I rarely buy hardcover fiction. But I couldn’t wait for Pat Conroy’s South of Broad to come out in paperback. When listing favorite books on social network sites, I list his name along with individual titles from other authors. I can't limit my praise of him to one or two books though. Not one of his books has ever disappointed me; from the haunting beauty of The Prince of Tides, through the sorrow filled love of Beach Music, to the rollicking determination of My Losing Season, each is spellbinding, lyrical, and so full of honest emotion you feel all of the sweat, all of the brokenness, all of the beauty . He writes like a fresh young fighter full of testosterone jolted cockiness that is the armor for the fast beating heart that fears failure ~ no holds barred. His way with words makes me ashamed to call myself a writer.
This is on page one of the prologue;
“I carry the delicate porcelain beauty of Charleston like the hinged shell of some soft-tissued mollusk. My soul is peninsula shaped and sun-hardened and river-swollen. The high tides of the city flood my consciousness every day, subject to the whims and harmonies of full moons rising out of the Atlantic. I grow calm when I see the ranks of palmetto trees pulling guard duty on the banks of Colonial Lake or hear the bells of St. Michael’s calling cadence in the cicada-filled trees along Meeting Street…I consider it a high privilege to be a native of one of the loveliest American cities, not a high-kicking, glossy, or lipsticked city, not a city with bells on its fingers or brightly colored toenails, but a ruffled, low-slung city, understated and tolerant of nothing mismade or ostentatious.”
And on page four you are hit with a sucker punch, ripping you from the sweet beauty of the city. It is here we first learn of our characters ~ of a father who "treated the stars as though they were love songs written to him by God", and a mother who "once wrote a citique of Richard Ellman's biography of James Joyce for the New York Review of Books", an older brother who "had a natural way about him that appealed to the higher instincts of adults" and of the main character who "could always feel a flinty, unconquerable spirit staring out of the mangroves and the inpenetrable rain forests inside me, a spirit who waited with a mineral patience for that day I was to claim myself back because of my own fierce need of survival."
I am captivated by page six, and I am reluctant to allow myself to go further today, beyond the prologue, because I don't think I'd have the strength to put the book down before it was finished, and I don't want to lose it so soon. I want to allow myself the luxury of savoring each page, each word.
Because of Pat Controy's words, Charleston is on my radar for this fall. If you have never read his books, you are missing some of America's treasures.
With blessings,
Melinda
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Richard Bach, Author/Barnstormer
Nothing by Chance
“If we are alert, with minds and eyes opens, we will see meaning in the commonplace; we will see very real purposes in situations which we might otherwise shrug off and call ‘chance’.” ~ from a lecture by Roland Bach
When I was in high school I discovered the writing of Richard Bach. He took me into a world of wonder in the realm above the earth, where the air was silver, sharp and cold, where the bold left the comfort of their couches and took to the sky, trusting their lives to the double wings and single engine of a biplane. There is a passage in the book, Nothing by Chance, that captivated the essence of my lifelong belief that there is something more beyond the horizon of my life...a passage that brings me a longing sigh today exactly as it did thirty years ago.
“There was a certain wistfulness in the room, as though we had something that these people wanted, that they might have had a distant wish to say good-bye to everything in Palmyra and fly away into the sunset with The Great American Flying Circus...And I thought; if they want to do something like this, why do they wait? Why don’t they just do it, and be happy?”
Last Summer I got a taste of that sharp cold air, I felt the rush of the silver air against my face, my hands, I left behind the comfort of solid ground and my soul was touched by flight. Rising into the air I longed to raise my hands in triumph. We made steep turns, the right wings pointed heavenward, as we circled a corn maze; we dipped low, skimmed the river like a hell-bent mallard; we flew so the wheels breezed inches above corn stalks, the engine roaring, as we sped towards the trees edging the field, pulling up ina steep climb, the nose skyward, before certain doom, my head titled back as I laughed at the sky.
But the biplane ride was more than a dream come true, it was a tangible reminder of Richard Bach's idea that nothing happens by chance. On the second page of the book that gave me that first love of biplanes and the world of barnstorming thirty years ago, is this passage, “Silent and trusting, Stuart Sandy MacPherson, age nineteen, peered over the edge of the cockpit in front of my own, looking down through his amber jumping goggles to the bottom of an ocean of crystal air...once in a while now, looking down through the wind, he smiled to himself, ever so faintly.”
My pilot last Summer? Stuart “Cap’n Mac” MacPherson, who began his flying career over 35 years ago as a pilot/parachute jumper in Richard Bach’s Great American Flying Circus. Coincidence? Something tells me it’s not.
So, if I am to believe that this one event did not happen by chance, then I also have to believe that the other events in my life do not happen by chance. I cannot pick and choose when to trust that God knows what He is doing with my life. And so, when I start to worry over unanswered questions, and doubt that everything has happened, and is happening for a reason, I just need to remember that it took thirty years for a certain 16 year old girl’s dream of the freedom of a biplane flight to come true, and to do as a dear friend recently reminded me and, “Just believe. That’s it.”
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1
“When you realize how perfect everything is, you will tilt back your head and laugh at the sky."—Attributed to the Buddha
“If we are alert, with minds and eyes opens, we will see meaning in the commonplace; we will see very real purposes in situations which we might otherwise shrug off and call ‘chance’.” ~ from a lecture by Roland Bach
When I was in high school I discovered the writing of Richard Bach. He took me into a world of wonder in the realm above the earth, where the air was silver, sharp and cold, where the bold left the comfort of their couches and took to the sky, trusting their lives to the double wings and single engine of a biplane. There is a passage in the book, Nothing by Chance, that captivated the essence of my lifelong belief that there is something more beyond the horizon of my life...a passage that brings me a longing sigh today exactly as it did thirty years ago.
“There was a certain wistfulness in the room, as though we had something that these people wanted, that they might have had a distant wish to say good-bye to everything in Palmyra and fly away into the sunset with The Great American Flying Circus...And I thought; if they want to do something like this, why do they wait? Why don’t they just do it, and be happy?”
Last Summer I got a taste of that sharp cold air, I felt the rush of the silver air against my face, my hands, I left behind the comfort of solid ground and my soul was touched by flight. Rising into the air I longed to raise my hands in triumph. We made steep turns, the right wings pointed heavenward, as we circled a corn maze; we dipped low, skimmed the river like a hell-bent mallard; we flew so the wheels breezed inches above corn stalks, the engine roaring, as we sped towards the trees edging the field, pulling up ina steep climb, the nose skyward, before certain doom, my head titled back as I laughed at the sky.
But the biplane ride was more than a dream come true, it was a tangible reminder of Richard Bach's idea that nothing happens by chance. On the second page of the book that gave me that first love of biplanes and the world of barnstorming thirty years ago, is this passage, “Silent and trusting, Stuart Sandy MacPherson, age nineteen, peered over the edge of the cockpit in front of my own, looking down through his amber jumping goggles to the bottom of an ocean of crystal air...once in a while now, looking down through the wind, he smiled to himself, ever so faintly.”
My pilot last Summer? Stuart “Cap’n Mac” MacPherson, who began his flying career over 35 years ago as a pilot/parachute jumper in Richard Bach’s Great American Flying Circus. Coincidence? Something tells me it’s not.
So, if I am to believe that this one event did not happen by chance, then I also have to believe that the other events in my life do not happen by chance. I cannot pick and choose when to trust that God knows what He is doing with my life. And so, when I start to worry over unanswered questions, and doubt that everything has happened, and is happening for a reason, I just need to remember that it took thirty years for a certain 16 year old girl’s dream of the freedom of a biplane flight to come true, and to do as a dear friend recently reminded me and, “Just believe. That’s it.”
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. Hebrews 11:1
“When you realize how perfect everything is, you will tilt back your head and laugh at the sky."—Attributed to the Buddha
Friday, December 18, 2009
Zayra Yves, Poet
Unfinished & Untangled
by Zayra Yves (copyright 2008)
I want to be unfinished. I like myself this way.
I like the sound of my voice speaking from a lopsided heart
like a mystic song played softly in the early mornings
off the fisherman's coast
or maybe like some melancholy drama
carving its name into a wall -
whatever it is, this is the moment I want to be.
I want to be ineffable sweetness
untangled and unraveled and written by a poet
smooth as a wish that floats off the page
and kisses you in public (right here in front of everyone)
and crowns you with love and throws flowers at you
I just want to be the old habits that fall away
I want to be like the garments of pain
that have been worn for too long -
they are ragged from wandering in the night
they are torn from ghosts
so they fall away.
They can't cling to who I am anymore.
After all those years of waiting, after all those tears
after all that judgment, all that criticism,
and all that finger pointing
and the loneliness (god the loneliness)
I just want to be unfinished, untamed and untangled.
I want to sway dance and move through the world
marvelously naked.
For more ~
http://www.zayrayves.com/home.html
by Zayra Yves (copyright 2008)
I want to be unfinished. I like myself this way.
I like the sound of my voice speaking from a lopsided heart
like a mystic song played softly in the early mornings
off the fisherman's coast
or maybe like some melancholy drama
carving its name into a wall -
whatever it is, this is the moment I want to be.
I want to be ineffable sweetness
untangled and unraveled and written by a poet
smooth as a wish that floats off the page
and kisses you in public (right here in front of everyone)
and crowns you with love and throws flowers at you
I just want to be the old habits that fall away
I want to be like the garments of pain
that have been worn for too long -
they are ragged from wandering in the night
they are torn from ghosts
so they fall away.
They can't cling to who I am anymore.
After all those years of waiting, after all those tears
after all that judgment, all that criticism,
and all that finger pointing
and the loneliness (god the loneliness)
I just want to be unfinished, untamed and untangled.
I want to sway dance and move through the world
marvelously naked.
For more ~
http://www.zayrayves.com/home.html
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Maya Angelou
Her voice sang her words, a bit of sway, a slow drawl, beats before the words she wanted us to feel in our hearts, in our souls ~ The caged bird sings of FREEDOM. Still I’LL RISE, PHENOMENAL WOMAN. PEACE, MY BROTHER, MY SISTER, MY SOUL.
Merran and I were privileged to be able to see Dr. Maya Angelou speak several years past. Her audience leaned forward in their seats, mesmerized by her stories, her songs, the way she crossed the stage in the epitome of a phenomenal woman ~ “It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style.” It was the kind of evening that you stay in your seats after the lights come up, afraid if you leave the spell will be broken, knowing deep in your being that you just witnessed greatness.
I cannot read her words, her poems, her memoirs, without now hearing her voice, without seeing her grace, without being changed.
“You have to stand up for the fellow who’s been knocked down,” she says. “I am filled with gratitude for those who say, ‘I identify with those people because they are human beings, and nothing human can be alien to me.’ That’s a powerful statement, and a powerful thing to do.” Dr. Maya Angelou, in the July 2007 Vanity Fair Africa Issue.
With hope,
Melinda
Merran and I were privileged to be able to see Dr. Maya Angelou speak several years past. Her audience leaned forward in their seats, mesmerized by her stories, her songs, the way she crossed the stage in the epitome of a phenomenal woman ~ “It's in the arch of my back, The sun of my smile, The ride of my breasts, The grace of my style.” It was the kind of evening that you stay in your seats after the lights come up, afraid if you leave the spell will be broken, knowing deep in your being that you just witnessed greatness.
I cannot read her words, her poems, her memoirs, without now hearing her voice, without seeing her grace, without being changed.
“You have to stand up for the fellow who’s been knocked down,” she says. “I am filled with gratitude for those who say, ‘I identify with those people because they are human beings, and nothing human can be alien to me.’ That’s a powerful statement, and a powerful thing to do.” Dr. Maya Angelou, in the July 2007 Vanity Fair Africa Issue.
With hope,
Melinda
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Michael J. Fox
Lucky Man: A Memoir
Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist
Michael J. Fox and I entered adulthood together, through the television screen, as I watched Family Ties, then occasional movies, and finally Spin City. I remember feeling like a member of my own family was diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I heard of Michael’s diagnosis. And I cried during the last episode of Spin City, especially when the cast came out of character to wish Michael luck, to say good-bye.
I didn’t know then that Michael and I shared something else, optimism. True there have been times in my life (recently in particular) that my optimism has shifted into a scowl, but in general I look through life with rose colored glasses. Not unrealistically, but hopefully.
I saw Michael this past year on a morning news show, promoting his latest book, Always Looking Up. I bought it and practically read the entire thing the same day. I was amazed. Lucky Me was my next purchase.
I have known people who allow their optimism and hope to spread beyond the span of their reach. Usually they are surrounded by others, as though they are a campfire in a cold dark night, their light illuminating the open hands of those who circle close, those hoping the warmth will spread to them. It is not as though they possess something others don’t have; it is just that they are willing to let their optimism rise above their fear. Per the words of Marianne Williamson, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate . Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us…And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give people permission to do the same.”
Michael J. Fox allows his light to shine. While he says, when praised as a steadfast Parkinson’s advocate, that he is just rolling with the punches, he walks his path with the benefit of a three-legged stool. He says, “If optimism is a happy-go-lucky expectation that the odds are in my favor…and if hope is informed optimism, facts converting desire into possibility, then faith is the third leg of the stool. Faith tells me that I am not alone.”
We can all learn from his wisdom. We can all benefit from his life force.
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist
Michael J. Fox and I entered adulthood together, through the television screen, as I watched Family Ties, then occasional movies, and finally Spin City. I remember feeling like a member of my own family was diagnosed with Parkinson’s when I heard of Michael’s diagnosis. And I cried during the last episode of Spin City, especially when the cast came out of character to wish Michael luck, to say good-bye.
I didn’t know then that Michael and I shared something else, optimism. True there have been times in my life (recently in particular) that my optimism has shifted into a scowl, but in general I look through life with rose colored glasses. Not unrealistically, but hopefully.
I saw Michael this past year on a morning news show, promoting his latest book, Always Looking Up. I bought it and practically read the entire thing the same day. I was amazed. Lucky Me was my next purchase.
I have known people who allow their optimism and hope to spread beyond the span of their reach. Usually they are surrounded by others, as though they are a campfire in a cold dark night, their light illuminating the open hands of those who circle close, those hoping the warmth will spread to them. It is not as though they possess something others don’t have; it is just that they are willing to let their optimism rise above their fear. Per the words of Marianne Williamson, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate . Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us…And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give people permission to do the same.”
Michael J. Fox allows his light to shine. While he says, when praised as a steadfast Parkinson’s advocate, that he is just rolling with the punches, he walks his path with the benefit of a three-legged stool. He says, “If optimism is a happy-go-lucky expectation that the odds are in my favor…and if hope is informed optimism, facts converting desire into possibility, then faith is the third leg of the stool. Faith tells me that I am not alone.”
We can all learn from his wisdom. We can all benefit from his life force.
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Sunday Night Redemption
I used to dread Sunday nights, staying up late to postpone waking on Monday morning, but through these two radio shows I find some peace and Sunday night redemption ~
Sunday Nite Slow Jams with R Dub.
http://www.slowjams.com/
I discovered this R & B radio show driving back from Corvallis a couple of Sunday evenings, and since then found the show airs five nights a week on the same local radio station, as well as streams online. As their website proclaims, they are making the world a better place…one slow jam at a time and I tune in now before bed, which is the perfect way to relax, wind down and keep the worries of the upcoming week at bay.
Sunday Night Blues Room
http://www.kink.fm/
Kink radio station devotes three hours every Sunday night from 7 – 10 for great blues, interviews with blues musicians, blues news, and information on where to find the best blues music in Portland. If you’re not near Portland, feel free to listen live at the Kink Blues Room.
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
Sunday Nite Slow Jams with R Dub.
http://www.slowjams.com/
I discovered this R & B radio show driving back from Corvallis a couple of Sunday evenings, and since then found the show airs five nights a week on the same local radio station, as well as streams online. As their website proclaims, they are making the world a better place…one slow jam at a time and I tune in now before bed, which is the perfect way to relax, wind down and keep the worries of the upcoming week at bay.
Sunday Night Blues Room
http://www.kink.fm/
Kink radio station devotes three hours every Sunday night from 7 – 10 for great blues, interviews with blues musicians, blues news, and information on where to find the best blues music in Portland. If you’re not near Portland, feel free to listen live at the Kink Blues Room.
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
Friday, September 25, 2009
Terry Hershey
www.terryhershey.com
This past Sunday was the kind fit only for the blues. I sat for a long time, contemplating the direction (or lack of) my life, and pleading with God for a clue as to where I should be headed, so that I wouldn't be so hesitant to step out of the boat. When I woke the next morning, I eagerly checked my email for my Monday morning Sabbath Moment from Terry Hershey. It wasn’t there, so I went to his website, and I found, not just the newsletter, but an answer to my lamentation. Sometimes God does give us answers. His answer to my plea of, “God, please just give me a clue!” was the title of the missing newsletter:
Not Yet.
September 14ths Sabbath Moment, began with this quote, “I don't really know where I'm going. The road is unfolding in wonderful, challenging, and unexpected ways.” Rabbi Alan Lurie
I was introduced to Terry Hershey from a woman who had walked longer with my mom than anyone I know. They were best friends from childhood, and while they drifted apart physically, they remained connected spiritually and emotionally. Her and I have kept in contact since my mother’s death, occasionally sharing inspirational emails. In one email she said to take a look at Terry Hershey’s weekly newsletter, because she thought his words would fill an emptiness she sensed in me with spiritual inspiration. She was right, and he now gives me reason to look forward to Monday mornings. His Sabbath Moment nearly always hit me like they did this morning, somehow speaking directly to a worry, concern, or need I have, as though God is using Terry to help me through my days. He uses quotes from poetry, saints, and even lyrics from modern songs to add relevance to his conversations. I never leave his words disappointed.
So, Monday morning, while I was struggling with wanting (demanding) to know what was in store for me, He (as in God) tells me “not yet” through the words of Terry Hershey. While I am contemplating 6 month (okay 5 year) plans, He reminds me of John Lennon’s words, “Life is what happens when we are making other plans.”
I’m surprised Terry didn’t say to stop and smell the roses, since he is a gardener, but he said the same, with less of a cliché, “Sometime this week, in the middle of a meeting or discussion say, ‘Everybody stop. This is it. Right now. This is the moment we've all been waiting for. Amazing eh?’”
Yes, this is it. Our life is happening all around us, right now. It is not waiting for retirement, or five year plans, when I graduate from college, or get that great job. It is happening right this moment. Take a look around. This is your life.
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
www.terryhershey.com
This past Sunday was the kind fit only for the blues. I sat for a long time, contemplating the direction (or lack of) my life, and pleading with God for a clue as to where I should be headed, so that I wouldn't be so hesitant to step out of the boat. When I woke the next morning, I eagerly checked my email for my Monday morning Sabbath Moment from Terry Hershey. It wasn’t there, so I went to his website, and I found, not just the newsletter, but an answer to my lamentation. Sometimes God does give us answers. His answer to my plea of, “God, please just give me a clue!” was the title of the missing newsletter:
Not Yet.
September 14ths Sabbath Moment, began with this quote, “I don't really know where I'm going. The road is unfolding in wonderful, challenging, and unexpected ways.” Rabbi Alan Lurie
I was introduced to Terry Hershey from a woman who had walked longer with my mom than anyone I know. They were best friends from childhood, and while they drifted apart physically, they remained connected spiritually and emotionally. Her and I have kept in contact since my mother’s death, occasionally sharing inspirational emails. In one email she said to take a look at Terry Hershey’s weekly newsletter, because she thought his words would fill an emptiness she sensed in me with spiritual inspiration. She was right, and he now gives me reason to look forward to Monday mornings. His Sabbath Moment nearly always hit me like they did this morning, somehow speaking directly to a worry, concern, or need I have, as though God is using Terry to help me through my days. He uses quotes from poetry, saints, and even lyrics from modern songs to add relevance to his conversations. I never leave his words disappointed.
So, Monday morning, while I was struggling with wanting (demanding) to know what was in store for me, He (as in God) tells me “not yet” through the words of Terry Hershey. While I am contemplating 6 month (okay 5 year) plans, He reminds me of John Lennon’s words, “Life is what happens when we are making other plans.”
I’m surprised Terry didn’t say to stop and smell the roses, since he is a gardener, but he said the same, with less of a cliché, “Sometime this week, in the middle of a meeting or discussion say, ‘Everybody stop. This is it. Right now. This is the moment we've all been waiting for. Amazing eh?’”
Yes, this is it. Our life is happening all around us, right now. It is not waiting for retirement, or five year plans, when I graduate from college, or get that great job. It is happening right this moment. Take a look around. This is your life.
With Blessings and Boldness,
Melinda
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