Category: classical music

Granny’s the Boss … Kinda

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 12 Comments

 

A big task ahead — one that takes patience, energy, and perseverance. I wonder if I’m up to it….

Hubby and I are taking care of three grandkids for ten days while their parents and the other set of grandparents go to Hawaii for a conference and add a few days to this once-in-a-lifetime vacation.

We are becoming the parents.

Now, I haven’t been an active parent for 30 years. Things have changed in 30 years.

My grandkids are 8, 10, and 15. The apples of granny’s eye. They can do no wrong.  They are perfect examples of childhood — for the few hours a week we get to spend with them.

Ten days in a row, just about 24/7, is another story.

Of COURSE I am looking forward to this experience. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience for us grandparents, too. The kiddos are in school, giving us time to go back home and get a few things done before overnighting it by them. We can talk and play and snuggle on the sofa in the evening, go to the movies, do homework together.

Yet kids are kids, and there’s no doubt there will be a few of sour gum drops in-between the rainbows, too.

No glass of wine and rewatches of R-rated series at night. No sleeping in. No quiet coffee in the morning before I hit the housework list. No walking around like a zombie not taking a shower for a few days. No swearing. 

What fun is that?

Even though I squeal about the stress of being in charge,  I’m not sorry I volunteered for this excursion. Life has been good to me, and these kids are proof.

Nonetheless, I have to remember that I’m 73 not 53, and my energy level will never match theirs. And that’s okay. I’m a different kind of role model. Kids need grandparents as well as parents in their lives. And we need youth in our lives so we don’t become old fart fogies.

And, after all, there’s always ice cream cones in the freezer …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hugging Angels

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 10 Comments

 

I can’t tell if I feel a little creeped out or it’s just adjusting to the next step of AI-ness.

Amongst all the nonsense I see on Facebook these days, I’m starting to see videos of movie stars hugging each other, one the younger version of the other. 

At first I thought that was cool. This is young Russell Crowe from Gladiator hugging an old, oversized version of himself. Here is a young Keanu Reeves Point Break age hugging a 60-year-old long haired version of himself.

Then it started getting creepy.

Half the ones I see are younger versions hugging an AI older version of themselves with wings, meaning they have passed along.

Maybe it’s that I don’t like being reminded of my own mortality by all those wings.

Unless someone is taken younger in life, your last memory of them is the last time you saw them. I don’t try guessing what my parents or my son would look like today — I’m happy with the memories I have.

Same is true with movie and music stars.

I loved the Beatles when I was in my early teens. They were cute and bubbly and dreamy, and, like millions of others, I fell in love with them then and there. I don’t care about the older hippy versions or the old balding versions I see cross my Facebook. I want to remember them as I loved them.

Maybe this is one of those “living in the past” moments.

But what is life but looking back at moments? The moment I type this blog the words are in the past. You don’t need to see a picture of my high school graduation to know it’s still me.

If I want to see younger versions of famous people I’ll Google them or watch their movies.

I’ll hug those in wings when I get there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faerie Paths — Loss

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 21 Comments

 

 

Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.

 — Vicki Harrison

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Drawing a Blank

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 14 Comments

 

These days I find I don’t have a lot of chit chat to share. It’s like there’s a gap in my brain somewhere that provides a bit of numbness to the world around me. 

And I’m liking the peace and quiet.

My brain is like popcorn — so many thoughts popping in and out that I can’t keep track of what’s going on. Combined with the nonsense in politics that’s happening in the U.S. and an overload of useless information from the Internet, there’s a lot of nonsense floating around out there. That, encouraged by the lethargicness of cold cloudy weather makes me hover around a base of noncommunication. 

Do you ever have times where you  just have nothing to say? Times where you think it doesn’t matter what you say, things will keep going as they are?  That your garden of wisdom has just dried up?

For someone who always has something to say, this is a new world for me.

I think once again it’s merely an adjustment to my way of life. I know when it’s spring and I’m out running around to soccer games and outdoor concerts and  craft shows and spending evenings on the deck I’ll have more to say. For I’ll have more to feel. More to stimulate me, more to nudge me back into sharing with the world.

And hopefully I’ll reconnect to the madness around me.

Until then, let’s keep going with unique art and quotes from a wide berth of society and blogs about cats and dogs. 

Something about those little faces brings out the chat in me….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do I Like Every Art Gallery I Post?

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 11 Comments

 

from the Museum of Bad Art

An interesting thought came to mind this morning as I replied to a comment over in my Gallery.

My acquaintance stated she didn’t like the art I posted. Which is fair. Which got me thinking —

Do I like the art in every gallery I post?

Almost every time I would answer yes. Art is such a big world that one can’t help but be impressed by its variations.

My Sunday Evening Art Gallery is a little different than many, though, for it’s supposed to be “unique” art. Things the viewing public has never seen before. I don’t mean such artists as Renoir or Charles L. Schulz — most everyone has heard and seen their work. 

My artists are often a bit more obscure. As you can see from my “Looking Back” galleries, some art defines categorization. It’s just lovely but different.

Sometimes it’s not even lovely.

So many artists are similar in their style that I sometimes think I’ve already highlighted their work. While variations of style are still unique onto themselves, I try and find work that is just … different. Every once in a while I’ll choose an artist whose work is, upon reflection or inspection, more of a past time dalliance than a true calling.

Undoubtedly that’s where my own art fall in.

But I appreciate it so much when someone responds that they don’t get it or don’t like it just as much as when they fall in love with it.

Art is supposed to hit you that way.

Don’t ever hold back. Allow yourself to feel something.

Even if now and then the feeling is “ehhhh…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faerie Paths — Music

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 6 Comments

 

 

 

Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken.

~ Ludwig van Beethoven

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perfection

~ humoringthegoddess ~ 4 Comments

tchaikovskyPerfection.

We all seek it.

Yet it means something different to everyone.

The perfect sunrise. The perfect smile. The perfect chocolate soufflé. One person’s perfection is someone else’s faux pax.

The great thing is it doesn’t matter what someone else’s perfection is. You can have unlimited perfection in your life every day.

Take music. A great rock and roll solo. A sweet, tear-jerking melody. A choir that sounds like angels. All stir emotions deep inside; emotions that want an outlet. Need an outlet.

And sometimes music is just the thing to bring you out into the light of day.

I was listening to the following piece this morning, through earphones, simply sitting and being.The 1812 Overture by Pytor Illyich Tchaikovsky was written in 1880 to commemorate Russia’s defense of its motherland against Napoleon’s army in 1812. It has been used as fireworks fodder and cereal background.

A cliche of classical proportions, it takes forever to get to the finale, building, teasing, then pulling back. Cannon fire is in some scores; a choir at the beginning in others. But Tchaikovsky knew dynamics. He knew how to tell a story through music. The struggle of the peasants. Their heartbreak. Their struggles. Their war. Their victory.

Do me a favor. Put your earphones/headphones on and take 4 minutes and listen to this finale. Let your emotions build with the music. Don’t think — just feel. Just for 4 minutes.

And tell me it’s not perfection.

Oh — and P.S. — Turn it UP —

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=u2W1Wi2U9sQ