Healing in an age of confusion: "Let the healing begin today..."

I'm completely befuddled by our world.  The internet, and radio and cable news broadcasts, 24/7, have made it possible to communicate with, understand, support and nurture humanity across the globe.   I am positive that a lot of good has come from these advancements.  I am also positive that not all that has resulted has been positive.

Ancient Greek fabulist, Aesop, is credited with the statement "familiarity breeds contempt".  I've always reluctantly agreed with that statement...I mean, we are human, and humans are imperfect.  We are jealous of the abilities and advantages that others possess.  We lie and steal, and often go to any means to improve our own standing, in our own and others' eyes.  And we live in a nation that was founded on Christian principles!   Yet, I'll say one more time, we are human and humans are imperfect.

I'm a big fan of the New Testament.  I truly believe in the inherent goodness in people.  I believe that goodness comes from showing kindness and understanding towards people who are from different cultures and nationalities, economic standings and belief systems.  Yes, I am a simpleton.  I am not a political person.  I am about love, and understanding, and acceptance in everything, towards everyone.  That's how I roll... 

A few years ago, I woke to read of a traveling musician friend who was playing a benefit in a nearby community.  Out of the goodness of her heart, she donated her talents for a wonderful cause.  As she's hauling her gear back to her vehicle, she found that her car had been vandalized during her performance.  Someone had stolen her catalytic converter.  I am not an auto mechanic, but I do understand that it cost her a lot of inconvenience and a lot of money...and my instant thought was THIS WORLD NEEDS A BIG TIME HEALING.  And this song was written within a matter of minutes.  

I performed my tune, 'Healing', at St. Margaret's Episcopal Church in Baton Rouge, LA, in January 2012, when I opened for Adler and Hearne.  My friend Mike Whitney accompanied me on dobro.  On stage, I realized that the song was a sing-along song in the making, and I cannot tell you how amazing it felt to stand up there and lead the audience in the singing of the chorus, towards the end of the song.

This world needs a big-time healing

No more lying, no more cheating, no more stealing

Let love be the greatest feeling

Let the healing begin today.

Please watch the video, and sing along! 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxF29KTuxO0&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g

Today, September 11, 2014, I am reminded of the differences of all cultures in all of their beliefs and actions and I pray that the term "familiarity breeds contempt" might take a backseat to understanding and kindness.  What if, just for today, we tell ourselves that love will be the rule...and what if we told ourselves that every single day?  That would truly be a healing...

Until next blog, love and peace to you...
dorothy

So exactly what IS wrong with coloring outside the lines?

Admittedly, as a child I was the kid who would color exactly inside the lines.  Wanna know the secret to my success?  Simple...I learned to first trace the black lines with the crayon that I would eventually use to color the object.  In my view, those colored lines that I traced were a stop sign.  I would NOT color over that.  Period.  I wanted that gold star, and more importantly, I wanted to please the teacher!  But once you've mastered the art of coloring precisely and perfectly inside the lines, where do you go from there?

I've never had the confidence to pick up a paint brush.  I quilt, I create with crochet, I design clothing, but there has always been something holding me back when it came to traditional visual arts.   I did take a beginning drawing course several years ago, and I learned the basics of drawing portraits.  Very cut and dry...I followed certain mathematical principles and could usually come up with something that looked similar to the person whose facial features I was attempting to capture.  Because it was very precise and involved a lot of 'exacts',  I was in my comfort zone!  

Whenever I've dreamt of creating lovely paintings, I get this rush of creative energy, but my hands are afraid that I won't succeed.  I literally have no clue where to start!  There is just so much room for interpretation by the artist, and I've only been taught to color inside the lines.  Bring on the paint-by-number set on velvet!  I know I could do that!

As I child, I ADMIRED the kids who embellished the plain color sheets with their own inspirations or, better yet, turned the color sheet over and created something awesomely original, from their own imaginations!  I wanted to be one of those kids who didn't need the teacher's stamp of approval (the gold star), but who would proudly draw their OWN stars on their works of art!  These are the kids that I channeled when I wrote a song called "Outside the Lines" in response to a songwriter challenge to write something about Outer Space!  As you'll see, I never do approach a writing challenge quite in the way that others would...Here's the song, recorded by Lynn Anselmo at Chelsea's in Baton Rouge, LA.  The actual song starts about 01:50 in, with information about a songwriter circle I host, preceding it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1gcHLe2EUs 

Every  time I watch this, I want to pick up a paint brush and see what will transpire!  I wonder if there are any Baton Rouge artists who would like to take me on as a personal challenge?  I promise to approach my first canvas with nothing but a positive attitude!  Any takers?

Until next blog, peace and love to you...

dorothy 

Philip Seymour Hoffman, Judy Garland, Lenny Bruce, Marilyn Monroe, Jim Morrison, Tim Hardin, Heath Ledger, Janis Joplin, John Belushi, Robin Williams...

Does the use of drugs and alcohol fuel depression, or does depression fuel drug and alcohol abuse?  In my view, trying to answer this is like trying to answer the age-old question:  Which came first, the chicken or the egg?  I'm sure we could debate this until the end of time and not come up with an affirmative answer, or solution, to these tragic epidemics that have led to the senseless demise of so many people.  I've been reliving this very reality for the past week, since I learned of the suicide of Robin Williams.   

I am no stranger to clinical depression.  I hid it pretty well until I was 38, but depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive disorder finally took me down, and I was forced to get some help.  Can I understand self-medicating, in lieu of getting help from a trained professional?  YES!  I remember how ashamed and terrified I was, sitting in a psychiatrist's waiting room, answering questions on a form that would help them mold my treatment plan... and trying to rationalize in my mind just how to skip out of there before my name was called to see the doctor.  I am still grateful that I wasn't quick enough to escape!

I totally understand why some people would rather not publicly acknowledge their depression, and instead, self-medicate with drugs and alcohol.  No forms to fill out in waiting rooms.  No embarrasment as people look at you over their magazines in said waiting rooms.  No acknowledgement of the pain and anxiety you feel, often 24/7, 12 months a year.  No getting to the root of the problem.  If that same person has an addictive personality, what seems like an easy fix (street drugs and alcohol) leads to a greater nightmare than depression alone.

We all know someone, I'm sure, who has waged this war.  I've watched people I love opt for self-medication over professional help for depression, and I've seen each of them sputter and fall.  Luckily, they are still inhaling and exhaling, and a part of my life.

I've also known people whose dependence on drugs and alcohol has disrupted their lives to the point where depression joins forces with their abusive behaviors.  I have not personally experienced this reality, but I have witnessed it.  And the pain extends to everyone who loves them.  It's a crisis that should be addressed and acknowledged...and it needs to stop!  Right now!

After the death of Philip Seymour Hoffman, I wrote the song "One Too Many Times".  My producer and videographer, Daniel Lee, worked with me to create a video to accompany my song, acknowledging so many people that we as Americans have loved and lost.  (Admittedly, there are so many, many more people who are not "celebrities" who have fallen victim to this epidemic, some that I knew personally.  I dedicate my video to ALL those who have succumbed, that with acknowledgment, there might one day be an end to these senseless deaths.)  

Last week, Daniel honored me by covering my song, and including Robin Williams in the video.  It continues to tug at my heart whenever I think of the pain that Robin must have felt.  Was it purely depression that led him to take his life?  Was it his battle with addiction that finally caused such futility that suicide was his only alternative?  Or might it have been a combination of the two?  I don't think the answer is important, but I do think that awareness is.  Please watch this and share with others who might have been touched by depression, addiction, or both.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HuzCQuwubl4

RIP Robin...You will always be someone I look to when the world seems too cruel to bear and only laughter will lighten my load.

Until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy
 

The High Price of Perfection...and the Principle of Good'nuff

I spent the first 56 years of my life feeling like I wouldn't be loved if I were not perfect.  There, I said it.  This obsession with perfection led me down a path that ultimately defined me.  My basic formula (Formula #1): 

 Hard work + determination = success, excellence and possibly perfection.  

But excellence carries a heavy burden.  Once you've achieved it, it becomes your identity.  Let the perfection continue, or you will feel like you've failed, you will let people down, you will be considered a less-than.  Welcome to my world... 

By the time I hit my 20s, I had developed a careful plan of attack to avoid failure.  Here's an example.  I graduated from LSU in 1978, magna cum laude (almost perfect, right?).  So I've got my diploma in one hand, and a bar that I set way too high in the other!!  What happens if I interview and get a job in my field...and I fail?  Panic set it.  I put my diploma of excellence in my box of memories...and began work as a waitress at a sit-down fast food restaurant instead.  I knew I could do that, and do it well!  Here is my basic formula for avoiding failure (Formula #2):

When fear of failure + lack of confidence seem > my ability,

RUN LIKE HELL

There have been times in my life that I might have set the bar way to low, by using this particular formula!   (That might explain why I'm a prolific songwriter...never run out  of stories to tell!  Yet I digress...).  

NOTE:  For those of you who know me personally, did you know I graduated from LSU magna cum laude?  Probably not, unless I told you.  No one knows.  No one cares.  But the need to achieve this level of excellence CONSUMED my every waking hour. To commemorate this honor, was I awarded a special sticker on the diploma that is hidden in my box of memories?  I don't remember, but I think I'll check.  Think of all the fun I missed out on, seeking perfection, for a little sticker that no one knows or cares about.  

I'm developing a formula for my new life plan of attack.  I'm deleting the "P" word from my vocabulary as of now.  (No, don't make me type it again.  Just look at the title if you're in doubt.)  I'm resetting the bar and coining a new moniker for myself!  Ready?  Good'nuff.  I took my new attitude out for a test drive last night, and I gotta say that I sure had more fun when I avoided trying to be p*#%(#t.  

I'm a musician by trade.  Guitar is my go-to instrument, but I also play mandolin, uke, dulcimer and keys when called upon.  I bought a cello 3 years ago, and spent hours at home, working through books and practicing, but when I took her out to play, I wasn't, well, you know the word.  According to Formula #1, I sucked.  I decided either I had to IMPROVE or I was gonna give her away...I couldn't have something in my house that reminded me of failure!  

Three months ago, I joined a wonderful group, The Adult Music Club of Baton Rouge.  The brainchild of the ever-talented and amazing musician Dave Hinson, our club brings together a group of adults wanting to learn how to play music, in a group, under Dave's tutelage!  Just last night, my band (The Blue Meteor) had a gig at Chelsea's, a top Baton Rouge music venue.  We played 8 Beatles songs and me and my cello were part of the action!!!  Did I nail every lick and play every single note in perfect tone?  No,  I'm a beginner.  Did I have a few moments where my playing was pretty spot-on?  Hell, yes!  Did I have the most fun I've ever had playing music out in the world?  YES!  I can't wait for our next gig...and all the others to follow.

You know, I joined the club to have a place to make peace with my cello and I am, in fact, learning the cello!  But it's working out that I'm learning so much more.  Last night, on stage at Chelsea's, I learned how much fun you can have when you live completely in the moment, doing something you love, with no expectation of the "p" word.  I think you could ask everyone there, and they'd agree, I was Good'nuff!

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...dorothy

SEPARATION ANXIETY...and wait, DIDN'T WE USED TO START SCHOOL AFTER LABOR DAY?

The answer to the above question is a resounding YES.  In the 1960s and '70s, there were three glorious, hot summer months, filled with friends, summer camp, swimming lessons, crafting, visiting the bookmobile, playing basketball, and using our imaginations.  Oh, and not to forget the merit badges worked on and earned by my brother and his scout friends...and the Camp Fire Girl honor beads I earned with a vengence during free-flowing summer months.

First days of school each year were exciting (and terrifying) for me.  I can remember, even in the earliest grades, looking in the mirror and saying, "This is the year I'm going to be liked.  This is the year I'll fit in.  This is the year I'll be the person that people wanna hang out with...".  And every year, after the first day of school, I thought, "I bet next year will be my year."  That said, there was something even more pressing on my mind in kindergarten and first grade...

I was the baby in a family filled with love and kindness.  I do not remember my mother EVEN ONCE raising her voice at us.  I had never even heard a raised voice, until I went to school.  The nuns at my first elementary school in Stillwater, Oklahoma were loud-speaking, easily exasperated women.  At least my first grade teacher was.  My mother recalled that Sister whatever-her-name-was scheduled an appointment with her, complaining that I would shake like a leaf every time she came near me.  I constantly complained of a sore throat (brought on my tension and nerves) and the doctor finally gave me a placebo to take every day, that my mom had to bring to school at lunch, to get me to stay for the whole day.  WOW, RIGHT?  I was terrified of that nun, and the world outside of my home! 

But what if I had been a PRESCHOOLER?  Granted, not all children are as protected as I was in my little world as a child.  That said, I've worked as a preschool musician at Baton Rouge early learning centers for the better part of eleven years, and I can tell you that some kids just have a hard time letting go of mom and dad...and some moms and dads have an even harder time letting go of their little ones. 

I wrote this song, "Time to Play", about separation anxiety, from a different perspective.  Please watch this PRECIOUS video song, filmed, edited and produced by Daniel Lee of Boonelight Productions.  In case you're wondering, that is the producer himself on lead guitar and pizza box percussion!  Another special thank you to the children, teachers and parents of the Child Development Cooperative in Baton Rouge, LA, for starring in my lil video song.  Please pass this on to parents, grandparents, teachers...just pass it on to everybody, because it's really precious (I know I already said that) and it will make your day...Here's the link!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2x1Y69vsGyY 

Wishing all of you a great rest-of-summer and an easy back-to-school transition for kids and parents alike!  Until next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy

The Tree of Soles in Ossun, LA...a place to lay your burdens down

I have these moments as a mother to grown sons that I'll always remember...first day of preschool, kindergarten graduation, first Scout summer camp, first time standing on the pitcher's mound, getting braces off, putting letter jackets on, graduating, getting that first job.  You get my drift.  A year ago, I think I topped them all, down a gravel road, at the base of a tree, in sleepy little Ossun, LA, in the heart of Louisiana's Cajun country.

I'm no stranger to depression, and the apple did not fall far from the tree.  While both sons battle depression, my youngest son has fallen victim to depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) as an internal manifestation of Tourette's Syndrome.  Yes, he takes medicines that do help, and there are alternative therapies, but at some point, you  have to accept your reality and strive for the most effective way to live inside this body that you inhabit.  Reading is one of his escape routes, and a book in the clearance section of a favorite store led us both on a life-altering excursion!

Let me back-pedal a bit...I've raised my kids in the Christian tradition.  I taught them prayers that I was taught as a child, including one en Francais.  We attended church regularly, including religion classes that were age-appropriate.  That said, depression, anxiety and OCD tend to muddy the waters.  How do you give your burdens to a loving God when your mind is constantly whirling in a million directions, second-guessing, questioning?  My life-long struggle, passed on to both of my sons...

Now, back to the book my son was reading...a travel book featuring off-the-beaten-path destinations in Louisiana.  One day trip caught his eye and spoke loudly to him.  He asked me to accompany him to the Tree of Soles in Ossun, LA (right outside of Lafayette), to lay his burdens down.  In a poignant gesture of faith, you bring shoes you've worn during a particularly burdensome point in your life and lay them at the base of the tree, or hang them from the tree.  At that point, you're asked to pray for peace.  

I will always remember how I felt, driving down this gravel road, when I finally spotted the 3 trees from the book.  I've had many spiritual experiences in my 56 years, but this was special.  We stopped the car, and my son picked up his black shoes he'd been wearing during a difficult year in his life, opened his door and slowly and methodically walked toward the middle tree, reading the sign welcoming him to the Tree of Soles.   I had brought shoes as well and joined him.  A million thoughts came to mind as I spotted baby shoes, cowboy boots, lady's pumps, tennis shoes...each telling a painful tale of struggle and an accompanying need for peace.  

We spoke no words.  I tearfully pondered the moments in life that had brought us both there.  Time stood still.  Slowly, my son found the perfect spot near the base of the middle tree for his shoes.  I followed suit.  Eventually we walked back to the car.  Still no words.  Just a quiet knowledge that we had, in truth, physically laid our burdens down.  What a powerful experience to share with my grown son as we both tried to faithfully lighten our loads.

I knew at that point that I needed to spread the word about the Tree of Soles.  A couple of months later, I asked my producer and videographer Daniel Lee to go with me to the tree and shoot some video.  (I had another burden to lay down as well.)  Turns out that many songs have flown through me, all because of the sleepy Cajun town and those 3 trees at the end of a gravel road.  I'd be so honored for you to watch.  I hope it moves you like it still moves me, whenever I watch it.  Here's the link:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFZ4_cyEwH4&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g

My prayer for you would be that each of you find your "tree of soles"...and that your burdens would be lightened. 

As always, until next blog entry, peace and love to you. 

dorothy

Sometimes only a trip to the beach will do...

My first memories of the beach (mid-to late-1960s) revolved around a prime fishing and crabbing destination in Louisiana, Grand Isle.  Rising early each morning, my dad couldn't wait for the sun to come up so he could grab his hand-held crab net and wade in the shallow water, coming up with those soon-to-be-boiled Louisiana delicacies.  My mom loved to crab, too, but as a native Louisiana Cajun, the pull of the Gulf meant so much more than merely crabbing.  She actually learned how to swim in Vermilion Bay as a child in the 1920s and early '30s, so wading in the the dark, salty waters of the Gulf of Mexico was wonderfully familiar to her, a return to her roots.  

As a child, I loved searching for treasures, thinking every shell (or remnant thereof) was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.  I also remember the feel of the sand on my (tennis-shoe-clad) feet.  My parents' rule:  No walking barefoot on the beach at Grand Isle.  Taking just a few steps on the sandy shore made their reasoning perfectly clear.  This was a destination for sportsmen, and the beach collected many a fisherman's bent hook, just waiting to work it's way into the barren sole of an unlucky passerby.  

My parents taught me to embrace the Gulf safely, to marvel in its majesty, to smell the air and feel the salty, healing water on my skin. What a feast for my senses, in contrast to chlorinated pools, the only places where I had swum before.   Swimming at Grand Isle meant riding the waves, feeling sea animals pinch my toes, dodging jellyfish, and being unable to see the bottom!  I will always remember our yearly excursions to Grand Isle, LA and my earliest fascination with the mysteries of the Gulf. 

As an adult, I make a yearly pilgrimage to Port Aransas, TX for a songwriter workshop led by Terri Hendrix and Lloyd Maines, called "Life's a Song".  In truth, they can and do hold these workshops at other non-beach locations, but I am drawn to Port A.  There is just something about the beach to awaken my senses, clear my mind, and give me peace.  I guess it's MY turn to return to my roots, of sorts, even though only for a couple of days.

Shortly after my return home from my 2012 Port Aransas weekend, totally re-energized, I decided to write a song that celebrated the 5 senses.  I'd love for you to take a look at the video of my song, entitled Seaside Symphony.  Pictures and live footage were taken in November 2013, during my yearly "Life's a Song" weekend.  The video was masterfully created by Daniel Lee of Boonelight Productions. 

Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPlRpP3d0KA&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g

Special thanks to Betsy Braud (on flute), Dave Hinson (on bass), and Daniel Lee (production and lead guitar) for helping bring my song to life.  I hope my video brings back fond beach memories for you as well!  

until my next blog, peace and love to you...dorothy