Extending the quiet
before we start again
Dear Substack Friends,
I was thinking about you this morning. Clearly, I am still thinking about you now. Maybe you’re doing what I’m doing — enjoying the quiet of a Sunday morning. The weather cooled significantly in Nashville yesterday after weeks of temperatures that felt like late spring so the windows in the room where I do most of my work are a bit foggy in response, John Henry is enjoying an extended vacation with his dad, the big dog is sleeping by the fire and the little one snores in his beloved blanket, and I hear only the wind chimes that hang from a hook on the front porch and the music I’ve put on to play quietly throughout the house.
You can see that my narcissus have still not bloomed though I planted them in early October. They were slow this year. No matter — they rise on their own time and I will enjoy them when they are ready. I’ll appreciate that they took their time when they provide a deep winter boost in the weeks to come.
I’m not one for resolutions. I feel like I wake up most mornings of the year resolved to do, accept, or be something that requires at least a little bit of digging the most out of myself, so I don’t really do grand schemes or big goals. My one goal for 2022 is to take a walk everyday. That feels like a more than appropriate way to approach it, for what I really want to do with 2022 is sink into it, to appreciate the small things even more than I have always tried to do. If there is a word to apply to my vision of this year, it is this: DEPTH. Do less, do it better, do it with more intention, savor the action and then the result, don’t get caught up with what anyone else is doing, notice and feel the earth underneath the movement, and notice and feel how I feel about what I notice and feel.
Maybe you have leftover black eyed peas today. I do, so I found a Bon Appetit recipe that will liven them up — have you ever had black eyed pea hummus? Sounds good to me, even though I will make it in a half-renovated kitchen that was supposed to be wholly done by mid-December. I am grateful to have a roof, y’all. I also studied a winter vegetable curry recipe from NYTimes cooking that made me yearn for those flavors. Whatever you do today, within this tiny bit of quiet we have before we earnestly begin 2022, I hope it well suits your soul. Here’s a short playlist that might help you set a tone — these are a few of the songs I’m listening to this morning.
Solea - Miles Davis
April in Paris - Charlie Parker
Going Home - Alice Coltrane
Peace Piece - Bill Evans (this song is really my song for every single day, no matter the weather, no matter the occasion).
Day and Age - Julian Lage
I’ll be back soon.
Sending love everywhere,
AM
Very much seeking time to rest over this weekend and take advantage of the quiet to reflect as the new year begins. As I was lying in bed this morning reviewing the last 1 to 2 years, it was prominent in my mind how music has played a central role in my life and in particular getting through this recent time. I have not clung to music with this much intensity since the "crisis" sometimes referred to as adolescence. Not to diminish either adolescence or the pandemic, but maybe some of you get what I mean there. A shared musical experience has given rise to introspection, hope, solemnity, solidarity, a sense of community and occasional playfulness during a time when all those things, and more, have been in such short supply. The Soulful Sunday mornings, the concerts, the blooper moments with the dogs - all of it so heartfelt and real. And, I am truly very grateful to Allison and her sister, Shelby, for their generosity with their song, their spirit, their conviction and action.
You gals are the best.
I was speaking to someone just the other day about you, and the songwriter's workshop you helped lead and instruct. And really, what you are saying here is consistent with what you were helping me/us learn in our songwriting. Look for depth, and work until you find it. It was a terrific experience, and I thank you again. Wishing for a wonderful year for you and your family....and for us all. We all "could use a little mercy now."