My office joint

Mothers and Their Daughters

Sometimes there can be a mere 15, 16 or 20 years between their ages. But, if things work out right, they become best friends in time - always there for each other.



It starts off before the womb with a spiritual commitment to come here to learn from each other. Mom cares for that baby girl and helps her to grow. At some point the tables turn and the younger becomes the older, caring, carrying, loving and supporting. That's the way it's supposed to be.


Walking slowly because the new younger one can't walk that fast. She needs her cane now and has to guage her steps, much like the new older one did when she was young. Going from point to point - holding onto the couch, then steps to the chair, crawling because sometimes there wasn't anything tall enough to grab on to in order to steady this new thing called walking.


Yes, the tables turn sometimes. And, if we are lucky, we will have the opportunity to enjoy returning the care and the love given to us as infants and toddlers, teenagers, young adults and far beyond. Because again, if we are lucky, our turn comes and our telephone rings because someone needs to know that we're feeling okay today.

If we're lucky, they've got the time to sit and chat because you want to share some of the stories from your 90 years. You want to talk about how much things have changed and how much better they were when you were young. That special dress that your father bought for you from that fancy store cost $7.00, but it may as well have been $1 Million. And you felt like $1 million in it. It fit you like a glove and you were Miss It for that day. Someone has to hear those stories. Someone has to know who you are and what you've done because after all you had a life before you became a mother - and during and after. You want someone to laugh with, someone to know that you love them and they love you.

You want to know that you did a good job because you sacrificed 20+ plus years of your own life for this person. But, you don't care about the sacrifice - in fact you don't even consider it to be a "sacrifice." It was your life and you felt blessed to have this person in it to share it with. You did your best to tell them of the world and you are so grateful to know that person is living their life with joy and happiness.

It warms your heart when they call and say "thank you for everything that you've done for me." They look back and understand why the room should be clean, why things should be organized, why it was important to keep any commitments they made. They see clearly how those dance classes or that one little trip to the museum enhanced their life. What they thought was nagging was really love - they realize that now. They were being given lessons to help them prepare for their own independent lives.

They realize that you couldn't afford to bring them on vacations to exotic far away places that their friends would return to school with every fall talking about. It's okay because you picked up a book at the five and dime because you thought they'd like to read it. Occasionally, there was a new doll that you could make all kinds of new clothes for from scraps and old clothes.

The sandwiches you made were special. And no one in the world can cook food like you do. There was something about the way you made it. You remember the taste of pure love in everything even if occasionally it was a big pot of beans because that's all there could be.

It's their turn to carry you if need be. It's their honor to do for you what you did for them. They give you a mother's love.

Sometimes

Sometimes, yes, I do question what I am doing, what I've done, where I've been and where I'm going. Sometimes it's hard to stay on the road that you've chosen. You think you have everything you need and you forge ahead confidently not aware of the pitfalls and the lessons that lay ahead. You take your beatings and hopefully you learn your lessons and you continue stronger and more resilient - hopefully. But, sometimes you are the overly-weary road traveler and you just keep putting one foot in front of the other and struggle to find the meaning in what you do. Then you get some rest, take a deep breath, put a prayer in your heart and continue on knowing what you know. That's something that no one can take from you -- what you know, what God put in your heart. Your visions, your dreams are yours. Not to be shared necessarily, but to be known by you and only you - and God.

So, it's not easy; sometimes it does get hard, but you just have to go for what you know.

My Mentor

Just a note to acknowledge my friend who has worked with me in music for the past two plus years.

He has helped me to open up my eyes which led to the opening of my mind and my senses. I see a broader spectrum of the world thanks to him.

He always forces me to think about the root of my actions. Why I did something a certain way, what emotions or baggage were behind it thus helping me to continue to grow beyond who and what I am.

Music is a prayer. This is his mantra. I understand it with my mind, but have yet to been able to incorporate the meaning of this into my life. But, it will come.

Being "still" is something that very few people do. Of course, he does. It is constantly, constantly reinforced to me. To still yourself means to meditate and to become an observer of yourself and life in general. It is to connect directly with the All That Is that is part of us.

I immensely enjoy moments of quiet and seclusion on the rare occasions that I have them. I've yet to still my mind in those moments. Things around me a quiet and still, but my mind is always as busy as ever -- thinking, planning, calculating, working, talking... I will get there though.

I just wanted to acknowlege him and thank him for having the patience of Job to deal with a music kindergardner like myself. Music is a meal; my voice is part of that meal. There is no separation of the two.

Yeah, it's deep and there's much more to the lessons and the learning. So, to the boss - thank you, I love you, respect you and cherish the lessons you've taught me. I also thank you for not giving up on me and teaching me to respect the gift and bringing my life to a new level.

Tomaca's Opera

Yes, I am writing an opera. Don't know how long it will be, what it will sound like or what the theme is. Just know that it will be. The voice sings in my heart all the time, every day, every night. It is joined with a chorus of others in my head and sings to me.

Once I was the recipient of the most beautiful choral operatic performance that I ever heard in my life. It was during a long ride to a gig. It was dark, but the stars were brightly lit in the sky and I had a lot of road ahead of me. It just started out of nowhere. It was as if a chorus of angels was riding just above me and singing the most beautiful music. I don't remember what the words were. I don't remember how it was structured or even the voices that sang. But, I do remember how it felt and it felt amazing.

I believe in angels. I hear their voices sing and echo far more beautifully than mine. I embrace them and their joy. Pull the feeling into my life and hold onto much like a child would hug and squeeze a teddy bear as if they can squeeze the love out of it directly into their own bodies.

So this opera will be a reflection of who I am and the Creator's gift to me. The voice will resound and tell a story of some sort and look for lives to touch as it touches my own. And it doesn't matter if people remember the words or not. It doesn't matter if anyone remembers the structure or even that it is my voice that sang. All it matters is that they can feel the Creator's presence and His love in it and pull that feeling into their own heart and their own life for themselves.