Tickle-Me-Pink

Acadia. Summer, 2010

My life is a crayon box of tastes, touches, smells, sounds. It's not just the original colors, either. It's the deluxe box- Mac & Cheese, Tickle-Me-Pink, Plum, Tumbleweed, Robin's Egg Blue...they're all there too. I can smell sea salt a hundred miles from the shore; I can taste it the closer I get to home. I grew up on lakes; I didn't even grow up on the ocean, but it was close enough, and I grew older with it. Ah, summertime...Sea salt means so much. I was the little girl watching them make taffy through the window of the candy shop, tucked away in its perfectly secret corner of that tiny town. I never liked taffy much, but I liked to watch them make it whenever we visited Boothbay Harbor. I'd stare at it pulling-rolling and rolling, silky, beautiful, dishonest, with my thumb resting in its permanent place in my 5-year old, 6-year old, 8-year old mouth. The college girl home working for the summer would peer out at my shy eyes from behind the counter inside to make me feel sweeter than candy.

Some of the best days in my whole world happened with the people in this picture.

Hiking near my house, on a surprise visit in June.

Ok, so I'm feeling a little bit nostalgic for the summertimes of my life. I've had such great summers...I grew up in 'Vacationland' for goodness sakes. The camping, and the hiking, and the swimming, and the antiquing, and the tubing and the boating, and the dressing up like faeries and doing photo shoots...meeting up with lifelong friends at Lyzie's house and riding jet skis across the lake to go pick up more friends on the other side...SUCH a good place to grow up. I hadn't spent an entire summer in Maine since I left for college, until this summer, but every year was different and exciting. Being at my last Spoleto in Charleston this summer was close to perfect, but sophomore year of college was probably my favorite. I stayed in Princeton and that's when 'wine and cheese parties' were born. That was the summer I really experienced the Jersey Shore for the first time, and I fell in love with it. It was also the summer I realized just how much wine was too much wine, found a best friend in Paige, got lost in lightning storms and climbed on scaffolding on top of Riverside Church with Mike, jumped on Dr. Bartle when he gave me an 'A' in Contemporary Trends...such a good couple of months. And I'm pretty sure I still made it home at some point for time with my Bekah, and the annual end-of-August, midnight lake swim with my Joey, too.

Playing dress up at Bethy's. Yep, in high school : )

I think my mind is fixed on these things right now because I'm trying to remember what it was like before there was anything to remember. I used to really understand what it meant to hold on to moments without caring what came next, trusting that everything would fall into place according to some Divine plan far beyond the limits of my own imagining. I want to find that kind of serenity again. And I think I've chosen a wonderful part of the world to do that. York is not entirely one season or another right now. [sort of how I feel, in case the metaphor didn't stick] It isn't really winter here any more, but it's not yet spring. The snow and ice passed through like tourists, and left me behind to realize 'wow- I live in England now'. Everything's melted and the grass and strange moss on the trees are lime green. Seriously, bright, lime green. My eyes aren't playing tricks. It's not quite cold...colder than Fall, but not as cold as winter should be. This, while back home everyone is happily digging out, snow day after snow day. (I tend to go noncommittally back and forth between wishing I could have more time with winter, and aching for summer) And I find myself asking why can't I just stop wishing and dreaming long enough to savor and enjoy the way everything is right here and now? This is my next step, beginninnnggggg...now. Not that being goal-oriented and driven is a bad thing, but I think it can get in the way sometimes, or at least can overwhelm the wonderful things that are happening every minute of the day. My first Masters recital is a week from today, and the task for the week is to soak in every new experience that comes my way, every new rhythmic possibility I discover in the chants, every precious moment I have singing with a Renaissance lute and a Medieval vielle. And I refuse to worry about my looming PhD application. At most, I'm leaving that one to prayer for the week, while I enjoy submitting to the life of a performer for a few glorious days. I'm adding to my crayon box every day, and this time instead of colors, its filling up with colours.

i. was. lost. and. im. still. lost. but. i. feel. so. much. better. 

Sometimes

Sometimes it's perfect being the only one awake

to hear hushed murmuring memories,

playing like music, melodious in honeyed air,

plucking streams of cobweb strings

while I kiss the wind with all that's left

of the breath you didn't take from me yet.

Sometimes when that same sung breeze reaches my cheek,

I stop fighting my feet, and let them take me somewhere,

'til tears drip down my eyelashes like rain,

and I start to feel better,

finding there is something so deliciously sweet

about loving you on a night like this night.

[I watched this video by one of my favorite comedic teams, Garfunkel and Oates, and it put me in the mood for metaphor: Garfunkel and Oates ]

Chant and...Football?

I love early music. But I also love football, almost as much as I love watching professional soccer. This is one of those things that most people probably don't know about me, but it's very much real. Some of my happiest memories of growing up happened at high school football games, walking around the track that circled our home field with childhood friends, listening to the band play in the stands, eventually playing and cheering with them years later, wandering around cracking jokes about the boys in their silly tight pants. Last night my Facebook news feed was frantic with status updates from friends on both sides of a big Jets vs. New England Patriots game. Being from the utmost Northeast of America, all of my friends at home are fanatic Pats (and Red Sox) fans. Having spent four of the best years of my collegiate life in the Metropolitan area, most of my college friends are as fanatic about the Jets as my friends at home are about the Pats. Over the course of the last 5 years or so I have seen my allegiance to Mass-based teams dwindle, although traces remain. Either way, last night I watched two teams, both of whom I've at one time or another claimed to support, while I was editing some Medieval chant for my Masters thesis. During commercial breaks from my live online feed of the game I got a little distracted, and this is what happened...

They won. I think this is why.
: )

For Better Or For Worse

You're right. I am wild with life.
And I will keep burning, seeping, spilling,

knowing it might make you afraid

to fall so far the ground might even tremble-you
couldn't have that. And it's why you won't have

me. For the part of my life that matters

you have been the silence

screaming louder than my ticking

clock. If you'd only let yourself look you

would have found me looking back 

from behind a gossamer veil, 

woven with flecks of gold, asking you to follow,
beckoning you to come with the bend

of a finger and a smile that's always been 

ownerless, belonging to you. But if you ask me tomorrow,

if you finally see my wild eyes and don't look away for fear

of where they might take you, I'll have to swear it's all

forgotten. There is a too-late 

vow I'm taking today,

that you are not my whole wide world.

From this day forward you are only part

of it, for better or for worse.

Twelfth Night & Epiphany

The last day of Christmas is upon us, and once that happens I can finally admit and even welcome the new year. The last 12 months have been pretty incredible-it's easy to forget how much happens in just 365 days, but recently I'm finding myself thinking almost as much about the past as I am about the next year ahead. So much has happened...2010 was a year of healing, of remembering that I am passionate, remembering that I am a child of God, re-learning how to be that again like a newborn taking her first steps. I heard vibrato in my voice for the first time, I felt deeply, truly happy again, I learned that there are many different definitions of love in this crazy world. I've even learned to appreciate and value these differing definitions, all the while coming to understand and appreciate my own even more. In just one year I've graduated college, put on my senior recital, toured California with Westminster Choir,  sang at Spoleto for my last time as part of the Westminster community, been accepted into multiple exemplary graduate programs for early music, I sold my first car, packed most of my possessions away, and have embarked on the biggest adventure of my life thus far, fulfilling my lifelong dream of moving to England. 

Epiphany Times Three by Kathrin Burleson  [kathrinburleson.com]

And now here we are at the beginning of 2011...I have three graduate recitals to put on, and if all goes well then I will have my Masters degree in nine months. It's time to nurture this baby, and what better day to make this claim than Epiphany? The word literally means "to reveal." Today is a day to remember the arrival of the Magi, to reflect on their revelation that Christ was the new King. Long before He became what He was destined to be, this tiny baby was just lying there, but these Kings knew what He would one day be for the world.  And I'm left wondering what is my own epiphany for this year then? I think I know the answer. I spent the coming of the New Year with some of my most cherished friends, and as we caught up on the months that have passed since we last saw each other there seemed to be a theme of uncertainty amongst us all-each of us seemingly wondering what's next? But as I looked around I also found myself in the midst of amazing human beings on exciting paths...these friends I'm so blessed to call mine are unbelievably gifted musicians with beautiful spirits, and despite our increasing need to take naps in order to stay up late, we have so much life and energy. We find each other from all over the world, we climb snow-packed mountains together, and we dance even though we don't know how. I was afraid that it would be hard to go back to England after coming home, but I am so inspired right now, and I'm so ready to get back and take on the rest of my time in York. I sat late one night in New York City, looking across a table at one of the most amazing people in my life and I thought how awesome it is that he is pushing ahead and living a life uncharacteristically out of the limelight right now, while I believe with all of my being that he is destined for great things ahead. Not that I left behind gifts of frankincense or myrrh at his feet, but it's so wonderful to believe in something/someone and know it's real before it comes wholly to fruition, and I am so blessed to have that in my life, to be able to be a part of and watch these things play out for the people I love over the course of years. I am living in a small city in the north of England, but I'm starting to feel the stirring again of what's to come, and I can not wait to be swept up in whatever's next. God may be saying "not yet, Nia" but there is definitely something wonderful brewing. I can really feel life starting to take root and happen, for the ones I love and for myself...I wonder what this year will reveal, what I'm going to become...whatever it is, it had better be great.

For Sylvia Biggins

My best friend's grandmother passed away just before Christmas and her funeral is in Washington, DC today. I can't be physically there to celebrate her life, but, as ever, I'm with Kevin and his family in spirit, and I'm thinking of little else today. I met Sylvia only briefly, but in that time I got to see what a light she was in this world. I got to hear her laugh, and feel her hugs, and know the depth of her love through them. She loved me because I loved her grandson, and I will never forget the smile in her eyes when I met her. Kevin asked me to write something for the program when she first passed away, and this wrote itself down. I felt more like a vessel than I've ever felt before-I truly believe this is as much by as it is for a beautiful woman I was blessed to know.

When time, at last, takes me away,
I ask you and I pray:
Sing me to eternity,
and dance from night 'til day.

When dim, dear ones, seems lantern light,
think of my smile bright,
And I will light the way for you,
from everlasting flight.

My grandson, church, my family,
the world could not keep me,
but wrapped up in my Father's arms,
I'm waiting happily.

Where I have gone there is no pain,
nor is there even rain,
so smile and know the day will come
we'll be together again.

When tomorrow comes and I can not call
to laugh at things funny and small,
remember that I am now with Him
and We will catch your every fall.

When days feel long and quiet seem,
search the sky for beams-
I am the light in winter white
and will Forever be.

Thank you for being a light in my life, Sylvia Biggins. Thank you for helping to raise my best friend, making him the extraordinary man he is.  You brought unbelievable joy to my life without even knowing. That is a memory I will keep forever. Until we meet again x

First Poem in the New Year

[Reflection in a stream-Nia Rhein]


One day when I was very small

I walked along a stream

and saw beneath the water there

a face looked up at me.

I saw her eyes and wondered why

so sad they seemed to be

but tears were only ripples, lost,

then drowned in water deep