These are stories that generally involve only Cheryl and/or Emerson and are most likely about day-to-day activities. They can be engaging the two of them in a whirlwind tour somewhere, or simply about conversation around the fire. Usually, they will have a more reflective side to them, or a particular lesson learned.

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The real thing

The name Bird-of-Paradise, although originally intended for an exotic bird, is also the popular name of a beautiful flowering plant. After all, the flowers bear a striking resemblance to the bird’s colorful plumage and the shape of its beak. First observed in New Guinea by Europeans in 1522, the bird’s unforgettable appearance spawned myths of having arrived directly from heaven. As a result, the storied fowl became synonymous with power and wealth. Eventually the bird achieved peak status as the National symbol for Papua New Guinea representing freedom and independence.

In contrast, the flower by the same name hails from South Africa, growing wild along the coast and river banks. You might say they are “normal” there. However, in 1773, along came Sir Joseph Banks, a Botanist who recognized the flora as extraordinary, and took the treasured plant back to his home in England, placing his prized specimen in the Royal Botanic Gardens. Due to the striking resemblance between the flower and the bird, the borrowed name “Bird of Paradise” stuck and became the common moniker that followed the exotic plant as it migrated into every warm, frost-free climate around the world.

The incredible Twin

That brings us and our story to one of those warm climates some 250 years later. We were walking in downtown San Diego the other day, as part of our daily routine to a favorite coffee shop. We passed apartments and condos along the way, and by chance, came upon a couple photographing a particular flower (He was apparently the designated photographer while she provided the necessary narrative). There in a flowerbed outside their condo stood one of those gorgeous “bird/plants,” strutting its stuff. We paused to watch as she circled the bloom, swooning and describing its unique qualities. Evidently, what we were looking at was no ordinary “bird-flower.” This one boasted two opposing “beaky things” rather than just one. She declared the anomaly to be a “twin,” and excitedly proclaimed its virtues. This phenomenon of “twin beaks” may or may not be rare, but she was quite taken with it and so we chose to accept her narrative.

For us, this chance encounter with the enamored couple and their flowering Bird was a classic moment where a variety of interesting details came swooping together. A coincidence? A serendipity? Who can say?

In this curious age of AI and “created” reality everywhere we look, we intuitively stopped to briefly connect with real life. We were reminded that there are flashes of sweetness all around us all of the time, we just need to stop and notice. Sometimes we get distracted with “Breaking News,” politics, and world events that are overwhelming. Yet, on a regular Monday morning walk, out of nowhere, various snippets of life from hundreds of years swirled together into a magical encounter. We experienced a heavenly Bird of Paradise that metaphorically flew down and landed at our feet.

Note: The famous Papua New Guinea National Flag with the Golden Bird of Paradise representing freedom and emergence, and the five stars representing the Southern Cross—their proud Pacific location and cooperation with the other Pacific Nations.

Papua New Guinea Flag

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Monarchs Rule

The Unexpected

Today, an unexpected guest arrived at our home. On a beautiful sunny, cloudless June day in San Diego, something amazing happened. Following our lunch on the patio, we left the door wide open to let outside breezes in. Suddenly, there was a fluttering—a shadowy silhouette against the stark white ceiling.

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The Duomo

Imagine a hiking trail 100 miles long with no particular destination. Rather than hiking to some specific place, what if the trail encircled a landmark, the most magnificent symbol of the Italian Renaissance—the Duomo, Cattedrale Santa Maria del Fiore—the main cathedral in the heart of Florence?  Well, there is such a trail, called The Renaissance Ring, Anello del Rinascimento. The hiking experience results in the deepening of the magic and mystery of that special place known as Firenze—the heart of Tuscany!

The Pinnacle

The famous dome of the Duomo, was thought to be impossible to build, but has been a reality now for nearly 600 years. It’s both a miracle and masterpiece, designed in the 15th century by the great Filippo Brunellischi. Located near the banks of the River Arno, the unforgettable dome can be seen miles away, rising prominently amid the red tile roofs of the old city center. It looms with a rather surreal presence, seen from miles away.

Florence Italy

Florence has history, art and architecture like no other city. However, not many understand the unique relationship the “City of the Lily” has always shared with the rolling hills and beautiful countryside that surrounds the Arno river valley—the small towns that grew up alongside her, but certainly not in her shadow. Characterized by centuries of mutual influence and respect, the connections between the various areas become apparent as you experience the rather intimate valley, not from its center, but rather from its outer edges.

The people who lived in, and loved the surrounding countryside, gazed down into the city where the compelling dome stands watch. Or, if by chance the Duomo was not within view, they knew it was always there, visible from a nearby point just around the bend. And just like us, they surely felt a comfort at its familiar, awesome presence.

To celebrate the relationship between Florence and the communities that hold it, local organizations were tasked to create a continuous ring of trails leading past monasteries, castles, ancient walled cities, and country churches that all grew up together in that larger “Florentine family.” While unraveling the story, we’ve walked meadows, old Roman roads, mule trails, through olive groves, vineyards and cypress woods. There are 13 unique itineraries that break the 170 kilometers (100 miles) down into day-length pieces. With the help of train and bus schedules in hand, we charted our excursions, to experience the entire circle—slowly and thoughtfully, just like it evolved over the centuries.

Every leg of the grand circle can be coupled with a quaint overnight, or a relaxing Italian meal and a bus or train ride home. In any case, there will be a series of unforgettable experiences that add up to one grand loop around one of the world’s most fascinating regions.

Below is a companion story about one particular section of the circular trail that is known for its intact collection of ancient “Butter Houses,” scattered around the mountainside.  Just click below to discover the rest of the story which is a unique hiking exploration all by itself.

Related Story

The Butter Houses

Fonterinalda

C’era una volta, once upon a time, in the Tuscan hills just north of Florence, Italy, lived some very poor farmers. Their homes were usually one room, built high in the mountains, where both family and animals dwelled together. Life was difficult, but they were thankful for what they had.

 

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This quote comes from the lyrics of the song called “Little Things.” Can you remember that last moment that crept up on you and you laughed so hard that you experienced rare tears of joy? What was it that brought about such a powerful visceral response? Buried within that moment is a treasure-trove of information about some part of you. Aren’t we all puzzles, piecing together the aspects of who we are? Take a look inside—there may be a surprise awaiting.

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Yesterday Me

Understanding the origin of tears can take a little digging. Do I cry because a tender moment surfaces from my memory bank ? Maybe a secret longing has awakened and it leaps into my throat. Are my tears ones of joy or sadness? Perhaps the source can’t quite be found or articulated. These lyrics were penned years ago in a story called “Yesterday Me.” Although the words weren’t written yesterday, the sentiment persists.

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Recently, I read a post online about nature and the relationship between birds and branches. The pondering was simple. Yet the thoughts went deeper. The pondering/wondering went something like this: When a bird nears a branch, does she anticipate the branch’s ability to hold her or does she land without calculating the branch’s strength, but rather trust her ability to fly?

Trampoline trust

Since reading the post, I’ve been observing birds more closely. The day before yesterday I saw several birds actually using thin branches in a pretty elaborate and playful “dance.” One landed while the others fluttered. A second one landed and the one on the branch immediately  sprang into the air. They resembled trampoline acrobats, engaged in a fascinating synchronized routine. I watched them for several minutes as they continued to create variations of that same pattern. Was it a mating ritual? Was it some form of bird zoomies after the rain? All I can say is that none of the birds seemed concerned about the strength of the branch, even with all of the bouncing. 

Birds trusting the dance

So for me, the post/riddle seems to have been answered. It appeared as if the birds trusted in their ability to land or take flight at just the right moment. Their self-trust allowed them the opportunity to touch and fly, touch and fly. This very practiced routine continued for several minutes. Then suddenly the birds abandoned the swaying branch and flew away. I didn’t see any movement nearby, so I don’t know if they continued their dance on another close-by branch. I pondered their activity and then shifted my focus to humans in relationship with one another. Do we mimic the dance of the birds? Do we decide about whether or not to trust our abilities or do we calculate the strength of the branch? 

At any point in time we could ask ourselves: Am I the bird? Or am I the branch? Is my confidence in myself or do I rely on something to support me? And if I am the branch, who counts on me to be strong enough to hold them? Does holding them keep them from flying or give them a springboard? Is this a mutually beneficial dance we’ve created?

Related Musical Story

Circle of Trust

Circle of Trust: This story is about a relationship of trust for us, that plays out around a campfire instead of on a tree branch. There is a similarity between our flitting exchange of conversation and the playful dance of the birds. Just click the title above to go directly to the story, or have a quick listen-in to the accompanying music below.

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Henri in his studio

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!

Passageway Video

Cabaret Video

Gallery

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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,  
let them sleep.  

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.

 

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Palazzo Strozzi

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

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New and fast friends

“How did you two meet?”

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. 

“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.

Don’t you just love happy endings?

Music—Meant to Be

Related Music and Story—The First Time We Met

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.”

 

 

 

 

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Not so steady

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.” 

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. 

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. 

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.
 
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.
 
And the sea lifts and falls all night, the moon goes on
through the unattached heavens alone.
 
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!

 

Related Story and Music: Turn Around