Start Where You Are the book rests on the hard floor in front of me. My knees are up high as I sit cross legged; I’m cold, stiff and uncomfortable – but I want to learn to meditate. I want to be good again, so I sit.
The brass bell on my grandma’s table rings. I get up part happy to be rescued part mad to be disturbed. The dual emotion has become familiar in my caregiving life. I am so happy to be able to help, so mad everyone else has abandoned us.
I bend down as if I’m going to hug my grandma. She wraps her arms around me as if we are lovers. In the moment we share our love. The heat and softness between us melts all emotions. She pulls up I wrap my arm around her back and grab the canvas belt around her middle. She swings her legs round, I steady her and reach for her shoes.
Mallets muster between thumb and finger
Two in each hand
One is up the other down
Each hand walking, jumping, dancing like two feet
For a minute the whole room is trans
Big brass timpani warps sound under the precise pressure of his hand
then his stick
now a mallet.
The timpani an under utilized instrument in my opinion.
Da dat da dat boo boo melts into a lullaby
The boot steps on the box
bringing it alive with the sense a sizer
Tabla timpani raga
Now the vibes collide
I have a feeling there is the beat I can hear and feel
and a beat unstruck that drives these two
Here comes his heartbeat
Hands and feet takes all to make the beat
Music the mind outloud
Music the mind on display
A third steps into this old couple – a little awkward at first. Not long until it melds
glances stares, smiles and nods direct the piece
Too fast at first then we breathe
He lingers at the drum then moves to the marimba – not wanting to lose touch as he moves from one lover to another
Then the tabla talked
Clammy cold skin, thick cool air; I drive remembering this sensation. After a hot muggy day at the river my skin was full of sun and the humidity was wrapped around me like saran wrap. But, as the sun would set the cool air would descend from the trees and summer’s gentle breeze would work away the sticky feeling of the day.
After dinner on the screened in porch, there was time to enjoy the night air; to chase fireflies, to sit on a stump. If we were lucky grandpa would play the guitar or dance a jig.
Sticky skin gave way to goose bumps and one by one we drifted into the cabin and crawled into the feather bed roll away. Sweet dreams ahead.
Mamma cows cry
out for weened calves
Coyotes yipping like
puppies across the ridge.
Fire crackles as the
flames dance higher.
A chorus of frogs
accompany us fireside.
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how did you do that?
nap seems cool
remember – life is not a test
all is good @ last
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hold onto the moment.
meet in the middle
hold onto the moment.
Slip your mask back on
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