The Story Midwife

Spring Giddiness

Spring GiddinessToday, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.

I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.
Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.

Daylight, full of small dancing particles
and the one great turning, our souls
are dancing with you, without feet, they dance.
Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?

All day and night, music,
a quiet, bright
reedsong. If it
fades, we fade.

	-- Jalaluddin Rumi

Ah, welcome spring!!
It's been over a year since my words have splashed out here. Today, on this first day of spring 2008, it feels like the blessedly ripe time to stop in for a visit again. These days of solstice and equinox are, after all, some of my favorites in the year. 

Rumi's Spring Giddiness has been my mantra in the last few weeks.  A little over two years ago I wrote a song from these words. Called Don't Go Back to Sleep, once I made a rough scratch recording it seemed to fade back in my mind. I was perusing the contents of my little hand-held digital recorder which I use to capture my song ideas or works-in-process. When I stumbled upon the very first strains of this song  my breath caught.  It was just what I needed to hear that day.  And apparently every day since.  Over and over the refrain comes to me: "The door is round and open, the door is round and open." The song has begun to sing me.

This is a different phenomenon than getting a song annoyingly stuck in the groove of my brain. Roseanne Cash has been quoted as saying, "I've always found that songs can be postcards from your future."  When I first heard this quote about a decade ago I totally got that haunting quality to art of any medium.  To me, as with Roseanne, it comes in the form of song and I find it everywhere in my works. Even considering the new rush of energy and enjoyment of a fresh baby song, in some ways it's more fun to look back at a song when I can feel it through the seasons of my life. Rumi and his poem and my ensuing song have embodied this haunting future-past quality.  Something in me wrote the song two years ago, but it's real impact hasn't been noticeable until now.  Perhaps some mysterious future self sent this song back to me a couple of years ago so that I could partake of it in this season by simply enjoying my earlier fruits.  Or maybe my subconscious was just way ahead of my conscious.  Either way, it's a cool thing.

Being the equinox, we Bruxvoort-Colligan's will be celebrating with our traditional Equinox Pizza.  I'll be sitting in some quiet space with a candle and my journal for some reflection and looking forward.  And my beloved and I will find space together on our couch (Viola - who will be making an appearance in the sheep pasture on our upcoming duet CD), sipping red wine and sharing the holinesses-made-manifest from our own lives this Holy Week.

And you: have a happy equinox and may you drink in the loveliness of this grand day,
Trish

Sounds from my corner

After school, Sammy and Richard went to run errands so I could have some alone time.  (Seriously, this house prep may be the end of me.)  Richard, being the good musical, joke-telling daddy he is, takes his job very seriously. These two values came crashing together this afternoon as Richard pulled out his John Fogerty album (in cassette, of course) for the errand driving.  Sammy came running into the kitchen saying "Mama!  I heard the most awesomest song! It's John Fogerty!"  He played it for me as I continued dishing up our Chicken Fajita Soup from the crock pot.  Singing along he belted out these words: "I go crawling through a dried brain!"

Well, check out the lyrics here and scroll down to line two of paragraph three.  There you'll see how a 5 year old creatively interprets Mr. Fogerty. 

Now, as he's emerging from his bath, he's singing, "Oh yeah, I'm a rambunctious boy."

I have no idea.  You John Fogerty fans, please enlighten me.

Looking for a spiritual refresher in 2007?

Ready for more than the surface?

Looking for a way to freshen and deepen you spirituality?

Wanna dive in?

I may have just the thing for you.

Announcing Immersion: A 9-month adventure in spiritual transformation.

Come below the surface and midwife your Story.
Explore the depths of your soul with a community of men and women seeking the same.

I'm collaborating with Rev. Karen Hagen at Tippecanoe Presbyterian Church (isn't that a great name for a spiritual community?!) in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.  The focus will be interspiritual, contemplative, and joyful in nature. Music, ritual, and the arts will be interwoven into every particle of the process.

Because we want Immersion to be truly open to all people of every color, shape, size, and way of life, Immersion will be available on an entirely self-set sliding fee scale. 

You are so welcome here!

Learn more now!

Or download a brochure: Download pdf_immersion_brochure.pdf.

And we have a winner!

What fun this has been to read your comments and guesses.  Perhaps every month we'll have to have a free music guessing game here at The Story Midwife.

Christine left the winning comment - Number 220!  So Christine, head over to my CD store to claim your prize: any CD of your choosing.

So what's '220', anyway?
My house number!  We are the proud owners of 220 "something" Street.  But we hope soon it will be home to someone else.  Thus, the news: We're selling our home. 

As of TODAY (January 1st) Richard moves from aproximately 12 hours a week to aproximately 30 hours a week at the Big City Church located 1.25 hours from our home. We've added up the hours on the road, the gas mileage, the auto wear and tear, and the time apart from one another, and we've decided we want to be closer. If this was a job in an office or other sort of business, we might feel differently. But there's also something about the faith community that pulls us there.  While I struggle greatly with Church in general and with this particular church, I am also aware of the gifts I receive from this community. And I hope the ways I show up and offer myself is Gift as well. For us, giving and receiving more fully means not traveling 2.5 hours round trip to be present in person.

And so the ripping out of carpet and laying carpet and refinishing hardwood floors and painting and curtain-hanging and wood pellet stove scrubbing ensues.

Our home is a lovely old turn-of-the-century, 2-story, 2500+ square foot home with hardwood floors, built-in floor-to-ceiling bookcases, two clawfoot bathtubs, a 3-season knotty pine porch, and a custom-made music/video studio that overlooks the hills of Iowa dotted with our neighbor's sheep. It's breathtaking. And we have loved it so much. 

Saying goodbye will be challenging. But as I have cleaned and sanded and refinished the hardwood floors of our bedroom I have prayed that we might gift someone with this home.  It's been a healing abode for us and I wish this sort of deep healing for another individual, couple, or family.

We invite your prayers, wishes, rituals, blessings, love, and St. Joseph plantings in this time of transition.  There are so many layers to this goodbye/hello house and community journey, and I'll share more in the days to come. I'll also unfurl the locally famous and not-so-famous stories, and show pictures, too. One sneak-peek tidbit: this space has traditionally been home to artists/musicans/naturalists folk, and was once home to Marcey Alderson, music teacher, Lutheran church organist, and local eccentric. Ther's a sentence written about him on this website.

In close, I'll offer that if you'd like to move to Strawberry Point, or are looking for a small-town getaway space, artists' retreat quarters, or a place to midwife your own stories, we've got the house for you!  And all for under $80,000 US.  Yes, really. (Small town living comes with the smaller cost of living price tag, after all.) If you'd like to dream more, email me: [email protected].

For now, sweet dreams and goodnight blessings,
Trish,
The Story Midwife

It's a Game!

So, I have some news to share. 

But rather than just share it outright I thought we'd play a little game.  As of right this very minute, my little blog has 215 comments.  There is a number - very close to 215 - that is intimately associated with my news.  When the comments reach this number, I'll announce the news.

But wait!  There's more!

The lucky poster of the yet unknown number will be the recipient of any CD of their choice from my online music store: The River's Voice Music Store

Questions? Thoughts? Guesses?

And we're off...

The Story Midwife gets a little press

Church Marks Winter Solstice:
People light candles and walk through a labyrinth to represent the soul's journey out of darkness. 

Iowa's largest newspaper, the Des Moines Register, did a nice little write up about the Winter Solstice concert/ritual I did last week. One little tidbit that did not make it to press: just after the candlelit spiral labyrinth walk and just before the closing song the altar, home to 70-some tealight candles, caught fire. Thankfully there were just a few flames with no harm done and no one hurt.  Exciting, though. And a rather memorable way to end a darkness and light-returning celebration, me thinks.

How did you spend your evening?

Hear the Angels Sing...

Merry Christmas to you.

In the coming year, may you hear the song the angels sang at your brith.

And may you live fully into it.

Deep bows of Holy,
Trish

Under the Pink Carpet

Today I have been ripping out carpet.  It's very therapeutic.  And a very good workout, too. The pink Berber of our bedroom - installed by the folks that lived here before us - decidedly does NOT make my heart sing. But in ripping it out I've found something that does: wide-plank pine that with a little help will be stunning. So rather than slapping down new carpet as we first planned to do we will be sanding and refinishing it this week. Had I only known what treasures lay beneath the aged, pink eysore carpet!

My lesson in this:
Fear not what is underneath. For under the layers there lies the inspiration for a singing heart.

What is underneath your pink carpet today?

A Music Gift for You

Spiraling round,
Darkness abounds,
I am bringing the light.

__________________

Merry Christmas,
  Happy Hanukkah,
   Blessed Advent,
    Joyous Kwanzaa,
     Wondrous Solstice,

               to you.

To celebrate you I am offering you the gift of song. To receive your free song, please either leave a comment below, or email me at the EMAIL ME link to the left just below the picture of me smiling at you. Then, I'll send you an MP3 of the song.

Called Spiraling Round, I wrote this simple and sparse chant last winter to accompany a ritual my husband and I led some retreatants in at Prairiewoods Spirituality Center.

When I decided I wanted to gift you with this song, my amazing guitar-playing husband and I went into our studio to capture it. What you'll hear on the MP3 is the dance of Richard's guitar and my voice. It's quiet. It's simple. It's like we're sitting with you right in your own living room. So go ahead! Dance. Sing with your unique voice. Add harmony. Play your drum or your pots and pans. Change the words, if you wish. Light a candle. Take some deep breaths. Let it lull you to sleep.

Why would I do this, you may ask? It's a rich and full season we are in. For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, we are experiencing shorter and shorter days. You may know that I am in love with darkness. In the midst of this darkening time we hear all around us the buzz of the winter holidays - many of which include stories of brightness of light. It can be disorienting. It can also stretch us to find the Sacred in the midst of all of it. In any way I can I want to offer blessings of hope and mystery for these days of intensity.

Over the next year I hope to be writing a book of rituals with accompanying chants (in the vein of Metta Chanting Circle) which will include a different arrangement and recording of this song.

I'd be remiss if I didn't also mention that this is one of our 5 year-old son's favorite songs. Last year on the Winter Solstice we called several friends and family members to sing them this song. He gets into it with full voice and drum - announcing his "Lightness" to anyone who will listen (or might just be strolling through the neighborhood). Consider calling your dear ones to sing Spiraling Round quietly in their ears.

However, wherever, and with whomever you mark this season, whether it is the Light or the Darkness that most calls to you, I bless you.

Finally, I wish to thank Christine at The Sacred Art of Living who has been clearing out her books and giving them away to her faithful blog readers. (I was a happy recipient! Thank you so much, Christine!) She was part of the inspiration for my own giveaway.

And thanks to Kashfia at Stock Xchng for the incredible picture above.

With blessings and deep bows,
Trish
The Story Midwife

Calling All Poets

I learned about the challenge below on This Mom's blog. I've already got poetic lines curling around my ears and heart. Consider yourself invited to spin lines of poetry, too.

I find this especially meaningful in light of today's report from the Iraq Study Group, about which I just heard on NPR. While listening, I also listened in on this story on Here and Now about Dr. Abdul Sattar Jawad, a former newspaper editor in Iraq and a dean at a Baghdad university. He's now teaching at Duke as part of the Scholars at Risk program, where he is researching T.S. Eliot and translating Shakesperean sonnets into Arabic.

Dr. Jawad speaks of how poerty is very close to him now and quotes a line of Eliot's The Wasteland, and brings it home to the Tigris river, which, he says, "is no more singing. It is, you see, sweating oil and tar, and you see the bodies of the tortured and murdered people floating in the river.

"I'm longing - living in nostalgia - to see my country, my Baghdad rising up again... We have to terminate this cycle of violence and hate."

Take a listen.

Sigh.

And if you choose to write a poem for the Iraqi people (whether or not you choose to submit), I'd love to know.  And perhaps we can share our works on the Story Midwife gallery.

__________________________________________

The Challenge: Write a poem for the Iraqi People, something that you want to express to their citizens.

Deadline:  Extended to May 2007

Who: Anyone, any age can write a poem and submit it to be included into The Gift of Words: Poetry for the Iraqi People

Fruition: Poems will be translated in Arabic, put into a booklet and sent to Iraq.

Gift of Words, c/o Cynthia Bryant- Poet Laureate of Pleasanton, PO Box 520, Pleasanton, CA 94566 or [email protected]  if you do have email. Be sure to include your contact information and age (if you like).