The Funeral

A few days ago my husband and I attended the funeral of a neighbour who together with her husband and their family have been living next door of us ever since we moved to our house 26 years ago. The funeral was a celebration of our neigbour's life, of her devotion to her family and her faith. There were flowers everywhere, pink lilies and pink roses, surrounding the beautiful white coffin at the viewing, at the altar and near the refreshment table at the entrance. There was a spirit of optimism in the face of loss, a focus on the abundance of family, friends, on the comfort and strength faith gives at times like these. I have lost a lot of family, so the emphasis and presence of so much family with children, grandchildren, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles, cousins, nephews made an impact. The songs were uplifting, as was the message of love and connections beyond death and loss. I was deeply moved.
It got me to think about the importance of ritual in our lives, of how rituals help us accept the profound mystery that is the human predicament. I was raised a Catholic, and still remember the strong scent of the incense during mass, the richly embroidered robes of the priests during important religious holidays, like Easter Sunday. This funeral was LDS, and I loved the emphasis of family, on families meeting again in the heavenly realms. I learned about Hinduism and Buddhism from friends in college and friends on the path of life after college. I remember being profoundly impressed when attending a Jewish synagogue, so rich in its intellectual and historical depth. I remember Muslim friends of mine in graduate school speak with deep devotion about the Koran. All major religions are steeped in traditions,in rituals to maintain and celebrate these traditions and their attachment to convictions about life and death. I have been a member of a black Baptist church for over 20 years, I go long stretches in between church visits, but each time I go back, I am deeply moved by the soul moving beauty, depth, and mystical power the music and energy and joy creates. It is always a powerful, life affirming spiritual experience. I am a spiritual person who finds nourishment for my soul in being close to nature, in solitude, in the restorative power of prayer in the quiet of my heart.
I am also an agnostic, very much aware of a healthy dose of suspicion towards a belief system that denounces intelligence in exchange for blind faith, which in extreme cases of course leads to the dissolution of the separation between church and state, like what is happening with extreme Islam now, and extreme Christian fundamentalists, who reject scientific facts and findings such as evolution and global climate change. Blind faith tied to extremism leads to horrific crimes, of war and genocide in the name of perverted and twisted convictions. But this funeral was serene and very beautiful, very heart warming. I realized that it does not matter that we as humans have doubts about the meaning of our existence on this earth, with its challenges and heartbreaks, its cruelties, its wars and horrible diseases, with poverty, addictions and despair and hunger. Religion and its faith are a way to come to terms with all of that, some more enthusiastically than others. To me, as one who is interested in the spiritual process and its ability to enhance compassion and kindness in the best of cases, but not blind to the weaknesses and abuses of organized religions,spiritual rituals are fascinating. We celebrate births, baptisms, marriages, even death, in so many different ways depending on our churches. Whether all there truly believe in these rituals seems unimportant to me. To me what fascinates me is the phenomenon, is the fact that we try. And I think the most beautiful expressions of these rituals and their context are often seen in those with a healthy dose of skepticism. It is our vulnerability as humans, spiritually, that keeps us sincere, strong, wise and loving. And that makes sure we do not become arrogant and dangerously judgmental about matters of faith. because when we do, we show a most despicable part of our hearts and beings. And when we stay humble and open minded, we show the best and most hope giving part of ourselves, the part of our being that transcends and connects us all in a loving, inclusive way. 

The Sopranos

I had heard of course of the well known and highly praised series " The Sopranos", but somehow had never taken the time to watch any of the episodes. I am not sure what prompted me to change my mind 8 years after the series final season. Perhaps it was James Gandolfini's untimely death, perhaps it was just curiosity after hearing so much about the series from other people. I guess I finally decided I wanted to make up my own mind. I am about halfway through the 6 season series, and I am fascinated. There must be thousands of movies about the Mafia out there, but the genius of James Gandolfini capturing the complexity of human nature when it comes to nuances in good and evil is completely mesmerizing. The tension the search for balance creates in the Tony Soprano character as a Mafia boss so flawlessly and precisely portrayed by James Gandolfini is sheer brilliance. He is not a mindless brute bent on power and wealth, he is a complicated, highly intelligent, highly intuitive man with a master's touch for strategy and leadership. He is ruthless with his enemies, and kind and generous with his family and friends. People fear him, but they also love him and want to be loved by him. The sessions with his psychiatrist, played so exactly by Lorraine Bracco, are really, really interesting. His complex and infuriating relationship with his mother gets all of our sympathy, so does his endless effort to come to terms with his love for his wife and his appetite for volatile girlfriends. Tony Soprano is larger than life. His robust physical presence only enhances his charisma, furthering the conviction this man can shoulder anything ,and he does. You root for the guy, you want his redemption, you want to see him walk away from his criminal enterprises intact, a new man, wiser, stronger , kinder. At this point, I do not know if that happens, but I sure hope so. It is always tempting to view the Mafia as clear cut evil doers, but this series completely disarms any notions of preconceived conclusions. One of my favorite characters is Tony Soprano's wife, Carmela, played by Edie Falco. Carmela is a resourceful, strong, patient, kind and decisive mother and spouse, who constantly tries to focus on the good in her husband, without surrendering her own identity. She fights for their son and daughter, for happiness, for dignity, even for the inconvenience of the truth in her marriage, in her social standing. She wants her children to be free of the dangers of the life her husband is involved in and so does her husband. Their marriage is complex, and again, you want them to succeed, for each other, for their children. The stress the duality creates in Tony Soprano when it comes to his illicit business and criminal life is very believable. You see him having panic attacks, you see him lose his temper in anguish and frustration, you hear him talking to his therapist, you see him at home, with his wife and children, trying  to make sense out of the chaos he is surrounded by on a daily basis and that he fiercely tries to shield from his family. His struggles are totally believable, you feel you are in his shoes the way he is able to so closely reveal his heart and soul. I am thoroughly enjoying the Sopranos marathon I am finally indulging in. There are also brilliant touches of humour, which only enhance the humanity of the story regardless of the often ruthless context and circumstances. 

La Goutte D' eau

Doux et chaud, le temps passe, passager muet
sur le chemin avec ses fleurs et arbres qui accumulent les heures de notre vie.
Le soleil et le vent taquinent les araignees sur leurs ponts dansants.

Tu restes la, dans un coin deguise de mes yeux,
imagine, reel, perdu, present, riant, soupirant.
Je te touche avec les doigts de mes reves,
ou coulent les rivieres de mes espoirs.

Chacun dans son coin du monde, ton haleine le ciel
ou on se retrouve dans les machines du futur.
Comme la goutte d'eau sur le rocher lui penetre,
le dessin de ton voyage sur cette terre laisse sa signature
a cote de la mienne, a cote du mystere du destin.

La distance un ritme dans notre tete, le parcours ou
on pourrait se trouver se vide comme un desert mort et perdu.

Je mange la goutte d'eau comme tu bois le sable
qui s'accumule entre nos pieds, tetu et dur.

Trudi Ralston.
October 5th, 2015.
Pour D. O. 

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.