Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Rekindling the heart fire

Love can so swiftly lift you up from the deepest plunges of depression. And, even with the loss of my granny's earthly presence, I feel so blessed by a love that seems to sweep upon me when I begin to plunge. My granny loved and understood me better than anyone else on this earth, and I can feel her with me every moment. And I can feel her love swell and intensify as it is joined by the love I soak up from so many beings.

Tonight, I am humbled by the amazing, wildly, widely dispersed group of people who sweep into to my life and within mere moments lift me out of self loathing and heartache and bring me into a family of belonging.

I am loved on so many levels and by so many creatures, fuzzy, human and/or any combination or derivation thereof.

Tonight, I feel blessed, and I feel alive. And I am exhausted from living every moment of this day interacting with people in my community, sharing songs and stories and bringing people together - my friends from the Carpetbag Theatre Ensemble and my friends from these hollows and mountains. It's moments from days like today that remind me why I am here, doing what I do. How could I not decide to spend another year on Judy Branch when there are so many more moments to bring forth?

Your life is what you make of it, and even though I know I won't be here forever (none of us will be, will we?), I am going to make the most out of the moments I have here and be grateful of the blessing of being here.

Tonight, my love goes out to all those people in my life with whom I get to share my moments, whether in person or in word. I send my love out to you, and receive yours with such humble gratefulness and tears of joy.

Autumn IS a great time for road trips and for visits, and I'm hoping that those of you who have been wanting to see and experience for yourself, will come see me on Judy Branch real soon! This Little Bird always enjoys having company around!

Monday, September 03, 2007

Hearts are stupid

That's why you should never wear them on your sleeve.

I really wish my Granny were still alive. Just knowing I could always call her, even at 2 AM, sure made living out in the middle of nowhere a much more tolerable experience than it is right now. I'm feeling lonesome something terrible, and I'm even more blue now that I know that my geographic location is an effective repellent for potential suitors. Long distance works just fine for a great array of friends, but I guess it really isn't a way to go about romance. Although I've heard tell of it working out just fine for some. In fact, one of my old college roommates has met her match (they're talking marriage) on some internet dating network like I do have cable internet... maybe it's time to give cyber dating a try?

I'm thinking about giving up my blog, because it seems I really don't write that much in it, and I am not even sure if anyone really reads it. I'm not even sure why I'm writing right now.

Well, I do know. I've got coffee cake and cornbread in the oven, and there's a good twenty or thirty minutes left until I can take them out and call it a night. Tomorrow, I have double duty, with an early meeting to go over finances and budgets at one job and then an 8 member (plus two small children) theater ensemble arriving around lunchtime to begin a week-long residency. It's going to be one hell of a busy week.

And sometime, I need to find the time to go out to Lee's for a visit. He had a bout of bad health, and I've been trying to give him time to recover. He came by to see me at work a couple of weeks ago, though, and he's been wanting me to come out and play. I think that would do me a world of good. I may yet become a banjo player. I'm going to try to get a grant to study up some more with one of my favorite KY women banjo players. We'll see if it comes through. That may make it worth my while to stay here another year.

I just wish I could find some remedy for my lonesome heart, especially since it seems almost as good at scaring off potential suitors as my geographic location.