the uselessness of a rogue balloon...

It's like a rogue balloon gushing out air, or the thirsty deep cracks that form in dry desert sand, the uselessness of a Ferris wheel that quietly and motionlessly sits in the shadows surrounded by bright twinkling lights and scaling noises echoing the purpose and vitality of a carnival.   That is what a wall feels like.  The wall that you hit when you've been running a hundred miles an hour too preoccupied to realize it's coming when suddenly you realize that what you love to do, you don't love to do anymore.  That stark realization has the power to send chills of panic through an exhausted body.

  Writers have writer's block, artists go through dry spells, and musicians hit a wall, and then proceed to slide down it for a few days, weeks, months or years.   But from the other side of that realization I can see that sometimes that wall can be a sign of a healthy passion.  You don't know what you've got till it is gone, the mystery and magic of art tends to loose some of it's je ne sais quoi right when you need it the most.   At moments like that I feel it is important to step back and find fresh perspective and focus, perhaps from the base of that brick wall you just face planted. When I say that I am really compounding what I think I should know inherently.  But I guess what I am projecting out "there" is that everyone, or so I am told has moments of second guessing their calling life.   That second guessing doesn't make your passion any less real or relevant, it is simply a moment of needing a new vantage point. 

Europe- revised

It has been a long time since I've added anything to what seems to be my online diary.   Since my last thoughtful post, I have toured through Hungary, Serbia, Montenegro, I've explore Vienna and Berlin, and blitzed London only to conclude my adventure by being serenaded by the sights and sounds of Paris.  This was a dream come true, to not only travel to Europe and have my passport stamped at the gate of each new country, but also to look at this historical continent through the lens of a really decent camera.  The trip highlighted areas of strength in my character, and areas of weakness, I've fine tuned the art of packing a backpack and learned the importance of leaving things behind in order to save my behind.   The things I was able to see as we enjoyed our sample platter of European decadence ranged from an inside look at life in a small rural village outside of Novi Sad in Serbia, to fine dining on the Champs Elysee where Chanel was the suggested dress code and luxury seemed to be a currency. 

I had the opportunity to behold manuscripts of my favorite composers; seeing the squiggles of their pens and enjoying the caresses of their penmanship over lines on an aged piece of parchment was surreal.  With my own two eyes I finally saw Big Ben in all his glory on a windy day in London as double-decker buses pushed past me and hoards of tourist joyfully posed for pictures.  I felt as though London and I connected instantly, the parks and streets that exuded charm spoke to my  British heritage and brought out the Londoner in me. 

Our final stop on our epic journey was Paris.   The City charmed me in a way I can hardly put into words.    Glamorous and yet reserved, it is picturesque everywhere and begs to be photographed, drawn or painted.   The city is a live with history that lingers on every corner and allows the tourist to feel as thought they've stepped through time, or at the very least through a portal into the Parisian world viewedthrough rose colored glasses.

With so much to see and so little time to see it, Paris needs to be explored again, well, that being said so does London, Berlin and Vienna.  These cities have pulled out for me new colors and shades in life.  I now see life a little bit different having now explore such historical and important landmarks.  I ache to go back, and to spend more time in each important city.  I have a sneaking suspicion that I only scratched the surface of what is to be enjoyed in each metropolis. 

europe

I had the adventure of a life time.   I covered more ground in a month than I could have ever hoped.

I pondered as we sought out ancient churches and preserved palaces the idea of nostalgia.  We are all nostalgic in some way shape or form.  We hold onto the past by revisiting it in its various forms.  It seems as thought we have the ability to stall time for even a split second when revisit moments in history.    In Europe where everything is old and  recalls a very divers history full of moments vital to the memory of the global community and moments that were on the brink of forever being forgotten, but somehow saved and put behind glass. The movie Midnight in Paris also reflects on this idea of  revisiting a time more appealing than the one we find ourselves in now.   Maybe because this historical moments, tokens and sites are tangible and can be seen, and beheld, in a round about way, it is the only way to hold onto time.   Hmm.. europe.  You've opened pandora's box, and given me the travel bug.   

spring

The sun came out today and transformed what was once a world of white and shades of grey.   The silvery streets were soggy with melted snow that returned the glow from above.   Hope of spring's youth lingered in the air and swirled around in the trees planting promise.  Icicles became hourglasses, and snow slowly gave way to fill the fissures in the ground creating mirrors in the shapes of potholes reflecting the blissfully blue sky.   
Today was out of the ordinary, an unexpected surprise for a weary captive of winters chastisement.   For months, each day was greeted with the expectancy of freezing unfriendly air, blustery wicked winds and white capped trees cascading over icy streets. 
But today was different. It felt of something else.   The sun, bright and warm, was like spring.










 

Watch from 2:50

The Secret Life of...

I finally saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.   This has been one of my favorite movies since my grade 8 English teacher let us take up an entire two classes to watch the original with Danny Kaye.   First of all I adore Danny Kaye, he is a comedic genius and simply a fantastic actor in my books.    I have a photo of the late great actor on my wall; actually it is a still from the original movie.   I can't remember what it was I loved about the film, only that I did.  I sat in rapture of the VHS I was watching.  For those of you who aren't familiar with this archaic word, it was back in the dark ages when the tapes were about the size of a Kleenex box and as loud as generators.  I have sought to find and re-watch this movie to rekindle my affections for it, but it has proved to be difficult and/or almost impossible.   I was thrilled to hear that they were remaking this classic, and somehow I managed to miss it while it was new in theatres.  

The 2013 version of this epic story succeeded my expectations.   I don't know that is received the best reviews, but in my books it had everything I could have hoped for.  The cinematography was beautiful, the acting was great, the music...  uh. (That’s a blissful, satisfied - uh)  While watching Ben Stiller long board like a pro, I harassed my little brother with imperative remarks- instructing him to watch the film.  My little brother IS cool he pretty much defines the word.  (I may be a little biased)  He, in a lot of ways, reminds me of Ben Stiller’s character, Walter Mitty mid to post metamorphosis.   Aaron is the type of person to backpack through Europe, climb a mountain in the Himalayas, and explore the Middle East while making friends with the Bedouins, surf sand dunes in South America...he is just cool!? 

Not sure why exactly I felt compelled to share all of that but... seeing this movie makes me want to throw caution to the wind!  I feel compelled to by a plane ticket to anywhere and live a life that feeds off of new experiences and adventures.   I want to climb a mountain, and explore the outer reaches of civilization.       Uh!   If you haven't seen the movie, WATCH IT!  Find it in a theatre or wait till it comes out, whatever you have to do... just watch it.   Be inspired to be fearless. 

Beautiful things don't ask for attention - The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty. 

 

Danny Kaye as Walter Mitty <3

 

 

 

 

MEmememememe Meeee....

This year my world has been turned upside down and backwards.   Virtually every singer claims to have sung before they could talk and that it mostly true for me, however, I only fell in love with singing at the tender age of 7.  I have taken singing lessons, and sang in choirs for just as many years, however, this year the program I find myself in has redefined everything I have ever associated with this art form.  The journey, process and pilgrimage to the illustrious and fabled “professional career” or the “near-to perfection” place that it seems so many have attained, is marked with blood, sweat and tears.  The blood might be fake stage blood but blood non-the less.  

Required of a singer is self-awareness acutely attuned to minor minuscule changes to strive for the next musical landmark. Countless hours are clocked in the practice room of singing scales, repeating phrases, words and syllables in incrementally different ways.   To the untrained ear, these antics would sound like the mumblings of a crazy person.  But such is the life of a singer.  This process of perpetually seeking new achievements and accomplishments becomes an addiction because perfection is continually redefined and becomes the carrot at the end of the stick. 

At this level, everyone is exceptional, and has talent to spare.  Sadly there is an epidemic that exists and has plagued a few people and myself as of late. It is a vicious mentality which blinds and debilitates.  I don’t have sight when I look back on how far I have come and my vision is 20/20 when I see how far I have to go.  I see only how I pale in comparison to those around me, and have little patience for my mistakes.   I only share this information to shed light on this mentally that seems to affect all of us to a certain degree.  I am realizing that it begins and ends with how we allow the dialogue to go in our minds.   The reality of a singer is that there are always expectations, but there are also days when we are only able to give 60%.  A very wise teacher of mine once said that not every day will be a 100% day, so if it is only a 60% day, make it your best 60%.  We need to be kind to ourselves and recognize the hard work it has taken to get us to where we are today.  It is vitally important to have perspective on this passion and art form, and to turn down the volume of the negative thoughts we sometimes view as fuel.   A friend of mine posed the question, that if our inner dialogue came from a person, would we keep them as a friend?  

 

I may have already discussed this quote on here but it is just so good I have to remind myself of it again.  

"Comparison IS the thief of joy."   -   Theodore Roosevelt

 

Prodigal's Son

I find myself again aware of a vacancy within me, a hole that can’t seem to be filled, a desire to again feel small and for nature to feel all encompassing.  Perhaps this thirst for nature isn’t what it seems.  Maybe under a microscope I would see that it is more than a desire for escape, or a need for my problems to feel small.   Maybe upon a close examination it is simply a craving for closeness to the creator of all I see and feel around me.  There, in nature’s cathedrals, is an intimacy that in vain, many have attempted to recreate with stone and stained glass.  No matter how far I run away, I still desire the closeness of “home.”  Despite my selfish and ignorant behavior my soul still seeks the solace found in Him.  I seek it in the wilderness because it is tangible.   I can see the wind move the budding branches of the trees, and feel the sun warm my face as grass gather at my feet and cool air fills my lungs with nourishing fresh air. Why do hours of hiking and exertion seem easier to accomplish than simply opening the word? 

A Brooke Fraser song is echoing in my mind… “...the comfort of you near is what I long for, when I can’t hear you I have learn to reach out just the same, when I can’t feel you I know you still hear every word I pray…”

I fail everyday... but You never do.   You are constant, even when I define the word inconsistent.  You forgive me!