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A Joyful Noise

Harlem Gospel Choir

Thanksgiving

November 22, 2018 by Melodye Shore

More than these greens tossed with toasted pecans,
I want to serve you the hymn I sang into the wooden bowl
as I blended the oil and white vinegar.

More than honey ice cream
beside the warm pie, I want to serve you the bliss in the apples’ flesh,
how it gathered the sun and carried its luminousness to this table.
More than the popovers, the risen ecstasy of wheat, milk and eggs,
I want to serve you the warmth that urged the tranformation to bread.

Blessings, I want to serve you full choruses of hallelujah, oh so wholly
here in this moment. Oh so holy here in this world.

This beautiful poem, Thanksgiving, was penned by  Rosemerry Wahtola Trimmer. All photographs courtesy of my dear friend, Donna Sullivan.

I’m forever grateful for this opportunity to sing at Sunday Brunch with the Harlem Gospel Choir. I’m not a culinary expert by any means, nor am I a professional singer. But I do rattle around in the kitchen some, and I’m all about making a joyful noise!

I suspect that’s why this poem really resonates with me. It speaks to the savory-sweet truths about Thanksgiving. A tasty meal doesn’t require perfect recipes and the just-right serving dishes. It’s all about serving others–meeting your beloveds’ needs with compassion and grace. Abundance is sometimes equated with heaping plates and that uncomfortable, overstuffed feeling that follows. But in fact, a bountiful life is more accurately measured by our generosity of spirit. And here’s the essence of the poem, as I read it: When we prepare food with a song in our hearts, it nourishes everyone who gathers around our tables.  And when we are “wholly here in the moment,” we give and receive a gracious plenty.

Posted in: Donna Sullivan, Harlem Gospel Choir, joy, joyful noise, Poetry, writing Tagged: joy, joyful noise, poem, poetry, rosemary wahtola trimmer, thanksgiving, thanksgiving 2018

Ringing in the New Year, 2016

January 2, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Another turn of the calendar page, and here we are, standing at the threshold of 2016. We had a quiet celebration, here at Chez Shore. No fireworks, no champagne flutes at midnight…we just reveled in each other’s company, and that of longtime friends. After dinner, we hiked to a beautiful vantage point, not far from our home. We watched in awe as the sun extinguished its fire in the Pacific Ocean, but not before putting its final punctuation mark on the year.

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I’ve been reflecting today on the highlights of 2015, while also imagining the possibilities for 2016.  No, I’m not planning to write a formal list of New Year’s resolutions–an illustrated journal page is more my style. In 2015, for instance, I created a collage of sorts for the word SUSTAIN, a multi-faceted theme that I oftentimes referenced.

I haven’t yet settled on a word for this year, but from my 2015 catalog of pictures and blogs, I pulled together a brief retrospective. Here, some of the myriad people and events that sustained me last year. I invite you to revisit those special moments with me, and to consider how we might respond this year to Mary Oliver’s question:

Tell me…

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Oh Happy Day! Harlem Gospel Choir workshop & onstage performance (February)

What is it you plan to do…

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His Holiness, XIV Dalai Lama talks about compassion, on the occasion of his 80th Birthday Celebration (July)

With your one…

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Leaf-peeping in history-steeped New England, and the singularly successful book launch of Jeannine Atkins’ LITTLE WOMAN IN BLUE, a novel about May Alcott (October)

Wild…

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A well-nourished leopard guards his “prey,” at the Exotic Feline Breeding Compound and Conservation Center (April)

And precious…

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This ray of sunshine, also known as my grandson (August)

Life?

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A backyard metamorphosis, from caterpillar to chrysalis to winged beauty (June)

Wishing you a joyful 2016, in which your relationships nurture and inspire you, and every day’s a grand adventure.

(Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? was excerpted from Mary Oliver’s hugely popular poem, A Summer Day. )

Posted in: beach, Butterflies, Global Summit on Compassion, Harlem Gospel Choir, His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, joyful noise, Lev, metamorphosis, monarch butterfly, Nature, New England, Photography Tagged: dalai lama, exotic feline breeding compound, hummingbird nest 2015, jeannine atkins, joy, laguna beach, monarch butterfly, tiger

Art Challenge of the Week: Creating abundance

November 27, 2015 by Melodye Shore

“Abundance is not something we acquire,” Wayne Dyer once said, “It is something we tune into.”  I wholeheartedly agree. It’s not about having, or doing, or aspirational thinking. The Secret (if there is one) is to be fully present in each moment, wholly appreciative of the gifts available to us in the here and now.

It’s the ability to see a hummingbird’s nest for the iridescent promises it holds…

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And to greet unannounced guests as if they belonged, as if this were the plan all along.

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Abundance reveals itself when you wade, unafraid, into frothy waters.

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Sometimes it appears as if by magic–shimmery bouquets from a bubble wand, for instance.

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It presents itself in expansive moments of peaceful awareness,

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Expresses itself as joyful noise or a whispered “amen.”

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Abundance is a splashy little thing,

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With a graceful elegance.

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It’s a timeless beauty, capable of endless transformations.

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Abundance can be of our own making, of course–bread dough, for instance, set to rise in a warm kitchen.

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Perfect in its imperfections, it fills us with a delicious sense of well-being.

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Abundance is the secret gardens we tend…

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Within each seed of awareness, an abundant harvest.

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I snapped these photos over the course of this past year. They speak to grand adventures and simple delights, quiet beauty and occasions that shout, Behold! It’s a curated collection, brief glimpses of the whole story, but when I remember these wide-eyed, breathless moments, I’m filled anew with gratitude for the abundance they represent.

How apropos, that Thanksgiving week prompted the challenge word abundance. Want to see more? Visit Veronica Roth’s page and follow the links. My responses to previous challenge words are available here. 

Posted in: art challenge, beach, Harlem Gospel Choir, joy, joyful noise, monarch butterfly, Photography, Sara Tagged: abundance, beach, bread dough rising, bubble wand, egret, exotic feline breeding compound, homebaked bread, hummingbird egg, leopard, lev, monarch butterfly, mule deer, pope john paul ii rose, rain slicker, sand castles, sara, thanksgiving

Announcing #SweetSundayBrunch, with Harlem Gospel Choir

June 15, 2015 by Melodye Shore

Remember the lively conversations we once shared around the family table on Sundays? If you close your eyes, can you also recall the delicious aromas that wafted from the kitchen? Fried chicken and cornbread, syrupy pancakes and scrambled eggs…food so tasty, its closest rival was the toe-tapping, tambourine-waving music you heard in church that morning? That’s the feeling we’re going for with #SweetSundayBrunch, a weekly Twitter chat that I’m co-hosting with the Harlem Gospel Choir.

In 140 characters: #SweetSundayBrunch is soul food, served fresh every Sunday morning via social media. Join our global conversation every week, starting 6/21.

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Share snaps of your Sunday gatherings (Image copyright Harlem Gospel Choir)

#SweetSundayBrunch is also inspired by the incomparable joy that came of singing with the Harlem Gospel Choir. I still get teary-eyed when I think about the day I blogged about being a “caged bird” who trembled at the very thought of singing out loud, even in private. I challenged myself to take a workshop with the world-famous gospel choir, at the Escondido Performing Arts Center. It was definitely outside my comfort zone, but it stood at the very top of my bucket list, and I was ready for the challenge.

To my great surprise, I was invited by the lead singer to join the choir onstage, and to stand next to her in the spotlight.  To my even greater amazement, I sang a full-throated version of “Oh Happy Day” at center stage, without fear or inhibition. When the final grace note dissolved into silence, each of the choir members came forward and hugged me. The lead singer ushered me offstage, but not before saying (loud enough for all to hear), “We’ve been friends for a long time. But we are more than that… we are family.” It was one of the most authentic expressions of love that I’ve ever experienced, and I (along with the Harlem Gospel Choir) want to share it with all of you.

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Me, shortly after singing onstage with the Harlem Gospel Choir–oh, happy day!

 

#SweetSundayBrunch is an interfaith, nondenominational, toe-tapping, tambourine waving, guilt-free gathering that’ll make you wish you could scratch-and-sniff your Twitter page.

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Whet our appetites! (Sunday Brunch on Lummi Island, copyright Nina Laden)

 

Our first Twitter chat is this coming Sunday, June 21st. Since we’re expecting guests from around the world, it’s not tied to a certain time zone.

FIVE GUIDELINES:

  1. Connect with us every week by adding the hashtag #SweetSundayBrunch to your Sunday morning tweets. Got extra characters? Add @MelodyeShore and/or @HarlemGospel.
  1. Share a good word, choir pics, song lyrics, snaps of your Sunday gatherings…bring what you’ve got to the table & invite your friends to join us.
  1. Tweet and retweet people who use the #SweetSundayBrunch hashtag, and ‘follow’ those whose interests you share.
  1. No copy/paste advertisements, rants, or porn.
  1. Mention Sweet Sunday Brunch by name—as much as you’d like, much appreciated! But please save the hashtag [#SweetSundayBrunch] for our weekly gatherings. [#SweetSundayBrunch is our registered hashtag, and we’ve also created a @SweetSunBrunch Twitter profile.]
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Post pictures of your Sunday gatherings! Image copyright Harlem Gospel Choir

THREE SUGGESTIONS:

  1. Follow the Golden Rule. Meaning: be generous of spirit & open-minded.
  1. Give and you shall receive. Extend the hand of friendship, take away an encouraging word.
  1. Make a joyful noise. Jump in, speak up, give a shout out…have fun!

Sound fun? We hope so! This is our first foray into the hashtag world, so we’re hoping you’ll help boost the signal.

Posted in: #SweetSundayBrunch, bucket list, Harlem Gospel Choir, joy, joyful noise, Singing, Sweet Sunday Brunch Tagged: @Harlemgospel, @Melodyeshore, @SweetSunBrunch, #SweetSundayBrunch, Harlem gospel choir, joy, joyful noise, singing

“Grace Notes,” and the way serendipity works

April 20, 2015 by Melodye Shore

Serendipity

  1. an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.
  2. good fortune; luck

Coined by Horace Walpole (1717-92), from the Persian fairy tale The Three Princes of Serendip, in which the heroes “were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things they were not in quest of.” (Dictionary.com)

 ……………….

Late last week, I received word from Jennifer Pastiloff that “Grace Notes” was accepted for publication at The Manifest-Station, the hugely popular online journal that published my holiday piece, “Tidings of Comfort and Joy.” I promised Jennifer that I’d find and send her an illustration, even though I knew already that nothing in my own photo collection matched the story. Leap, and then look. Not always, but that’s usually how I roll.

Mockingbirds figure prominently in the story, so that’s where I focused my quest. A couple of Google images looked promising, so I reached out to the website owners on which they were featured: May I use your picture, in exchange for attribution and a wider reach for your beautiful work? One blogger said yes, but when I realized she’d “borrowed” the copyrighted photo without authorization, I bowed out quickly.* But wait! I found something even shinier, and more befitting!

“Mockingbird in the Sun,” copyright Pat D. Hemlepp. Used with permission

 

Pat Hemlepp calls himself a “photo hobbyist,” but his image gallery is as professional as can be. A total stranger, mind you, but what’s to lose by asking if I can use this gorgeous shot? Quite understandably, he said he needed time to Google search this crazy woman consider my request. “No pressure,” I said, “I’d want you to feel 100% sure it’s the right thing to do—that it aligns with your interests & honors your beautiful work.”

It was in that waiting period—where Hope and Awareness pool their resources, and then set out on a quest of their own – that I “just so happened” to land on my artistic friend Veronica Roth’s Facebook post. As synchronicity would have it, she’d “just so happened” to be painting one of her signature pieces (exquisite watercolor images, overlaid on ephemora). “My friend Diana suggested I paint a mockingbird next,” she wrote. “Working on it. Almost done.” And there it was: a sweet little songbird, pretty as could be…bird feathers and musical notes, harmonizing together on a church voluntary called “Improvisation.”

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“Mockingbird,” copyright Veronica Roth. Used with permission

 

I got goosebumps–same reaction as when I landed on the Harlem Gospel Choir’s Facebook page a couple of months ago. Same as I always do, when I stumble upon the shivery magic that old Horace described as “accidental good fortune.”

It’s not like I was born under a lucky star. I most assuredly wasn’t. Why, then, do I always seem to fall into happy circumstances? It’s a mystery, even for this Nancy Drew wanna-be. Miracles can happen. Of that, I feel certain. But I’m not entirely comfortable with the concept of preordained circumstances; don’t know that I’d put all my faith in the Secret; and find challenging the belief that you can bring to fruition certain things in your life by sitting on a meditation cushion, chanting mantras as your fingers slide from bead to bead on a rosewood mala. I don’t dismiss these ideas outright, but I don’t buy them absolutely.

Could be that when you’re traveling the right road, you meet up with the right people. Researchers seem to think there’s a sure-fire formula for serendipity, beyond the simple rules of cause-effect. What I know for sure is that Serendipity is more likely to show up on our doorsteps when we open our hearts, minds and eyes to Possibility—when we’re willing to look beyond the messy inconvenience of scattered breadcrumbs and to venture down uncharted paths, to see where they might lead.

Not long after I saw Veronica’s watercolor image, Pat graciously granted me permission to use his lovely photograph for my story. That deadline had come and gone, so he allowed me to use “Mockingbird in the Sun” for this blog entry. I’m grateful. And I’m glad for the serendipitous chain of events that brought me to his website in the first place. I’ve bookmarked his page, for the sheer joy of discovering the latest additions to his galleries. Same with Veronica’s online studio, which I visit on a regular basis.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t also say how fortunate I feel, to have my story published on Manifest-Station. If you’ve got time to read “Grace Notes,” I’d love to hear your thoughts.

……………….

*In return for these artists’ generosity, I’d like to share with my fellow bloggers the rules for using someone else’s creative property. As with many of you, I’m more aware of the rules now than I was when I first started blogging, so I’m in the process of removing copyrighted graphics from old posts. As Maya Angelou once said, “When we know better, we do better.”

Posted in: birds, Blogging, Harlem Gospel Choir, joy, joyful noise, Nature, Photography, writing Tagged: grace notes, jennifer pastiloff, joyful noise, manifest-station, mockingbird, serendipity, singing, tidings of comfort and joy

#TBT: 5th grade Christmas concert

April 16, 2015 by Melodye Shore
Melodye5thgradeDallas66

5th Grade Choir (Dallas, Texas)

Though I once made “a joyful noise” in my father’s revival meetings, you can see here just how uncomfortable I’ve become with singing aloud.

If our eyes are indeed the windows to our soul, I’ve drawn opaque curtains across mine. On-stage or offstage, didn’t matter; my singing voice was locked inside.

But oh happy day, that’s all in the past. Coming very soon, my follow up to The Caged Bird Sings.

Posted in: CAN I GET A WITNESS, Harlem Gospel Choir, Singing Tagged: choir, Dallas Texas, joyful noise, singing, TBT, throwback thursday

The caged bird sings

February 15, 2015 by Melodye Shore

There was a time when my sisters and I performed as an ensemble, singing gospel choruses on the makeshift platforms of my father’s Pentecostal revival meetings. We were the warmup act for his fiery sermons.

Sheryll Melodye and Heidi_abt1961

Heidi, Melodye, and Sheryll

But there came a day, back in the early 1960s, when I lost my singing voice.

We were performing with the church choir that morning, a swirl of beribboned braids and Easter dresses, making a joyful noise together in the sun-splashed sanctuary of Everybody’s Tabernacle.

A black woman approached the platform where I stood, eyes twinkling under the netting of her pillbox hat. She reached for my hand. I nodded. She led me down the steps and into the crowd of worshippers, white-gloved fingers laced through mine. We “sang in the spirit together”–spinning like kaleidoscopes under the stained glass windows, prisms of color at our feet.

My feet blistered inside my hand-me-down shoes, but I didn’t feel a thing…until my mother reached into the aisle where I was dancing, pinched my arm and yanked me backward into her pew.

“Stop acting like a jungle bunny,” she hissed.

My throat tightened. In my mother’s disapproving eyes, I saw flashes of something dangerous. I’d seen it before, casting its shadow over the water fountains in Mississippi. I’d felt its looming presence, commandeering the lunch counter at a department store in Alabama. I recognized, but couldn’t yet name the familiar glare—directed now toward the good-hearted folks that opened their homes to our itinerant family, filling our empty bellies with casseroles and latticed pies, stocking our pantry with canned vegetables and fruits, and outfitting us with winter coats, more suitable for Baltimore snowstorms than the thin cotton sweaters we brought from California.

I couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t sing another note. The lyrics swirled through my head, but the melody was spirited away to a secret hiding place, where love doesn’t pinch, and joy flies on iridescent wings through an impossibly blue sky.

At almost five years old, I couldn’t find the words to describe how I was feeling. But years later, I stumbled on a passage written by Rumi, who somehow got it right:

“The feelings trembled and flapped in [my] chest like a bird newly put in a cage.”

I’d long-since rejected the ugliness my mother spewed that day. And yet…the music was still locked inside me. I enrolled in choir classes and paid for private lessons. But despite all that throat-clearing, I rarely sang loud enough for anyone else to hear. I wouldn’t let loose in the car, not even with the windows rolled. I didn’t sing in the shower,  even when I was home alone. I even bought myself a tambourine–but I couldn’t find the backbeat, and the clanging cymbals sounded more clanking chains.

But here’s the thing: When we step into that liminal space that falls between our comfort zone and  wildest dreams, miracles sometimes happen. And if we keep our eyes and ears wide open, we might get brief glimpses of that.

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Our plane was grounded by a snowstorm, so we rebooked on another airline. I couldn’t believe my ears: the Harlem Gospel Choir was clustered at our new boarding gate, singing gospel music. I reveled in this serendipitous encounter (read: went all fan girl on them).

Someday, I promised myself,  I’ll sing like that again. I might’ve even told Anna Bailey, their manager, about my dream to one day sing with a gospel choir again.

Two years later, as luck or fate would have it, I saw this posting on my Facebook feed:

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Looking forward to our workshop and concert @theccae California Center for the Arts in Escondido CA on Sunday Feb 15 at 7:30pm. ‪#‎HarlemGospelChoir‬ ‪#‎theCaliforniaCenterForTheArts‬ ‪#‎escondido‬ #Escondido ‪#‎ESCONDIDOCA‬ ‪#‎SANDIEGO‬

 

Say amen, somebody. Carpe diem, Melodye.

I’m not saying it’ll be easy. I’m not claiming a full-on healing. But guess where I’m headed on this sun-splashed February morning?

UPDATED*

I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free...

It’s impossible to describe for you the joy that came of enrolling in that Escondido workshop. I still get teary-eyed when I remember the “caged bird” who flinched at the very thought of singing out loud, even in private. I watched the choir perform, bodies swaying as they sang.  I sang a few, raspy notes–under my breath, so no one could hear me.  Eventually, though, and with lots of encouragement, I stood trembling at the mic, rehearsing a song for our evening performance. Was I stiff? No question. Pitch perfect? Probably not. But I kept telling myself: At least I’m trying.

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No one else knew the depths of my anxiety, except for the choir members with whom I shared my story over dinner. I talked about how silly I sometimes felt, constrained after all these years by something that happened to me as a very young girl. I confessed, with a sheepish smile, that after hearing them sing in the JFK terminal, I’d written “Sing onstage with the Harlem Gospel choir” at the very top of my bucket list.

I sat with the workshop buddies, felt an old stirring as I watched them perform in concert. I think, in hindsight, that it was the warmup for the magic that followed.

After an intermission, the lead singer stood at center stage, shielding her eyes from the glare of the spotlight. “Where’s Melodye?” Kiaama Hudson asked. I pivoted in my seat, scanned the auditorium. There were hundreds of people in the audience–surely, she was looking for someone else?

But no. Eyes twinkling, Kiaama fixed her gaze on me. “Come on, girl,” she said, as she waved me toward the stage.

I slow-walked to the front of the auditorium, felt everyone’s eyes on me as I climbed the platform stairs.

She took my hand in hers, and led me toward the microphone. “This is on your bucket list, am I right?” she asked me. “Singing with us onstage?”

I nodded, at once petrified and excited. It’d been a long time coming, but change was gonna come.

Kiaama stood tall and proud at the microphone: chin lifted.

I straightened my shoulders, took several deep breaths.

We sang a few practice riffs. My voice was tentative; hers was rich, full, and sweet.

But when she laced her fingers in mine,  I felt a familiar stirring.

Kiama radiated love from the depths of her being, and Oh, Happy Day, I was standing next to her, letting my little light shine.

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Kiaama Hudson. Image via Village Voice

When the final grace note dissolved into silence, Kiaasha said, right there in front of God and everybody, “We’ve been friends for a while now. But you know…once you’ve sung with our choir, we’re no longer just friends. We’re family, for life.”

The choir surrounded me–a group hug that felt like sunshine, and sparkly effervescence.  It was one of the most authentic expressions of acceptance that I’ve ever experienced, with reverberations in the rest of my life that I’d be hard-pressed to explain.

“Sing from your heart,” HGC manager Anne Bailey told us in the workshop, earlier that day.

Which, of course, is where I found my voice, hidden all this time under layers of protection. I’m setting it free again, slowly but surely, now that the lock is finally broken.

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(*Updated to include my workshop experience and my mother’s actual words.)

Posted in: CAN I GET A WITNESS, Harlem Gospel Choir, liminal spaces, memoir, Singing Tagged: baltimore, can i get a witness, escondido, Harlem gospel choir, rumi, Say Amen Somebody, singing, william blake

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