August 2010

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Pride is a funny feeling.  At times, it can be an almost overwhelming presence casting an enormous shadow and causing a lump in the throat.  Other times, it is more subtle, that rosy glow on a smiling cheek.  Or, as it is for me in this moment, a flash of joyful tears.

The source of my joyful tears is the fantastic music of a former student from my ever so brief period of teaching high school English.  It was a rather unfortunate beginning for me and Daniel, actually.  I came in two weeks after the school year started to help with overcrowding, and though I was excited and academically quite prepared, I never anticipated the hard feelings being uprooted from other classes would stir up in my students.   Daniel was among the worst instigators, making it very plain that my presence was not welcome.  Fortunately for both of us, I turned out to be something unexpected and likable and was forgiven in time, even praised by my big hearted students, and again, Daniel led the pack.

So when he found me on Facebook recently, I gladly accepted his offer of friendship.  What I didn’t expect was the music.  Though Daniel sang in the choir at school, and was quite good, I might add, I could never have fathomed that this sweet and oftentimes goofy (we have that in common, to be sure) boy (ahem, man, Ms. Sohn – he’s in his twenties!) would have such great lyrics and music to share.  Seriously, the more I listen, the more I like it, and not just because it is his.  I am not that kind of person.  It is marvelously layered and just the kind of music I enjoy – with a little of this and a little of that to make a fine package.

What’s more is Daniel’s fearless nature about his music.  He is out THERE, promoting, recording, packaging, selling and generally believing in himself.  I am just so proud of him and truly believe that with his passion, talent, and smarts, he’s headed for the stars!  But you don’t have to take my word for it – give his music a listen (please buy some, too, I did!) and remember the name Daniel Van Dyk.

Oh, and Daniel, let’s get a picture together sometime soon – the ferris wheel, while not at all shabby, is a poor substitute.

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Quiet Roar

If we had keen vision and feeling of all ordinary life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.

George Eliot

It is Wednesday, and I cannot seem to wake up.  Not that it being Wednesday has anything to do with it.  I was tired yesterday, too.  I actually fell asleep while listening to the radio, fully upright, in a chair.  The minutes between 3:30 and 4:00 lost to a vortex of slumber.  That is usually a hubster move.  Bless his gigantic heart, that handsome fella can sleep anywhere, anytime.  I tend to be more of the Goldilocks variety, so it came as quite a surprise to me.

It’s dahlia time in the garden, beautiful dahlias – such marvelously constructed flowers.  And August.  How is it August already?  Maybe I’ve slept for longer than I recall.  Maybe I haven’t been awake for a long time.  Do you ever feel that way?  Or maybe the opposite?  Sometimes I wonder if, on those days when I am thoroughly spent by 8:00, and Charlie Rose, no matter how fascinating the guest, seems an impossibility, I’ve been so very awake, so hyper aware that my senses cannot take one more bit of noticing, feeling, smelling and collapse blissfully onto my pillow.  Is that it?  I wish I knew.  I am my own mystery, gentle readers, truly.

Sure, there are things I know about myself, but so much more that I can’t quite put my finger on, so much that keeps me wondering.  In some ways I like it, but in others, I just want some answers or a bit of clarity.  Maybe an impressionistic painting.  Who is going to paint a Van Gogh of my life?  A good question to ponder on a sleepy Wednesday.

What question would you like answered?

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