It is August.
What could I possibly write about other than to say: “It is hot down in Texas!” But I’ve learned to love August for one
reason: a whole bunch of my favorite
months are just around the corner.
As my blog isn’t journal style, I tend not to write
when I have no blog-worthy photos or stories.
But I decided it was time to summarize these past three weeks, and then
move ahead.
The only blog-post title that came to mind was a week
of music, a week of noise, and another week of music (of a different kind).
The first week’s music was the loveliest kind: one of
my sibs and one of his nieces came for a visit.
The sib stayed the weekend; his niece stayed a good bit of the week that
followed. We three had not been together
in over a year and so fun and laughter and the goodness of time together
spilled over into a lovely melody.
My little stick home came alive with a week of a young
adult’s energy. Sib’s niece especially
likes to cook and so I handed over the keys to my kitchen, sitting back and
enjoying the smells and creations that came forth. I won’t soon forget the music of that week.
What followed has been more than a week of the terrible
noise that many around the world have stopped, and listened, and found no
answer for the discord.
For me it started as I found my way back to the gym, after
a week of visitors and house cleaning afterward. I climbed up on my least favorite method of
walking (the treadmill in the air conditioned gym), and looked up at the silent
row of TVs.
Every TV station showed the same picture; the same
words: Robin Williams was dead. And as so many others, I seemed to shut down. I wanted to get off the treadmill and go home. But the story that came out that week could
not provide what we all longed to hear:
Bring him back to life! Why would
he? Where is the answer?
And of course the noise of stories and opinions and
unanswered questions continue. Robin
Williams was, and is, a national treasure.
But first, and last, he was a human being that only the closest of his
loved ones could come close to knowing.
My only two comments are: depression is talked about; manic depression (or
bi-polar disorder) is not so frequently talked about—and it should be. And secondly, addictions and alcoholism are
talked about, but the serious side effects of prescription drugs, especially
antidepressants are not.
If we have a loved one using prescription drugs,
whether for asthma, diabetes, blood pressure, depression, or ANY other reason—we
should understand the details of that medication and its common—and rare side
effects. Every prescription and
over-the-counter drug has an impact on our body. And for the aging, as well as the very young,
the side effects are often magnified.
The noise got worse:
Missouri exploded into all the ugliness that is created by anger; by fear;
by grief; by prejudice; AND by people behaving badly. Racial is still a word that must be in our
vocabulary; oh how I wish it were not so.
We’ve watched the daily and nightly videos of a LOT of
people behaving badly, some as not-so-peaceful protestors; and some as
not-so-peaceful paid peacekeepers.
I used to work with someone who’d frequently say “there’s
plenty of stupid going around.” But when
the stupid becomes violent; when the stupid involves loss of life; threats to
life; damage to property and chaos, I am overwhelmed by the noise.
And the only thing that seemed to dampen the noise of
Americans (on American soil) behaving badly was the screaming noise of the
age-old country-against-country-against-terrorism noise coming from the Middle
East and other foreign soils. And this
noise seems to continue the same theme, rooted in hatred; fear; anger; grief
and prejudice. I have plenty of thoughts
but nothing to blog-speak.
But a healthy life seems to seek music instead of
noise. And so music began flowing back into my little neck-of-the-woods, reminding
me of the goodness of people. Two of my
friends, Susan and Celia, contacted me and treated me to an evening out at a
place called “Painting with a Twist”.
Now I have NO artistic talent. But for $35 dollars one can show up at an art
studio, and with music playing, and with people laughing and talking, a
non-artistic person can spend the evening painting, with no goal other than to
have fun! Bring-your-own drink,
including alcohol, is allowed and encouraged. A fun-loving paint instructor provides some “guidance”
but enforces no rules to hinder painting a blank canvas to one’s own liking.
That one evening of paint and music was great fun:
Laughing at myself; listening to music; and “dancing” as I painted. All I could think about was what I’d give to
have invited Robin Williams. “Painting with a Twist” is the perfect pill for
depression.
And this week the music (OK, maybe also noise) is
growing stronger in my life. The
mandolin I ordered last spring finally arrived and was worth the wait! I’m beginning my transition from mountain dulcimer
to mandolin (not letting go of my beloved Mountain Dulcimer relationship). But my fret-board fingertips are so sore from
new-mandolin beginnings that it hurts to put my hands in warm water. Wonderful excuse to leave dirty dishes!
And so now I look forward. I’ll soon be in the field: Hawks and Fall migration; cool breeze and
binoculars; and Mother Nature welcoming me to join Her on long walks. Mother Nature’s music is the best; the most
complicated; and sometimes, the most tragic by human standards.
But Mother Nature is never cowered by human noise.
I'm so glad that you re seeing the music in your life, and laughing, and now playing the mandolin! I want to hear it someday!
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