graciespeaks

Happy Birthday, Virginia Woolf, January 25, 1882

When I first read A Room of One's Own in a Women's Studies class nearly 25 years ago, I underlined this:

So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say.  But to sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision, a shade of its colour, in deference to some Headmaster with a silver pot in his hand or to some professor with a measuring-rod up his sleeve, is the most abject treachery, and the sacrifice of wealth and chastity which used to be said to be the greatest of human disasters, a mere flea-bite in comparison.

Today I don't battle "some Headmaster" and "some professor" as much as an internal critic and general self-consciousness and -doubt, and Woolf takes me by the shoulders: to succumb is "the most abject treachery."

Who are your Headmasters and professors for whom you would "sacrifice a hair of the head of your vision"?

Best Album of 2009--Secret Story

When it came out in 1992, Pat Metheny's Secret Story became my favorite album, the one I would choose if i could only have one piece of music on a desert island (now Secret Story is on my ipod, so this is not likely a choice I will have to make).

I've listened to a lot of other music this year, from Jai Uttal to Glenn Gould to the Indigo Girls, and  I tried to think of something I came back to more often in 2009, something that might finally displace Secret Story from its position as Best Album.  Shawn Colvin's Live, out this year, almost did.

But Secret Story still wins.

In 1993, I played it while writing my dissertation.  76 minutes long, it lasts just about the amount of time I can sit at my desk without needing a cup of tea or any excuse to walk around.

The first track, "Above the Treetops," based on a traditional Cambodian hymn, has become a call to the desk. 

The faster, driving, second track, "Facing West," propels me forward into the writing.

By the time I get to the third track, "Cathedral in a Suitcase," I am underway, ready to be carried along by a narrative that plays beneath my consciousness and flows along with whatever story I am telling at any given moment.  From then through the rest of the pieces the music guides me where I need to go, whether or not I knew that day's destination when I started.

The sweeping orchestra of the last song, "Not to Be Forgotten (Our Final Hour)" signals the end of the writing time, as if a benediction. 

Seraphic Fire tonight

Went to Key Biscayne tonight to hear and see Seraphic Fire's "I'll Fly Away: American Gospel and Folk Music" concert--gospel, spirituals, folk, and bluegrass.

My favorite part of the evening was Reggie L. Mobley's performance of "There is a Balm in Gilead."  You can get an idea of Mobley's voice and presence here,

but youtube can't compare to listening to him (or the rest of Seraphic Fire) sing a capella from a few feet away.  There concerts almost always bring me to tears.

Here are the words to "There is a Balm in Gilead":

Sometimes I feel discouraged and think my work’s in vain,
But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul,
You can tell the love of Jesus and say, "He died for all."
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

Don’t ever feel discouraged, for Jesus is your friend;
And if you lack for knowledge, He’ll never refuse to lend.
There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole;
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin sick soul.

There will be three more concerts this weekend--check them out if you're in South Florida!

steady on

Last night we went to see Shawn Colvin in concert with Bruce Hornsby as part of UM's Festival Miami.

Colvin's guitar and sensitive, some would say dark, lyrics have served as a soundtrack for my life for the past twenty years, but I had not seen her perform live.

One performance can't compare with play after play of her songs on CD and in my head, but the concert  exceeded my expectations and enlarged my sense of Colvin and her music.

wonderful birthday

Saw and heard the Jon Faddis Orchestra at the Blue Note.  We sat three people from the stage and I can't imagine anything better.

"Digging for Your Dream"

Trying to remember the very last time
I felt a simple thing going past
Was it the day in north Georgia
When you were trying to take her back?
She sees the Day Lily's For Sale sign
And the tears spring to her eyes
You turn the car around and your headed back down that track

She's had a heart attack

But the bottle of Jack sits on the counter like the devil she knows
And he beats her up and she fills her cup
As the ambers of a dying fire glow
See how she looked in her school year book
Her friends signed the margins all around
But would you stay in touch you know I miss you so much
I hope we get out of this town

Every day that you get up and force your cards
Playing your story in fits and starts
Take your prospects and your pickaxe and you trudge down to the stream
And you bloody your hands digging for your dream

I went looking for the answers from someone I     
heard believes that life gets easier
And you learn how to breathe and you learn how to grieve your past
You study the masters and their books
Giving in to the barbs and hooks
Till you except it with grace when your true love doesn't last

Every day that you get up and force your cards
Playing your story in fits and starts
Take your prospects and your pickaxe and you trudge down to the stream
And you bloody your hands digging for your dream

Every day that you get up and force your cards
you're playing your story in fits and starts
Take your prospects and your pickaxe and you trudge down to the stream
And you bloody your hands digging for your dream

Take your prospects and your pickaxe and you trudge down
Take your prospects and your pickaxe and you trudge down

--Indigo Girls, from Poseidon and the Bitter Bug