Saturday, December 15, 2012

At the Hearth...

Many changes are taking place.  The country just reelected Obama and everything feels like it's shifting to a new era.  The old guard is nervous but all the great young thinkers are excited.  Everything feels uneasy right about now.  Another school shooting in Connecticut, another political argument, another gentrification spat.  It all can be a bit noisy and confusing and then theres the damn Iphone's and Ipads and think pads and this pad and that pad.  Insta this and Pinster that.  I don't think we can even begin to see ourselves and to understand the mass confusion we are going through.  

Winter is upon us and the old house is getting cooler.  Our house, The McGovern house as I was told last Saturday by Mrs. Augustus and Bob.  Beautiful couple that have been in this neighborhood throughout all its changes.  Fire is a beautiful, soulful thing.  Much can be learned from building a fire.  Gathering dry, small pieces of wood over the sparks and then layering it with bigger pieces until big chunks of coal start to form.  Then come the logs and warmth.   When I build a fire it reminds me to be patient in all things.  Restoring, writing, friendships and relations.  All things needs patience but it's harder and harder to come by.  This is why I love fire.  It reminds me of being at the hearth in my Mamere's kitchen in an old simple wooden house.  The basic needs were met, we had fire, an omelette and coffee in the percolator and maybe 12 stations on the TV.  Mostly we had each other and a game of card tricks.  How hard would that be now, to sit in that stillness.   

This old Gibson was a guitar that was in a closet in my house where I grew up.  I remember going in there to peek at it.  I would always go in there very quietly because I knew it was special to my dad and didn't want to him to worry I was going to harm it.  I never touched it or took it out of the case.  I simply opened it and looked at it and it was always so beautiful to me.  I never considered playing it but it meant a lot to me back then.  Years later when I had become a musician in Brooklyn, I remembered that guitar and when I visited I ran to the closet and there it was, same place it had always been.  At the time, I was touring and home to play the House of Blues.  It was as if I was playing in the Super Bowl or something to folks back home.  No one ever heard me play, just my recordings.  It's funny to look back on.  I played a song on this guitar that night and it was feeding back like a wild stallion but my band and I just thought it was so special and had something about it.  They named it "Wild Pony". 

Now that I'm playing more guitar, it means so much to me.  Sitting next to the fire playing Hank Williams, Sr.'s music brings me back to the Hearth so to speak.  I want to always remember that simplicity and hopefully I can extract it and put it into song so I can share with others.  I feel this is what  I have to do but there is so much noise out there and I don't always know how to cut through it.  

The song writing parlor

A year ago, we were a little uneasy with the purchase of this property but things are changing everyday.  The median has been getting a face lift and the houses are now selling as fast as they're listed.  But the most important thing is the diversity of folks living here.  

I've been reading The Secret Languages of Birthdays and it told me that mine is the day of social ideals.   It goes into my attention to detail and believe me I'm suffering through some things in this area right now but am working through it.  It told me to use these skills and put them to use in the community.  It says if I direct too much of this on myself, it won't be useful to me.  

Todays meditation:

Everything is related.