Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I read a review in the New York Times of an art show at the Guggenheim in Manhattan.  Accompanied by many photos of paintings in the show, Hollander Cotter described succinctly and beautifully the power and presence of Agnes Martin's paintings.  Reading it, I felt she was expressing the inexpressible.  She offered words for me to articulate my passion for Martin's work.  Right speech as art criticism honors the artist and work and also the viewer.  And if the language is not true to the work, then silence in viewing is better:  let the viewer feel and appreciate what she can.  There is so much respect in this article that it elevates the discussion.  And not because the art critic has been blinded by shock and awe, but because she sees clearly all the elements of a complex life and product.  And best of all, her words make me want to get on a plane and see the show, today!  An artist is indeed fortunate when the critic is so scrupulous and delicate, yet not fancy or trendy or market oriented.  Get the viewer to the art and guide gently so the work can be experienced not just in the head but in the heart and in the mystery of the interaction of the two.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm getting better at not standing on my head to return phone calls immediately.  I wait, sometimes several days, until I feel a willingness instead of a begrudging irritability.  And so far - news flash - nothing has been harmed by the wait.  Where this compulsive impulse of mine to please everyone, even people I'm not close to and don't honestly care about, comes from is mysterious.  I assume it's part of the new girl at a new school syndrome.  Loneliness was a threat and I wanted, as all kids do, to belong.  Underneath may be the residue of low self worth, lack of confidence, and a determination to HAVE FRIENDS.  But this is a dress I outgrew long ago, and my friends are the kind that hang in there through thick and thin, so it's old patterning that gets in my way now.
And this is about boundary setting.  I have a good friend who calls at dinnertime.  My husband and I joke about it.  And I either pick up when I'm cooking, or scramble to call right after we eat.  Her voice often sounds upset.  Yet when I call back it's not important.  It only took  me a few years to realize that she never cooks, her husband does, so she's free at a time I'm frantic with cauldrons bubbling in my kitchen.  Oh.  She's relaxing before dinner is served.  It's a good time for her, and a terrible time for me.  So now that I have realized this, I don't pick up the phone then, and don't rush afterward either.  I watch a dumb movie with my husband and call back "late".  No problemo.  She's up, I'm up, and it has up until now been something that can wait.  In fact, wouldn't she leave a message that it's urgent if it was?  Yes.  That's logical.  And it only took several years for me to figure that out.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw the opera Don Pasquale last night.  It's a trifle as far as the story goes:  uncle refuses nephew's request to marry his true love.  His friend tricks the uncle into "marrying" the beloved, and she makes his life so hellish that when he is told she is his nephew's love and he isn't legally married, he gives his blessing and learns his lesson:  old men should not think of marrying, they should leave it to the young.  Everyone was having so much fun on stage, and the music and voices were so divine, that the confection stayed afloat.  Sometimes the message just doesn't matter, and after all, this was written in 1843.  Now Trump can keep marrying beauty queens until he's 100, no questions asked.
Interestingly, the tenor/nephew is black.  In the notes he says he's had trouble convincing people of his rightness for romantic roles, but the proof is in the production.  Anyone with such a voice (and acting ability) would be swooned over by the totality of the female audience.  He was delightful, and totally persuasive.  His comedic chops are firmly established by this role as well.  And also in the notes, he mentions he has an autistic 3 year old son, and hopes to do more outreach and volunteering on behalf of research into the disability.  He also said he couldn't do anything about being black or short but decided he could stop being round, so he went on a diet and got slim.  Such transparency is amazing and touching.  What an enlightened being he seems to be for one so young.  His voice is lovely both musically and morally.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our writing group did a quick write last night but instead of having 3 objects to choose from to riff off of, I played a song from Peter Gabriel, actually written by Magnetic Fields:  "The Book of Love".  We all wrote really interesting pieces, and each went off in an entirely different lines of thought.  We discussed it after and noticed that our feelings had lead us because we had a piece of music more than with the objects.  The music, even though nobody had heard it before but me, pulled us from the heart instead of the head.  It was a great experiment, and reminds me that music provides easy access to the emotions.  It is called the universal language, and, at least in our little group, provided a fluidity that was deep and wide.
Next time we are going to listen to music at home and write while we listen and see what comes up.  With the heartstrings plucked, something lovely may ensue.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Everyone seemed so happy and delighted for our daughter at the baby shower.  Kind words are treasured at such high moments.  Our grandson was the star of the show, saying ball and balloon and waving and grinning at everyone.  His joy at the balloons said it all.  What a delight our daughter and son-in-law have in store for themselves.  Seeing all the young mothers was so sweet, and the diversity of ages:  from 87 to 4 months, was a wonder.  When we demonstrate our happiness at others good fortune, we expand our consciousness and the circle of love.  I felt it happen yesterday.    I'm sure our daughter did as well.  Shower of love indeed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my daughter's baby shower, and it's supposed to rain, so there you have it.  I'm looking forward to seeing friends and my daughter's friends and also my older daughter who is here for the event.  Sharing joy is the most pleasurable experience, and I look forward to it.  I'm evidently in a stage of my life where there are these big passage marking events:  weddings, baby showers, births, grandchildren entering schools, piano recitals, drawing contests with prizes.  There is  celebration continnum going on.  I'm a witness and a participant, but it will go on beyond my life and that is comforting and hopeful.
My friends are on this train ride as well; some of them further along and some just beginning the grandparent part.  I love these stops at the station, the view from the windows, the passengers getting on and changing.  The movement feels forward but may be cyclical.  It doesn't matter.  It's the togetherness that matters.  The human experience:  shared.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was our dogs' twelfth birthdays.  We naturally sang "Happy Birthday" to them, and after dinner, we all watched "Longmire" and ate popcorn.  They were in heaven, because popcorn was raining from the sky or at least above their heads.  They also liked the Longmire episode, followed by an episode of "Death in Paradise".  Who doesn't like the island life?  Well, okay, they've never been to the Carribean, but then, neither have we.  It doesn't stop us from dreaming.  And both detectives always get their man, or woman, as the case may be.  The dogs express their pleasure in oblique ways.  The other night we didn't go upstairs after dinner, and the next night our female dog led our male dog up the stairs before us, as if to say:  come on, get with the program, are you forgetting our routine?
I don't actually know if they knew it was their birthdays, but they probably guessed something was off.  All that singing and more popcorn than they'd ever consumed in their lives.  They may have been confused, but it was a happy confusion, and I bet their dreams were golden.