whysayit

Hurray! Miss Wendy is blogging! Welcome.

La Rooster and I discovered one another on facebook--both of us friends of friends; we seem to have a whole bunch of stuff in common. We both like dogs, we both grew up with a passion for words, and we both need music as much as we need air; music fuels our creativity. She writes a soundtrack to all her novels; I write little prayer-songs and lullabies when words alone don't have the necessary energy or life. Well, by some miracle, She is giving me a piano! And after reading her post Walking Piano , I am appreciative and honored beyond words to be the recipient of such a gift. Suddenly the past comes back to life in full color and I remember a pink piano. When I was eight I lived in a lime green house with an umbrella tree in the front yard. The tree was my favorite place to be and singing was my favorite activity. Next to the umbrella tree was an empty lot where my brothers, sister, and I played all the time. One day I was walking through that lot and I found a little pink piano...

This is an example of how consolation confirms faith. I’ve been torn apart by bitter family conflict that seems to be getting worse by the day. So I set up an appointment to talk with Father James. I was seeking reconciliation. On the day of my appointment, before Mass, I went to the chapel to pray; another parishioner was there, preparing the altar. I guess he could tell that I was distressed because he gave me a sheet of paper me with an excerpt by St. Francis de Sales. I took it, thanked him, folded it up and put it away; I was serious about the business of praying and I didn't want to be distracted. After Mass I stayed in the chapel, silently begging God to help me resolve the issues that are tearing my family apart, and hurting each of us in ways that will scar us for the rest of our lives. I prayed for answers to hard questions; I told Him that I wasn’t seeking any of the consolations that I often experience; I didn’t want sweet tears or shimmering images; I only wanted rea...

I came across a line in The Song of the Lark that I'd like to use in a blog-post one day soon. "She believed that what she felt was despair, but it was only one form of hope." -----Willa Cather That line describes what I went through yesterday. I was wretchedly sad---weeping and sobbing, but I knew I had to 'feel the feelings' if I ever wanted to get past them. If I’d had a bottle of some strong spirit or another I would have used it to dull the pain. It was horrible. But today I feel a little cleaner on the inside. Not sparkling, but a little cleaner. I know there are more tears to weep but I am begging God to spare me for a little while; I know I sound dramatic, but I really can’t go through another emotional storm like that right away. So, anyway, I know that feeling these feelings is part of the healing process, and having just survived such an ordeal, I can guess why “…it feels like de...

One of my favorite games in the world is to notice what song is playing in my head as I go about the day; it is a great way to let me know the status of my subconscious. Music is equipped to carry messages that words alone simply cannot handle. When words are not sturdy enough to carry the raw energy of my tempestuous sorrows or gut wrenching grief, or are too clumsy for the tender, most delicate expressions of love and gratitude, I put the words to music; I write songs. But that is not exactly true. I don’t write the music but act more as a midwife who helps a laboring woman bring her baby into the world. This is not unusual; a lot of writers and artists of another medium feel this way about their work---that it is born more than crafted. La Rooster has a musical muse that help while she is writing novels---it seems that each new story as its own soundtrack--- which is a double boon (like having twins) because she gets a new novel and new songs for the price of one creative effort. Wh...

Annonymous and his wife love garage sailing; they believe the early sailers should be allowed to dress as pirates.

Last night I realized that sometimes I don’t know what I know till I say it. So I guess that is one good answer to the why say it question: Because it teaches us---we learn from it. Saying doesn’t make it so, but saying it out loud and to another person, or in writing helps me clarify and solidify my thoughts. Does it happen to you this way? Do you ever almost know something---maybe a fragment of truth that surfaces during a conversation or while you are writing---that you have to go and look up to make sure you’re not just making stuff up? Do words that you didn’t even know you knew pop up while you are writing?

It is true that I crave silence, but a little bit goes a long way. Usually I am nibbling on one kind of human generated sound or another. I too, listen to music when I write, when I wash dishes, when I drive, when I do everything and unless I am humming it, it is only playing in my head. Who said our lives don’t have a soundtrack? Just because people don’t hear the music doesn’t mean the music is not there, right? I write prayer-songs and lullabies…oh and little ditties that narrate my every action. Sometimes the narrator doesn’t sing, but much like Bulworth I can’t stop rhyming---irritates the kids but the dogs like it.) Unfortunately I don’t know the language of musical notation so I can’t write the tunes out. I do have a handy little recorder that I can sing into and then upload the songs to my computer. I can listen to them or send them to someone else to listen to. I keep sending them to people, who do know how to write music or play a musical instrument, but that is proving to be...

We might be having a few problems making it easy for people to post comments. I just tried to comment on what La Rooster said and 'it' kept saying I had to have a google account. I do have one...have two in fact, but it wouldn't let me post a comment. I will fiddle with the settings and see what I can do.

I have more to say about TMES. I get so hungry for natural sounds---I actually crave wind and quivering trees and birds and water and Nothing. Have you heard of the work Andrew Wiles and Kimba Arem have done on the effects of sound on our physiology? They have studied sound, both natural and mechanical and discovered what I think we all sense. We need natural and harmonic sounds just as much as we need vitamins and minerals. I can vouch for that. I love my electronics, don't get me wrong. I like having cold food and a computer and music at my fingertips. But I feel horrible if I deprive myself of natural sounds--and that in fairly high doses. In fact, (and I was thinking about this just this afternoon) I think I will practice abstaining from my computer for one day a week. Not sure which day yet. But it'll be good discipline and I'll be able to soak up more Nothing. Of course, the TV will have to stay off too. And I won't listen to music that isn't generated by a li...

TV does hurt me physically; I can tell because when I am in a room with the TV on, even with the sound down I feel yucky, but I can handle small doses and I agree, it is better with company. My aversion is worse now than it used to be, and instead of blaming my age I think I'll blame it on TMES: Too Much Electrical Stimulus. I know this will sound strange, but I can even feel the bad effects of TV if I am in my room and someone is watching in the living room. But that is only if my door is open and I feel the light flickering (I can still feel it even if my eyes are closed.) It gives me almost the same bad feeling that I get on the Clovis-Portales road if I happen to be passing that section of the highway where the trees on the west side of the road are all lined up and the sun---is---shin---ing---through---at---reg---u---lar---intervals. My son dated a girl in college who actually has heart problems that are exacerbated by TV---has doctor's orders to stay out a room where a TV...

to see if this sign in thing works---ok..it did work. so if you enter a post and want to change it -(a million times if your are like me) you can click on New Post (upper right hand corner...see it there snuggled up by your sign in/sign out space?) and that will take you to a new post page where you can access and edit anything you've posted as many times as you want. Also, the New Post page doesn't always save your draft, so take whatever precautions necsessay. (f I am writing anything of length I copy it from a word doc...just to be safe. I also have to check my pocket (several times) for keys before leaving my house and I say aloud, "Yep. The coffee pot is turned off....isn't it? Yes, yep...it is." ) Yep. I'm a checker.

I have all but stopped watching T.V. When the T.V. is on it seems like there is a disturbance in the atmosphere of my home---feels like an electrical storm minus the invigorating rumble of thunder or the benefit of a good rain. It seems dry and it makes me feel depressed. But like a person who clings to the wire that is electrocuting her it is hard for me to let go. Here's what I notice: When it's on (even if it's on a 'good' program) I feel edgy; when it's off I can breath better---have more time to think, and can ponder something for longer than a few minutes at a time---don't have to wait till the next commercial break. Anyway, when I hear people, like T.L. say they don't have T.V. anymore it nudges me closer to pulling the plug on my own. The sisters at the St. Benedict monastery in Canyon, TX don't have T.V. and they are happy. Anonymous  and his wife don't watch theirs anymore either. They couldn't drop it cold turkey but wanted t...

This blog is set up to be a conversation. My friend and I will start it, but you are welcome to join in. One of the things we loved about college was having other people to spar with. We don't like to argue, but we love to spar. We love being able to state what we think we know and then test the power of our convictions with others who are neither threatened by intensity nor too polite to pose an opposite veiw. The best outcome of a good sparring match is that we both come out knowing a little less than we thought we knew, but more certain of the one thing that matters: God is Love.

I love to write but I wrestle with the notion that enough has been said about everything under the sun. Then I'll read something that stikes a chord and wakes me up, and I am glad that whoever said it, said it. Like this poem by Kay Ryan: As though the river were a floor/we position our table and chairs upon it/ eat, and have conversation. As it moves along,we notice— as calmly as though dining room paintings were being replaced— the changing scenes along the shore. We do know/ we do know this is the Niagara River/ but it is hard to rememberwhat that means. -------Kay Ryan I am no Kay Ryan, but reading good writing gives me the courage to keep trying, even though I know "which way the river flows."