Here we are, greeting the new year again. Hard to believe, it’s 2026. January 1st brings us to a natural pause in the day-to-day action for some much needed reflection, resolution and gratitude. We would like to offer a simple note of hope and quiet optimism for the new year.
Quiet Comes Along
We wrote the following song as a lullaby, to shift ourselves into a more serene space, even if only temporarily. We feel the need to close each day and year with something soothing, something to calm frazzled nerves and agitated thoughts. The swaying rhythm and the reassuring words give us hope and the strength to face each tomorrow. When those new moments arrive, we will hopefully be refreshed and open with anticipation, yet braced, for whatever arrives. Yet, we are fully aware that at the end of every day, or extended period of challenge, once again, serenity will prevail. Quiet will surely Come Along.
Wishing you the very best,
Cheryl and Emerson
Music
Related Music and Story
Respite
You may also enjoy another song and story called “Backyard Tent,” where we recall our own special “quiet places” from childhood—where did we go to get away? The need to retreat is a human need that never changes, no matter our age.
Italians are very clever people—a trait that we admire.
Good Tuscan Soil
Especially in the country, people have always had to struggle just to get by. Tuscany has to be the rockiest ground in the world, and that alone is enough to get the juices going as to how to make a living on the land. Resourcefulness is in their blood. Someone once said that if he was a farmer and found himself in Tuscany, he would ask God what he did to make him so mad. Even today, the habit persists of scouring the countryside for nature’s abundant bounty. Old habits die hard as you see people along country roads foraging for part of their dinner—whether it’s for mushrooms, berries or whatever they can find that’s edible. They know how to fend for themselves. But the energy and persistence required to eke out subsistence is just one part of the intriguing Italian puzzle.
Strong Group Identity
Italy has been divided and conquered for almost as long as anyone can remember. Rivalries have endured over the centuries, because provincial identity was about as good as it could possibly get. A friend from Florence actually told us that for him, Tuscany doesn’t exist south of the Arno River. It wasn’t until the mid-eighteen hundreds that anything resembling a truly united Italy was even a remote possibility. And now, even though it is one nation state, the strong sense of regionalism or family identity endures, rooted deeply in the culture.
Family Ties
We have often thought that, and perhaps rightfully so, there is little trust in Italy. They have experienced wars and takeovers, new and often bad rulers for their entire history. They never knew what would happen next, so it was always best to maintain strong personal capabilities. They relied on knowing that the family was and is one of the truly trustworthy groups in which to invest yourself for true security. For these reasons and more, you won’t find Italians dutifully waiting in line, or simply following the slower car in front of them. Windows of opportunity are created to jump through. Dangerously passing on a winding two lane road happens because they can, and not because they need to, almost as if practicing to stay nimble. We’ve seen passing cars narrowly miss the oncoming car, the bicycle or the nonna, grandmother out for a stroll. Then the same speeding vehicle immediately turns screeching into the next driveway.
An Italian can take any law apart piece by piece and then put it back together in a way that suits them. In Italy, it’s common to keep asking different people until you get the answer you want—and every “correct” answer is out there somewhere. We think this is partly where the slow processes, the famously Italian bureaucracy comes from. Everyone wants to make things happen the way they want them to happen, and they’re willing to take their sweet time to get their way—even if it seems to take forever.
Keep your balance
There is a special word here that aptly describes a unique quality of resourcefulness that frequently comes into play. It’s known as furbo. In English, the closest word is “clever,” however that doesn’t really do it justice. Furbo balances on that fine line between a compliment and a insult. The fact is, many of the problems that pop-up in Italy just plain won’t get solved without a special technique or perspective. Unfortunately, it’s in that gray area of cunning and covert activity that the line sometimes gets crossed, and furbo becomes questionable. You have to be careful that you don’t fall into becoming a victim of unseen opportunity—for the benefit of others. Someone could be dancing on that fine line, trying to make progress on their own agenda, perhaps seeing you as an easy mark.
You could say it’s possible to be too clever for someone else’s good. But, if you’re on your toes, you can successfully engage in this unique Italian free-for-all, where almost everybody eventually gets what they want—we said almost. Come to think about it, there really isn’t anything unusual about such behavior since there’s probably some version of that trait the world around. Maybe the difference is simply in the way the Italians play the game—which, frankly, makes it so much fun!
First posted onOctober 1, 2010
Related Story
You might also be interested in “The Art of Trickery”: The brain picks up visual cues that are recognizable, instantly fitting them into familiar patterns. In a flash, it issues a report about what’s going on. The brain fills in the blanks. This form of trickery is harmless and quite entertaining as you will see, a thing of beauty.
Music
Here’s a song called “The Pusher,” about a different form of trickery—when a cleverly furbo individual loses their balance, they can become an overt bully instead. It’s a slippery slope!
The Adventures of Pinocchio is a classic, right? Disney put the marionette on the big screen in 1940 and Jiminy Cricket became an overnight success. But the real story is from Italy, Tuscany, to be exact. It symbolically represents Italy, as it grew into a unified country.
So we decided to read the book, first penned by Carlo Collodi in 1883—in its original language, as they say—Italian. Little did we know that our simple decision would be such a task. We decided to read one chapter a day. Pretty good, right? Well, no, when you consider that the average chapter is only about 5 pages long, and that includes pictures!
Our Pinocchio kit
Here’s our routine: we have an English version that we keep handy to check our translations; we have an Italian version in which Emerson writes copious notes (definitions, idiomatic phrases, verb forms etc.); I also have the original Italian version on an iPad; together, we use 2 dictionaries and one verb book; and finally, we access a translator online called, My Translator. Once we have our pile of books, pencils, erasers and various accoutrements, we begin just after lunch each day with a strong sense of anticipation and determination..
Pinocchio fully notated
Emerson reads the chapter title, for example, Pinocchio è derubato delle sue monete d’oro e, per gastigo, si busca quattro mesi di prigione. Translation: Pinocchio is robbed of his coins of gold and, for punishment, is put in prison for four months. Now, we think this is more than a regular title. A title is something like, “A Day at the Beach.” You know, there’s some over-arching topic that captures the essence and your attention. But the Pinocchio chapter titles are spoilers. They tell you what happens BEFORE you read it. Then Collodi goes into all the details of how the chain of events took place, but you already know the poor marionette is going to prison.
In the pokey
The other thing about the title is that we look up nearly every word. For example, Derubato. Oh, it’s a verb and this is the past tense. Okay. Monete. Oh, coins. D’oro. This is a common contraction. The word di means of. When it’s placed before a word that begins with a vowel, you leave out the i because, heaven forbid you put two vowels together! Okay, got it. Di oro = d’oro = of gold. Well, you get the picture. Every chapter is a language lesson as well as a lesson in logic. Why would Pinocchio go to prison? He was robbed. Well, the logic here is that if you’re foolish enough to be duped, you deserve punishment. Really?!
Actually, the Italian culture and thought process is something quite unique. The stories they concoct and the way they choose to say it, are nothing short of original art—funny and entertaining, yet thought-provoking at the same time.
Taccini ceramic
When we first discovered that Pinocchio is Italian, we went to a town west of Florence called Montelupo (which means wolf mountain), where an artist named Eugenio Taccini lives and works creating unique ceramic pieces. He’s well known for his depictions of Pinocchio. In fact, he actually made pieces of artwork for each of the chapters, exploring their deep psychological meanings. It became a form of therapy for him as he dove into the hidden messages. As an Italian, he wanted to use the original story to explore the process of change and transformation. Beneath the external beauty of Italian life, love and laughter, there are many deep thinkers pondering something profound and meaningful.
Pinocchio’s home town
Then we decided to make a trip to Collodi, the town where young Carlo Lorenzini spent summers and from which he took his pen name. Collodi is now known as the town of Pinocchio. There are restaurants named for those in the book. There’s an amusement park for children with all things Pinocchio. But in addition, there’s an amazing hillside baroque park called Garzoni Gardens. It’s considered one of the most beautiful gardens in all of Italy. It’s another example of the paradox that underlies Italian thinking: the whimsical, childlike attitude juxtaposed with the heady formal, compelling, meticulously planned.
So we’re on chapter 21 in the book. My bookmark only jumps a few pages a day. But, for the first time, I’m beginning to understand Pinocchio on multiple levels. As you might expect, the original is much more earthy than the Disney version. He’s more real. And that’s just the wood marionette. I can hardly wait to see how the world changes when seen through the eyes of a real boy.
First posted onOctober 1, 2011
Related Story
Reading the Yogurt Cups: Pinocchio is perhaps one of the earliest “Psychological Thrillers” ever. No story is any more psychologically rooted than that classic. This other story about yogurt cups is much more straightforward, but holds its own human potential
The Musical Storiescan also be found in the Main Menu under “Music.” However, on occasion one may be highlighted in a post like this to align with a season, holiday, current related topic or just for fun. You can go directly to the post by clicking below—so relax, read along, listen-in. Click Here
His full name is Henri Marie Raymond de Toulouse-Lautrec-Montfa, but most of us know him simply as Toulouse-Lautrec. He was an artist known for his renditions of the life he lived and observed, as well as for his diminutive stature. Due to a genetic weakness that rendered his bones brittle and vulnerable, he unfortunately broke both legs when he was a young boy. The result was a disturbing stunted appearance. Ever self-conscious about his physical imperfections, he found himself most at home with common people who had their own obvious flaws. He was especially drawn to the fascinating theatrical lifestyle of Paris in the late 19th century, even though, as his hyphenated name suggests, his family had deep aristocratic roots.
Playful self portrait
Toulouse-Lautrec became a famed artist, printmaker, master caricaturist, draughtsman and illustrator during his short life (1864 to 1901). He was also a gourmet food lover who invited his guests to dine with him via formal, artistic invitations. He even described the anticipated menu and commented that a meal was very similar to any other artistic expression—full of color, in both the foods and the guests. Meals and people were meant to be savored and shared. He often directed conversation to inspire lively exchanges.
Can-can dancers
Lautrec’s many associations in the vibrant milieu of Paris’ Montmartre district allowed him simultaneous front row and backstage views of that world of wonderfully “imperfect people,” like him. He was deeply immersed in the imagery of decadence—empathizing with the every-day plight of the working-class characters swirling around him, performing in the theaters. The famous Moulin Rouge (Red Mill) drew boisterous crowds, Lautrec interpreted them to be willing subjects, part of the “show.” The frenetic energy of the “can-can” invigorated the audience. Brothels of the area added to the attitude of decadence and pleasure. Lautrec enjoyed all of it, leaving a colorful, artistic “journal” for us to understand and appreciate his contribution to a rapidly evolving world of art. Although Lautrec enjoyed success and notoriety while he lived, he was destined to succumb to his circumstances and choices. An illness abruptly ended his life when he was merely 37 years old.
Ospedale
We think Toulouse-Lautrec would have found this exhibit to be the perfect expression of his artistic flair, since it was such a unique presentation. The historic corridors of the space were transformed into Parisian passageways that transported us back in time. Anchoring one side of the Piazza Santissima Annunziata, the beautiful Renaissance “Ospedale degli Innocenti” was the perfect choice for the exhibition. The 1419 architectural masterpiece was conceived by Fillipo Brunelleschi as a Children’s Hospital and Orphanage to support and care for the children abandoned during the Florentine Renaissance. (Brunelleschi also designed the famous dome of Florence’s grand cathedral—il Duomo.) The contrast of the exquisite historical building with Lautrec’s avant-garde style accentuated both.
Seeing 19th century art with 21st century eyes has become “normal,” yet to have that experience in a 600 year old architectural gem seems almost miraculous.
Stock Photo
Coming back outside into the brilliant Florentine sunshine, after having spent a 90 minute immersion into the late 19th century underbelly of Parisian cabaret life was a bit shocking and overwhelming. We had just glimpsed inside the life and mind of one of the world’s most influential artists of the late 1800s.
Following is a video of a “passageway experience” within the exhibit, along with a few amateur snapshots of his masterful work. Notice how accurately he captured the essence of a complex personality with a single, delicate line of the face, the audacious glint of an eye, or the subtle slant of an expressive black hat—absolutely fantastic!
On a backroad between Borgo San Lorenzo and the small town of Polcanto, in Tuscany, just north of Florence, an unknown artist has taken an open, sunny patch of meadow and created an outdoor exhibit, a seemingly permanent Art Gallery of sorts. Each unique piece is weathered and worn, allowing the natural patina to be the final artistic touch. The exhibit appears to be a dynamic, additive process, with some pieces showing more age and weathering mirroring the passage of time (perhaps years), while others seemed like more recent additions.
Two of the sculptures were quite detailed and complex, using a very modern-day material, Corten steel (a special alloy that forms a stable external layer of rust). The large heart-shaped steel plates were incised with the first stanza of the Rumi poem: Ode 314—which offers commentary on our choice of living our lives “asleep” or “awakened.” He suggests that life is to be lived with intention and reflection. Without judgment, he suggests that the alternative is simply sleep. He even advises against disturbing this sleep. It’s sort of a live and let live perspective. Perhaps he’s posing the question of readiness. But clearly his choice is to take the way of intention. The first stanza is shown below.
In stark contrast, another sculptural piece is in the form of a collage. Another, is a fluttering collection of random neck ties, suspended from the branches of an oak tree. Do the ties relate to the steel heart? Or to the other pieces? Are these expressions from the same artist, or is this an open invitation to anyone who feels inspired? Either way, it is compelling enough to warrant a closer look from any passersby, either on foot or enjoying a peaceful drive on a typical Tuscan side road.
Signature?
We found what could be an artist’s name in only one location, but couldn’t verify it. So, this “pop-up gallery” appeared to be a relatively anonymous gift offered freely without recognition or reward. All we know about the prolific creator(s) is the number 46 adjacent to a gravel drive that disappears down the hillside. We wonder what lies at the end of that ordinary country drive. One day, we might take a walk down that meandering road to see what’s at the other end. If we discover more to this story we’ll definitely let you know.
Side Note:A few days before discovering this Roadside Gallery, we visited the Palazzo Strozzi exhibit in Florence, viewing the collected work of Fra Angelico—what a fascinating contrast to the Roadside Exhibit.
To read that story, go to Perspectives: Immersion Into Religion Through Art.
Gallery of Roadside Art
Broken Heart of Rusted Steel (Right Side – Poem by Rumi)
Ode 314 (First Stanza) Those who don’t feel this Love pulling them like a river, those who don’t drink dawn like a cup of spring water or take in sunset like supper, those who don’t want to change, Â let them sleep. Â
Broken Heart of Rusted Steel (Left Side – author unknown) The last stanza – translated from the original Italian version:
Imagine utopia
Dream of Ithaca and hope the road you choose is long
Live in the moment, the emotion, the desire
Now.
We went to an exhibit at the Palazzo Strozzi in Florence, which is an incredible experience, even without an exhibition. Fortunately, the Palazzo was the site chosen for a once-in-a-lifetime collection of paintings from around the world by the Renaissance artist Beato Angelico. He was also known as Fra Angelico (Dominican Friar 1395-1455) prior to being canonized by the Catholic Church. He is now acclaimed as one of the greatest artists in all of Italy—ever! That’s a significant statement.
The exhibit was truly amazing. Ever loyal to his faith, Fra Angelico was a painter, sculptor, and creator of Illuminated Manuscripts (texts decorated for the reader’s enlightenment or illumination). He expressed his religious awe through a unique ability to render his subjects nearly translucent. The luminosity of the skin tones and his use of color is absolutely magical. The addition of gold leaf to highlight the halos of the saintly religious figures, as well as the intricate attention to detailing is quite mind boggling.
There are, of course, many fierce competitors in the Italian lineage of great artists like: Michelangelo, Botticelli, Giotto, Leonardo da Vince and Caravaggio, just to name a few. But after the exhibit, we had to agree that Fra Angelico’s art and impeccable character seemed inseparable and incomparable. If you ever get the chance to experience his artistic gifts to the world, seize the opportunity.
A few days after the Strozzi exhibit, we were in the countryside just north of Florence and happened upon a different artist’s work in a very different “Gallery.” The contrast with the Fra Angelico exhibit was remarkable and quite thought-provoking. Watch for another story coming soon—part 2 of Perspectives: Free Spirit and Free Form.
Related Music
You might also enjoy some music written about the Spiritual Quest and how the deep, personal changes find their way into Each Cell of our Being. We imagine the young Fra Angelico moving quietly through stone arches, meditating as he struggles with a longing to serve as both loyal friar to the religious order, while accomplishing his patrons’ requests for commissions. With his art, Fra Angelico elevated his patrons’ status, while making his unique way through a humble monastic life.
Each Cell
You can also find the original story and video that accompanied the song called Each Cell, from 2005, as we visited the beautiful Italian Monestery of Madonna del Sasso in Tuscany.
Credits (Each Cell Music)
From Where I Need to Be, track released June, 2005
Cheryl Martlage – Lyrics and vocals
Emerson Martlage – Music, guitar and vocals
Tom Tomasello – Producer/Arranger
Jim Bruno – Vocal producer
Mr Toad’s San Francisco – Mastering
Inspiration – The kind Monk from Madonna del Sasso
This is an age-old question, often used to jump-start a conversation.
“We met in a class, freshman year at college.”
“We met online, in a dating website.”
“We met through mutual friends.”
“We were “fixed up” by a well-meaning friend who knew someone seemingly “perfect” for me.Â
“We sat down on opposite ends of a sofa at a party and just started talking.”
“We literally bumped into one another at a concert.”
“We met at a coffee shop one morning, standing in line.”
“We both took our dogs to the park one day and they wanted to greet each other”
However the first encounter happened, it’s still something of a miracle given all the random possibilities. The fact that two people meet and really connect with one another is an amazing phenomenon. We were reminded of that recently when a friend “clicked” with someone, seemingly out-of-the-blue and they’ve been inseparable since.
Keys to a heart
He swiped right, She swiped right. They met for tea. Then they met for lunch. Then dinner. Once the “interest seed” was planted, the relationship blossomed. They discovered common values, preferences and humor. It rapidly went from being a possibility to being “something.” They’d each hoped to find a “significant other” and cautiously began an earnest search—romantic details as well as practical considerations were clearly in mind. She wanted X characteristics and he wanted Y. Each was determined to find a kindred heart to unlock.
Hidden treasure
Each was primed and felt determined to find the exact person who would match their descriptions. What were the chances? 50/50? Daunting? One in a million? Our friends took a deep dive into the proverbial haystack and re-emerged with a prize—the ever-elusive needle. Sometimes fate steps in and treasures can be found. Dreams can become reality and love grows, however unlikely it may seem.
You can also find a collection of songs/stories about soulful relationships written over several decades of an evolving partnership, in the album called “Love Stories.”
More than a decade has passed. We find ourselves drawn once again to this “delusional” bedtime story, woven by the master storyteller, Laurie Anderson.
On a Saturday night 12 years ago, we witnessed a spectacular performance. At the EX3 Theater of Contemporary Arts across the Arno River in Florence Italy, Laurie Anderson mesmerized the audience with a one-woman show. An incredibly creative and energetic performing artist, singer, musician, inventor and philosopher, she did not disappoint! “Normal” instruments weren’t enough to express her dream-state thoughts and feelings. So, she invented one: an electronic violin that uses special magnetic tape on the bow instead of horsehair and space-age pick-ups that make the violin wail like a wild cat. Laurie’s philosophy is expressed weaving diverse fragments of life into a political-personal-psychological-fairy tale performance. Her style is unique and we’ve never experienced anything quite like it.
Florence/Firenze
Following is the excerpt from a local newspaper, “The Florentine,” November 2010, which described her anticipated performance: “Delusion” is an eclectic multimedia show that brings together various forms of media, including video, music, monologues, and electronic puppets and violins. The show, which made its premier last February at the Vancouver Olympic Games, is conceived as a series of short mystery plays featuring elves and golems, nuns and dead relatives, fantastical unmanned ships and dark, scary forests. Through a series of altered voices and imaginary guests, Laurie Anderson’s colourful and poetic language in “Delusion” is a reflection on words and things, life and language. “Delusion,” a story of longing, memory and identity, makes its Italian premier in Florence, as part of Ex3’s New Musical Events.
Art Like Great Wine?
She has described her art as “of the moment,” and says that it doesn’t really keep well over time. While her many videos create a chronicle of her performances throughout the years, they don’t quite tell a full story.
We arrived early, as usual, to claim third row seats. From 8:30 pm, when the doors opened, people slowly wandered into the theater. In true Italian style, they chatted in the aisles, gesturing to animate their conversations. The l’ora accademia, (the academic hour) prevailed, which is customary in Italy. Performances and lectures begin a fashionable 15 minutes later than scheduled. At 9:30 pm the theater lights flickered to indicate the beginning of the show. Some obstinate folks continued to linger, ultimately fumbling their way to their seats in the dark.
Stage screen
A full-projection screen covered the back part of the stage, while two smaller screens flanked each side, strategically angled. The 10 x 10 screen to the left resembled a giant blank hallmark card. The other flanking screen to the right appeared to be a security fence hidden beneath a white nubby tablecloth, casually thrown over it at the last minute. A keyboard stood just right of center with Laurie’s strange electronic violin hanging precariously on a side hook. Then front and center, was a loosely covered sofa of sorts—the form looked a bit like spontaneously draped Halloween wax lips. Finally, completing the scene was a small platform toward the back of the stage.
The show began a full hour before Laurie appeared onstage, with a projector casting black and white oscillating pop-art images onto the couch—like a lava lamp without the liquid. It was undulating, almost nauseating. Despite having motion sickness, we were intrigued. Laurie finally emerged from the shadows wearing an untucked crisp white shirt, an artsy tie (loosely knotted under the collar), and black knit capris. As a final touch, she wore the cutest little sparkling Mary-Jane shoes with translucent soles.
Laurie’s violin
Laurie quietly floated her way to the keyboard. With a dreamy look on her face, she began playing several repeated chords while talking—and so the narrative unfolded. For 90 minutes, she wove stories, reading from her computer screen or paper notes, delicately pressing buttons on floor controls with her feet, while frequently launching into musical tirades with her vio-lectro-lin. With the latest technology, she made the sound of her voice alternate between ethereal, almost angelic and Darth Vader-like menacing tones. Several times she sang—her voice sounding like a strange other-worldy visitation. As she spoke, sang, read or played music, there were thousands of wild images flashing onto the 3 screens: scribbles on chalkboards, rain, blowing leaves, and other random dream-scapes.
Overall, it was an amazing, wonderfully thought-provoking evening. She was flawless and nothing short of masterful. With all the diverse ideas presented, as well as the sensory bombardment, we were exhausted by the end of performance. On the drive home, we wondered, “What does it all mean?” It was a performance that needed some mulling over. The pondering continues to this day—perhaps for the rest of our lives.?
We agree that her art is especially tasty “in the moment,” but find her message actually ages quite well—timeless, like a fine wine, better with every passing year.
What an incredible bedtime story!
Credits
Feature image above: courtesy of sfjazz.org
Video courtesy of YouTube
Cover of the Florentine courtesy of theflorentine.net
Laurie’s violin photo courtesy of Derrick Belcham
Story courtesy of our long-term memories
Related Music
“Nighty-Night Rosie June”—Another kind of bedtime story designed to take you into peaceful slumber rather than calling forth your most complex nighttime illusions/delusions:
We circled the flickering campfire as the balmy day gave way to a cool evening breeze. Quietly inspired by the massive peaks standing watch over the rugged southern California landscape, a momentary hush fell upon us. The day’s end encouraged reflection. Clearly this was a Kumbaya moment, with the expectation of guitar accompaniment. Our daughter scanned the scene and then asked her dad if he brought his guitar. “Nope,” came the matter-of-fact reply. “Why not?” she asked, disappointed. Em searched for the right words, “Because my hands aren’t as steady as they used to be. In fact, I don’t really play just for enjoyment anymore.” Iris’ tone softened, “I didn’t know that.”Â
Just a dusty memory
Even without songs around the campfire, our adventure was still a delight as we made some sweet memories together. But, that lingering fireside question about the guitar triggered some reflective moments the following day on the drive home. For the past 50 years, we’ve written music and sung together, accompanied by a guitar—always a guitar. We were college-age during the folk music years and imagined that we’d just continue in that mode. The simple question during the camp-out prompted conversation that uncovered a looming realization that our musical form of self-expression is limited. At 71 years of age, we expect a dimming spotlight on our favorite pastime. Perhaps only a certain number of songs remain to be written—20, 15, single digits?
Life certainly has its earthly limits. We’re painfully aware of the ever-diminishing natural resources in the world around us. As much as we try to stay focused on abundance, there’s a subtle ever present thought that scarcity does exist. Everything eventually gives-way to the ages. So, the realization of personal limitations is not really a big surprise.Â
For us, abundance and scarcity show-up together. Everything is defined by its opposite. Rather than deny the negative aspects, why not look for their value? How can we accept and even find peace with something that we interpret as negative? Acceptance, integration and transition are steps needed to embrace the whole. Maybe pesky tremors can actually point the way to new and surprising possibilities.Â
Our path, for now
Our conclusion: We’ll continue walking our current path with whatever brings us joy for as long as we can. Then, one day an urge will cause us to shift. Maybe we’ll find ourselves being nudged closer to the next dream as Em’s once-steady hands lay down the guitar. That moment will be our pivot-point, when we turn from that which we love and have loved, to something new—perhaps even better. The essence of those curious inflection points in life is captured beautifully in the following poem, “Snowbanks North of the House,” by Robert Bly—from his collection called The Man In The Black Coat Turns:
The mystery of “Why?” remains, quietly hidden in the “When?” We remind each other to “just be nimble.”
Snowbanks North of the House
Those great sweeps of snow that stop suddenly six
feet from the house …
Thoughts that go so far.
The boy gets out of high school and reads no more
books;
the son stops calling home.
The mother puts down her rolling pin and makes no
more bread.
And the wife looks at her husband one night at a
party, and loves him no more.
The energy leaves the wine, and the minister falls
leaving the church.
It will not come closer
the one inside moves back, and the hands touch
nothing, and are safe.
Â
The father grieves for his son, and will not leave the
room where the coffin stands.
He turns away from his wife, and she sleeps alone.
Â
And the sea lifts and falls all night, the moon goes on
through the unattached heavens alone.
Â
The toe of the shoe pivots
in the dust …
And the man in the black coat turns, and goes back
down the hill.
No one knows why he came, or why he turned away,
and did not climb the hill.
Credits
Title inspiration:  “Jack Be Nimble,” the 1800s rhyme from England. Good luck was ascribed to those who could jump over a candle stick without dampening the flame. May we all aspire to such daring and resolve in the face of challenge!
Quality time is undeniably great for relationships. We've discovered that quantity of time can provide that quality. Perhaps it takes Time to Partner.
Uncommon promise 