i dream of trees

Photo by Natalie Schlegel

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,

A quiet house, some green and modest acres

A little way from every troubling town,

A little way from factories, schools, laments.

I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,

With only streams and birds for company,

To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.

And then it came to me, that so was death,

A little way away from everywhere.

There is a thing in me still dreams of trees.

But let it go. Homesick for moderation,

Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.

If any find solution, let him tell it.

Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation

Where, as the times implore our true involvement,

The blades of every crisis point the way.

I would it were not so, but so it is.

Who ever made music of a mild day?

––Mary Oliver

garden poetry

Garden Poetry, originally uploaded by ladybugrock.

Alone in the garden,
she picked flowers barefoot.
Grass damp with spring rain
made her feet cold.
But the long forgotten sun warmed her skin and her soul sang.
~Lady Bug Rock

We're all getting pretty excited here in Connecticut, because the weather has been growing warmer, teasing us with the possibility that spring might finally be here. As I sit here writing this in the early morning it is still dark outside, but I can hear the birds chirping already which lifts my spirits.


Interesting how our bodies instantly react to birds chirping, isn't it? We subconsciously associate their song with warm days and sunny mornings, and on a deeper level, happiness. I've honestly been feeling more gung ho the past week with the birds tweeting as I eat my breakfast. Perhaps because the sound reminds me of days spent barefoot in the grass with the warmth of the sun coaxing me out of my vitamin D deprivation. Yes....how I love the changing of the seasons. And it wouldn't be the same (for me) without the end-of-the-season "I've reached my threshold!" I always experience an excitement for the new season, whatever season it happens to be, but inevitably come to a point when I'm ready for it to change again.

worth the wait

Photo by Natalie Schlegel

I've shared one of the songs I've written and recorded a few months ago, and lately have really been wondering where that impulse and passion to write and record music has gone. It was an every day part of my life when I learned to play a few years back. But, now I stare at my guitar perched on its stand in the corner of the room and I can hardly bring myself to pick it up. I want to, and sometimes I do; but the easy, exciting inspiration I used to feel when casually strumming away late into the afternoon that would result in another song written, has slowly declined and vanished from my expressive inclinations.

Photo by Natalie Schlegel

I've written about "shadow artists" and I certainly am one when it comes to music (these days). A shadow artist is an artist who is ignorant of their true identity as an artist, while shadowing declared artists (click here for a better description). I suppose I began to shrink farther and farther into the background when I found myself in the daily presence of my husband's music. He sang in choir from elementary school through college, his voice is talented and beautiful. And to me, he is far more creative when it comes to creating variation and excitement in his guitar parts. Hello self deprecation!

My hubby, breaking in his "man room" the day we moved in together.

It's really too bad that I instinctually felt inferior and stopped playing guitar with my husband. Everyone around us thought we'd have some wild, obsessive, constant music making happening in our apartment when we moved in together. We were certainly like that in the beginning of our relationship, writing each other songs back and forth, but we aren't anymore. And I've been saying the whole time "I have to get back to my music! I'm going to start again." But, it hasn't happened yet. I think I'm writing this to put myself on the hook to actually pick up the darn guitar again!

On that note, below are the lyrics to another one of my "songs." I don't put that in quotations to mock myself, but only because I never recorded the cut version of this, which is about 1/4 of the length (much shorter verses) so this rough draft is rather lengthy and unfinished (if you stick it out, the end is better than the beginning). I just "never got around" to finishing the recording.

The interesting thing is that I wrote this song only a few months before Alex came into my life, and it is about the "one" that I would end up with....and I really did feel the way I said I would in this song. It has a very sullen, painful feel to it though, because it was an emotional piece for me to write.

You can listen to the song on my Tumblr page (the Jan 22nd posting). Both vocal parts, and the two acoustic guitar parts are your very own Lola Rain! The bass part, electric guitar and drums are members of the band Lazy Sunday. Here are the lyrics:

Worth the Wait by Lola Rain

I'll find a cement mixer

fill in those old ruts
then it can finally be
just the two of us
Adjusting the rearview
as I maneuver this old machine
wiping my slate clean
So take your last breathe and
eat your last meal
The beast has had his last day
telling me how to feel

Let's take our regrets honey
bury them in the backyard
watch something magical
rise from the seeds
of what was hard
Take my hand but be warned
you'll never let go again
the reasons why I'm certain
you'll learn soon my friend

Because I'm worth
this love my dear
cast away my fears

I thread together
the things that you say
a blanket to curl up in
at the end of my lonely day
Your words wrapped around me
as I drift off to sleep
Darling this feeling is everything
I want to keep

I may have messed up baby
but I did it for you
all my mistakes leading me to this
something new
An obstacle course across
my soldiering heart
The wrong way was the right way
from the very start

Because this is life my dear
wipe away your tears

Your face looks just the way
that I wanted it to
as if I imagined it before
ever laying eyes on you
So whisper anything in my waiting ears
whatever it is I'm sure
will erase these fears

I want the flames of my soul
to burn from your eyes
I don't care that it's taking us
47 tries

Because you're
worth the wait
this waiting
is my fate

new year, new beginnings

Incredible it is, to discover

how fiercely and endlessly

we can hold on

to a life that has become stale;

electing for comfortable misery

over joyous rebirth,

only to spare ourselves

from colliding with the unknown,

the foreign, the uncharted realms

of a new life.

But, the clock is urgently begging you,

calling to you with every tick

to live life with audacity,

a life that makes your heart undulate

with vigor; whether your steps

are timid or confident

is unimportant.

Sometimes you have to question

the concept of comfort-

would your life become more brilliant

and genuine

if you could endure

the momentary discomfort required

to dare to walk toward the unknown?

~Lola Rain

buttercup history

Daydreaming by Yvonne Cartterson Photography

I've been obsessively digging through my history lately. This mass excavation has been more than psychological though; I have been scouring my lifetime of files of photos and personal recordings. I have always been one to look back in order to better understand the present, and to intentionally walk into the future of my choosing.....so I tend to revisit my physical history fairly regularly. Pouring through the images of my life, reading my childhood diaries and books filled with my poetry, watching home movies and listening to the music I made once upon a time (not so long ago) has become somewhat of a yearly ritual for me. I deeply value the perspective I gain from remembering where I came from in order to fully realize where I am today.

I shared one of my songs, The Consequence of DNA, a few days ago (the 11/19 entry on my tumblr) and today I have dug up an old performance poetry piece of mine. This is reminiscent of my days in San Francisco, where I lived in an apartment by myself with plenty of time to artistically explode in the comfort of my solitude. I would spend my days painting in my underwear, dancing in my dark living room by candlelight, writing poetry over a dinner of fresh baked cookies, penning my music in the afternoon sunshine.....ahhhhh!

At any rate, you can listen to my Buttercup History on my tumblr page. I wrote this piece of poetry as a performance piece, to be heard rather than read. I was sitting in my quiet apartment one afternoon, looking out my windows across Golden Gate Park with the Marin Headlands and Pacific ocean glowing in the distant background. It was such a peaceful moment in which I wanted to create art, but did not want to lend myself to my darker emotions (the oft visited location for artistic inspiration). So I sat down in an attempt to recall my childhood through rose-colored glasses, bringing up all the intensely joyful moments of being a kid and enjoying life. Buttercup History was the result. Enjoy!

Sadly, I don't have any personal photographs of buttercups (something I've been dying to capture for years!). I did find myself walking through the most perfect field of buttercups in Elizabeth Park last spring with my lovely friend Hannah. Unfortunately, I had to kick myself for leaving my camera back at her house. However, I was able to find some truly beautiful and vibrant Buttercup pieces on Etsy this morning. I've shared those pieces bellow. Check out these amazing shops! I am so inspired by the works of these talented artists!! And I now have my eye on all these pieces....and am scheming to purchase a few!

HAVE TO have this!!

Buttercup Botanical Set by Riki Zarris

Floral 239 Buttercup by Ivy Lynn

Waiting for the Change by Nejella Photo Art

Field of Buttercups by Beth Stone Studio

the consequence of DNA

Photo by Natalie Schlegel

I must be feeling more comfortable being imperfect in front of an audience, because I've mustered up the courage to share one of Lola Rain's original songs. I have to preface it by stating that this was a one-take, rough draft that I never went back to edit so it is highly imperfect (gulp). The guitar is totally off, and I don't want to even discuss the vocals because with only one take of the song I'm left completely vulnerable and feel quite self-conscious about it. Enough self deprecation though.....you can use your imagination to fix all the flaws and pretend it's perfect. I'm hearing myself stamp this disclaimer onto a piece of my artwork, by the way, and all I can think of is the quote I ended yesterday's blog entry with: "To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong (Joseph Chilton Pearce)." I need to suck it up and work through my fear of being wrong!

About the song: To listen to the song, go to my tumblr page. The song is posted under the November 19th entry. I have been trying to figure out how to add a music player to my blog or within a blog posting all day today, and it's been maddening! I have tried a handful of different music hosting sites and music players and cannot get it to work. Grr. If anyone knows how to do this, leave me a comment!! Please and thank you.

More importantly, I always love to provide some background on my music a la VHI Storytellers. Personally, when I listen to a song I'm listening to the lyrics, feeling the emotion, analyzing the words, and wondering where it all came from. Like a lot of my artistic expression, I found that when I began to write music it was an outlet for my darker feelings and thoughts. The very first song I wrote was super peppy and upbeat, but after that my music began to mirror the difficult pieces of me that had always been locked away and numbed out. Penning the lyrics was an emotional and psychological purging for me, and performing them provided SUCH a release! I had always struggled to communicate or even recognize my pain, but when my guitar was in front of me the words floated up from an inexplicable, mysterious place as if they'd waited all their lives to be sung. It was exactly what I needed. At any rate, this song was written a few months after I learned how to play the guitar when I was in my dark and tormented phase:)

The Consequence of DNA is about my struggle with my inherited genes that have tormented me. However, it's more than physical strands of DNA (nature) that I'm referring to--it's the nurture part of me, the learned behaviors and psychological maladies (such as the good old GAD, my anxiety that I discussed a few days ago). In the past, these things left me feeling trapped in a life I did not want. I will say it bluntly and succinctly: I was raised by an alcoholic mother. The song is fairly straightforward (I think?) once you have that information. It's a large topic, which is why I'm leaving it simple (for now). As a side note, though, I'm currently toying with the idea of writing a book about alcoholism from the perspective of a girl who was surrounded by it all her life, but (thankfully and gratefully!) was never afflicted with the disease herself (only the learned behaviors, thank god for Al Anon!).

Let me know what you think of the song (lyrics below)!

The Consequence of DNA

Can't get outta my head

Can't get outta my bed

apathy is wrapping around me

serpentine and laughing

wish I could talk to myself

put these neurons on a shelf

The consequence of DNA

thought I killed it yesterday

head is climbing up the walls

emotions gushing waterfalls

heart descending to the floor

soul is pleading nevermore

Can't get outta my head

cant' get outta my bed

sabotage is wrapping around me

serpentine and laughing

wish you could just let me be

but I'm my only enemy

The past is creeping in again

just as I began to mend

ghosts are taunting their long reign

voices driving me insane

wanting off this island now

but mama never taught me how