I love this, Perdita. The family I am most close to (not the side containing the great-grand who used to hex the neighbors from her driveway) is/was arty. My grandfather and mother (each an only child like me) just wanted to make art and music. Guess what I want to make? I can afford somewhat better instruments. I decided today, Personal Independence Day, that what I need to resume now post-Covid are music lessons (a stringed instrument). I studied violin on my grandfather's old warped war-era Ohio made violin for years, have my mother's banjo in the basement with my own instruments. Life without making music dulls my brain. Around and around we go, again.
in many ways this post was a reminder to me, to sing...despite being hopelessly out of tune, I will sing in the car, sing in the forest, I want to arrive SINGING and DANCING into my next life.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. It's inspiring.
Such fascinating beauty... within this blog, within your grandmother's spirit, within the movie, within Bill Murray, within us all. It certainly makes me want to see the movie again. Practicing... getting it "right", maybe better, getting it True, is this not the Call ? Finding The Note we've been yearning to hear through so many lifetimes, allowing ourselves to listen, to receive, to endure what is ours, to be transformed, to be released from identification and attachment by the process, to free ourselves - is this not the sacred, perennial Call of Love's Mystery -already inside us ? Once again Perdita, thank you very much.
There are so many ways to play in our lifetimes....painters, musicians, storytellers, dancers, lovers, all of it. May we all have 10,000 times 10,000 lifetimes to explore and become who we already are.
I loved this article. And bravo to your wonderful grandmother! My grandmother, who married at 15, had 6 children, and a horrible, recurring bladder infection that they had no money for doctors or others to heal her. How she must have suffered, but she didn't complain. Eventually, her four living sons became M.D.s and she got a tube and bag through which to urinate. In the meantime, she started art classes in her 60s, was teaching in her 70s and painted almost until she died at 84. Her pieces weren't great works of art, but I proudly hang one of her oil paintings of a family gathering at the San Gabriel River in my living room over the ancestors altar. Your stories warm my heart, as I remember my elders. Thank you.
WOW! That is such a story Robin. She needs to be our patron saint of utis, doesn't she? What was her name???? I would love to see one of her paintings. Let us honor the power and the persistence of these women together. This story gave me chills.
I don't know how to attach the photo of the painting I love, and will ask for help with it today from one of my visitors. Her name was/is Ivy Juanita Shepperd. Initially, she was born with another name, but when she asked her father where he came up with her birth name, he told her it was the name of an old girlfriend. She was outraged and changed her name to Ivy Juanita. Unfortunately, we don't know that original name. Later today, I will attempt to post the river painting photo. Our Lady of the UTIs? That is hilarious! And having had regular UTIs as a young woman, I don't understand how she could possibly take care of 6 children with one infection after another. I always screamed and cried with mine until I discovered Phosfood, a Standard Process product that cut the pain within 5 minutes. btw, I also discovered that those bladder infections were the result of an overgrowth of Candida Albicans. Eliminating sugar and adding caprillic acid to my regime made a huge difference.
I love this, Perdita. The family I am most close to (not the side containing the great-grand who used to hex the neighbors from her driveway) is/was arty. My grandfather and mother (each an only child like me) just wanted to make art and music. Guess what I want to make? I can afford somewhat better instruments. I decided today, Personal Independence Day, that what I need to resume now post-Covid are music lessons (a stringed instrument). I studied violin on my grandfather's old warped war-era Ohio made violin for years, have my mother's banjo in the basement with my own instruments. Life without making music dulls my brain. Around and around we go, again.
Wow! You had an exciting great grandmother!
in many ways this post was a reminder to me, to sing...despite being hopelessly out of tune, I will sing in the car, sing in the forest, I want to arrive SINGING and DANCING into my next life.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story. It's inspiring.
Such fascinating beauty... within this blog, within your grandmother's spirit, within the movie, within Bill Murray, within us all. It certainly makes me want to see the movie again. Practicing... getting it "right", maybe better, getting it True, is this not the Call ? Finding The Note we've been yearning to hear through so many lifetimes, allowing ourselves to listen, to receive, to endure what is ours, to be transformed, to be released from identification and attachment by the process, to free ourselves - is this not the sacred, perennial Call of Love's Mystery -already inside us ? Once again Perdita, thank you very much.
There are so many ways to play in our lifetimes....painters, musicians, storytellers, dancers, lovers, all of it. May we all have 10,000 times 10,000 lifetimes to explore and become who we already are.
I loved this article. And bravo to your wonderful grandmother! My grandmother, who married at 15, had 6 children, and a horrible, recurring bladder infection that they had no money for doctors or others to heal her. How she must have suffered, but she didn't complain. Eventually, her four living sons became M.D.s and she got a tube and bag through which to urinate. In the meantime, she started art classes in her 60s, was teaching in her 70s and painted almost until she died at 84. Her pieces weren't great works of art, but I proudly hang one of her oil paintings of a family gathering at the San Gabriel River in my living room over the ancestors altar. Your stories warm my heart, as I remember my elders. Thank you.
WOW! That is such a story Robin. She needs to be our patron saint of utis, doesn't she? What was her name???? I would love to see one of her paintings. Let us honor the power and the persistence of these women together. This story gave me chills.
I don't know how to attach the photo of the painting I love, and will ask for help with it today from one of my visitors. Her name was/is Ivy Juanita Shepperd. Initially, she was born with another name, but when she asked her father where he came up with her birth name, he told her it was the name of an old girlfriend. She was outraged and changed her name to Ivy Juanita. Unfortunately, we don't know that original name. Later today, I will attempt to post the river painting photo. Our Lady of the UTIs? That is hilarious! And having had regular UTIs as a young woman, I don't understand how she could possibly take care of 6 children with one infection after another. I always screamed and cried with mine until I discovered Phosfood, a Standard Process product that cut the pain within 5 minutes. btw, I also discovered that those bladder infections were the result of an overgrowth of Candida Albicans. Eliminating sugar and adding caprillic acid to my regime made a huge difference.