Approaching Earth : Lord Baldwin's Bold Poetry in Motion.

It is not the first time I am excited to write a review of Chester Baldwin's musical talents. The skilled songwriter and pianist has added another album to his series of musical works, this one entirely instrumental, titled " Approaching earth". The album caught my attention right away because of the beauty of its imagery, the poetry with which the music is imbued, saturated even. There are hints of Yanni's energy and passion, of deep melancholy and reflection. I found myself closing my eyes to appreciate better the nuances of the melodies. I also felt hints of Pink Floyd, which I think would not be easy to achieve. Now, mind you, Chester Baldwin is a very verbal person. His songs are carefully thought out and crafted ballads, stories. It was a bold move to put out an album that is entirely instrumental. As an artist, to take a chance like that takes vision and courage. The opening instrumental " Approaching earth ", is beautiful. All the instrumental songs have poetic titles that encourage the listener to open up his or her mind to the mood of the artist. "Spec - 67" and "Coming back" evoke waltz like movements and invite meditation. The whole album is infused with a spiritual longing, perhaps for a better world, for peace in these troubled times. The music of this album is perfect to listen to outside at a good volume, on a clear, bright and starry night. I also felt the urge to move with  the music, to create a choreography, to move like a dancer would in a ballet. There is something very relaxing about all the songs, something very personal, yet universal that inspires a gentle sense of hope. The album feels like a story. I hope that Chester is thinking of a part two to this intriguing musical interlude, one where his voice tells the story of his poetic exploration of the universe he shares here boldly and fearlessly, outside of the comfort zone of his iconic ballads that are very concrete and very grounded in daily life and its challenges. In "Approaching earth", Chester Baldwin steps outside himself, his world, and reflects on the larger picture out there, beyond the sky and stars, a daring move, not every artist is confident enough to take. But Lord Baldwin did. Successfully so. The album is lyrical, precise, touching, reflective, technically well done. If you had a hard, frustrating day, quiet yourself and your surroundings and listen to "Approaching earth". You will be transported to a different, beautiful, peaceful world.    

Ni hablar De la Suegra : Pope Francis and his message of hope

It seems these days the world is becoming increasingly polarized. There is an air of both blissful indifference and wanton abuse of the environment, the poor, the unfortunate and there are few voices out there among world leaders that bother. Pope Francis is a welcome and bold exception. If an alien civilization were to watch us from space somewhere, they would breathe a sigh of both relief and appreciation for the pontiff 's fearless approach to the huge problems of inequality and violence that are darkening our planet. The humanitarian tragedy of the millions of Syrian refugees fleeing a seemingly endless and brutal civil war in their country is reason enough to be concerned. So is the posturing and hesitation on behalf of well to do countries worldwide who show an attitude of chilling indifference. The fact that worldwide the poor are getting poorer, and the rich are getting richer, even in the US, is very disturbing, and the circus the election of 2016 is already turning into, is not cause for reassurance. The visit of Pope Francis to the US added a sudden feel of hope and warmth, a desire to be inspired by the pontiff 's humility and positive energy, his willingness to speak unpleasant truths and to call for humanity, for compassion and kindness, for generosity by the well to do, for tolerance, for peace, for cooperation, all virtues that seem to be slipping from the world stage. It was good to see that the concert for Global Citizen awareness coincided with the Pope's visit here. The internal politics of strife, narrow mindedness and selfishness that are dominating the news here the last years are very discouraging to the younger generation. The old guard seems to want to turn the clock back to a time when there were no civil rights for women, minorities, the poor and the elderly. We seem to have gone backwards to a despicable time when the wealthy were convinced that if you were poor or mistreated or infirm, it was because you were too stupid to be otherwise. Pope Francis is a wonderful reminder that Christ said to take care of the poor and the infirm, the weak, the disenfranchised. A whole different brand of so called Christians are trying to turn compassion and fairness on its head in favour of a tyrannical and cynical philosophy of might is right, and whoever disagrees is my enemy, very much like dictatorial regimes. Tyrannical regimes have no sense of humour, no nuance. They rule by fear, by force. It is not very hopeful that some of the elements in our own Congress seem to favour that approach. How unsavory and embarrassing. Which brings to mind the pontiff 's great and nuanced sense of humour. His empathy with family life is telling : "... A veces los platos se van volando. Los ninos traen dolores de cabeza, y ni hablar de la suegra ! ", " ... Sometimes dishes will go flying, children can bring headaches, and let's not talk about mother in laws !" That kind of humanity, that kind of ability as a world religious leader who inspires people to be kinder, gentler, fairer, while at the same time staying in touch with the reality of every day life is precisely what makes his words, his message so hopeful, so feasible in spite of overwhelming odds. Pope Francis is one of those rare human beings who makes you want to be a better person, who makes people believe they each on an individual basis can and should make a difference. I think the temperature of all of our hearts here warmed several degrees while the pontiff was here, and I think it dropped significantly when he returned to Vatican City. One journalist, a woman, said she felt Pope Francis was so effective in reaching people with his message because he is  ruled by his heart and thus, he is free. Ruled by the heart. I can only hope the condition is contagious for all those who were blessed by the pontiff 's presence, prayer, words, love and kindness. Perhaps like the Grinch's heart, his influence will grow the world's heart a size or two bigger. Greed, power, selfishness, cruelty and brutality are shrinking our planet's heart and soul at an alarming rate. Pope Francis knows it and is doing everything he can to cure our world of a deadly epidemic of stone cold numbness and indifference.  We are signing our own doom if we let the fires in our hearts, our capacity for compassion, courage and fairness, go dormant and die.   

Mighty Rivers

I grew up near the ocean. Its sounds are a part of my soul and heart. After having lived in Texas 10 years as a college student, I am glad to be living in the Pacific Northwest these last 27 years. One of my favorite places to visit each year is the Oregon Coast, specifically Cannon Beach which my husband and I discovered through a friend of his when our son was just 9 months old. He is 23 now, and we just got back from a very relaxed week there. I never tire of the enchanting place, with its dramatic coastline and iconic Haystack Rock. I always come back from our time at Cannon Beach feeling refreshed, recharged. The road there from Olympia is interesting to me, because it allows us to cross over the mighty Colombia River. I recently read a fascinating article in the latest National Geographic Magazine about the Congo River, another one of earth's giants among waterways. The Congo Basin encompasses an area half the United States. The DRC government does not harness the river's enormous hydro - electric possibilities and so the river is used as cargo transport for overloaded outdated barges that become even more burdened and dangerous by the addition of up to 600 passengers that spend up to 8 months reaching various destinations in Central Africa. I envisioned one of these large precarious barges on the Colombia River, as we passed through Astoria, a town that bears witness to the wealth the river and the lumber business brought to the area in the 19th century, as is still evidenced by the dozens of Victorian mansions that litter the hills above the river. Seen from above, our earth must always be bearing witness to the importance of its mighty rivers. The Congo, the Nile, the Mekong, the Yangtze, the Yellow River, the Amazon, the Orinoco, the Colombia, the Mississippi, to just name the ones that stick out in my mind. I thought how my father would have loved to cross the Astoria bridge spanning over the Colombia River into Oregon, how he would have been fascinated by the history of the lumber being carried across this giant. He was fascinated by the history of this young country, and I miss his knowledge and input on these matters. It was his birthday yesterday, he would have been 85, and I thought it was appropriate he was so strongly on my mind. I owe my thirst for travel and history, for learning to him. I smiled at the thought also that he was not too keen on beaches and oceans, too crowded and commercial for him. But it is nice to think he would have made an exception for Cannon Beach, as long as he got to glimpse the power of the Colombia River, and got to share with me all he knew about the Mississippi River that so intrigued him as he showed me the books he surely would have bought about the history of the Colombia and the towns it winds itself through.

The Ladder

Summer is at its end, you can hear it leaving
in the muffled sounds of the breeze and birds.
The sun becomes soft in the shadows it creates
gentle in the steps it guides across the yard.

Autumn comes with a heavy heart.
It never gets easier to let go of summer's butterflies
and brightly colored flowers and skies.
My smile hovers like a dizzy bee past the last hot star.
 

I notice that the shadow of my steps hit the ground
before my feet do, on the invisible ladder before me
that life unfolds each and every day, as I struggle
to see the way up and out of the maze around my eyes.

I hear the sound of my shoes echo like water waves
across my mind, as I reach and touch beyond the line
that crosses from yesterday to tomorrow,
a soft chalk path across my beating heart.


Trudi Ralston.
September 16th, 2015.

 

The Sheer Imperfection that is me.

Warm like this morning's breeze our hearts breathe quietly
as the Blue Jays in the garden feast on sunflower heads and seeds.
I watch you sleep, sunk deep into our pillows, your closed eyes
a million miles away from my smile.

I walk outside, and inhale the sun's first rays, as sweet bird songs
follow my footsteps across the yard.
Spiders scramble for cover as I loosen their threads to prevent
harm to the bees and dragonflies.

Faerouz's powerful voice rings through my silence and I think
of you, and the sheer imperfection that is me.

Transparent like the liquid blue of the sky above me
there is no way to hide the wounds and scars that I wear
like a bullet proof vest as you reach for me and try
to touch my proud, torrential heart.

Faerouz's melodious words carry my soul where my steps
can't walk and I feel light in spite of these heavy wings
that scrape along my path, and I know that you see
right through the sheer, bright imperfection that is me.

But you hold my hand anyway, and even though you are not sure
and I am not sure, you push away the spider silk that follows me
like a cloak and covers this burning, clear, so sheer imperfection
that is me.

Trudi Ralston.
September 12th, 2015.
For Michael. 

L'Ombre

L'ete s' echappe avec chacque coucher du soleil,
pendant que la chaleur du jour danse encore
autour d'un ciel dormilon.

Un vent doux accumule la poussiere de nos jours
et nos sourires, lentement, une chanson dans son haleine.
Les etoiles brillent sur le ritme de nos reves.

Ton bonjour lointain traverse la terre,
temoin de la technologie geniale qui nous entoure,
et ce bonjour me suit comme une ombre.

La pluie soulage le soif des oiseaux et animaux de la foret,
cela fait plaisir d'entendre leur chanson et delire.
L'automne annonce ses contours et couleurs chauds.

Et comme est l'ame des ombres,
ton ombre me suit en silence,
et me rapelle notre amitie.

Qui se balance entre le passe et ce qui reste du futur
encerclant la danse de la vie qui nous cherche comme
un air de violon dans les mots de mes poemes.

Et comme est l'ame des ombres,
on ne peut toucher son coeur,
qui avec chacque pas se cache dans ce qui reste de la lumiere.


Trudi Ralston.
September 9th, 2015.
Pour D. O.