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- Thought Dreams Nature
- Dishpan and Buckets
- Real and Ethereal
- Voice—The Sound of a Soul
- Leaf Litter Lament
- Sunset Stories in Silhouettes
- Singing Darkness into Light
- Dueling Storm Clouds
- The Dragonfly Rests
- Where Earth and Shadows Play
- Railroad Switchman Struck by Lightning (1937)
- The Boy Who Talks to Rocks
- Virginia—Civil War Reenactment
- Rappahannock River Rising
- Plight of the Kites
- Cherry Trees Announcing Spring
- Lost Without Language
- Monk with Begging Bowl
- 41,531 hits
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Underneath a tree
little Buddha me
sitting in a dishpan
filled with water.
Joy floats easily
into an open mind.
I laughed when the words “joy floats easily” fell out of my fingers and splashed onto the computer keyboard. Strangely appropriate! In the 1950s, Joy was my mom’s favorite dishwashing detergent. I think she believed it could do anything, because we washed the car, the floor, pots and pans, dishes, silverware, and even our hair in Joy. I have no clue what was in it, but that was back in the days when people didn’t worry about reading labels, drinking water from old garden hoses, riding bikes behind mosquito spraying trucks, or playing with little balls of mercury that bounced out of broken thermometers.
Years later, while talking to one of my younger sisters, I found out that mom had eventually taken a photo of her sitting in a bucket. What? Did the dishpan go out of style? My sister thinks that the switch over to buckets was probably a matter of convenience, since her photo was taken on a family camping trip. (To put it all into perspective–I have 3 brothers and 5 sisters and, at times, my parents seemed rather overwhelmed by us all). Why 4 buckets in this photo?
Let me guess!
Necessity gives birth to creativity and innovation!
The best memories are often built on experiences that are just a little bit different.
The real and ethereal
merge into one thought
when winter acquiesces
to the warmth of spring
and sunlight slowly melts
into dark shadows. ~ms
I have not written anything since December (I sincerely hope that I was missed). The winter was extremely harsh, in more ways than one. In January, I spent a week in a hospital bed after lung surgery, feeling as if I had been cut in half. All of the pain medication that I was given left me with the impression that everything was unreal. So I was there and not there; hurting and not hurting at the same time. Days and nights drifted into a blurry haze.
When I returned home, I had to spend another week or two in bed. It was difficult to get up and down, or even retrieve something that had dropped to the floor. My sympathetic cats kindly decided to spend most of their time in bed next to me, pretending that they also felt painfully cut in half. Their empathetic poses did make smile.
My cats and I didn’t feel like doing anything, and my desire to write was completely gone. Too tired. Additionally, it was an abnormally cold winter. Sleeping my way into another reality under warm blankets became my only aspiration.
Now it is April. The warmth of spring is turning gray into green and flowers are popping up everywhere. Creativity lives! I don’t know where it has been or why it suddenly appeared, but I just found a paper that I had written in an English class back in 1993. It is basically about my love for writing (something that I had recently forgotten). I wrote:
Reading through my writing, I search for the feeling within the words. I listen carefully for the voice. Sometimes entire sentences jump out at me, rebelliously, demanding to be discarded. Frustration! But then, suddenly, unexpected coalitions arise between disconnected words, creating new meanings. Revelations! When words come to life and begin to rewrite my thinking, I get excited.
Writing is addictive. Even when I am frustrated, I have difficulty walking away from it. Once I begin creating and reshaping, I have a hard time stopping. I am never satisfied with anything I have written, until I have mercilessly edited, reread, rewritten and edited some more. And then, just when I think I am finished, I see something else that could have been better if, and maybe I should….
….As long as there are thought to think, and dreams to dream, a true writer will never have the last word!
I guess it is time to start writing again!
Things have gone horribly wrong. I suppose this happens to everyone at some point in life (and sometimes more than once or twice), but knowing that doesn’t make these bad times any easier. Blindsided by a layoff with no advance warning, my husband and I are now overwhelmed by sadness and tension on this last week before Christmas. What’s going to happen to us now? Are we going to be OK? What if…What if….
I am extremely worried.
At least I still have my voice! I think each voice is unique–the sound of a soul. So now, since my voice was freely given to me at birth, I would like to share the gift of sound this Christmas season.
I decided to sing “Do You Hear What I Hear,” because it always makes me smile and I hope it will bring a smile to others too. ***Thank you Marilla—for playing the piano so I could sing along and raise my spirits. I greatly appreciate it! ***
Many years ago, my 5-year-old daughter sang this song at a school Christmas concert. So cute! Now she is a beautiful young lady with a husband and 3 wonderful children of her own. Where did the years go? Time slipped away behind my back, right in front of my eyes.
A decaying leaf,
image of mortality
faded and riddled with holes,
hanging in a tree
with mouth wide open
singing a bitter chant–
The Leaf Litter Lament:
Why do you complain
as you rake, blow, and mow,
mulch, bag, and drag us
off to the dump?
A mountain of leaf litter,
that’s what you called us—
how dare you treat us this way!
Is this the thanks we get
after we gave you the best
days of our short lives?
You should be ashamed
of your thoughtlessness
and lack of compassion.
When we were vibrant,
young, supple, and new,
you said you loved us.
But now that we are older,
when you look into our eyes
you see strange haunted visions
that predict your own demise.
You are frightened!
It’s harsh—we know.
You don’t like our dying faces,
so you don’t want us around.
That’s why you blow and rake
‘til there’s no leaves on the ground.
Here’s something to consider:
A world without leaves
is something to be feared
and maybe…just maybe…
if you keep complaining
we won’t come back next year. ~ms
I have a lot of trees in my rather large front yard, and our homeowner’s association (HOA) doesn’t like leaf litter. So, during the fall, I spend a lot of time outside raking leaves. Now I could use a leaf blower like many other people do, but I like the “swishing sound” of the rake as it moves through the leaves. It was in that sound that I first began to hear the Leaf Litter Lament.
I have heard so many people complaining about the amount of time, work, and energy it takes to pick up all of the leaves in the fall. So, as I was raking, I began to think about how the lack of appreciation would annoy me. I mean, if I was a leaf, I would get upset listening to all the complaints about how inconvenient I had become. After providing everyone with shade all summer long, I would hope that I could at least get a kind word, a kiss, or wave goodbye. Sigh. If I was dying and crumbling apart on the ground, all of the negative comments would definitely break my leafy heart.
The one thing that actually did bother me this year, was the amount of spiders that got into my car while I was carrying bags of leaves to the dump. Trying to drive a car while simultaneously watching a huge spider crawl across the dashboard towards the steering wheel—is rather dangerous. I had to stop the car several times because of close encounters with various spiders, large and small. One time, I even found a little spider hanging from my hair. Eeek!
Truth be known, we do keep some of the fallen leaves in spots where they are considered “acceptable.” I know that deer need a soft place to sleep, spiders and crawly things need a place stay, and trees love to have warm feet in the winter.
We can’t keep too many leaves though, because when the leaf level gets too high, they don’t stay put and blow everywhere–including the neighbors’ yards. So we must continue to take a few bags of leaves to the dump every year, with a fond farewell, thank you, and goodbye. :)
When day meets night
on the edge of time,
sunset stories speak
in dark silhouettes.
Standing in shadows cast by the fading sun, the man with his hand suspended in air appeared to be telling the age-old story of the big fish that got away. Perhaps he was saying:
“Yep. I’m not kidding…that fish was at least 6 or 7 feet long and fought like the devil! Why, it weighed so much, it broke my best fishing pole in half. It was a great experience, even though I lost the fish in the end. I wish you had been there to see it for yourself!”
As shades of orange light continued to spread across the sky and shadows deepened, human words suddenly came to the end of their meaning. In silence, people gathered together to witness the sun’s warm colors melting into and embracing the coming darkness.
Nature reminds us that everything in this world has a beginning and an end. Life is short. How wonderful it is to find others who want to share their stories and experiences with us along the way!
Thank you so much for visiting! ~ ms
**Photos taken at Chincoteaque Island, Virginia
Between watching the depressing nightly news and worrying about the “suspicious nodule” that I apparently have on my right lung, I could not sleep at all last night. To pass the time, I decided to search for a piano recording of Gounod’s ‘Ave Maria’ that my friend Lani made for me (27 years ago). Since I have always wanted to make a recording with her accompaniment, I thought this sleepless night would be the perfect opportunity to raise my spirits with a song.
As I love to sing, I did promise several people that I would eventually post an audio file. However, I have about 300 old practice cassette tapes and only a few of them are marked, so I was concerned that it was going to take forever and a day to find this particular tape.
Thankfully, in the middle of a dark night, luck was with me. As I listened through the 4th cassette—I actually found the recording that I wanted. I was so glad that it wasn’t forever lost, because it is the only one of its kind. We were living in Hawaii at the time and, since her living room windows were open, we could hear the birds singing in the palm trees while she was playing. The tape picked up the bird songs along with the piano accompaniment, so the music has a unique and peaceful sound. I told Lani that I was going to find a way to sing with this tape and make a recording of the combined sound. But time went by and things changed. We moved away to distant states, and the tape got buried and covered with dust.
It is almost unbelievable how much technology has changed since the late 1980s. There was no internet access back then, and there certainly was no way to convert a cassette tape into a computer .mp3 file or a CD. Now it is relatively easy. At 3 a.m., I took that old cassette tape and ran the sound through an ION TAPE2PC Conversion System, which allowed me to upload the piano recording to my computer. Then, I saved the audio file onto a CD and sang over it onto a second CD. At one point, while I was singing, I turned to ask Lani if she could pick up the tempo a little. I had completely forgotten that the pianist was not there and the music was not live — such an interesting experience!
Now I have a piano recording made in Hawaii in 1987, combined with singing that I did last night in a Virginia basement. Yes! I watched space, time, and distance vanish right before my eyes as I was singing darkness into light. Thank you for being there and now virtually here, Lani!
Loud thunder rumbles
within dark storm clouds
dueling over the last piece
of summer blue sky. ~ms
When I looked out of my kitchen window and saw two dark clouds arguing with each other, I immediately grabbed my camera and went out onto the back porch. I didn’t stop to think that going outside at this point might not be a good idea, even though I could hear thunder and see lightning striking on the horizon.
Such a fascinating sky! Both clouds had very distinct faces and neither one of them were happy. As they continued to push, shove, yell, and call each other names, their eyes floated together and became mysteriously connected.
I watched nervously as the dueling storm clouds began to merge into one extremely irritated demon. The wind understood exactly what was happening and picked up speed in anticipation.
The next clap of thunder was so loud, I ran back into my house as quickly as I could. However, before I was able to completely shut the back door, Mother Nature decided to take my picture with a brilliant flash of lightning. I’m not sure, but I think my mouth was open.
Two pairs of transparent wings
sparkling in the sun
like stained glass windows
reflecting the morning light—
the dragonfly rests. ~ms
Standing on water’s edge, I thought I could easily take photos of a few dragonflies. Wrong answer! An extremely elusive insect with incredible wing power, a dragonfly is like a biplane, helicopter, and high-speed jet combined. It can change its direction and velocity in the blink of an eye. Even when it stops to rest, it might only stay still for a few seconds before it chooses to fly away again. I didn’t know how to anticipate the next move!
After about an hour of trying (and failing), I was finally able to get one relatively clear photo of a blue dragonfly standing on a blade of grass. Good enough! I spent the remainder of this beautiful summer morning sitting by the lake, relaxing under the trees.
*Update — July 25*
Today, down by the Rappahannock River, I came across a dragonfly who actually seemed to be interested in posing for pictures. I’m not sure why, but I certainly appreciated it!
A cool respite
beneath tall trees
where earth and shadows play,
leaves refreshed by raindrops light
on soft breezes sway. ~ms
*** In the last photo–do you see the wooden tree creature that appears to be carrying something into the center of the tree? (Click on the photo to make it larger). Interesting figure!
An old 1937 newspaper clipping and some faded photographs are definitive proof that Carl E. Spaid, a 45-year-old railroad switchman, was struck by lightning while working on the Burlington Route. As far as I know, a direct hit from a bolt of lightning is usually deadly, but the incredible (and almost unbelievable) part of this story is the fact that he survived. As the years of his life continued on, Carl eventually became my husband’s grandfather.
I am told that Carl never said much, if anything, about his close encounter with the lightning. Considering the fact that he was in a coma for a while after the strike, it is possible that he had little to no memory of what happened.
Looking at the old photos that we have, it appears that the lightning snapped a metal band around his hat, blew a hole into the side of it, shredded his clothes while passing downwards, and then violently exited out through his shoes.
Personally, I don’t understand how he could have survived such a powerful electrical jolt from the universe, but he did. There must be a plausible explanation—I just don’t know what it is! Could be that miracles do happen.
Carl must have been a very strong man, both physically and mentally, because he returned to his job as a Burlington railroad switchman after he recovered. I don’t know if I could have done that. After being struck by lightning and almost dying, I think I would have worried every time dark clouds brewed on the horizon again!
Regardless of any inherent dangers, he must have loved his job because he stayed with it for 37 years–until he retired.
Carl’s pocket watch ( a 1936 992E “Elinvar” Railroad Pocket Watch made by the Hamilton Watch Company) still works…amazing! My husband says his grandfather also had a smaller pocket watch which he carried sometimes, so we will always wonder which one he had in his pocket on the day the lightning struck. Guess we will never know for sure.
Perhaps, just perhaps,
they are trying to find
the boy who talks to rocks.
They’ve heard that this boy
can hold rocks in his hands,
hear their vibrating voices
and then understand.
Today, the boy heard
a small rock whispering
this stern warning:
Where would man be
if rocks weren’t around?
Where will man be
when no rocks can be found?
Without asking, humans pull rocks
thoughtlessly out of the ground.
Tell them that, one day soon,
they will look down and see
a frightening sight:
No earth beneath their feet!
Respect the world around you,
and handle nature with care.
This will help assure that
it will always be there! ~ms
Admittedly, even though I have lived in Virginia for the past 20 years, this weekend was the first time that I ever attended a Civil War reenactment. It was sponsored by Spotsylvania County and the Mason-Dixon Alliance (MDA), in commemoration of the 150th Anniversary of the Civil War Battles of the Wilderness and Spotyslvania Courthouse.
The original battles were actually held in these fields 150 years ago, during the month of May—so this reenactment was hauntingly real. I felt as if I had suddenly walked into the past and become a living part of American history.
The ground was muddy and soaking wet, the grass was high, and the cannon fire was so loud (completely authentic) that the horses on the field jumped a little each time the cannons were fired.
The time and effort that all of these soldiers (reenactors) put into this event was impressive. From the oldest to the youngest, their dedication and commitment was a great honor to the soldiers of the past.
Most of my photos are of the Confederate soldiers, because I could not get around to the other side of the field where the Union soldiers were positioned. The area was already taped off by the time I arrived, and I didn’t have a “Press Pass.” As a result, I only have a few photos of the Union soldiers gathered together in the distance.
After the battle ended and the smoke cleared, both sides returned to their separate camps.
As soon as they settled in, I noticed that several of the soldiers began making coffee over open fires—no Starbucks here!
The weather is supposed to be clear and cool, so I am sure that they will all get a good night’s sleep—before they have to get up tomorrow and face one more battle.
I returned to the present day with a better appreciation and understanding of what the soldiers endured during the American Civil War, so many years ago.
Because of 3 days of torrential spring rain in Fredericksburg, Virginia and surrounding areas, the Rappahannock River began to rise and spill over its banks. Undoubtedly, those who own houses and businesses nearest to the river were watching anxiously as the water crept higher and higher.
When I went down to see the river on May 1st, it had risen 22 feet above normal. Even though it was early morning, a few people were already there taking pictures of the flood.
Almost unbelievable! Back in January, 2013—I posted some photos of the Fredericksburg City Dock in my story “Snow Cold Feet,” but today I didn’t recognize the area at all. I know that somewhere in this general vicinity beneath the muddy water, there is still a road, a parking lot, and a dock. Where all these things are located now, I’m not sure. The landscape looks totally different.
A policeman (standing guard over the area) said that several “adventurous” people had come with intentions of canoeing on the fast-moving river. In no uncertain terms, they were told to go home. It would be incredibly foolish to take a canoe out on a raging river with floating hazards such as trees, logs, branches, and who knows what else unseen below.
It’s true. Many of us dream of owning waterfront property, even though houses built close to water are subject to flooding. We know that Mother Nature can reclaim whatever she wants, whenever she wants; but we still take the chance, build, and optimistically hope for the best. Why? Because it is so relaxing to look out of a window and see another beautiful day reflected on water.
Think twice! Odds are, next to an unpredictable river, a quiet waterfront home will eventually become a muddy water-inside home. Looking at the photos below, I would say that this is the epitome of stress!
Luckily—there is no more rain predicted for today, and the weekend is supposed to be sunny and clear. Soon the Rappahannock river will begin to recede, so houses and trees that do not belong in the water will be able to stand on solid ground once again.
On a lighter note, when I was walking back to my car around lunchtime, I noticed that a restaurant owner had placed a sign out on the sidewalk with a very creative and appropriate message. Gotta love the human spirit with a great sense of humor! The words immediately made me smile. The sign said:
An unsuspecting kite
on wings of wind dancing
in the bright sunlight.
The kite felt rather dumb
wrapped around the tree,
until it saw the other one
struggling to break free.
a large pterodactyl
noticed the sad plight
of the two entangled kites,
and it screamed:
***These photos were taken in the open field surrounding the Washington Monument in Washington, D.C. It’s a great place to fly a kite IF you don’t let it wander out towards the surrounding kite-eating cherry trees.
A gift from Japan—
cherry trees announcing spring
blooms pink in D.C. ~ ms
In 1912, the cherry trees that are now growing around the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C., were given to the United States as a gift of friendship from Japan. As time went by, the beauty of these trees in the spring began to attract visitors from all around the world.I took these photos on a rather chilly Sunday morning (April 6), and I wasn’t surprised to find that the trees were not in full blossom yet. Although the Cherry Blossom Festival is being held from March 29 through April 12 this year, the trees are blooming later because of the cold, harsh winter that extended into late March.
As I walked along, I heard some people say how happy they were because it was not as crowded due to the cooler weather. It was easy to find an open bench! What a joy to be able to relax, look out over the water, and listen to the gentle breeze blowing through the trees.
The truth is, even though the trees were not in full bloom, there were actually quite a few cherry blossoms to see—it just took a little time to find them.
I went to Tijuana, Mexico a few times when I lived in California. Reading signs and communicating with other people was not a problem for me there, because I had a good understanding of the Spanish language.
It was quite a different experience for me in Japan a few weeks ago. I couldn’t read the Japanese characters, I didn’t understand what others around me were saying, and I couldn’t communicate with anyone (unless they spoke English). When people had conversations in Japanese, all that I heard were melodic sounds with no specific meaning. Linguistically challenged, I felt lost without language!
Needless to say, that is why I smiled when I saw this statue of two travelers. I immediately felt an affinity for the little one on the left. Walking with eyes filled with wonder and amazement, mouth open and about to accidentally bump into a tree—this stone image personified my state of mind perfectly. So many wonderful things to see and impossible to take it all in!
Notice that there are words written on a wooden sign hanging next to the statue above. It could be an explanation of the two images or a road sign. I know I was in Kyoto, but I don’t remember the name of the bridge or the river in the background. (I’d be a terrible tour guide, I know).
Anyway, I soon realized that there is another aspect of daily life where language is extremely important: FOOD. At the marketplace in Kyoto, there were many vegetables, fruits, fish, and desserts that I did not recognize. Unable to read things like names, labels, or expiration dates—how would I know what to buy, or how to cook or keep the food stored? My Japanese friends can speak English, but I didn’t want to be like a preschooler driving them crazy with CONSTANT questions. As soon as they could have answered one question, I would have had a gazillion more!
So, instead of buying anything, I decided to take photos of all that I had never seen before (which was clearly marked with large signs that I couldn’t read). The vegetables, whatever they were, looked so fresh and healthy!
In addition to fresh vegetables, there was colorful food wrapped in tight packages that seemed to be attracting a lot of attention. Must be good! People were smiling, talking, and joyfully buying all kinds of edible delights, as I watched with great interest.
In case you haven’t noticed by the tone of my writing, I was quite frustrated with my inability to comprehend the Japanese language. So, it was comforting to occasionally look up and see a store name written in English!
Yes! I was always happy to see something that I was capable of reading, but “Tofu Doughnuts” is a rather disconcerting thought. American doughnuts are deep-fat fried balls of flour dough and tofu is known as a health food, so trying to combine the two words in my mind was difficult. A healthy doughnut? I didn’t buy one that day, but now I wish that I had. I don’t know exactly how a tofu doughnut is made or what is in it, but it would have been interesting to see how it tasted.
By the end of my short stay in Japan, I had come to the conclusion that language is more important than any other academic field of study. The inability to read and/or communicate adequately with others is a huge barrier to any other endeavor.
Truthfully, I have been thinking about the Rosetta Stone language CD courses for quite a while. Has anyone ever studied a language using Rosetta Stone?
Begging bowl in hand,
the humble monk stands. ~ms
The Carp Stone (rigyoseki) at Kinkaku-ji appears to be swimming upstream against a pounding waterfall. I am told that this stone image symbolizes strength, courage, and the will to persevere even when struggling against adverse conditions.
Creating circular ripples in the pond surrounding the Golden Pavilion Temple, I also saw a colorful carp (Nishikigoi) raise its head out of the water. Emulating the power of the stone, it stopped for only a few seconds and then continued on its way.
So it is with life—
time stops for no one
in this in-between world.
Keep your head up, breathe deeply
and travel on! ~ms
Roads quickly vanished
and all cars went nowhere
on this stormy day.
Searching for solace
underneath an umbrella,
four chairs leaned forward
trying to escape blowing
snow and freezing ice—
Tired of winter!
We were scheduled to fly out of the Richmond, Virginia airport on February 13—on our way to Texas. But alas! The Atlanta, Georgia airport had already shut down due to a bad winter storm that was blowing in from the south. Many people had their flights canceled, including us. We rescheduled our flight for the next day and stayed an extra night at the hotel. Some travelers were upset because their plans had been disrupted. However, I would rather have my flight canceled than fly out into a sky that looks like this!
This week I am supposed to fly to Japan and I have never been there before. In fact, this will be the first time that I have ever gone outside of the U.S. Luckily, the weather here has been great for the past few days (in comparison to what it looked like a week and a half ago). It almost went up to 70 degrees today! Hopefully, by the end of February, winter will finally begin to melt into spring.
6, 8, 10 degrees (Fahrenheit) at night,
with freezing snow and ice—
how will I survive?
I gave away my blankets,
my pillows and my bed,
when blue eyes came begging
without a word and said:
It’s a cold cat winter!
It is impossible to ignore our male cat when he wants something, because Keona knows how to use the cat equivalent of the Star Trek “Vulcan Mind Meld.” Yesterday, sitting on my bed and staring straight into my soul, his unwavering eyes silently chanted that irresistible mantra: “My mind to your mind; your thoughts to my thoughts….”
Since I cannot fall to sleep as quickly and easily as the cats, I decided to watch them for a little while last night. It appears that their secret to falling into a deep and restful sleep, is to do a little calming meditation first. Aha! Ohmmm……Brrrrr…….Aummm.
It would be nice if life could always be comfortable and predictable—without arguments, misunderstandings, trials, or tribulations.
But it’s not.
Life is like a dramatic opera, filled with ups and downs, and love which sometimes goes awry. There are times when I would prefer to simply stay in bed, underneath warm blankets with a pillow over my head.
But no—life always requires me to get up once more.
Scene change! Think fast!
When I was in the Hawaii Opera Theatre (HOT) production of the opera “Otello” in 1990, I found this story of jealousy and suspicious love both familiar and unnerving. Fiction closely mirrors fact. In Act IV, Otello strangles/smothers his wife because he firmly believes that she loves someone else. Unfortunately, right after he kills her, he finds out that he is totally wrong. She had never been unfaithful to him. In a vain attempt to rectify the situation, he stabs himself and then gives his wife one last kiss before he dies. Of course, she doesn’t notice his last kiss because she is already dead.
The story is not too far-fetched.
I was in a shelter for abused women during this same time period, and all of the women there were telling similar tales about insecure, jealous husbands who were verbally and/or physically abusive.
—Where have you been, ***? Who did you see this time? It doesn’t take that long to go grocery shopping.
—You’re just like the rest of them. Women are only good for one thing.
—You say there is no one else, but you are lying. You always lie ***
— If it wasn’t for me, you would be nothing. No one wants you. People are laughing behind your back.
—You’re a joke, You *** don’t deserve to live.
***In the sentences above, I deliberately left out the derogatory 4 letter words. Use your imagination and you will probably be correct.
When two people “love” each other, it makes no sense to destroy that love with constant accusations, physical threats, and abusive language. Watching this type of abusive scenario in an opera is educational, but it is hell on earth when played out in an actual relationship.
For me, the moral of the story is this: If you want to have a relatively happy life, do your best to avoid getting too involved with insecure, controlling people!
A month after Otello, I was in the HOT production of the opera “The Bartered Bride.”
Although the Bartered Bride also has some negative twists and turns, it does resolve into a sweet ending. I enjoyed this opera immensely. With dancing, singing, and a happily ever after at the end, it was just what I needed. I loved it.
I have heard some people say that opera singing is “controlled screaming.” I don’t know if that is the best description, but singing with full diaphragmatic power does release a tremendous amount of emotional energy. I can honestly say that, during the stressful time that I was homeless in Hawaii, having the opportunity to sing opera helped save my life. The vibration raised my soul up every time.
Over the years, I have never forgotten my wonderful ʻohana at the Hawaii Opera Theatre. Thanks for being there for me. Mahalo and aloha nui loa!
When the cold winds of January blew in,
I caught a nasty cold or maybe it was flu?
My head hurt, my throat was sore, and I could not stop coughing.
I even lost my voice!
Couldn’t think, couldn’t write—I felt like I was dying.
And then, I remembered the curative power of Phở Gà
(Vietnamese chicken noodle soup).
Just a few miles from my house there is a wonderful restaurant called South Vietnam House. In the past few years, I have seen many people order Phở Gà to take home to an ailing family member—knowing that this tasty chicken noodle soup has the power to make colds shiver and retreat.
So, this time—
It was I who sent my kind husband out on a mission to bring home a bowl of healing Phở Gà. And now, thank goodness, I am feeling much better!
I thought about the new year
while sitting in a tree.
I did the same thing last year,
time matters not to me.Tell me, honestly—
Did you see the day pass by
the last second in-between,
when time inside someone’s eyes
Covered in dust, I’m drifting
into tomorrow’s dream
as thought continues shifting
shapes into the things I see…..
While time’s illusion wanders on
more or less unseen,
I appreciate you walking
through reflective words with me.
Happy New Year!
Wishing you warm blessings
today, tomorrow, and through
all the moments of your life. ~ms
To my great surprise,
he suddenly appeared
right before my eyes—
Super Hero Reindeer Man
with his Santa smile.
What was I supposed to do?
Wearing deer antlers
and a star upon his head,
his mischievous eyes
twinkled through his goggles red
and made me smile too! ~ms