Friends and Family are telling me to
lighten up. Today’s blog post
shouldn’t be about climate change, or California politics, education, or the
health care system. They want a
blog post about love, for Valentine’s Day.
And they’re right.
St. Valentine, imprisoned in Rome, would
pass notes -- Valentine notes -- to other prisoners, to give them hope. These are my notes of hope, because
where there is life, there is hope.
Candace Escobar helps me with this blog
every week. She is my sounding board and my editor, and she keeps me honest.
Candace helps Robin and me with our little company and she is kind and patient
with our daughter Lily. Thank you Candace, this is for you.
Julie Murphy -- five years ago Robin and
I went out on Valentine’s Night for a date, and you came to babysit. You and
Lily made Valentine Hearts with love notes and stuck them all over our kitchen.
We loved them so much that we left them there, and five years later they are
still stuck to our cabinets, faded and curling, but such a part of the house
that we don’t even see them. Now you’re having your baby, and Lily will babysit
for you, and make you Valentine hearts.
David Trulli -- you have another art
gallery opening tomorrow at Bergamot Station, which I can’t attend, but I want
this blog post to promote it. What
I like about your artwork is that there is always a sliver of hope in it. A woman on a swing, a man wanting more,
a vine on a fence, a blade of grass pushing through the sidewalk. Break a leg
tomorrow night.
To everyone, this is my Valentine note of
hope that I pass to you. Be thankful for the problems in your life that never go
away. If you can say, “My life would
be perfect, except for...” that means your life may already be perfect. The
“except for” problem -- money, health, parents, children, wife, husband, home -
contain the seed of awareness of how lucky we all are. It’s the dark that
reveals the light, the yin to the yang, and we all share in it. Until it ends.
Thank you life, for the rock I push. I
look over and see everyone else pushing their rocks, and our pain, toil, and
joy unite us.
Here are lyrics to two great Valentine
songs that capture everything I could ever want to say about the beautiful
ache of life and love, and Jobim says it all in fewer words than I’ve already
written here.
Whenever I hear these songs, I think of
Robin. My love. With you in my life, I am never alone. You are my blade of
green grass that I keep in my pocket wherever I go. Together we can push up any
sidewalk.
Most of all, this post is for you. Happy Valentine’s Day!
The Waters of March
A
stick, a stone, it's the end of the road
It's
the rest of a stump, it's a little alone
It's
a sliver of glass, it is life, it's the sun
It
is night, it is death, it's a trap, it's a gun
The
oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
The
knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
The
will of the wind, a cliff, a fall
A
scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all
It's
the wind blowing free, it's the end of the slope
It's
a beam, it's a void, it's a hunch, it's a hope
And
the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's
the end of the strain, it's the joy in your heart
The
foot, the ground, the flesh and the bone
The
beat of the road, a slingshot's stone
A
fish, a flash, a silvery glow
A
fight, a bet, the range of a bow
The
bed of the well, the end of the line
The
dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find
A
spear, a spike, a point, a nail
A
drip, a drop, the end of the tale
A
truckload of bricks in the soft morning light
The
sound of a shot in the dead of the night
A
mile, a must, a thrust, a bump,
It's
a girl, it's a rhyme, it's a cold, it's the mumps
The
plan of the house, the body in bed
And
the car that got stuck, it's the mud, it's the mud
A
float, a drift, a flight, a wing
A
hawk, a quail, the promise of spring
And
the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's
the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart
A
snake, a stick, it is John, it is Joe
It's
a thorn on your hand and a cut in your toe
A
point, a grain, a bee, a bite
A
blink, a buzzard, a sudden stroke of night
A
pass in the mountains, a horse and a mule
In
the distance the shelves rode three shadows of blue
And
the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's
the promise of life in your heart, in your heart
A
stick, a stone, the end of the road
The
rest of a stump, a lonesome road
A
sliver of glass, a life, the sun
A
knife, a death, the end of the run
And
the river bank talks of the waters of March
It's
the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart
"Waters of
March" is track #9 on the album Encanto. It was written by Antonio Carlos
Jobim.
"Corcovado"
Quiet
nights of quiet stars
Quiet
chords from my guitar
Floating
on the silence that surrounds us
Quiet
thoughts and dreams
Quiet
walks by quiet streams
And
a window on the
Mountains
and the sea, how lovely
This
is where I want to be
Here
with you so close to me
Until
the final flicker of life's ember
I,
who was lost and lonely
Believing
life was only a bitter, tragic joke
Have
found with you
The
meaning of existence, oh, my love
"Corcovado"
is track #6 on the album Elis & Tom. It was written by Antonio Carlos
Jobim.
Exhibition: February 15 - March 22, 2014
Reception: Saturday, February 15, 5-8pm
Robert Berman Gallery
Bergamot Station Arts Center
2525 Michigan Avenue, B7
Santa Monica, CA 90404
310.315.1937
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