Sunday, June 24, 2012

Monday Mosaic - Week of June 25, 2012

Just a reminder you can still vote for your favorite from Flower Art Friday #9 until midnight tonight.

David Ryan Harris


My weekend kicked off with another trip to 3rd & Lindsley to see David Ryan Harris perform. You may recall last week I mentioned that I planned to see more live music and purchased tickets for several upcoming shows. This was the first in that series.

The first and only time I've seen Harris perform was in 2008 when he played in a poolside set with Edwin McCain and Shawn Mullins on the Cayamo music cruise, but I was impressed. He did not disappoint this time either.

If I were to be completely honest, I was feeling apprehensive about going and almost backed out. I wrote about it the next morning with my journaling group. The prompt was Alison Luterman's poem Invisible Work. There were many essays that I could compose on the basis of this poem, but my experience the night before was top of mind.

Here is the poem and below my essay:

Invisble Work
by Alison Luterman

Because no one could ever praise me enough,
because I don't mean these poems only
but the unseen
unbelievable effort it takes to live
the life that goes on between them,
I think all the time about invisible work.
About the young mother on Welfare
I interviewed years ago,
who said, "It's hard.
You bring him to the park,
run rings around yourself keeping him safe,
cut hot dogs into bite-sized pieces fro dinner,
and there's no one
to say what a good job you're doing,
how you were patient and loving
for the thousandth time even though you had a headache."
And I, who am used to feeling sorry for myself
because I am lonely,
when all the while,
as the Chippewa poem says, I am being carried
by great winds across the sky,
thought of the invisible work that stitches up the world day and night,
the slow, unglamorous work of healing,
the way worms in the garden
tunnel ceaselessly so the earth can breathe
and bees ransack this world into being,
while owls and poets stalk shadows,
our loneliest labors under the moon.

There are mothers
for everything, and the sea
is a mother too,
whispering and whispering to us
long after we have stopped listening.
I stopped and let myself lean
a moment, against the blue
shoulder of the air. The work
of my heart
is the work of the world's heart.
There is no other art

The garment of loneliness is one I have wrapped around myself - like Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, it enables me to go about the world unseen as I go about my invisible work getting through the necessary tasks of living and moving on.

My blog, like the author's poems, does not reveal the enormous effort it takes to get through all the life that happens between photos and stories. The slices of life I dish out like sweet little cakes, light and easy to consume, sometimes carry a hint of salty tears in the recipe, but it is easy to miss.

I don't want to worry anyone.

This is grief. This too shall pass.

Before heading to the club, I imagined what sort of sad little sight I would make - a middle aged woman, in a bar, alone, sitting by myself at a table for four because I wanted to be close enough to the stage to take pictures. What would they think? Why did I care?

And I, who am used to feeling sorry for myself
because I am lonely,


The doors opened and people filed in two by two as I made my way toward the table I had hoped to capture. A young couple made it there before me and were debating whether or not it was ok to take up a four-top for just the two of them. Uncharacteristic of me, I spoke up and said I was there alone and if they wanted to share the table, I was cool with that.

To my surprise, they happily took me up on my offer.


They turned out to be an absolutely delightful couple and sort of reminded me of my son and daughter-in-law. They were visiting here from Minnesota, and curious about the best places to see music in town. This was a spontaneous trip for them, and they were winging it. They were grateful for the information I was able to provide and I was grateful for the company (and that I wouldn't have to get the stink-eye from larger parties who wanted my prime real estate). We enjoyed a lively conversation about music, artists we loved, and basic info about ourselves (what do you do? do you have any children, etc...)

When the show was over, I wished them a great visit in Nashville and took my leave. I believe they stayed for the late night show, but my evening was complete. Just right.

"And I, who am used to feeling sorry for myself
because I am lonely,
when all the while,
as the Chippewa poem says, I am being carried
by great winds across the sky,"


As I drove home, I queued up some Harris tunes on my Rhapsody player and felt carried away on the winds, joyful, free, and so glad that I shed that cloak of loneliness for the night and took my place among the living.

the slow, unglamorous work of healing,
the way worms in the garden
tunnel ceaselessly so the earth can breathe
and bees ransack this world into being,
while owls and poets stalk shadows,
our loneliest labors under the moon.


It is sort of messy, this starting over, healing, and growing. It is quite possible that no one in that venue that evening knew the amount of effort it took to get me there. From all appearances, I was just having fun, chatting it up with my friends, and enjoying the show.


This invisible work I'm doing, now made partially visable here now, is making a difference. It is not all by my efforts alone. There are natural forces that aid my healing. I just have to keep moving through it.


I'll leave you today with a video of a song Harris wrote for his mother. Even though it made me cry, it also reminded me why I love singer/songwriters so much and enjoy seeing them live.



Today's Linkups






2 comments:

  1. What a fantastic posting you have done here. You are a very talented lady and thank you for showing us the show he has a lovely voice.
    Lynn

    ReplyDelete
  2. I can't NOT say anything after reading this well written poetry and story..invisible work that stitches up the world day and night, indeed. ...sharing a private part of you is very brave, LeAnne..

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for stopping by and visiting my blog. Your comments are very much appreciated!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...