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A Joyful Noise

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Moving into 2015 with a new mantra: SUSTAIN

January 2, 2015 by Melodye Shore

In lieu of New Year's resolutions, I chose a one-word theme for 2015. Some people write theirs into moleskine journals or fancy planners; I like to doodle/collage mine into a spiral sketch pad. Who doesn't like playing with scissors, paints and glue?

I see art journaling as a meditative experience. It encourages awareness, helps me clarify my thoughts and breathe life into new ideas. Until, that is, I make a "mistake." That sucks the sugar crystals right off my lemon drop, boy howdy, and I have to fight the urge to rip out the page and start over.

This, even though the first "rule" of art journaling is that there's no such thing as a mistake. Even though I know the benefits of compassionate detachment and mindful observance.

So here you have it: an illustrated example of at least one place I'd like to grow. It's why I chose SUSTAIN (in all its definitions) as my mantra for this year.

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Want to try something similar for yourself? I invite you to visit Suzannah Conway's page, "Let's Make Some Magic in 2015!" It's chock-full of activities designed to help you reflect on the events of the past and to imagine the possibilities for the coming year. In the process, you'll be encouraged to choose your own 2015 Word o' the Year or to write out New Year's resolutions. So fun: You'll create a vision board, sketch/collage/write things into a journal, and/or create a calendar with goals and deadlines. It's a playground of sorts, with positive implications…in other words, an invitation to do whatever's meaningful and SUSTAIN-able for you.

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Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: 2015, art journaling, artistic journaling, mantra, susannah conway, sustain, word of the year

“Tidings of Comfort and Joy” published by Manifest-Station

December 26, 2014 by Melodye Shore
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Photo credit: Manifest-Station

Hark! My little story, "Tidings of Comfort and Joy" was featured at Jennifer Pastiloff's online magazine, Manifest-Station–on Christmas Day, no less!

It's about a remembrance wreath I made for two special grandmothers, Maymer and Nana; but more so, it's about the gifts available to us in every moment, and the precious memories that sustain us.

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Meet my beloved Nana, who carried all of life's goodness and beauty in those gnarled hands. My twinkly-eyed Nana, who danced for the Queen and King of England as a young girl and taught me to curtsy; who sang "His Eye is on the Sparrow" the whole day long, even when the cares of the world weighed heavy on her shoulders; who spritzed herself with rosewater every morning and teased, "Phew, you sure don't smell like roses!" when we rushed into her arms after traveling the revival circuit for weeks on end, in the backseat of a stuffy car.

It was Nana who steadied my candle when it flickered, who kicked over the proverbial bushel basket with sturdy shoes, whenever it grew dim. "This little light of mine," she'd sing in her bright, clear voice, "I'm going to let it shine…"  I believed her, and in following her lead, I learned how to keep my inner light burning and to ward off the dark. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that Nana had something to do with the way this all played out.

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Here's the link, should you want to (re)read "Tidings of Comfort and Joy" at the Manifest-Station website. If you're so inclined, please also leave a comment.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy.

UPDATE: This adventure began when I volunteered to create a remembrance wreath for my friend Amy's Maymer. She's written a beautiful blog about our shared experience here.

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Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: amy neighbour vanechaute, jennifer pastiloff, manifest-station, nana, tidings of comfort and joy

Tidings Of Comfort and Joy

December 17, 2014 by Melodye Shore
I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
–Walt Whitman

It was when our mutual friend Katrina Kenison introduced me to Amy VanEchaute's blog, My Path With Stars Bestrewn, that the seeds of a friendship were planted. In a later entry, “While My Pretty One Sleeps," Amy wrote a gorgeous tribute to her beloved Momma, who seemed to me the stuff of fairy tales. At once magical and ephemeral, Amy's Momma reminded me of my sweet Nana—not mirror images, mind you, but similar in all the places where light exists and love makes itself manifest in the world.

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Amy's Momma with Maymer, 1973
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My Nana, early 1970s

Though we are separated by distance—1,900 miles, more or less—my subsequent conversations with Amy brought us closer. Over time, I came to realize just how much we have in common. Our personalities are uniquely our own, but we approach the world with a shared sense of wide-eyed wonderment, are attuned to music about Mother Earth and her creations, and words that whisper to us the wisdom of Transcendentalists, matriarchs, and the Eternal All-knowing.

A few weeks ago, when Amy posted a picture of the Victorian-style wreath she’d created as a Christmastime homage to her mother, I wished aloud for a memorial spot where I could visit Nana. Amy expressed similar regrets about her own grandmother. As fate would have it, “Maymer” is buried in a cemetery less than nine (count 'em, 9!) miles from my house.

Right then I realized that we’d ventured into that serendipitous space where wishes are sometimes granted, the realm of possibility where you don’t dare blink, lest you miss all the fun and magic. “I’ll make her a wreath,” I heard myself say, “I’ll find Maymer’s grave and lay it there for you.”

Get this: I’d never made a wreath for a loved one before, much less a total stranger! So what? My inner voice asked. I answered the challenge by grabbing my car keys and heading to Michaels. Not for me, something purely decorative…I'd pull together thematic elements! The circular shape would speak of unity—the joining of hands across the miles, a warm embrace in absentia. And the sturdy evergreens would represent our grandmothers’ character: strong women who endured hard times without complaint, who embroidered the fanciful into the everyday, and who sowed seeds of grace in every word and deed.

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Behold! My first-ever homemade bow! See the tiny angel? She represents Maymer and Nana, spiritual giants of short stature. In the curve adjacent to the gilt-edged bow, I placed creamy white roses, as fair as our grandmothers’ porcelain complexions.

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Here and there, I scattered various gifts of earth and sky, to help illustrate the underlying meaning of this circle: Hope, that thing with feathers; pinecones that represent growth and renewal; a sprig of cedar that symbolizes strength and healing; holly that speaks of loving sacrifice; and twining ivy, to depict the precious memories that cling to the very fabric of our being.

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On these scrolls are written the songs of our heart: "Deep Peace" for Maymer, and “His Eye is on The Sparrow” for Nana. I tied them together with a tussie-mussie of forget-me-nots, tiny blue flowers that grew prolific in Maymer’s garden and inspired Amy’s momma to write this gorgeous haiku:

Like my mother’s eyes
Twinkling from the garden path
Blue forget-me-nots.
©Marjorie Neighbour, 1982
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I then clipped two candles on the upper right corner, humming as I placed them among the greenery: These little lights of ours, I’m gonna let ‘em shine… Sprigs of mistletoe are scattered at the base of the candles, for who deserves bunches of kisses more than a beloved grandmother?

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A chubby bird hovers mid-air, a shimmery gold confection that catches the sunlight with its feathers. Into its bosom, I tucked a pale pink rose from my backyard garden—a secret treasure of the sort that I suspect Nana and Maymer loved best. Over time the petals will fade and crumble, but as with our most cherished memories, their essence will remain.

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Here’s how my finished wreath looked, lovingly placed as it was near the cedar tree where Maymer rests.

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I discovered nearby yet another wreath, created with bougainvillea flowers by Mother Nature herself! It’s a very unusual arrangement, which makes me wonder if I was meant to stumble upon it in my walk across the grounds.  And just beyond the reach of my camera, a songbird flew from tree to tree, chirping when it landed but never lighting long enough for me to get a clear glimpse of it. Felt more than seen, it was identifiable only through the sweetness of its song. “Like the soul,” Amy suggests to me later.

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Sunset at the cemetery

This wreath is truly a gift of the heart and of this season. It honors the circle of life, a miracle with no beginning or end, and brings tidings of comfort and joy to both the giver and recipient. In the same way that the Winter Solstice turns back the dark by lengthening the days, this gift has swaddled us in warmth and light—new friends who feel as if we’ve known each other forever, pulled by our grandmothers into a wordless embrace that is nothing less than divine.

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Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: amy vanechaute, christmas, circle of life, hope, katrina kenison, nana, winter solstice, wreath

Happy Hanukkah!

December 16, 2014 by Melodye Shore
Let the straight flower bespeak its purpose in straightness–to seek the light.
Let the crooked flower bespeak its purpose in crookedness–to seek the light.
Let the crookedness and straightness bespeak the light.

–Allen Ginsberg, Psalm III

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Photograph by Michael Provost. Used with permission.

Happy Hanukkah to all those who celebrate the miracle of Light!
Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: allen ginsberg, hanukkah, michael provost, psalms iii

Gazing into the not-so-distant future

November 27, 2014 by Melodye Shore

Gazing ball at a neighborhood cafe, Corona del Mar

Big changes are in the works! I’m in the process of updating my website and migrating my blog from LiveJournal to this page. I started this process a while back and am looking forward to putting a fresh face on everything by year’s end, if not sooner. (I don’t want to lose anyone in the move, so I’ll be posting on my LiveJournal for a while longer.)

Keep your eye out for my official blog and website launch by clicking the “follow” button in the menu bar above. And as always, let’s keep in touch on Facebook and Twitter.

Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: livejournal, migration

Happy Thanksgiving. 2014

November 27, 2014 by Melodye Shore

Blessed are they…Blessed are ye…Blessed are we. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: beatitudes, sweet honey in the rock, thanksgiving

Gazing into the not-so-distant future

November 27, 2014 by Melodye Shore
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Pelican flyover at Corona del Mar

A migration's in the works!

I'm in the process of updating my website and will be migrating my LiveJournal blog over to WordPress. I started this process a while back and am looking forward to putting a fresh face on everything by year's end, if not sooner. Keep your eye out for the official launch here, and/or by clicking the "follow" button in the menu bar at the top of Joyful Noise.

I don't want to lose any of you in the move, so I'll be posting blog entries here for a while longer (look below this post for the latest). And as always, I'd love to connect with you on Facebook and Twitter.

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Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: blog, facebook, joyful noise, twitter, website

Grace note, on Thanksgiving Eve

November 26, 2014 by Melodye Shore

That moment when a darling little girl in a holiday dress comes rushing toward you, eyes sparkling & arms wide, yelling "Grandma!" And though you've never met, you just smile inside and fall into her trusting embrace.*

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These encounters seem to come out of nowhere, don't they? Oftentimes, when we need them most. I'd just gotten a cortisone shot in my foot (post-surgical healing at a standstill) and was trying to walk off the pain and disappointment. And then — as if by magic! — there she was.

*Grandma? I admit to a brief, "Hey, wait a minute…" reaction afterward. But that moment? Totally worth it!

Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: serendipity, thanksgiving

A balm in Gilead: a writer’s thoughts on the Ferguson verdict

November 25, 2014 by Melodye Shore
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Photograph by Michael Provost. Posted with permission.

In the pre-dawn quiet, I'm still pondering the Ferguson Grand Jury verdict. It's another divisive moment in our nation's history, and I find myself wondering how we might rise together from these ashes, how we might turn our eyes, hearts and minds toward the common good.

I do miss the days when leaders spoke with eloquence, intelligence and sincerity; when by their actions, they inspired change. But in reality, it all comes down to what we–each one of us–is willing to say and do. I don't claim to have the answers, but in this morning's musings, I came across a passage that inspires me to do what I can, in this present moment: Write.

From Rebecca Solnit's HOPE IN THE DARK:

"The transformation of despair into hope is alchemical work, an artist's work. And what all transformations have in common is that they begin in the imagination.

"To hope is to gamble. It's to bet on the future, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty are better than gloom and safety. To hope is dangerous, and yet it is the opposite of fear, for to live is to risk. I say all this to you because hope is not like a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. I say this because hope is an ax you break down doors with in an emergency; because hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from annihilation of the earth's treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal. Hope just means another world might be possible, not promised, not guaranteed. Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope."

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Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: balm in gilead, ferguson verdict, hope, hope in the dark, jfk on the death of mlk, rebecca solnit

An unfortunate series of events and a call for grace

November 21, 2014 by Melodye Shore

Via Salon:

On Wednesday evening, the National Book Foundation held a ceremony to announce the winners of the National Book Award, one of the most prestigious literary awards in the country. Jacqueline Woodson, a black woman, won the award for young people’s literature for “Brown Girl Dreaming.” It was the first award presented that evening, and Woodson’s earnest excitement was contagious. Then Daniel Handler, author of the Lemony Snicket books and presenter at the ceremony got onstage and made a troubling misstep.

The outrage was palpable, instantaneous and ongoing. It's a good thing that grace isn't meted out in nonrefillable, thimble-sized portions, because Handler clearly needed to draw himself a good long drink from the well of humble apologies. Some suggested he was a little slow to accept that cup, but he eventually took to Twitter, to apologize and make amends:

My job at last night's National Book Awards #NBAwards was to shine a light on tremendous writers, including Jacqueline Woodson… and not to overshadow their achievements with my own ill-conceived attempts at humor. I clearly failed, and I’m sorry. My remarks on Wednesday night at ‪#NBAwards were monstrously inappropriate and yes, racist. Let’s donate to #WeNeedDiverseBooks to #CelebrateJackie. I’m in for $10,000, and matching your money for 24 hours up to $100,000. -DH

'Ill-conceived" seems to me an understatement. "Monstrously inappropriate" comes closer. But I'm not here to parse his words because here's the thing: Each of us is imperfect, by virtue of the fact that we are human beings–irrespective of color, creed, persuasions, orientations or any number of outward/invisible differences. We suffer self-inflicted wounds & are injured at the hands of those who do us harm. We gain favor; we fall from grace. It's impossible to know anyone else's heart, but we can certainly see and feel the after-effects of one others' words & actions. And so it is that this deeply affecting, ugly incident helps illustrate the lessons we're all learning–not just Daniel Handler, all of us. We're flesh-and-blood creatures, not so much in need of garment-rending and gnashing teeth, so much as grace, freely given and received.

Kudos for the swift, shunning response to a series of "troubling misteps." Applause, too, for the intelligent conversations that are unfolding even now. And through it all, this additional grace note: Readers and writers everywhere are lifting Jacqueline Woodson above the fray, giving the award-winning Brown Girl Dreaming the full credit it's due. It's a soul-stirring, heartwarming memoir. I hope you'll buy a copy for yourself. Maybe also pick up a couple extra books to share.

BrownGirlDreaming

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Posted in: Uncategorized Tagged: brown girl dreaming, daniel handler, grace, jacqueline woodson, lemony snicket, memoir, national book awards, salon
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