Listen to the Liszt all the way through and then go straight into Wait for Love. It's magic magic magic magic.
Also, this is Callie (below) (obviously). She has lived in Minnesota, Colorado, Minnesota, Colorado, Japan, Minnesota, Japan, Colorado and is now in Minnesota for good. She's worldly and wise, lets me take her for long walks, and waits impatiently when I have to take a picture of something ...
I need more Mary Oliver in my library. This poem is an all-time favorite and I like what she says (below) about the importance of the head and the heart and the art of showing up - via Braingpickings.
If Romeo and Juliet had made their appointments to meet, in the moonlight-swept orchard, in all the peril and sweetness of conspiracy, and then more often than not failed to meet — one or the other lagging, or afraid, or busy elsewhere — there would have been no romance, no passion, none of the drama for which we remember and celebrate them. Writing a poem is not so different—it is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind. They make appointments with each other, and keep them, and something begins to happen. Or, they make appointments with each other but are casual and often fail to keep them: count on it, nothing happens.
The part of the psyche that works in concert with consciousness and supplies a necessary part of the poem — the heart of the star as opposed to the shape of a star, let us say — exists in a mysterious, unmapped zone: not unconscious, not subconscious, but cautious. It learns quickly what sort of courtship it is going to be. Say you promise to be at your desk in the evenings, from seven to nine. It waits, it watches. If you are reliably there, it begins to show itself — soon it begins to arrive when you do. But if you are only there sometimes and are frequently late or inattentive, it will appear fleetingly, or it will not appear at all.
Why should it? It can wait. It can stay silent a lifetime. Who knows anyway what it is, that wild, silky part of ourselves without which no poem can live? But we do know this: if it is going to enter into a passionate relationship and speak what is in its own portion of your mind, the other responsible and purposeful part of you had better be a Romeo. It doesn’t matter if risk is somewhere close by — risk is always hovering somewhere. But it won’t involve itself with anything less than a perfect seriousness.
For the would-be writer of poems, this is the first and most essential thing to understand. It comes before everything, even technique.
- Mary Oliver
Sometimes, especially when seasons change, I accidentally only listen to classical music. This week, a classical mood has intersected with a tepid-but-persistent cough/cold.
As a balm, I put together a playlist of energetic classical gems. Take a listen (and turn up the volume**) if you are a big dork like me and you need a little lift to get through the work day.
** Caveat: It's better not to listen to orchestral music at all than to listen on tinny speakers or headphones. Just saying.
It's Saint Patrick's day so I'm thinking about my trip to Ireland last summer and I'm listening to this B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L song on repeat by Irish musician Hozier. Press play.
My friend Lauren and I drove our little red rental car from the very top to the very bottom of the country.
I'd give anything for a repeat this summer.
“Happiness is not something that you can find, acquire, or achieve directly. You have to get the conditions right and then wait. Some of those conditions are within you, such as coherence among the parts and levels of your personality. Other conditions require relationships to things beyond you: Just as plants need sun, water, and good soil to thrive, people need love, work, and a connection to something larger. It is worth striving to get the right relationships between yourself and others, between yourself and your work, and between yourself and something larger than yourself. If you get these relationships right, a sense of purpose and meaning will emerge.”
Jonathan Haidt, The Happiness Hypothesis: Finding Modern Truth in Ancient Wisdom
