I returned home with a heart brimming with gratitude for the blessings of friendship and connection.
There is also an unanswered question that has surfaced recently, as it has before over the years. A wondering if parenthood is part of our path. Although there have been hours of "YES.", days of "Definitely not.", and years of "Maybe someday...", I've never had a crystalline notion of whether or not motherhood is what calls me. I've identified the question as a way to listen to my heart and determine what has healed and what is still healing from my own experiences of childhood. And while this is a part of what I consider, there are so many other variables at play. But here's the thing: I guess I just thought I'd have it figured out by now. I long for a clear and unwavering answer and it has eluded me. So here I sit with The Big Unknown; sometimes it is congenial and sometimes it is like wearing a scratchy wool sweater I forget I can remove.
My father was a fan of the opera and had a great appreciation for the voice of Maria Callas. I recently came upon a recording of hers that belonged to him, and have been moved by the prevalent emotion that comes forth in her performances. I've been so captivated that I've devoured multiple biographies of her life and have watched what I can find of her performances and interviews on youtube. Hers was not a voice that was considered classically beautiful, yet its power is unmistakable. Her personal life was somewhat tragic, yet she lived with the same passion evident in her art.
There are times when certain people are blessed - and cursed - with an extraordinary gift, in which the gift is almost greater than the human being. Callas was one of these people. It was as if her own wishes, her life, her own happiness were all subservient to this incredible, incredible gift that she was given, this gift that reached out and taught us things about music that we knew very well, but showed us new things, things we never thought about, new possibilities. I think that is why singers admire her so. I think that's why conductors admire her so. I know it's why I admire her so. And she paid a tremendously difficult and expensive price for this career. I don't think she always understood what she did or why she did it. She usually had a tremendous effect on audiences and on people. But it was not something she could always live with gracefully or happily. I once said to her, "It must be a very enviable thing to be Maria Callas." And she said, "No, it's a very terrible thing to be Maria Callas, because it's a question of trying to understand something you can never really understand." She couldn't really explain what she did. It was all done by instinct. It was something embedded deep within her.
- John Ardoin
Art is the ability to express the life of emotion. - Maria Callas
Tuesday, September 6, 2011