Saturday, December 20, 2014
We decorated, at least part-way. The to-do list is shorter than it's been in months. I gave Oldest a haircut—one of the most improvisatory ever, and he trusted me. The weight of everything tonight is more moon-weight than earth-weight, which means it will float away before I can catch it, but for the moment feels perfect.
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Friday, December 19, 2014
I live in a world where things like this sparkly bouncy ball just show up, possibly out of thin air. Also magical: the patch of glitter glue on the floor in the den (I left it there on purpose, a memento.)
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Thursday, December 18, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Today's light: sitting on the floor of my daughters' room, just being here as they fall asleep. It's been a long day—not terrible, but not easy, either. Being there was the best I had, but there was a sacredness to it.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
As a child I was adept
at slipping my eyes out of focus,
making the headlights and taillights
on 35W at night
into strings of pearls and rubies.
On a sunny windy day
I could turn
the waves of Lake Harriet
into a mass of diamonds,
and I conjured pearls
out of rainy evening streetlights
(though on foggy mornings
I preferred opals.)
I sat easily with the fairies
disguised as dust motes
and in bed at night
in my head,
fingertips pressed against eyelids,
I was a master of light—
not once did I recognize
or question my power.
Not once did I lose
my fear of the dark.
Monday, December 15, 2014
Every day I see this. During arrival/tuning/snack time, especially—they are experimenting, exploring, asking each other questions, teaching each other stuff. Every day I see this fire for learning igniting around the music room. Yes, they are tired and distracted after a long day at school. But still. I get to work with that fire.
Maybe one of these days when someone asks me what I do, instead of saying “I’m a violin teacher” I will tell the whole truth: “I am a violin teacher, a witness-er of miracles, a problem-solver, a counselor, a herder of squirrels, a maker of music, a fanner of flames.”
This is a light that seeps, this music.
It’s not the most common thing anymore for me to practice solo Bach, but even after all this time it is something that seeps into the bones. Not at first of course, but gradually, as I discover the breath of it, and the shape (rise and fall, expand and contract.) As my muscles get used to the work, my body relaxes.
It is a seeking out of light, working on this music.
Each time I practice it, it is like this—the warmth and light working themselves past the tension. Why did I hate practicing so much for so long?
My goal for the performance is less about perfection than it has ever been—
only follow the light through the trees,
only show them what you see.
And the night of the performance, what does it matter if I’m fluttering inside? It is all still there to seek out. This is what I determine before playing.
While I’m playing, I remember the lines from Hafiz I read earlier in the day:
God wants to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
The how is not so important, just the bare fact that these lights are threaded into the peace process that followed a long battle. For a while they were on every night—glowing, festive, perfect. And after a while they were not turned on every night, because things like that do not always become habit.
What has become habit: if someone is not home yet, if a visitor is expected, if someone in the house feels festive (or wants to feel festive) these lights are on. It has never been discussed, never been planned. Just happened.
Friday, December 12, 2014
The way things come into the light—
Tonight I worked to extricate a truth.
Tonight I received a truth as it burst to the surface.
Both were deeply personal, told to me by children. Both are resonating now, in my heart.
They came at such different speeds, and they had almost nothing in common besides the need to be told. But that need to be brought from the depths into the light—there was no escaping it. And that bright moment of truth, it sears.