Somehow it seems auspicious that there was a blue moon on the last night of the last year of a blue decade - a decade that burst open like a boil and gave us eight years to stew in its seepage. This slow and cantankerous decade was more of a wilted finish to the last millennium than a bright beginning to this third batch of thousand years. I'm still not sure what it will be called: the "oughts," the "naughts" or maybe the "ought nots."
What if it hadn't happened? What if this decade somehow slid into a wrinkle on our time/space fabric and vanished from our collective radar screen? What if there hadn't been a 9/11? An Abu Graib? An accelerated meltdown of the polar icecaps outpaced only by the meltdown of our global financial system? Was this the decade that ought not have happened?
It feels like we were the drunk driver, our head pounding while we stepped out of a mangled car, yelling at the tree on the side of the road for getting in our way. At first the pain shocked us. Then we followed up with blustering bravado defending what got us there in the first place. After our tired, hoarse cries softened in the darkness, a quiet murmur of sobriety rose within. Maybe this collision, frightening but not fatal, was the wake up call we needed.
Nature reminds us that death is an essential part of birth. Every leaf dies into the soil and nurtures growth of a new plant. Every day dies into night and every night dies into a new day. Change is the only constant, and change is simply a series of beginnings and endings, births and deaths.
The last decade ushered in the death of an unprecedented number of illusions: the illusion that American soil was safe from foreign attack, that our financial system was inherently sound, that no US city could suffer massive devastation born from natural disaster and government mismanagement, that we could fuel a lifestyle of consumption with unlimited access to petroleum...the list goes on, and these are only a handful from the stack. Out of the rubble of fallen dreams, we stumbled through the stages of grief: from shock and denial to anger, followed by depression and detachment. Some of us teetered between depression and bargaining, while others moved to acceptance, and recognition that the gift of this decade of goose eggs is that we've got to break what we have in order to make the most of it. We can't make an omelet without cracking the egg, and we've certainly seen the crashing of our carton of eggs.
So on December 31, 2009, when the month generously offered the second of two full moons closing a decade of double zeros, I couldn't help but feel hopeful about the turn of the clock, the faithful push of time.
Feels like our new decade of ten and teens will call on its inherent adolescent rebelliousness and free itself from old ideas that no longer serve. This is the decade of birthing new dreams and creating new models for living and loving, for understanding our relationship to each other and the planet. Our survival depends on it. Stakes this high demand the best from us and I already see the best on the rise: individuals and organizations around the planet cultivating a new awareness, developing new technologies and new approaches that are fundamentally changing how we interact with each other at a personal level, as a community, as a society, and ultimately as a planet.
So here's a toast to all of us, every single one of us, because each of us has an important part to play in this shift, in loving our planet enough to rise to our highest self and bring forth the brightest vision yearning to come through us. May this new year and new decade welcome our most brilliant and inspired expression yet - our future depends on it.
Blue Moon, New Year
Change
On the night of November 4, we experienced a historic and powerful moment: the election of the first African-American to the nation’s highest office. The significance of this event crests beyond our country’s borders and floods across oceans and continents. From New York city to Caracas, from Selma to Cairo, we have witnessed how the ideals that founded our country remain alive and vibrant. Equality, liberty, justice and the pursuit of happiness, while not always perfectly nor fully expressed, are still honored as the precious cornerstones that define the United States. Although much of our behavior on the world stage has cast doubt on the authenticity of our beliefs, our choice as a nation to elect Barack Obama shows the planet that while our actions may sometimes fall short, our vision and intentions remain high. "We hold these truths to be self evident” that we, as a nation, have the capacity to grow and change in order to uphold the inspired vision of our founders.
So three days after the election we hold our collective breath with excitement and hope, projecting a collage of possibilities onto the new president and his administration. What is he going to do to bring about the change he promised? What actions will he and his cabinet take to heroically rescue us from a storm of wars, an economic meltdown and a planet gasping under the weight of human mismanagement? These questions loom not only for the citizens of the US, but for the citizens of our global community. We can sit on the sidelines and observe with distant fascination, like spectators at a grueling sporting event, or we can take a step forward and recognize that the change required to overcome these challenges will come only if each one of us goes forth with the same will and effort we seek from our leaders.
Instead of asking Barack Obama and his administration, I turn the questions to each one of us: What are we doing to make a difference? How are we being of service? Are we fostering unity over divisiveness? Are our choices fueled by fear or love? Are we motivated by possibility or limitation? Let’s step into this new era not waiting for the knight in shining armor to rescue us, but knowing that each one of us is responsible for the transformation. As the Hopi elders remind us, we are the ones we have been waiting for.
So three days after the election we hold our collective breath with excitement and hope, projecting a collage of possibilities onto the new president and his administration. What is he going to do to bring about the change he promised? What actions will he and his cabinet take to heroically rescue us from a storm of wars, an economic meltdown and a planet gasping under the weight of human mismanagement? These questions loom not only for the citizens of the US, but for the citizens of our global community. We can sit on the sidelines and observe with distant fascination, like spectators at a grueling sporting event, or we can take a step forward and recognize that the change required to overcome these challenges will come only if each one of us goes forth with the same will and effort we seek from our leaders.
Instead of asking Barack Obama and his administration, I turn the questions to each one of us: What are we doing to make a difference? How are we being of service? Are we fostering unity over divisiveness? Are our choices fueled by fear or love? Are we motivated by possibility or limitation? Let’s step into this new era not waiting for the knight in shining armor to rescue us, but knowing that each one of us is responsible for the transformation. As the Hopi elders remind us, we are the ones we have been waiting for.
Istanbul Dusk
Turkey
It's hard to put words to my experience in Turkey. It's akin to squeezing the sky through a keyhole. How can I translate a multisensory, heart stretching journey into the linear, limited container of words and sentences? Most likely the experience will be transmuted and birthed into song, melodies lifting like fragrances under the dusk silhouette of an Istanbul skyline and the chorus of calls to prayer.
Historically, I've been a truant in the world of photography. I may go as far as packing a camera, and if prompted, I can even carry it on my person. I rarely, though, pull it out. I'm too consumed by the experience to think of extracting myself from the moment to capture it on camera. I show up late to the picture, waylaid by what I see. I mention this now because on this sojourn to Turkey, I leaned on the camera as an ally in framing a world that extended far beyond what I had previously known.
I posted pictures in this journal before attempting to write anything down. Still, these pictures contain just a tiny fraction of the whole...one pomegranate seed plucked from the ripe and bursting fruit.
The idea for this trip blossomed as an invitation from Kabir and Camille Helminski. After a series of exquisitely synchronous events, I found myself on the California coast writing songs with Lisa Ferraro and Kabir Helminski based on the poetry of 13th century mystic poet/philosopher Jelaladin Rumi. Although he lived nearly 800 years ago, Rumi's transcendent heart and expansive vision make him profoundly relevant today. So much so, that he currently is the best selling poet in the US. Kabir and Camille were the first to translate and publish his work in the West. Being able to connect and collaborate with them was like finding the wise mountain guides who not only know the best trail to the peak, but also delight in the wonder of each flower along the path, the shifting colors of the leaves, the way light dances through the limbs of a tree.
Lisa and I met Kabir at a conference last November (Circle of Love). Within fifteen minutes of meeting we wrote the first of what became an eleven song collection. The songs arrived as gifts. After the first song was completed, we ended up composing the other ten over two separate weekends. Somewhere towards the end of the first weekend of songwriting, the possibility of collaborating with Turkish musicians in the land of Rumi started taking shape. With over thirty years of traveling to Turkey, Kabir and Camille have an extensive circle of friends and family and the likelihood of being able combine our Western contemporary style songs with traditional Turkish instruments seemed temptingly possible.
So less than a month ago I found myself on a plane bound for Istanbul. We arrived, Lisa and I, with the unique intoxication born from the exhaustion of transcontinental travel and the excitement of discovery. I had never before been to Asia and arriving at this particular geographic juncture that hinges Europe to the Middle East left my imagination wide open. I had no expectations, no point of reference.
Kindness. Beauty. A cultural delta where Western modernism and Eastern tradition blur. Tea at a moment's notice. Eating bread where bread was first eaten. Holding a tulip bulb where tulips first bloomed. Did I mention kindness? We joked about escaping from the clutches of hospitality. Ladies offering sweet dates and hugs in the mosques. The deep enjoyment of food and conversation, wisdom and laughter. Music. How can you explain what it is to spend fifteen hours with musicians you have just met, having only the most minimal words in common but sharing the richest of conversations?
Look at the pictures...maybe you'll hear the songs.
Love from this side of the lens,
~Erika
Feet and stones
Silence
I've always sought out silence. As much as I love connecting and being in the vibrant buzz of people, ideas, and community, there's essential nourishment that comes from being alone and being in silence. As any artist knows, while inspiration may strike at any moment (quiet or not), the incubation of that idea and it's journey from the possible into the tangible only happens as a result quiet and space. Virgina Woolf attributed it to having a "Room of One's Own." We each create a room of our own design.
So this August, I accepted the invitation to spend ten days in silence. Ten days without reading, writing or playing music. Ten days defined by daily practice of meditation, mindfulness and a deepening awareness of consciousness. Arriving at my cushion in the meditation hall became its own kind of adventure travel: where would my mind take me this time?
The amazing thing, though, was that my mind quieted down and made room for a different kind of wisdom/experience to step forward. Being steeped in the extraordinary beauty that surrounded us - rugged mountain peaks standing watch over a valley of soft grasses, dragonflies, river stones and beaver ponds - afternoon breezes carrying the scent of pine and sage - birdsongs, cricket calls, and grasshopper hums filling the sonic landscape - all of these summoned the senses to wake up and take notice. My senses awoke to the details, to the expansiveness of my surroundings and when I sat in meditation, my "mind" opened to a broader, cellular wisdom, to the wisdom that orders the gravitation of planets and the photosynthesis of plants. I sat in awe and gratitude. I walked through the grass, palms open to the sensation of the breeze and the buds, with tears in my eyes and wide smile stretched across my face.
with Caroline Aiken-photo by Janet Hans
A Quick Travelogue
Spring gifted me with beautiful adventures that took me from the snowy peaks of Utah, to delicious dives into the crystaline waters of Flathead Lake outside in Montana. I experienced the lusciousness of the steamroom at Ammara Spa in Sandpoint, ID. Every tangled muscle and nerve end softened and melted and forgot whatever tangled it in the first place.
So many remarkable people and experiences: Waterfalls in Georgia, poems and images born from dreams and delivered in hand crafted art pieces. Laughter cascading as easily as the spring snowmelt...moving from the rockies into the steamy green of the Carolinas; Essential Selves transforming from cocoons into multi-hued butterflies; delectable meals born from knowing hands and the rich bounty of farmers' markets; and then there was Texas...and Kerrville, my maiden voyage. Thanks to the loving encouragement of Janet Hans and Rebecca Eaton and the willing company of Lane Gosnay. I got drunk on the music...served all day. Songs climbing out from under every tent and melodies nestling themselves into every fold of my being. So many extraordinary songwriters, in all shapes and sizes, styles and shades. If I wrote down the name of every one that left me inspired or moved, I might create a broadband bulge on this cyber thread. Instead, I'll offer two photos that I recently received: one of me with the Empress of Southern Groove, Caroline Aiken, and the other of me with my newly discovered musical brother, sharing both DNA of heart and spirit, Jason Luckett.