I have used the title of this blog before... Last night the rain did speak to me!
Rain is a very sacred sound created by playing upon the instrument called earth. Every raindrop is like a note of music.
Last night the rain was sporadic. Heavy with sound, then suddenly it would stop leaving bars of long rests and resonating echos of it's drumming symphony. Then ever so gently it would begin tapping and sighing against the glass, the roof, dancing on the cement and rocks or quietly cascading into the grass and gardens.
I was busy helping close the house, packing bags, cleaning... all the last 25 items that MUST be done before leaving the country.
Most important: pass ports, credit cards, flight numbers, cell phones. (I have two phones. A Vodafone when I am out of the USA and a Verizon when I am in the States.) Chargers for I Pod, remember all the cables to computers, phones and KEYS.
Keys are very
important as they open the doors in New Zealand and they open the doors in WY.
Now that I am in my early 60's I have this array of drugs and supplements to pack into my kit of toilet items, the hassle of putting the one oz. bottles of gels and liquids in the plastic bag for inspection.
Closing a house is a big
job. Everything from shutting off power and water to making sure there are no food items, trash, or windows and doors left ajar!
Early in the evening I enjoyed a delicious dinner at the Boardwalk. One of my favorite restaurants. The food is perfect, but the chairs! Ah, I could sit in the chairs all night! Finally around midnight I fell into a fitful sleep. Up at 6 AM flying around the house in order to finish the final tasks. Taxi was on time for the ride to the air port. We arrived at Qantas, checked in the luggage and it was NOT over the limit.
I was feeling strung out... very tired. Then the intercom announced that the flight to Auckland had been cancelled due to heavy cloud cover and rain! I grabbed my Vodafone. Called the 0800 number, re-scheduling for tomorrow. Finally retrieved the luggage, made the new flight arrangements and back to the house! THANK
GOD FOR THIS HOUSE AND YES, I HAD THE KEYS TO THE DOOR! Broad band was still in service, the telephones were still on.
I threatened my two companions with their lives: "DO NOT SO MUCH AS FART because I have made myself sick getting this place in tip top shape!"
It was surreal to be driving up to a house which only a few hours ago you had "CLOSED".
We usually depart from NZ on April 28th, this year we were leaving on the 27th because of flight situations. Well, the pattern has not been broken! Sunshine is forecast for tomorrow the 28th of April. (Mind you, when I am in NZ I am in the future. Even though I fly out of NZ on the 28th of April I am going back in time and will arrive in LAX on the 28th of April. When ever I call the USA I have to realize the fact: I am a day and 4 to 6 hours ahead of where I calling!
The rain was singing all kinds of ancient earthen chants last night. Some where listened to very deep within my heart as I sensed we would not board the flight from Queenstown to Auckland.
My dreams were everywhere. From 2 AM until 4 AM I was awake... I laid listening to the rain and finally I lifted myself out of bed, walked outside and inhaled the scent of rain. I once read about a child that claimed rain was the odor of heaven. She may have been spot on.
In the early 70's I used to drive my VW Bug from Ogden Ut. to Denver Colorado to stay with a friend for up to a week. Driving across the WY desert can be a celestial experience or long hours of fighting off sleep. Often I would see rain clouds charging across the sky and drive directly into a cloud burst of glorious percussion from the mallets of rain drops. I'd stop the car, jump out and run through the sage brush and wild flowers.
Most clouds were so intimidating and yet so full of blessings I sensed no fear, only dampness and clean air and water!
There were times I simply drove into the desert and stripped naked... (I could do it without a thought when I was in my 20's)
and lay on the ground as the rain baptized my flesh, blood and spirit. I do believe in four sacred things: Water, Air, Fire and Earth. They all are my 4 in 1, they express peace and harmony to my life.
I will not be blogging for a few weeks. Enjoy the winter rains in the Pacific Islands, or the Spring rains in the USA and Canada.
(Scandinavia, Europe, Russia, China the list goes on and on...)
Spring is a reminder of our own birth... Remember: it is not 3 in 1, it is 4 in 1.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Friday, April 03, 2009
Autumn Leaves of Paper Notes...
Most days I walk into the Center of the Village... I then have a cup of strong black coffee at any of many coffee houses.
I do have my favorites. "The Halo", "The Forge", "Books". With coffee I will have a salad or toasted sandwich. From the coffee house I walk to the Alpine Market. (Not the Alpine Market in WY!) The one in QT, NZ that was once called 4 Square. I purchase items for dinner.Greens, vegetables, breads, cheese, sometimes wine, but I prefer to purchase wine from Henry's.
Then I do "MY RAMBLE". I walk about town. I sit and watch people... I listen to sounds, I search the sky for signs within the heavens. Sometimes I write music, or I write in my Journal. I even sketch in the pages of my journal. Most days I go to the local gym and work on the rowing machine, light weights and stretching.
After all these tasks I will step inside St. Peter's Anglican Church. I have mystical respect for churches, cathedrals, synagogues. I cannot ever simply rush into such buildings. I sneak humbly into the bowels of such great architecture. After entering the doors I tip toe up to the baby grand piano. Lift my musical scores out of my back pack and the music maybe everything from Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Debussy, even Rachmaninoff. I place my "piano/computer" glasses upon my nose. Lift the desk of the piano and lightly brush my hands over the keys... I look at the light the stained glass windows refract across the alter... I smell lilies, roses, what ever flower arrangement the ladies of the Church have created... then I make music.
Most days I am in the chapel from one o clock until three o clock... I play the baby grand piano, I make mistakes, I correct the errors, I LISTEN to myself with ears I have only recently discovered. I find melodies hidden inside harmonies, I make notes to myself but most of all I actually enjoy what I am doing.
During my practice time many people, from construction workers to physicians and most of all tourists walk in and out of the church from all over the world. There are times they will burst into an enthusiastic applause or walk quietly up to the piano and stand watching me play. I have always had a habit of being "OUT THERE" when I am playing or practicing so after I have played a composition like Clair de lune, I softly let my hands rise from the keyboard and slowly let go of the damper pedal until the very last trace of sound can be heard. Then the person standing beside the piano awakens me into consciousness.
Most times I do not know what they are saying as I am NOT gifted in languages, but I do read body language and the cosmic vibrations of emotion.
It is autumn in New Zealand. Leaves are falling, colder nights, frost in the mornings. I love the fall time. Sometimes when I am practicing, or simply think I am performing I have a feeling, a sensation that someone is listening! I never look out into the pews... I want to savour the feeling of being heard and adored!
When I am finally spent and feel I must leave I rise up, dust the piano keys with the palms of my hands, lay back the desk and cover the keyboard. I then lay the quilted blanket of forest green over the entire piano to protect it from heat. Cold air will not harm a piano, direct heat is as lethal as the jaws from hell on pianos. I then place my music into my backpack, take off my "computer/piano" eye glasses and rise up from the piano bench where my body has become so entrenched with comfort!
Then I see them!............. The little scraps of paper on the carpet floor around the piano! Like fallen leaves they have drifted from people's hearts and hands... The notes say things I cannot define. Some are printed in typical European hand writing. "Thank you for the music! This has been one of the many highlights of my trip!" Others are written in Chinese! Some in Japanese.
I have many that are written in French. A few days ago a very famous German Artist came by the church. He and his wife wrote the note in English: "GOOD FOOD. We will reclaim the time with your piano in years from now." Okay, music is the food of love! but, reclaiming?
One person left a torn piece of paper from a grocery bag: "I come here day after day and bless the days you play. I cry the days your not playing piano..." Someone wrote a clever note: "If you had dedicated yourself more to the piano you would not be playing in a tiny church in New Zealand!"
Well, I had to admit I should and could have worked harder at playing the piano, but I cherish the times am able to play piano in New Zealand or anywhere in the universe.
The people cannot see my face as I am playing. They only HEAR, FEEL and IMAGINE who and what I am.
The ultimate was written on the back side of a business card from someplace in Arabia. They used very good English hand writing skills: "If you make love as well as you play piano I envy the person that has your hands and body against them all through the day or night!" This person did not see my face or body!
Being 62 can be very lonely because everyone is in transition... I however enjoy the fact I have a "PAST", I have a "FUTURE" and I have endured many THINGS and hope to endure ALL THINGS.
The Autumn Leaves fall by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold. The sunburned hands the kiss of summer, the autumn leaves fall one by one... (words to the song) but my autumn leaves have been kind notes written on scraps of paper from very young souls to very old souls. Some have hearts that have broken in half, hearts that have been healed, lives that are just beginning to reach out to the sky, earth and inside parts of both dimensions. Some of these leaves have been written by very wise and ancient hearts that are looking forward to the moment of crossing over into the void of eternal bliss.
Every human being is a musical note. Be it a 64th or 8th or whole note... it has a beat, a reason for seeking harmony and wants it's voice to be heard. When I went to NYC to study piano I had FOUND MY VOICE I simply wanted to know how to use it! We are all players in a celestial symphony.
April 1, 2009 I attended the opening concert for the winter season of the NZSO. I did not care for the first piece. The Barber Violin Concerto was marvelous. Performed by Cho-liang Lin. The Wagner Tristan and Isolde: An Orchestral Passion. Well, I am not a lover of Wagner. But, never the less live music is blessed. When I listen to a symphony tuning... I get chills. It is as if I am hearing the entire universe coming together as one vibration... A 440? As Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote after hearing a symphony by Beethoven: " Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do not cease! Reject me not into the world again."
I thank my lucky stars for my musical leaves, of every emotion and color.
I do have my favorites. "The Halo", "The Forge", "Books". With coffee I will have a salad or toasted sandwich. From the coffee house I walk to the Alpine Market. (Not the Alpine Market in WY!) The one in QT, NZ that was once called 4 Square. I purchase items for dinner.Greens, vegetables, breads, cheese, sometimes wine, but I prefer to purchase wine from Henry's.
Then I do "MY RAMBLE". I walk about town. I sit and watch people... I listen to sounds, I search the sky for signs within the heavens. Sometimes I write music, or I write in my Journal. I even sketch in the pages of my journal. Most days I go to the local gym and work on the rowing machine, light weights and stretching.
After all these tasks I will step inside St. Peter's Anglican Church. I have mystical respect for churches, cathedrals, synagogues. I cannot ever simply rush into such buildings. I sneak humbly into the bowels of such great architecture. After entering the doors I tip toe up to the baby grand piano. Lift my musical scores out of my back pack and the music maybe everything from Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Debussy, even Rachmaninoff. I place my "piano/computer" glasses upon my nose. Lift the desk of the piano and lightly brush my hands over the keys... I look at the light the stained glass windows refract across the alter... I smell lilies, roses, what ever flower arrangement the ladies of the Church have created... then I make music.
Most days I am in the chapel from one o clock until three o clock... I play the baby grand piano, I make mistakes, I correct the errors, I LISTEN to myself with ears I have only recently discovered. I find melodies hidden inside harmonies, I make notes to myself but most of all I actually enjoy what I am doing.
During my practice time many people, from construction workers to physicians and most of all tourists walk in and out of the church from all over the world. There are times they will burst into an enthusiastic applause or walk quietly up to the piano and stand watching me play. I have always had a habit of being "OUT THERE" when I am playing or practicing so after I have played a composition like Clair de lune, I softly let my hands rise from the keyboard and slowly let go of the damper pedal until the very last trace of sound can be heard. Then the person standing beside the piano awakens me into consciousness.
Most times I do not know what they are saying as I am NOT gifted in languages, but I do read body language and the cosmic vibrations of emotion.
It is autumn in New Zealand. Leaves are falling, colder nights, frost in the mornings. I love the fall time. Sometimes when I am practicing, or simply think I am performing I have a feeling, a sensation that someone is listening! I never look out into the pews... I want to savour the feeling of being heard and adored!
When I am finally spent and feel I must leave I rise up, dust the piano keys with the palms of my hands, lay back the desk and cover the keyboard. I then lay the quilted blanket of forest green over the entire piano to protect it from heat. Cold air will not harm a piano, direct heat is as lethal as the jaws from hell on pianos. I then place my music into my backpack, take off my "computer/piano" eye glasses and rise up from the piano bench where my body has become so entrenched with comfort!
Then I see them!............. The little scraps of paper on the carpet floor around the piano! Like fallen leaves they have drifted from people's hearts and hands... The notes say things I cannot define. Some are printed in typical European hand writing. "Thank you for the music! This has been one of the many highlights of my trip!" Others are written in Chinese! Some in Japanese.
I have many that are written in French. A few days ago a very famous German Artist came by the church. He and his wife wrote the note in English: "GOOD FOOD. We will reclaim the time with your piano in years from now." Okay, music is the food of love! but, reclaiming?
One person left a torn piece of paper from a grocery bag: "I come here day after day and bless the days you play. I cry the days your not playing piano..." Someone wrote a clever note: "If you had dedicated yourself more to the piano you would not be playing in a tiny church in New Zealand!"
Well, I had to admit I should and could have worked harder at playing the piano, but I cherish the times am able to play piano in New Zealand or anywhere in the universe.
The people cannot see my face as I am playing. They only HEAR, FEEL and IMAGINE who and what I am.
The ultimate was written on the back side of a business card from someplace in Arabia. They used very good English hand writing skills: "If you make love as well as you play piano I envy the person that has your hands and body against them all through the day or night!" This person did not see my face or body!
Being 62 can be very lonely because everyone is in transition... I however enjoy the fact I have a "PAST", I have a "FUTURE" and I have endured many THINGS and hope to endure ALL THINGS.
The Autumn Leaves fall by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold. The sunburned hands the kiss of summer, the autumn leaves fall one by one... (words to the song) but my autumn leaves have been kind notes written on scraps of paper from very young souls to very old souls. Some have hearts that have broken in half, hearts that have been healed, lives that are just beginning to reach out to the sky, earth and inside parts of both dimensions. Some of these leaves have been written by very wise and ancient hearts that are looking forward to the moment of crossing over into the void of eternal bliss.
Every human being is a musical note. Be it a 64th or 8th or whole note... it has a beat, a reason for seeking harmony and wants it's voice to be heard. When I went to NYC to study piano I had FOUND MY VOICE I simply wanted to know how to use it! We are all players in a celestial symphony.
April 1, 2009 I attended the opening concert for the winter season of the NZSO. I did not care for the first piece. The Barber Violin Concerto was marvelous. Performed by Cho-liang Lin. The Wagner Tristan and Isolde: An Orchestral Passion. Well, I am not a lover of Wagner. But, never the less live music is blessed. When I listen to a symphony tuning... I get chills. It is as if I am hearing the entire universe coming together as one vibration... A 440? As Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote after hearing a symphony by Beethoven: " Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do not cease! Reject me not into the world again."
I thank my lucky stars for my musical leaves, of every emotion and color.
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