My great aunt Beverly wears Sketchers.

My great aunt Beverly wears Sketchers, but that's not the only reason why I like her.

Let me introduce you to this beautiful woman. Her name is Beverly. She's so many things..... a scientist, a poet, a mother, a grandmother, a widow, and a longstanding member of the prizewinning Sweet Adelines A Cappella Chorus, just to name a few.

She's also very human. She's a lover of people and things and information; she's fascinated by just being here on Earth, which makes her all the more fascinating to be around. I got to spend a very short couple of days with her as I passed through Louisville, Kentucky this week. I had met her before, but never had her to myself or been to her home.

I loved listening to her story and her stories.

My favorites were her stories related to love. I took away a lot from listening to Beverly....

Love. Once you're in it, you can't really fall out of it if its the real thing. Her eyes lit up and countenance softened with the mere mention of her one love, her deceased husband of more than 30 years. I saw just one picture of them together. It was obvious: she adored him.

Her husband was not who she expected to find as a companion. Her first impression of him: less than good. They ran into each other again 4 years later in the same restaurant (she took me to this restaurant for lunch). Second impression: very good. Long story short: they were married months later.

He was a charismatic, Italian poker player. She was a successful electron microscopist and mother of 3 boys.

I poked questions, subconsciously hoping that I could find some formula for managing to find "the same" in my life: "What age did you remarry?"

"I don't know. It doesn't really matter," she said with a smile. Things don't seem to matter when you're in love... age, timing, profession... What mattered was two people and their shared human connection.

What she loved about him was that they could carry conversations in all circumstances and at all times. No matter what, they would talk and talk and talk and talk and talk.

"He loved me. I had never experienced that before." They were only married 3 years before he died suddenly. I hope her husband knows that those 3 years changed her life... her past, her present, and her future. Love seems to be like that... it changes everything.

Beverly is a very young 70. She's into genealogy, libraries, working on her novel, and hanging out with her family. She has the same laugh as my grandma (her sister). In her life, she's been up and she's been down. She has faced depression. She has sung ("Breathing and singing is so nice!" she says). She has laughed and cried and learned and taught. She's courageous. She's real. This, ladies and gentlemen, is my great aunt Beverly.

Blue Lake Nerd

Just finished teaching at the Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Michigan... what an unexpectedly fantastic two weeks!

It had been a while since I had taught harp so intensely, and I had forgotten about how nerdy I get about being in the teacher's chair. I love it; it puts me in an instantly good mood and gives me warm fuzzies. There were 9 harpists there ready for work and play, along with 7 complete beginners, all from different parts of the States. The words "rewarding," "fun," and "exhausting" just barely skim the surface here. I am a lucky gal, to have been there working with these energetic young musicians.

In addition, it felt a little like I was on vacation in Colorado: cabins, trees, mosquitos, s'mores, lake... What an inviting environment for focusing on your art! The camp encompasses dance, visual art, theater, and music, which is a recipe for some interesting faculty! I enjoyed spending time with them as much as I did the students.

So. Not regrets for sleep deprivation. And I'm glad I'm out of the mosquitos.

Other random thoughts:

I'm glad that my body is not my artistic instrument. Being around dancers and vocalists reminds me that I am happy I am not a dancer or a vocalist. They are constantly doing crunches (dancers) or avoiding campfire smoke and not eating cheese (vocalists). I don't think I could do it. That's a lot of pressure- to have your body be your art. Ya know? I'm happy lugging the harp around. Harpy lugging the happy around.

Marcel Tournier's "Sonatine" for harp... mmmm... love this piece.

Open Mic and Lone Stars

It's great to be in Austin again! I had a fun week teaching at the UT Longhorn Harp Camp and another great week of relaxation here in one of my favorite cities. Despite a little heat exhaustion, many tacos were consumed, music was played, siestas were taken, bats were watched, and friends and former students were seen. Being here is a joy.

I got to attend 3 open mics in these last days which, to be honest, is 3 more than I had ever been to before. In the "live music capital of the world," it seems fitting to let Austin be my first impression of the open mic.

There really is an art to this thing. I wasn't playing- only just admiring. And as I was reflecting on and enjoying both the poetry and music, it's hard not to find a metaphor in all of it.

The open mic is set up to be a safe place to try out new and old music and poetry, improvised and otherwise. The acts that I was inspired by were those whose hearts were honest and vulnerable, not trying to show off pretend to be the king of the hill. What a demand for major guts, though. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out on a limb like that. You've got to be comfortable in your own skin, and you can't pretend to be anyone else but yourself up there-- total authenticity.

It's about being:

Vulnerable
Honest
Humble
Authentic
Proud to be who you are


My favorites were:

1. My singer songwriter friend Benjamin Aggerbæk in his element... singin' his heart out and ripping it up on guitar.

2. A man with his two grown daughters celebrating his birthday. He was on guitar and vocals, and his girls were backing him up with their own killer voices. Go family! Loved it.

3. Two women (lovers) who did 4 short spontaneous/ improvised poetry pieces. Beautiful.

So. I'm now officially a fan of the open mic. And reminded that I want to live my life like I was playing in an open mic.

I'm now headed to Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Michigan to teach harp for a couple of weeks. Shifting gears and temperatures. Hm..... can't wait to be where it's cool. Thanks for the good time Austin. Hope to see you again soon.

Arizona Moons

Thoughts after the "Moon" Concerts in Arizona these past weeks:

There's something fairly new for me that I'm digging: playing my own tunes. This is changing my entire outlook on my playing and performing. I've got to do this more...

Thanks to those of you who came up after these shows to encourage me with your appreciation.

Mountains or water?

I was talking to the guy next to me on the plane from France last week, and he asked me whether I prefer living close to the mountains or the water.

I have to laugh about this question now, as I'm in West Texas considering to move here. Odessa. The beauty in Odessa is in its people, as I was told yesterday. And the sunsets. Those are two positive things: good people and sunsets. No mountains, though. No water.

I woke up in my hotel bed this morning and was thinking about how I've had mountains, water, glorious nature, and beautiful scenery for the past 3 years. I think I might just have enough reserves to be okay here for a while. I was sipping my coffee at the complimentary breakfast and remembered that not long ago, I would wake to the sun rising over the Mediterranean. I would sit on the doorstep of where I lived in the mountains and let my dog lick me awake as I would enjoy a cappuccino.

Why, then?

There are some things in my life that I'd like to organize. This is a topic to be explored over a cup of tea or cold beer, so give me a ring and let's hang out. Anyway, Odessa would be a good place to get my bearings after flying by the seat of my pants for 3 years.

And... there is an amazing school program set up by a lady named Reba MacHaney which involves more than 30 harp students and 30 harps in the school district there. She is retiring and leaving the program in hopes that it can continue to grow and bloom. Anyone that knows me can tell you that this would be right up my alley. I'd be surrounded by harps and fun people all day. And getting paid for it... such a novel concept; I can't really even imagine what this would be like.

So. The jury is still out, but it looks like I might be getting to know some good people and some nice sunsets.

And I thought I had changed.

Back in Phoenix now... My 3 year old niece uses the word "mortified." My 1 year old nephew says, "Good job Megs," after I play the harp. My parents have iTunes playlists. They both sit down on Tuesday nights to watch (AND VOTE FOR BY TEXT MESSAGE) American Idol. My best friend is slightly giddy about a guy she just met. My brother quit his job to spend a month with his wife in Thailand. My sister buys her produce at Trader Joe's, and my brother in law is golfing in Scotland.

And I was worried that it was only I that had changed.

It wasn't until I went on an early morning run, when I smelt the desert, when I tasted the brittle, dry air and felt my thirsty skin try to sweat... that's when I knew I was home.

A tout la gloire de la France

And then there were 3. And then there was one. And now there's not even a van. The tour is officially over.

And the official count for traffic violations is in:
5 tickets in 4 countries (It would have been 6 in 5 countries had it not been for CJ's dreadlocks).

And only 2 broken strings between the 6 of us. What is a broken string between friends, though?

We spent our last few days together in Versailles, France. This was new ground for each of us, and holy moly... did we ever enjoy the marvelous days there. Sunburns to prove it. One day was devoted entirely to seeing the palace and the gardens of former French royalty. In the entrance to the grand palace reads: "Tout la gloire de la France." All the glory of France. Here is my suggested playlist for the day:

For the 2.5 hours you have to wait in line just to get in:
Benjamin Aggerbæk
Pearl Jam
Stravinsky (Petrushka)

For the inside of the palace:
Bach (cello suites, especially the 6th)

For the gardens:
Sigur Ros

Tout la gloire de la France. It was making me think of this thing someone once said about not loosing heart nor hope in this world. He wrote: "Fix your eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." He proposes that in order not to loose hope in this dingy world, we are to concentrate on unseen things. But I was thinking, while gazing at all the glory of France wrapped up into the splendor of a square mile, that it helps to actually look at the seen sometimes. If we see art, if we have the capacity to create beauty, if we have the desire and ability to conceptualize and build a masterpiece... and all this as humans... how much more? How much more? How much more is the glory of Him who said "Let light shine out of darkness." The glory of France will fade away. That's hard to believe after seeing it's beauty remain 250 years later. The glory we can't see now doesn't fade. Perspective.

In all this glory-pondering, I also decided to try my best not to be back in Europe again (in springtime, at least) without a sweetheart... despite the beautiful weather and "all the glory of France" wrapped up into a few square miles, I'm a hopeless romantic, and found myself melanchol-ily spending the afternoon in the grass in the gardens of Versailles.... toute seule. Mais c'est pas grave.

I wanted to say thank you, girls: CJ, Cat, Louise, and K Phanie. It was a pleasure to meet you, to play music together, and to bond over all of those cheese sandwiches. You each are lovely, and I miss you already.