Soul Music

Is it just me, or do you find that everything in the world is better when you have music as your soundtrack?
Seriously.  I can tell you time, pinpoint important events, recall memories simply by hearing a song. It is as much a connection to the moment as smell. 
Perhaps it's because music strikes an internal chord...no pun intended.
Perhaps it's because music has always been a part of our household when I was a kid.
My dad loved it more than mom...he whistled a lot.  He would hum to sound of the polkas in the background (yes, polkas)...hmmm I wrote something about polkas many years ago...I need to find that and post it here.
I have digressed.
My dad loved to listen to music and he loved to dance.   He could waltz and yes, polka.  I picked up that joy of music from him.  Dad would say he had to dance because music made his toes tap...I get that.   I may not dance well, it doesn't matter, I let the music move me.
Music makes the soul sing. Right?  You know what I mean.
Being connected to the world when music is in the air.  hmmm...perhaps that is precisely why my recall is so in tune with melody.
The mood I was in when I first heard a song, the locale, the people around me, the vivid mental illustrations are all ignited when songs are heard.  My life is enriched by the variety of what I was exposed to over time.  Every genre served a purpose. 
The instrumentals, the lyrics, the soaring vocals all work to stimulate the senses and remind me of essential moments I lived.  
They are all Songs in MY Key of Life. 

Capoeira , or the art of world peace

I have been extremely fortunate: friendships have led me through magical doors.

Such was the case when  a dear percussionist friend introduced me to a Brazilian guitarist and singer he was working with.  Loved the music: sultry, sensual.  Earthy.

It did not take long to meet their surrounding friends that were also Brazilian, and in particular Mestre Esquilo. (or "Squirrel")

 Mestre Esquilo

                                             

I met him as "Bruno" on a lovely spring  day  where my friends were performing outside at a local venue.. He was delightful, outgoing and thoroughly engaging.  He was also extremely fit, and an older (somewhat inebriated woman) grabbed his butt on more than one occasion.   He handled it all with laughter and a smile and in the course of our conversation, he invited me to come to the Brazilian Art Center in Charlotte the following Monday to a beginners class for Capoeira.  "What is it?" I asked, ignorant.  "Just come and see...wear exercise clothes, OK?" was his reply.

I had no idea what I was agreeing to, but thought "Why not?" and Monday (to his surprise) I was there.

I entered a space filled with colorful murals of Brazil and Charlotte...somewhat reminiscent of a Marc Chagall lithograph.  That was a huge plus: a positive vibe to greet me in color and art is a great first impression.
What followed was an hour of the most intense exercise I've had in my life.  It started out easily enough.  Laps around the room in a  light run followed by a few other warm ups.




Then I was introduced to "Ginga".

It is the base of all things Capoeira.  A simple enough movement, but one that requires balance and strength.
"Ginga 1000 times" is a saying heard first that day, and there are T-shirts out there proclaiming its worthiness.  Perfecting that move, making it beautiful and balanced is not as easy as I thought...I must say I have two left feet in many ways,  and although I wear the highest heels imaginable with grace and style, that does not mean I can dance or move gracefully elsewhere.    So I took the challenge and did my best.  Keeping the correct arm up to protect the face was critical.  And sometimes I felt like a very awkward teenager going through the motions.

Gradually a few other movements were added-each in repetitive segments to help muscle memory and to learn the basics correctly. The negativa is a defensive move to "negate" the attack from the other player.   There are many variations, but the key- always - learn the basics.  The rest will follow.  After a year and a half, the basics are still the most crucial element of Capoeira.  The cocorinha is a simple low squat, (well, not so simple the first day and at times even now) but requires balance and attention to protecting the face and watching the opponent.  Esquiva, is an escape, and there are many forms, all requiring strength and balance.

Without throwing a kick, I was learning that watching, moving, protecting oneself was all basic knowledge and movement, and I had much to learn.

I'm not a kid and the muscles did not scream, but they were not familiar with the movements.  I was not totally out of condition: Yoga was my exercise of choice, and I still love it.  But it is a totally different discipline.  Yoga really is a completely self contained form of meditation and exercise.

Capoeira is not.  Capoeira requires others to play and to progress.  It is a Brazilian Martial Art based in culture.   It is music, movement, dance, song. It is a group art form, performed in roda, or a circle, where two players come together to test their skills, surrounded by other players who sing and clap to the music sung in Portuguese with strange new instruments like the berimbau to lead us. The music aspect was especially appealing to me, and  I was determined to give it my best effort.

After 50 minutes we were brought into a circle, a roda.  OK, I am a fairly confidant woman, but the first roda was more than a bit intimidating- and then :  it wasn't!  Mestre sang, and Reba was the first to "play" with me.  I had watched her play with others, and she was, and still is amazing.  Small, compact and really strong. A powerful dancer's body, with all the grace you can imagine and more.  "Slow" Mestre said, and we crouched across from one another and she smiled, we began our play with the au (which is a cartwheel) into a ginga.  Reba kept her eyes locked on mine, and indicated by eye and head movement what I should be doing.  An esquiva from me when she performed a graceful meia-lua de Frente.  Somewhere inside I felt this calm energy and adrenalin surge and I managed a clumsy bencao or two and armada too I recall.  But Reba made me feel as though I was truly a part of the game, and she remains one of my favorite people to play today.  She was patient and kind then, and her ability to encourage new students remains...oh, and she can kick the butt of anyone in roda.  She is magnificent to watch, and a challenge to play. And she challenges me every time, to be better, to try harder.

I also played with Mestre that day.   He knew me from my first au to my last ginga in roda.  He saw the fire in my eyes and asked "You like?"  and I answered "I Love!"

Perhaps obsession more correct. I trained as often as possible. and had accelerated to nearly 5 times a week
It was all consuming.  And that was not a bad thing.  I was working toward achieving my first goal: Batizado , or baptism in the art.  By August I was ready. I studied the sequences and every session was more than exciting as I felt my own strength and confidence grow. And then, I received my first cord.  Green.  I became a Capoerista that day.
It brought a new measure of confidence to my play that I never expected.  I still had much to learn, but I was filled with the love of the game.  And then, training came to a complete halt. on October 16th, an injury suffered outside of training forced me to stop all activity.  I had 86 sessions under my belt.  And it came to a crashing halt.   The desire to train never left- the ability to do so was another story. For months I was sidelined.  my heart was breaking and I knew I had to do something, so I went to Mestre Esquilo.   He knew how much I wanted to get back to train, we discussed what I would do, what I could do.  And then he developed a new training program for me.  He combined capoeira and tai chi and coined it "Tai-Choeira".  My training was excruciatingly slow.  I would leave and climb into my vehicle and weep.  I watched beginners who started well after I received my first cord progressing by leaps and bounds.  The hole in my heart was widening as my days and months away from active training increased.  I needed to be there, my heart and mind wanted to be there, my spirit wanted to be there...my body screamed at me.  "Slow" said Mestre. "Don't worry about doing anything- just come and sing and be here with us".   And I did.  I went when I could not play, and I used my voice to be part of the game.  Just being in the same  room with the others gave me strength and healing.  Playing in roda was my next goal. I did Tai Choeira at home, trying to regain my lower body strength. And nearly sixteen months after my life was put on hold, I cried when I realized I was not able to continue.  I still can't play Capoeria Angola: my wrist won't allow it and my doctor said "no".  I adjust.

I have much to learn...but I love it so
I am adapting my weaknesses into strengths.  I am growing.  "Slow"    yes Mestre...slow is good. As of this writing, I had trained (at an academy setting) 134 times. When I was told I could not play at all, my heart burned with the desire to get back into roda,  Life brings challenges, I counted every session until I was told "no".  But the day will come when 1000 will be realized.

Years ago I walked into the Brazilian Art Center without a clue.

I quickly learned what makes my heart beat faster.  I learned that the strength I found in training helped me move through days when I could not train.  I learned to change due to circumstances around  me in ways that I never thought I could. Like all of us, I have my good days and bad days in roda, but I always appreciate the respect that is shown to those of lessor ability by those who are much more advanced.   It is also a part of  the code we as capoeiristas must follow. To help those that are new, to encourage each other, to work together as a family.   And Family is a perfect description.  Every time we walk into the BAC, it is like walking into a family reunion...hugs and teasing and laughter.
We celebrate birthdays together, joy together and help each with burdens.  And we play: Hard.   And we grow: together.  And we care for each other in ways that a real family does.

Yes, I paused counting, I am still hopeful that the day of healing will come...that I will be able to put weight on my hands without a wrist collapsing.

I was told I was forever optimistic.   Its true. Someday I shall return to play in roda.  Simply being among other Capoeiristas is healing: yet the pill is a bitter one when you know you can not get into that  circle and focus on the rhythm of the music and the movement of the opponent.  Those are days of tears and heartbreak.  Losing that part of my life is unbearable, but hope springs eternal.   For now, at least dancing forro and samba will have to suffice.

Our Capoeira family is huge.  It expands the globe.  It embraces all religions, all cultures, all races, all people. At our recent International Capoeira Festival held in Charlotte, NC, the world came to us.  From Russia, Israel, Canada, South America.  Tens of Thousands of us practice capoeira, and we are united in the belief that there are no borders, no groups, no egos. They are never allowed to enter our gatherings.  I'd like to name every one who has inspired me, but I don't want to miss a single one, as everyone who has ever stepped into roda has done that...every one  is stitched in the fiber of my being: especially our Charlotte Capoeira family.

We are blessed to have Mestre Esquilo here.  He is extraordinary.

His talent is legendary.  He travels the world by invitation.  He brings his passion, his spirit, his energy, his AXE' to every event, every roda.  We love and respect him because that is what he gives us every day.  His wife Glauciele Santana not only plays capoeira, but teaches forro, traditional Brazilian dance. and Brazilian Samba.  She is a singer, an actress, an amazing mom.   She is joy and fire.   She is also a surgeon...she was able to fix my two left feet and now I have a left and right  foot and I can really dance forro!  She is also  a dear and treasured friend.  Their three children (triplets) are beloved, and we are all Tia & Tio to them.  They are growing up accepting everyone, not judging.


We see the promise of a better world in the eyes of the children of other capoeiristas too.   It is the beauty of a world we always knew it could be...and it exists in our hearts and in the faces of all at Charlotte Capoeira,  CDO Charlotte.
 
             I am a Capoeirista.

 Watch out world:    Capoeira is the art of Peace.

A Decade of Tears

Sometimes the sadness is so overwhelming, the need to put it on paper and look at it, gives the pain a chance to ebb.   Sometimes that works...not always...
So as I look at this mile mark, I come to the full realization that I am not stuck in the past- but the past has left such an indelible mark that it is necessary to purge the grief and let the tears flow.   It is part of living fully: not denying that the loss is forever engraved on my heart, but recognizing that it as much a part of me as breathing.  and that is ok.

A Decade of Tears         

Sept 6, 2014

For some reason I thought the tears would stop falling  

For some reason I thought my mind would stop calling for you.

For some reason I thought I would stop counting days

for some reason I thought I would move through the haze.

But a decade of tears have gathered

There’s a river of sadness and grief

And its growing and flowing becoming an ocean

A Decade of tears at my feet.

For some reason I thought life would continue

For some reason I thought that I’d let you go

For some reason I thought that the hurt would be less

For some reason I thought I’d get over this mess…but no

For a decade of tears have gathered

There’s a river of sadness and grief

And its growing and flowing becoming an ocean

A decade of tears at my feet.

For some reason people think that I’m fierce and I’m strong

For some reason people think that I’m moving forward along

For some reason I’ve managed to  fool all the world except me

For some reason I just can’t let old memories be

So a decade of tears have gathered

There’s a river of sadness and grief

And its growing and flowing becoming an ocean

A decade of tears at my feet.

And The Winds Roared

And the Winds Roared…. For Oklahoma May 21, 2013         

Mama jumped in the bathtub in the basement

Her body curled over the baby beneath

Daddy threw the mattress on them                      

Their world was shaking, they hung on with their teeth

       And the winds roared

       And the winds howled

       And the winds lifted and tore and twisted the lives and the people and places called home.

       And the winds roared.

Babies sleeping soundly in their bedroom should be safe

But they disappeared in the chaos - swept away swept away

God's hand guided them softly in the wind and rain

And they were both found sleeping the innocent sleep of the babe.

       And the winds roared

       And the winds howled

       And the winds lifted and tore and twisted the lives and the people and places called home.

The winds were curling and angry with might and a mission.

Its voice screaming destroying   everything in its vision.

It stacked cars up like matchbox toys dumped in play

But there was nothing of joy in that howling that day…the winds roared.

        The wreckage, the sadness, the losses the tears

        No reason , no answers just resignation and fears

        the children that died, the adults that were heroes

        the pets that perished, broken lives, broken mirrors

        Some may rebuild, some  will move far away

        From the scene now etched in their minds that May day

        As the winds roared

But those that stood up when the sky finally cleared

saw the wreckage , devastation, lives tossed far and near

and a glimmer of hope moved  cross the land

as they sifted through damage with shovel and hand.

a photo, a scrap of the lives they once knew

stiffened their spines , determination grew

the strength and the character of those who stood tall

is the remarkable gift that was given them all

after winds roared

Swamp Sista: in the Hood!

I have recently had the privilege of joining a unique and interesting group of women.  I am a "Swamp Sista"
Now, that does not mean I reside under logs, "rassle" alligators, or say "where y'at" when asking for directions.

It does mean I am among a very special group of women, started by musician/singer/songwriter Beth McKee whom she met at her gigs.

The Swamp Sistas : a collection of women with diverse backgrounds, the arts, business, medicine.  You name the profession, and a Sista is most likely doing that work. But they are something more: they unite under the love of music, and they celebrate being a woman.  Not through protests or sit-ins, but through the glorious sounds of music and laughter.

The Swamp Sistas live fully. There is joy when they gather.  Music fills the air : blues, bluegrass, new grass, rock,  rock a billy, cajun...its all there

LALA festivals have begun to spring up: take Woodstock, subtract a few hundred thousand people,  then add more women performers, along with Sistas that create beautiful items to sell, and throw in great food.  Add a little Grateful Dead audience participation to the mix  (without the patchouli oil, actually I do believe I smelled it in the air, and I KNOW it was for sale at one of the vendors) and you may come somewhat close to where the LALA's are headed...
to barns in the country, open fields, or anyplace where they can easily set up for a day to dance, to sing, to laugh and rejoice in the sheer unity of SistaHood.

LALA's have already occurred in New Orleans, Orlando, and in North Carolina.  More are on the way.

If you are lucky enough to be a woman: you could be a Sista.

oh yes, men are welcome to attend the events: after all, Sistas love their lovers.

The Quiet within: beyond Peace

This photo may make you smile, but it makes me nod and say "Alright!"

The serenity on the face is something I recognize: 

because I have seen it in my own reflection over time.

I am learning quiet.

Inside

Deep within my soul.

Its not as though I did not have peace within.  I've just never had quiet.

There is a difference.

Peace I have found through love, prayer, music, art, gardening, even work.

Quiet is something completely different and entirely an end result of Yoga.

It began in April at a friend's wedding.

Sheridan had been practicing Yoga for a while and was also taking classes to become a teacher. She had invited several of the people from the studio to her wedding,  and I had a compelling conversation with one of her instructors, Hampton.  I was invited to join the practice the next evening.  

It would be life changing.

To be honest, I've taken yoga classes on occasion in the past.  I have yoga tapes and DVD's I have used often.  Yes, they were currently collecting dust somewhere in a cabinet or box, but I had them.  Heck, I even had the Wii workouts that had yoga included: although I was always irritated by their workout, as it was never fluid, but choppy, with a rhythm that never felt comfortable.  I preferred the thought of working out with others again, as I had come to appreciate the health benefits to the body due to the exercise and stretching involved, so I went with an open mind to getting a good work out and back in shape. 

For nearly 90 minutes I moved through the various stretches and poses to open my body, but I found a change that happened within moments of settling on the mat.  I found a silence that calmed my mind.

The quiet I never knew living in a house full of siblings and parents, even the time I spent on my own, and later after I was married and then once again after my beloved Michael died, appeared.  I NEVER knew this quiet inside.

There was always something that managed to creep in and take over my mind when I least expected it.  Hitting the "Shut off" button was not something I could do, much less put my mind on "pause".

In Prayer, I would find Peace, but never silence.  There was always clutter-background noise in my head as I concentrated on the things I needed to pray about, or for.  

Until that afternoon.

Somehow, a quiet soothing motion began in my mind and settled throughout the practice.  It was not an invasion, but a gentle curtain that came down and said "For now, this is all that matters"

I began to really listen to my breath...to breathe into the muscles and the movement.  To listen to the voice that quietly lead me from pose to pose in what became a dance within my center core.  I began to see the muscles as I prepared them to move, to hold, to stretch.  I remember my surprise, albeit a pleasant one, when my body responded and adjusted as prompted.

There was no room for outside thoughts, because-strangely enough-the outside did not exist beyond the room.  It was enough just to move to the best of my ability, always being aware and alive with each adjustment in pose.  No stress was involved.  No need to prove anything to anyone: even myself.  

I did not do poses perfect. But that is the beauty of Yoga.  It is always a practice.  You practice to achieve only what you can do that day.  The idea that it was not enough never enters into the mind.  What was accomplished that day was good enough for that day.  

Its been nearly 4 months since that first time.  I practice at home on days I can not get to the studio.  I find quiet inside.  

My body has responded in kind.  Its stronger, leaner.  It feels the quiet and expands it into my daily life.

My creativity is at a new level.  My desire to paint, to play music, to connect with others mentally has intensified in a calm and serene way.  I'm not driven, but exploring myself and my world. 

Within the chaos of life, I have found a quiet that is truly remarkable.  I feel it even now as I write this.  Moments of stillness that I treasure because they are mine alone and which I carry with me into my world.  

I'm not unique.  I am a work in progress.  I practice to find breath and stillness in every fiber of my being.   

I practice to achieve the Quiet beyond Peace.     

Spring

It's the smell of the earth...almost something you want to take a bite of

It's the delicate green bud on the tree that is barely discernible up close, but against the backdrop of a pure Carolina Blue sky, it casts a neon glow

It's the feel of the dirt under your fingernails when you dig into the warm loamy soil.

It's the pungent odor of the wild garlic that mimics the smell of cut onions as you mow the lawn.

It's the colors of white, yellow, orange, gold, pink, fuchsia, red, purple, every green imaginable and then some that appears on trees, shrubs, bare branches and thin stalks arising from the ground.

It's the tree frog sending out it mating call in the evening.

It's the symphony of birdsong in the early morning , in the middle of the day and just before dusk

It is knowing that despite everything you may feel on your worst day, that the best day is yet to come.

It's the promise of possibilities.