Snowflakes, Cinderfella and Other Fairy Tales (January 19, 2009)

Today I did my laundry. It was snowing most of the day, and it felt appropriate to clean out my apartment, my clothes, and my inbox as the snow cleaned the city. I watched it fall and accumulate while I thought of our country and our new president and the cleaning out we have ahead of us. I suppose I was symbolically preparing for the new residents of the White House, directing my energy towards creating a welcoming abode for them. The act of doing something as mundane as my laundry with this intent might seem insignificant – silly, even – but our energy extends far beyond our physical capacity. Is this snow not the mingling of our sweat, our tears, and our oceans? When we dedicate our actions towards a higher purpose, especially when multiplied, that energy is as vast as the ocean and as evident as snow.

When I came back from the laundromat I had this stowaway mixed in with mine. It made me think of Cinderfella, and I imagined staging a try-on-a-thon in my little laundromat here in the Lower East Side, a modern fairy tale. I love fairy tales. This, too, made me think of our new president. Mentally I’ve been fixated on tomorrow, the day we welcome him. So I suppose everything, from snowflakes to Cinderfella, is making me think of our new president and his family. Walking home I had passed the Obama posters and the Obama t-shirts and the Obama stickers and the Obama graffiti and the Obama figurines… and I wondered whether this one man is really our collective Prince Charming. Even more so, I wondered whether it is fair to make these demands of an individual as I looked at a portrait of him in a Superman costume outside my building. Has any other president entered office with such high expectations? Some of which are not likely to be achieved in the given amount of time? As I have come to know life outside of fairy tales I’ve discovered that there is no Prince Charming or Fairy Godmother. There are great men and women capable of great things – US. Each of us is responsible for our own tale.

I am very grateful for the end of these eight years, the effects of which will be felt for generations. And I am grateful for this new beginning – a hopeful beginning – which is very different from a happy ending. The work has yet to be done and the story has yet to be told. Which is a good thing, because in truth I was never satisfied by “happily ever after” – I wanted to hear more. What happened? We shall see, one snowflake, one chapter, one breath at a time. Though the city is peaceful beneath the snow, tomorrow is going to be a tremendous sigh for all of us. I feel a collective breath-retention… anxiety and anxiousness. With that exhalation we will set into motion a new cycle, similar to that of the water which rises and falls in these clouds of snow. I learned a lot watching the snow today – the flakes accumulated steadily, suspended when the wind was still. They did not struggle against gravity, nor did they rush to their resting place. They were not afraid to fall. They were full of purpose. And yet, they moved patiently, aware of their individual contribution to a larger movement. One lonely flake melts as soon as it touches down, but together, these little droplets of water can slow down one of the fastest cities in the world.

Let’s embrace our leaders with love – our president, our teachers in all forms, and ourselves. We are the leaders of our own lives, continuously inspiring each other as we exchange ideas, words, breath… The U.S. is US. Our exhalation and inspiration extend not only beyond our bodies, but also beyond our time. I recommend reading and listening to “I Have A Dream” if you are looking for evidence of either. Thank you for inspiring me.

Snowflakes, Cinderfella and Other Fairy Tales (January 19, 2009)

Today I did my laundry. It was snowing most of the day, and it felt appropriate to clean out my apartment, my clothes, and my inbox as the snow cleaned the city. I watched it fall and accumulate while I thought of our country and our new president and the cleaning out we have ahead of us. I suppose I was symbolically preparing for the new residents of the White House, directing my energy towards creating a welcoming abode for them. The act of doing something as mundane as my laundry with this intent might seem insignificant – silly, even – but our energy extends far beyond our physical capacity. Is this snow not the mingling of our sweat, our tears, and our oceans? When we dedicate our actions towards a higher purpose, especially when multiplied, that energy is as vast as the ocean and as evident as snow.

When I came back from the laundromat I had this stowaway mixed in with mine. It made me think of Cinderfella, and I imagined staging a try-on-a-thon in my little laundromat here in the Lower East Side, a modern fairy tale. I love fairy tales. This, too, made me think of our new president. Mentally I’ve been fixated on tomorrow, the day we welcome him. So I suppose everything, from snowflakes to Cinderfella, is making me think of our new president and his family. Walking home I had passed the Obama posters and the Obama t-shirts and the Obama stickers and the Obama graffiti and the Obama figurines… and I wondered whether this one man is really our collective Prince Charming. Even more so, I wondered whether it is fair to make these demands of an individual as I looked at a portrait of him in a Superman costume outside my building. Has any other president entered office with such high expectations? Some of which are not likely to be achieved in the given amount of time? As I have come to know life outside of fairy tales I’ve discovered that there is no Prince Charming or Fairy Godmother. There are great men and women capable of great things – US. Each of us is responsible for our own tale.

I am very grateful for the end of these eight years, the effects of which will be felt for generations. And I am grateful for this new beginning – a hopeful beginning – which is very different from a happy ending. The work has yet to be done and the story has yet to be told. Which is a good thing, because in truth I was never satisfied by “happily ever after” – I wanted to hear more. What happened? We shall see, one snowflake, one chapter, one breath at a time. Though the city is peaceful beneath the snow, tomorrow is going to be a tremendous sigh for all of us. I feel a collective breath-retention… anxiety and anxiousness. With that exhalation we will set into motion a new cycle, similar to that of the water which rises and falls in these clouds of snow. I learned a lot watching the snow today – the flakes accumulated steadily, suspended when the wind was still. They did not struggle against gravity, nor did they rush to their resting place. They were not afraid to fall. They were full of purpose. And yet, they moved patiently, aware of their individual contribution to a larger movement. One lonely flake melts as soon as it touches down, but together, these little droplets of water can slow down one of the fastest cities in the world.

Let’s embrace our leaders with love – our president, our teachers in all forms, and ourselves. We are the leaders of our own lives, continuously inspiring each other as we exchange ideas, words, breath… The U.S. is US. Our exhalation and inspiration extend not only beyond our bodies, but also beyond our time. I recommend reading and listening to “I Have A Dream” if you are looking for evidence of either. Thank you for inspiring me.

Snowflakes, Cinderfella and Other Fairy Tales (January 19, 2009)

Today I did my laundry. It was snowing most of the day, and it felt appropriate to clean out my apartment, my clothes, and my inbox as the snow cleaned the city. I watched it fall and accumulate while I thought of our country and our new president and the cleaning out we have ahead of us. I suppose I was symbolically preparing for the new residents of the White House, directing my energy towards creating a welcoming abode for them. The act of doing something as mundane as my laundry with this intent might seem insignificant – silly, even – but our energy extends far beyond our physical capacity. Is this snow not the mingling of our sweat, our tears, and our oceans? When we dedicate our actions towards a higher purpose, especially when multiplied, that energy is as vast as the ocean and as evident as snow.

When I came back from the laundromat I had this stowaway mixed in with mine. It made me think of Cinderfella, and I imagined staging a try-on-a-thon in my little laundromat here in the Lower East Side, a modern fairy tale. I love fairy tales. This, too, made me think of our new president. Mentally I’ve been fixated on tomorrow, the day we welcome him. So I suppose everything, from snowflakes to Cinderfella, is making me think of our new president and his family. Walking home I had passed the Obama posters and the Obama t-shirts and the Obama stickers and the Obama graffiti and the Obama figurines… and I wondered whether this one man is really our collective Prince Charming. Even more so, I wondered whether it is fair to make these demands of an individual as I looked at a portrait of him in a Superman costume outside my building. Has any other president entered office with such high expectations? Some of which are not likely to be achieved in the given amount of time? As I have come to know life outside of fairy tales I’ve discovered that there is no Prince Charming or Fairy Godmother. There are great men and women capable of great things – US. Each of us is responsible for our own tale.

I am very grateful for the end of these eight years, the effects of which will be felt for generations. And I am grateful for this new beginning – a hopeful beginning – which is very different from a happy ending. The work has yet to be done and the story has yet to be told. Which is a good thing, because in truth I was never satisfied by “happily ever after” – I wanted to hear more. What happened? We shall see, one snowflake, one chapter, one breath at a time. Though the city is peaceful beneath the snow, tomorrow is going to be a tremendous sigh for all of us. I feel a collective breath-retention… anxiety and anxiousness. With that exhalation we will set into motion a new cycle, similar to that of the water which rises and falls in these clouds of snow. I learned a lot watching the snow today – the flakes accumulated steadily, suspended when the wind was still. They did not struggle against gravity, nor did they rush to their resting place. They were not afraid to fall. They were full of purpose. And yet, they moved patiently, aware of their individual contribution to a larger movement. One lonely flake melts as soon as it touches down, but together, these little droplets of water can slow down one of the fastest cities in the world.

Let’s embrace our leaders with love – our president, our teachers in all forms, and ourselves. We are the leaders of our own lives, continuously inspiring each other as we exchange ideas, words, breath… The U.S. is US. Our exhalation and inspiration extend not only beyond our bodies, but also beyond our time. I recommend reading and listening to “I Have A Dream” if you are looking for evidence of either. Thank you for inspiring me.

The Aquarian; Jezebel Music on NYC Shows (January 14, 2009)

Here’s what this week’s edition of The Aquarian has to say about my upcoming show:

Subway Lover

January 14, 2009
by Josh Frank

If you’re a college student returning to your cold and lonely New England campus in the coming weeks, do yourself a favor and heal your nascent loneliness with a dash of Laura Meyer’s warm and cozy folk. It may not be quite as satisfying as a good book and a roaring fire, but her witty lyrics and angelic guitar melodies provide a fine substitute during the dark winter months. Catch her playing at Gizzi’s on Jan. 16 and feel the love.

Laura Meyer’s voice is heartbreakingly disappointing – like what I always imagined a musical goodbye sounded like. She professes a weakness for children’s books and impressionist paintings, and it shows – her music is full of more rain-soaked melancholic longing than a Jane Austen novel. On her second record, Boys & Eros, she sticks to her legal duties as a folk rocker, providing listeners with ample melancholy, introspection, and evocative, mysterious lyrics. There’s more here than the typical hippie-chick thoughtfulness, however. With unique organ and keyboard sounds hovering like a spaceship behind traditional guitars and banjos, Meyer captures perfectly the breathlessness of a high school band, with the skill of a virtuoso.

Gizzi’s Coffee is located at 16 West 8th St., across from the campus of NYU. Music begins at 8 p.m., and all ages are welcome to attend. A tip jar will be at the show, and donations are welcome. For more information, visit laurameyer.net, or myspace.com/laurameyermusic.

*

I kind of got a kick out of that. What really made my day is that my name is on the cover with Neil Young’s name… that’s truly special. I think they look good together, don’t you?

Also, thanks to those of you who came to warm Jezebel Music’s new home for their Resonance weekly songwriter showcase at Bar Matchless – especially on such a cold, rainy night. If you’re not familiar with Jezebel Music (and even if you are), I recommend their website as a fantastic source for emerging artists in NYC. They’ve made some changes, adding fifteen new columns for reviews, news, videos, and more. Last week they posted that my songs feature “unique guitar parts and arrangements, strong vocals and standout lyrics, and altogether solid songwriting.” I think that’s awfully nice. Thank you.

See you Friday night!

P.S. Every time I hear “jezebel” I think of Joni Mitchell’s song, “The Magdelene Laundries.” Crushing lyrics… exquisite, as always. Give it a listen – I love both the Turbulent Indigo and Travelogue versions. Now that’s heartbreak.

The Aquarian; Jezebel Music on NYC Shows (January 14, 2009)

Here’s what this week’s edition of The Aquarian has to say about my upcoming show:

Subway Lover

January 14, 2009
by Josh Frank

If you’re a college student returning to your cold and lonely New England campus in the coming weeks, do yourself a favor and heal your nascent loneliness with a dash of Laura Meyer’s warm and cozy folk. It may not be quite as satisfying as a good book and a roaring fire, but her witty lyrics and angelic guitar melodies provide a fine substitute during the dark winter months. Catch her playing at Gizzi’s on Jan. 16 and feel the love.

Laura Meyer’s voice is heartbreakingly disappointing – like what I always imagined a musical goodbye sounded like. She professes a weakness for children’s books and impressionist paintings, and it shows – her music is full of more rain-soaked melancholic longing than a Jane Austen novel. On her second record, Boys & Eros, she sticks to her legal duties as a folk rocker, providing listeners with ample melancholy, introspection, and evocative, mysterious lyrics. There’s more here than the typical hippie-chick thoughtfulness, however. With unique organ and keyboard sounds hovering like a spaceship behind traditional guitars and banjos, Meyer captures perfectly the breathlessness of a high school band, with the skill of a virtuoso.

Gizzi’s Coffee is located at 16 West 8th St., across from the campus of NYU. Music begins at 8 p.m., and all ages are welcome to attend. A tip jar will be at the show, and donations are welcome. For more information, visit laurameyer.net, or myspace.com/laurameyermusic.

*

I kind of got a kick out of that. What really made my day is that my name is on the cover with Neil Young’s name… that’s truly special. I think they look good together, don’t you?

Also, thanks to those of you who came to warm Jezebel Music’s new home for their Resonance weekly songwriter showcase at Bar Matchless – especially on such a cold, rainy night. If you’re not familiar with Jezebel Music (and even if you are), I recommend their website as a fantastic source for emerging artists in NYC. They’ve made some changes, adding fifteen new columns for reviews, news, videos, and more. Last week they posted that my songs feature “unique guitar parts and arrangements, strong vocals and standout lyrics, and altogether solid songwriting.” I think that’s awfully nice. Thank you.

See you Friday night!

P.S. Every time I hear “jezebel” I think of Joni Mitchell’s song, “The Magdelene Laundries.” Crushing lyrics… exquisite, as always. Give it a listen – I love both the Turbulent Indigo and Travelogue versions. Now that’s heartbreak.

The Aquarian; Jezebel Music on NYC Shows (January 14, 2009)

Here’s what this week’s edition of The Aquarian has to say about my upcoming show:

Subway Lover

January 14, 2009
by Josh Frank

If you’re a college student returning to your cold and lonely New England campus in the coming weeks, do yourself a favor and heal your nascent loneliness with a dash of Laura Meyer’s warm and cozy folk. It may not be quite as satisfying as a good book and a roaring fire, but her witty lyrics and angelic guitar melodies provide a fine substitute during the dark winter months. Catch her playing at Gizzi’s on Jan. 16 and feel the love.

Laura Meyer’s voice is heartbreakingly disappointing – like what I always imagined a musical goodbye sounded like. She professes a weakness for children’s books and impressionist paintings, and it shows – her music is full of more rain-soaked melancholic longing than a Jane Austen novel. On her second record, Boys & Eros, she sticks to her legal duties as a folk rocker, providing listeners with ample melancholy, introspection, and evocative, mysterious lyrics. There’s more here than the typical hippie-chick thoughtfulness, however. With unique organ and keyboard sounds hovering like a spaceship behind traditional guitars and banjos, Meyer captures perfectly the breathlessness of a high school band, with the skill of a virtuoso.

Gizzi’s Coffee is located at 16 West 8th St., across from the campus of NYU. Music begins at 8 p.m., and all ages are welcome to attend. A tip jar will be at the show, and donations are welcome. For more information, visit laurameyer.net, or myspace.com/laurameyermusic.

*

I kind of got a kick out of that. What really made my day is that my name is on the cover with Neil Young’s name… that’s truly special. I think they look good together, don’t you?

Also, thanks to those of you who came to warm Jezebel Music’s new home for their Resonance weekly songwriter showcase at Bar Matchless – especially on such a cold, rainy night. If you’re not familiar with Jezebel Music (and even if you are), I recommend their website as a fantastic source for emerging artists in NYC. They’ve made some changes, adding fifteen new columns for reviews, news, videos, and more. Last week they posted that my songs feature “unique guitar parts and arrangements, strong vocals and standout lyrics, and altogether solid songwriting.” I think that’s awfully nice. Thank you.

See you Friday night!

P.S. Every time I hear “jezebel” I think of Joni Mitchell’s song, “The Magdelene Laundries.” Crushing lyrics… exquisite, as always. Give it a listen – I love both the Turbulent Indigo and Travelogue versions. Now that’s heartbreak.

The New Year: On Past Selves, Patti Smith, And Being Vigilant (January 1, 2009)

In last night’s post I mentioned how I visited my past self over the holidays, something we all experience to some degree when we return to our hometowns and families. I check in with my “inner child” on a daily basis – I find that she is a great source of strength. In yoga practice, balasana is what we in the West call “child’s pose,” but the definition of bala is actually “strength” – and I think it’s important to remember this connection. During this time of year both the “savior” and the New Year are personified as newborns, conjuring images of hope, health, opportunity – a fresh start on life. Our species may not be independent as babies, but what we lack in autonomy we gain through a beingness that we as adults long to return to. By “beingness” I mean the self-contentment many children display through their curiosity, wonder, play… spontaneous creation. Perhaps a greater connection to spirit (though unconscious). A child is a symbol of inner strength – a seed that is self-contained. As exhibited in the Tarot, Strength is related to compassion, softness, receptivity, gentleness – quiet. Children depend on us for food and shelter and care and we depend on them to continue life – literally and yet also by reminding us of who we are. Life moves in two directions. Well, more than two, but I don’t want to get into that right now. Definitely more than one. Because let’s face it – none of us is independent. We are interdependent – depending on parts of ourselves and our pasts, depending on this beautiful dis-eased planet beneath our feet, and depending on each other.

Last night I saw Patti Smith with her beautiful band – and children – at the Bowery Ballroom. As she transformed from quiet poet with spectacles to wild conjurer of spectacles and then back again, I felt honored to witness an integration of being unlike any I’ve ever seen. She was the coy little girl one moment, the sage the next; she was the rebel, the goddess, the mother, the lover, the warrior, the healer – watching her slip in and out of these archetypes – these selves – was mesmerizing. She became a screen – a clear channel – upon which these characters visited through sound and movement. Rather than an actor or chameleon who puts on various faces, I got the sense that these beings were emerging from deep within, and I was one of the privileged few allowed to experience her inner transformations, projected through her outer, physical body. Her performance reminded me of an arts workshop I took with Lanny Harrison at La MaMa rehearsal space on Great Jones when I was at Gallatin. Lanny is a remarkable performer, and perhaps the only other person I have witnessed morph so seamlessly in this way. Through Buddhist meditation techniques and free play we explored “shape-shifting” and the constancy of change through physical movement and sound. In addition to Gallatin she teaches at the Shambhala Meditation Center of NY. I recommend looking her up. I’m going to. These two women inspire in me the power of surrender. Of the strength – bala – of letting go.

As 2009 approached the intensity of the performance escalated and the band roared through “Because the Night” before opening the New Year with “People Have the Power.” There was a lot of joy in that little room. Through her committed presence, authenticity, and improvisational spirit Patti reminded us of our interdependence throughout the evening, not only through her interactions with the crowd, but through her dedication to love. She told us not to worry, singing a ecstatic cover of “I’ll Be There.” Although, as anyone familiar with her work knows, this message of love is not a sugar-coated one. In her opening words she declared 2009, the Year of the Ox, the Year of Work, and she instructed us to be vigilant – to embrace the new year and our new president with love, but also to make demands. Not just because our economy has crumbled, but because we are still six years into an unjust, unnecessary war and always on the verge of another. Not to mention our war against the planet, our very home.

Going back to that mixtape from six years ago – The truth is that the girl who made that mix was in a lot of pain. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember her so well. It seems easier to push away what is painful or at least uncomfortable. How much simpler it is to converse with my four-year-old self, who was content to collect rocks and blow bubbles and play left-hand verses right-hand tic tac toe. But she is only one tiny piece of who I am, and I am only one tiny piece of who we are. We are all pieces of world peace – until all the pieces are there, working in harmony to create the greater picture, we are broken in our own chaos. We can’t afford to disconnect any longer – nor to think we are disconnected. It is an illusion to think this separation is possible. It may be cliche, but things become cliche for a reason – we are at war with each other and with this planet because we are at war with ourselves. We have one body for this life’s journey and one planet to share. As I gaze up into space, this sure feels like a small boat.

And so I will adopt and reiterate Patti’s phrase as my own resolution for entering the New Year: BE VIGILANT, from vigilare – to keep watch, stay awake. Awake not only to the present moment, but to our past and future selves, for what we become in the future depends on who we were in the past, and how conscious we are of the past. Can our past selves be in conversation? Is democracy really possible? As we make peace with the pieces we find ourselves living in a more peaceful world. Let us not be afraid of who we are. This life is so fleeting – one moment bombs are dropping in the Gaza Strip and the next moment the ball is dropping in Time Square – This year, and this world, is whatever we want it to be. It’s time to raise the torch and see what’s been hiding in the shadows.

With love and best wishes for this moment in your life, old and new and everything in between – Happy New Year.

And Happy Birthday, Mom.

The New Year: On Past Selves, Patti Smith, And Being Vigilant (January 1, 2009)

In last night’s post I mentioned how I visited my past self over the holidays, something we all experience to some degree when we return to our hometowns and families. I check in with my “inner child” on a daily basis – I find that she is a great source of strength. In yoga practice, balasana is what we in the West call “child’s pose,” but the definition of bala is actually “strength” – and I think it’s important to remember this connection. During this time of year both the “savior” and the New Year are personified as newborns, conjuring images of hope, health, opportunity – a fresh start on life. Our species may not be independent as babies, but what we lack in autonomy we gain through a beingness that we as adults long to return to. By “beingness” I mean the self-contentment many children display through their curiosity, wonder, play… spontaneous creation. Perhaps a greater connection to spirit (though unconscious). A child is a symbol of inner strength – a seed that is self-contained. As exhibited in the Tarot, Strength is related to compassion, softness, receptivity, gentleness – quiet. Children depend on us for food and shelter and care and we depend on them to continue life – literally and yet also by reminding us of who we are. Life moves in two directions. Well, more than two, but I don’t want to get into that right now. Definitely more than one. Because let’s face it – none of us is independent. We are interdependent – depending on parts of ourselves and our pasts, depending on this beautiful dis-eased planet beneath our feet, and depending on each other.

Last night I saw Patti Smith with her beautiful band – and children – at the Bowery Ballroom. As she transformed from quiet poet with spectacles to wild conjurer of spectacles and then back again, I felt honored to witness an integration of being unlike any I’ve ever seen. She was the coy little girl one moment, the sage the next; she was the rebel, the goddess, the mother, the lover, the warrior, the healer – watching her slip in and out of these archetypes – these selves – was mesmerizing. She became a screen – a clear channel – upon which these characters visited through sound and movement. Rather than an actor or chameleon who puts on various faces, I got the sense that these beings were emerging from deep within, and I was one of the privileged few allowed to experience her inner transformations, projected through her outer, physical body. Her performance reminded me of an arts workshop I took with Lanny Harrison at La MaMa rehearsal space on Great Jones when I was at Gallatin. Lanny is a remarkable performer, and perhaps the only other person I have witnessed morph so seamlessly in this way. Through Buddhist meditation techniques and free play we explored “shape-shifting” and the constancy of change through physical movement and sound. In addition to Gallatin she teaches at the Shambhala Meditation Center of NY. I recommend looking her up. I’m going to. These two women inspire in me the power of surrender. Of the strength – bala – of letting go.

As 2009 approached the intensity of the performance escalated and the band roared through “Because the Night” before opening the New Year with “People Have the Power.” There was a lot of joy in that little room. Through her committed presence, authenticity, and improvisational spirit Patti reminded us of our interdependence throughout the evening, not only through her interactions with the crowd, but through her dedication to love. She told us not to worry, singing a ecstatic cover of “I’ll Be There.” Although, as anyone familiar with her work knows, this message of love is not a sugar-coated one. In her opening words she declared 2009, the Year of the Ox, the Year of Work, and she instructed us to be vigilant – to embrace the new year and our new president with love, but also to make demands. Not just because our economy has crumbled, but because we are still six years into an unjust, unnecessary war and always on the verge of another. Not to mention our war against the planet, our very home.

Going back to that mixtape from six years ago – The truth is that the girl who made that mix was in a lot of pain. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember her so well. It seems easier to push away what is painful or at least uncomfortable. How much simpler it is to converse with my four-year-old self, who was content to collect rocks and blow bubbles and play left-hand verses right-hand tic tac toe. But she is only one tiny piece of who I am, and I am only one tiny piece of who we are. We are all pieces of world peace – until all the pieces are there, working in harmony to create the greater picture, we are broken in our own chaos. We can’t afford to disconnect any longer – nor to think we are disconnected. It is an illusion to think this separation is possible. It may be cliche, but things become cliche for a reason – we are at war with each other and with this planet because we are at war with ourselves. We have one body for this life’s journey and one planet to share. As I gaze up into space, this sure feels like a small boat.

And so I will adopt and reiterate Patti’s phrase as my own resolution for entering the New Year: BE VIGILANT, from vigilare – to keep watch, stay awake. Awake not only to the present moment, but to our past and future selves, for what we become in the future depends on who we were in the past, and how conscious we are of the past. Can our past selves be in conversation? Is democracy really possible? As we make peace with the pieces we find ourselves living in a more peaceful world. Let us not be afraid of who we are. This life is so fleeting – one moment bombs are dropping in the Gaza Strip and the next moment the ball is dropping in Time Square – This year, and this world, is whatever we want it to be. It’s time to raise the torch and see what’s been hiding in the shadows.

With love and best wishes for this moment in your life, old and new and everything in between – Happy New Year.

And Happy Birthday, Mom.

The New Year: On Past Selves, Patti Smith, And Being Vigilant (January 1, 2009)

In last night’s post I mentioned how I visited my past self over the holidays, something we all experience to some degree when we return to our hometowns and families. I check in with my “inner child” on a daily basis – I find that she is a great source of strength. In yoga practice, balasana is what we in the West call “child’s pose,” but the definition of bala is actually “strength” – and I think it’s important to remember this connection. During this time of year both the “savior” and the New Year are personified as newborns, conjuring images of hope, health, opportunity – a fresh start on life. Our species may not be independent as babies, but what we lack in autonomy we gain through a beingness that we as adults long to return to. By “beingness” I mean the self-contentment many children display through their curiosity, wonder, play… spontaneous creation. Perhaps a greater connection to spirit (though unconscious). A child is a symbol of inner strength – a seed that is self-contained. As exhibited in the Tarot, Strength is related to compassion, softness, receptivity, gentleness – quiet. Children depend on us for food and shelter and care and we depend on them to continue life – literally and yet also by reminding us of who we are. Life moves in two directions. Well, more than two, but I don’t want to get into that right now. Definitely more than one. Because let’s face it – none of us is independent. We are interdependent – depending on parts of ourselves and our pasts, depending on this beautiful dis-eased planet beneath our feet, and depending on each other.

Last night I saw Patti Smith with her beautiful band – and children – at the Bowery Ballroom. As she transformed from quiet poet with spectacles to wild conjurer of spectacles and then back again, I felt honored to witness an integration of being unlike any I’ve ever seen. She was the coy little girl one moment, the sage the next; she was the rebel, the goddess, the mother, the lover, the warrior, the healer – watching her slip in and out of these archetypes – these selves – was mesmerizing. She became a screen – a clear channel – upon which these characters visited through sound and movement. Rather than an actor or chameleon who puts on various faces, I got the sense that these beings were emerging from deep within, and I was one of the privileged few allowed to experience her inner transformations, projected through her outer, physical body. Her performance reminded me of an arts workshop I took with Lanny Harrison at La MaMa rehearsal space on Great Jones when I was at Gallatin. Lanny is a remarkable performer, and perhaps the only other person I have witnessed morph so seamlessly in this way. Through Buddhist meditation techniques and free play we explored “shape-shifting” and the constancy of change through physical movement and sound. In addition to Gallatin she teaches at the Shambhala Meditation Center of NY. I recommend looking her up. I’m going to. These two women inspire in me the power of surrender. Of the strength – bala – of letting go.

As 2009 approached the intensity of the performance escalated and the band roared through “Because the Night” before opening the New Year with “People Have the Power.” There was a lot of joy in that little room. Through her committed presence, authenticity, and improvisational spirit Patti reminded us of our interdependence throughout the evening, not only through her interactions with the crowd, but through her dedication to love. She told us not to worry, singing a ecstatic cover of “I’ll Be There.” Although, as anyone familiar with her work knows, this message of love is not a sugar-coated one. In her opening words she declared 2009, the Year of the Ox, the Year of Work, and she instructed us to be vigilant – to embrace the new year and our new president with love, but also to make demands. Not just because our economy has crumbled, but because we are still six years into an unjust, unnecessary war and always on the verge of another. Not to mention our war against the planet, our very home.

Going back to that mixtape from six years ago – The truth is that the girl who made that mix was in a lot of pain. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember her so well. It seems easier to push away what is painful or at least uncomfortable. How much simpler it is to converse with my four-year-old self, who was content to collect rocks and blow bubbles and play left-hand verses right-hand tic tac toe. But she is only one tiny piece of who I am, and I am only one tiny piece of who we are. We are all pieces of world peace – until all the pieces are there, working in harmony to create the greater picture, we are broken in our own chaos. We can’t afford to disconnect any longer – nor to think we are disconnected. It is an illusion to think this separation is possible. It may be cliche, but things become cliche for a reason – we are at war with each other and with this planet because we are at war with ourselves. We have one body for this life’s journey and one planet to share. As I gaze up into space, this sure feels like a small boat.

And so I will adopt and reiterate Patti’s phrase as my own resolution for entering the New Year: BE VIGILANT, from vigilare – to keep watch, stay awake. Awake not only to the present moment, but to our past and future selves, for what we become in the future depends on who we were in the past, and how conscious we are of the past. Can our past selves be in conversation? Is democracy really possible? As we make peace with the pieces we find ourselves living in a more peaceful world. Let us not be afraid of who we are. This life is so fleeting – one moment bombs are dropping in the Gaza Strip and the next moment the ball is dropping in Time Square – This year, and this world, is whatever we want it to be. It’s time to raise the torch and see what’s been hiding in the shadows.

With love and best wishes for this moment in your life, old and new and everything in between – Happy New Year.

And Happy Birthday, Mom.