Interesting/Interested

Well, I did it. I guess a continued feeling of not being "engaged" provided the contrast I needed to propel me "home." for Christmas. I'm in England, and while it may only be for a short visit, it had to be. It's probably the only time I've come with no agenda but to be here and hear my music in its element, in any form. It's the first time since my dad died, the first time since I've been able to see a place of overlap between this music and my focus on the divine feminine, and the first time since I've "retired."


Perhaps this is why it has been a particularly magical week. Sinking into what is easy, local, and intuitive (rather than following an agenda) has led to beautiful synchronicity. Monday was a case in point. Following my gut led me to backtrack some steps and unexpectedly connect with some acquaintances. The proverbial right place at the right time. About an hour later, I turned on the TV and found a special about Canterbury Cathedral, where I sang services for a week in 2017. Lo and behold, I came in at the end of the program, where they chronicled the debut choral evensong service sung by the cathedral's new girls' choir. In one of the prayers, the celebrant blessed "these pioneers of English church music." Of course I burst into tears. They don't know from pioneers. They cannot imagine being a little girl in Schenectady in the 1960s, wearing out LP's of King's College, Cambridge, teaching herself Anglican chant. They can't know half a century of yearning, of a life in the desert. Yet ultimately my tears were of joy. That blessing was for me, too. It has all been worth it, just to see these girls in the choir stalls, where they belong.


In the evening, a television special on Tudor Christmas feasts included a segment filmed at Gloucester Cathedral with music by their choir, the choir I auditioned for four years ago. There was a marvellous efficiency in the entire day. It was almost as if, after a lifetime of struggle, the Universe was making all things easy. Sort of a, thanks for working so hard, Liz, now if you'll let us, we'll take over.


I realize that, above all, I am interested in everything over here. People have always said, Liz, you've had such an interesting life. That "interesting" life with all its harrowing twists and turns has really only been that way because I wanted to be "interested" in what interests me. Not what others might expect of my gender or generation or nationality or skill set, but the song that genuinely and easily unfurls from my heart. I don't know what will unfold after I push "publish" at the top of this page, but I do know one thing. If you are at the beginning of a discernment path or a retirement path, that is the question. "What interests you?" Not what interests your family or your spouse or your society or a guru or the corporate entities trying to sell you things. What interests you? That is the one thing that will never let you go, the one thing you came to this planet to explore. It's the one thing you will find your way to if you can trust and let go of control. Everything that doesn't match the energy of this interest may eventually fall away. The truth of your unique passion is all there is. I'm so honoured (my computer changed the spelling!) to live it one day at a time right now.

A Bridge

Probably the most powerful symbol for Duluth is its Aerial Lift Bridge, which connects the mainland (so to speak) with the long thin finger of sand called Park Point. It is literally a lift bridge, in that traffic stops and the road surface rises whenever one of the huge ore or cargo ships comes under it. In the summer, there is even more "up and down" to make it possible for tour and sail boats to come in and out of the harbor. It is a beautiful structure, kind of a gateway to open Lake Superior, the other Great Lakes, and, via the St. Lawrence Seaway, the world.

This week, someone said to me that they thought that when I lived here in the 1990's, I underwent my first "birth" as my own person, sort of a "who am I?" outside the context of the east coast world and expectations that I had previously known. I had to turn inward for validation, as many of my resume highlights like Smith College, the University of London, and Time Inc. were foreign to the culture out here. Then in 1999, I returned back east when my mother's health declined and I spent, as it turned out, twenty years revisiting various facets of the old me from a new perspective. Of course, I returned here this past summer, after a winter of tsunamis and my dad's death, and there has been another rebirth. Something in the depths of this lake lends itself to truth, love, and clarity. What interests me really interests me now, what doesn't interest me really doesn't interest me. No more pretending or trying. I was on Park Point on Sunday, watching ice fishermen and iceboaters and parasailers on the clear reflective sunset surface of the bay, and then later drove back across the bridge with sparkling lights of the city on the left and the pitch black of the lake on the right. It was beautiful, it was symbolic.

It's another bridge moment for me. I am thankful for a journey that never fails to surprise and give me rich material to write about. I will keep writing, although perhaps a little irregularly over the next few weeks, as my little boat makes another foray into life's great waters. May your dark December be filled with light!

Voices and snow

Every morning the last few months, I have taken a beautiful little gold cocker spaniel for a walk. This dog and I seem to love each other very much, and I say "seem" just because I am new to pet love and still attribute some of it to "yippee, she's the lady that walks me and sometimes feeds me." Indeed, while I have come close to seriously loving several of my friends' pets over the last few years, this is the first time I have completely succumbed. At this time of year, the dawn sidewalk is silent except for the sound of snow crackling underfoot. My little friend pokes his nose into the drifts, sniffs out scents near the sidewalk, and generally meanders until he needs to do his business, after which, in this cold, he is all "business" trotting back to the warm house. Several mornings we have encountered deer, but today was dead quiet and still, maybe ten degrees Fahrenheit.

There is a new voice singing, however. Evidently a major British opera star has called on King's College, Cambridge to open their famous men and boys' choir to girls. I wondered when this would finally happen. Many of the major choral programs have girls' choirs now, but not Kings (a college chapel) and a few of the other most prominent cathedrals and abbeys. From what I can see, this has started a passionate debate, one that I would have thought was long overdue, whatever the outcome. I first wanted to join that choir fifty-five years ago. It's going to be something else, watching whether and how the evolution takes place. What do you know? Maybe it will be in my lifetime after all!

Advent Miscellany

The first thing to mention this morning is that -- of course! -- after having said in my previous blog that I rarely feel fear anymore, the few fears I do have came out over the weekend, eager to remind me that they are still lurking about. I wasn't able, initially, to shrug and blot them off my shirt. But I discovered something interesting. When I looked carefully at the worst fear, it was, at its core, anger, not fear. It involved something that I believe our society has totally wrong. The moment I got in touch with that anger, the fear disappeared and, at least temporarily, so did the situation that had made me fearful. I just put that out there in case any of you are dealing with fears. If nothing else, anger is more powerful than fear or despair. It is a step in the direction of love, as hard as it can be sometimes to believe that.

So, it is Advent again. While the traditional church meaning of it has loosened its grip on me, the broader meanings of "appearance, dawn, emergence" seem to always be pertinent for me in late November/December. It has been the month of some of my biggest changes in recent years -- arriving in New York City to sing at St. John the Divine, and in Gloucester to audition for the cathedral choir, for example. This year I sense changes afoot as well; if nothing else, the last few weeks have offered me almost blinding clarity in areas both personal and universal, and you cannot put the genie back in the box. Future decisions will be born of that clarity, which is good.

In a semi-related comment, I just saw something on television about celebrating young women studying STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics). I feel such mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, it is crucial that we women be actively involved in all areas of human endeavor, that we receive the best possible training, and have our accomplishments recognized. If this is a young woman's true passion, I am all for it. On the other hand, the unbalanced focus on science feels like yet another erasure of women like me. The arts, humanities and spirituality have never been valued in our economy; I gather that young men and women of college age are being actively discouraged by families from even studying these fields. I understand. Parents of my generation look at someone like me and shudder, hoping for any other outcome particularly for their daughters. But, of course, there is another answer, and that is to insist on supporting -- not dropping like a hot potato -- the artistically and spiritually creative people in our midst, the creators of beauty and inspiration, the people who offer surprising, colorful, love-filled suggestions for improving the world. The people who "see things differently." Once again, we seem to be creating a "job" need and trying to fill it, rather than looking honestly at each young person's true gifts and giving them the means to pursue those gifts, no matter what they are. There seems to be fear at play here too, as in, "you must enter this kind of field in order to have a job." I just don't know that I will ever understand this way of thinking. It makes me cry to think of a young "me" out there in her teens, knowing (much as I did) that my gifts aren't wanted, and won't adequately get used. And I guess the truth is, it makes me angry. It's just such a waste of precious divine energy.