A Garden in Mind

If you saw something beautiful in a garden that you wanted, would you want to take it home for yourself knowing that it would begin dying the day you took it for yourself?

How different things could be if understanding patience, love and faith would show that if you allowed that something beautiful to grow that it might bear fruit and seed to ride with the wind and become a garden at whatever good earth you had for it.

Yet, how is it that people make promises of their goodness and yet never are generous or are sparingly so., conditionally so... What flower thrives better cut from it roots? What flower delights in meeting with garden scissors and looks forward to sitting in rooms that have no sunshine?

Just some thoughts milling through my mind to consider for tomorrow's show on "Romancing LA".

JNET

I'd Rather Dance Alone

Why does it sometimes have to feel like a battle to be myself?

I took some time to step into the sunshine only to meet with gunfire.

I had no idea that there was a war going on. I didn't know there was something terribly wrong that needed some righting.

The terribly wrong thing is my not being tied and gagged into a romantic relationship. That "something wonderful" that is being wished on me is that certain romance that I am willing to give up my music, my writing and my dance studies so that I can enjoy being a portable, adaptable all-inclusive entertainment system and put my personal therapist skills to "real" use. I would love to welcome a romance but don't see any point in entering the gates of love via uninspiring berating.

Is that the way of the world and I am totally off step?

Are people being successful at love through guilt trips, emotional shake downs and manipulative seductions?

Geez... I have been MISSING OUT being single. I've been having so much fun with my piano, my friends, family and rehearsals and practices that I had no idea what I was missing out in. I somehow thought that love was that special something that inspires you want to share everything about yourself with and not edit or closet or shut down the things that make you happy.

Is it just me or am I the only one who won't enter "loving" relationships via the guilt boat?

Happy sailing.

JNET

In Between the Silence

There is only music.

Resting takes up more time that I'd like to afford. My attempts at calming down my life seems meager. Life keeps singing and my moments of silence are melodies at pianissimo.

Living is a daily destruction and construction.

A forced bedrest in the hospital taught me to be more mindful of my limits. I am also more mindful of keeping unhealthy though sometimes well meaning distractions at a distance. Unless the tension is interesting and inspiring, I have no space for random dissonance.

Luna's unexpected death into the sonata of the season tore my heart out. She was a song that branded herself on any soul that crossed her path. In a world that seems to be busy in the tuning phase before a show, it was refreshing to make a friend that felt warmed up to the world and just put her voice out there.

I felt I was able to understand her after a few bars. Maybe that is just the way it is.. you hear someone clearly when they make themselves clear to you.

Or maybe her melody was beautiful because I listened.

Luna's was the fourth death in my world.

Kay's passing last year forced me into the position of being the messenger delivering the news of her death to her family. She was a quiet old style Hollywood veteran and my former neighbor who's song was cabaret style. Her passing though sad was celebrated in color. She had lived a full life.

Then there was S's mother who fell ill while he was preparing for his doctoral recital. I helped him pack his mother's things with him when she was hospitalized. He never fretted about his upcoming concert and my heart went out to him as he stood on his strength to look after his mother.... an only child about to say goodbye to his only world of family. I was there for his violin recital and was moved... and then more moved that he immediately left to return to the hospital to be at his mother's side. He only cried after she died.

Meanwhile D's dad made his final hospital visit... the one he was to not return home from. D commuted from Los Angeles to San Diego every weekend for several months. His dad was ready and was preparing a family that only wished for recovery. A family was bonded by the mindful preparations and conversations which extended to a community of friends and extended family. D's father had a hero's funeral; a procession that was presidential.

I'm seeing that strength and vulnerability is a profound harmony made of passion and love.

And when Luna passed away this week, she wasn't the neighbor, a friend's mother or father... she was a friend... someone who shared her thoughts with me and I could trust mine with her. She extended herself to me and programmed me into her phone and then called me right away to make sure I wasn't going to disappear into the oblivion of acquaintances that come and go.

In between the silence... there is only music..

Music that breathes and sings... sighs and rests. Sometimes there are notes that just wring your heart and flatten you... and yet... there's always a return to rising up again.

JNET

Belinda (Luna) Bach 1979-2007