refuge

Music Makes It Better

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

It can’t make it all better, but it definitely does make it better.

In the morning, when I settle down to do some follow-up on my recent posts on Instagram; add a couple stories; check in and read recent updates of those I follow; it is largely a very positive experience. Often, in these meanderings, I find new music, posted through one avenue or another.

It’s hard these days to read much, though, without running headlong into posts on IG or Threads of the chaos that is consuming this country. It’s deeply disturbing, beyond saddening. And then I came across this song, Sand Drawing. A beautiful respite.

Judah Earl is a young American composer, arranger, and producer. He plays the cello, and in this song has woven in strains of calm and peace, a refuge from the daily assaults we are now subjected to. I dare say that it has something almost holy about it.

Music somehow always makes it better. I know, because a lifetime of leaning on its shoulders, bowing my head into notes that are timeless, tell me so.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.”
~ Osho

Home …

/ still a dreamer / 6 Comments

Home is such an important place. A place to just be yourself, to relax, a refuge, a place to foster growth, a cocoon of dreams, an inspiration of life, a place to heal, and so much more.

April is National Poetry Month, so I’m offering this lovely poem by Christopher Marlowe.

Song for A Little House

I’m glad our house is a little house,
Not too tall nor too wide.
I’m glad the hovering butterflies
Feel free to come inside.

Our little house is a friendly house.
It is not shy or vain;
It gossips with the talking trees,
And makes friends with the rain.

And quick leaves cast a shimmer of green
Against our whited walls,
And in the phlox, the courteous bees
Are paying duty calls.
– Christopher Marlowe

But home is not just the structure itself; it is also the place, the neighborhood, the city, the town. They’re all part of “home.” And so, a few more photos of my home, as spring comes slowly into bloom. Above, the trees, just beginning to green up, and their late afternoon shadows accompany me on my walk along the river to the bridge.

Looking north, life is just awakening from slumber. This sentinel, which has steadfastly looked over the river for the 19 years I’ve lived here and much longer, is now showing the most shy of buds.

Crossing the Delaware River to Pennsylvania, where the blush of green in the trees is heartening.

Forsythia in bloom around one of our many turn-of-the-century homes, with the Chestnut Hill B`n B just behind.

Home is where we walk, where we become, and who we are for however long we stay.