Oh, the Quiet of Mother Nature

Okay, who loves it when the snow first falls and all the noise of the world is buffered under a cover of fluffy snow?  Me! 

Even driving home in first night of the Blizzard of 2011 in Chicago, at midnight, after attending a spectacular, intimate Shelby Lynne concert, when there was few souls brave enough to tackle the roads; even after the stress of finding out that my son had arrived at the venue with no gas in the car, the quiet was deafening.  In a wonderful way.

In the white quiet, with the roads to ourself, blanketed in a snowfall, my stress lessened, my ears perked up to listen to the wind, the snow falling.  We left the radio off, we said nothing on our drive home.  Peace.

And the next morning, I woke to that peacefulness.  Unfortunately, it was quickly dashed as the roars of the snow blowers began.  And the scraping of the shovels on the pavement.  Mother Nature had decided it was time for everyone to stop and be still.  The schools were closed, businesses were closed, people were given a day off from the chaos of our too hectic worlds. 

And that appeared to be too much to take for some people.  The quiet for too long.  The need to be in contact all the time, engaged in human interaction. The frantic rush to clear the sidewalks, driveways and roads.  For what?  No one was going anywhere that day.  But the words I saw on Facebook and twitter were words of people who didn't know what to do with a time out from life.  Did they not realize that Mother Nature had given us this gift?

Or maybe it was a warning.  Slow down, enjoy life.  I saw it as both.  A gift of a couple of hours in the morning to listen to the quiet, to contemplate life and all it really has to offer without asking much in return.  I also saw it as a warning.  That we are messing with dear old Mom Nature and she is protecting her dear earth by blanketing it's wounds in a soft covering of snow.  Next time she might not be so "giving".  Unheeded warnings lead to larger and larger warnings.  Taps on the shoulder become bops to the head.  Life will make itself known to us regardless of whether we are listening or not.  We WILL listen at some point.

So, thank you, Ms. Nature.  For a short moment to pause, reflect and revel in the beauty you have created for us.

(My boys and I got outside to clear the snow as others were heading off to bed.  We played all day! )

The Show Must Go On!!

It's still in me. I haven't performed in a band for too many years now. Yes, I have done theatre in the interim to keep my sanity and need to perform in check, but the musical stage has been empty of me for a while. Yet, it is still in me. The show must go on. Doesn't matter about the weather or if you are sick, you have a gig to make, and that's that. So it was last night with Shelby Lynne, one of my favorite performers. She was playing the Space last night in Evanston.

As the snow started accumulating, I started calling to see if the concert was being canceled or postponed. Nope, she had made it here from Bloomington, IL and she was ready. When the venue didn't post any info on their web site, I actually posted to Shelby's Facebook wall asking if she was still performing!! She actually answered! Wow, social media in action here!

So instead of driving to Evanston (side note: The Space is a great musical venue! Acoustics, ambiance, nice stage - great space!) it was suggested that I take the train there. Which ended up being a really good decision. She performed to a really small audience who, like me, for whatever their own reason also trailblazed it over there to hear some really great music on a really arctic night.

It was her and another guitarist performing an intimate evening of a smattering of her music over the years. I sat there, had a glass on wine ( or two maybe), closed my eyes, and listened. When you close your eyes, the music becomes more intense and you hear what the eyes would see. The notes pop, you hear the nuances that you would normally miss because the senses are sharing. And I felt okay with the world. Some of the music brought tears. Emotions came to the forefront of my brain to be dealt with at that moment. I thought, oh please, not now. Can't you see I am busy listening to this wonderful sound?? But they came, and I said, okay, yes, you may sit with me now if you must. And just saying those words, yes, made it easier to sit with those old friends of the past. They didn't need any more attention than that, just the invitation to sit with me.

Shelby played for two hours. Part of me knew this would happen. That the evening would become a more intimate concert than would have if Mother Nature hadn't attended in full regalia. And the musician in me wanted to be a part of that. Even my son, also a musician, who had been driving all day in the blizzard of 2011 for this and that, who came in place of my husband, who was stuck in New York, and had never heard more than a couple of tunes from Shelby, agreed with me.

After our long and treacherous drive home, after knowing he was spending the night and not trying to make it back to his apartment, my son agreed it was a great concert. When music is good, it doesn't matter where and whom it comes from. It touches your soul for a brief moment. So, we both went, as crazy as that seems to everyone else. Because I had spent money on tickets and am too cheap to lose out on my purchase? Nah. Life is an adventure and playing it safe is boring and too much is missed in fear and safety. I choose life in all its glory. But mostly-----it's because we are musicians and we know that the show must go on.