St. Louis: Symphony Chaco

Symphony Chaco, UMSL, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

The University of Missouri - St. Louis (UMSL) hosted the premiere of an original symphony: Symphony Chaco, composed by Gary Gackstatter.

Symphony Chaco, UMSL, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

One hundred choir members (led by Jim Henry) + 100 orchestra members + Native flutist, R. Carlos Nakai + iconic road-trip memoirist, William Least Heat Moon +  writer,  Debora Taffa.

Symphony Chaco, UMSL, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

When you've got 200 living creatures doing something together, in sync, then you've got power in the air.

In addition to instruments, singing voices, and narrative voices, a slide show in a giant overhead screen opened a virtual window onto Chaco Canyon and, at times, animated paint images, which  synchronized with the auditory performance.

The symphony fit well into my limited attention span for such things, which was an added bonus to my experience of it. It lasted about an hour. 

I've been very close several times to going to Chaco Canyon, but it's not worked out so far. Maybe in the future. When I think of Chaco Canyon, I think of a place not far from there, Bisti Wilderness. Which I visited once, but hanker to again, and stay awhile.

Bisti Wilderness, Navajo Nation, New Mexico. May 2013.

The symphony began with Creation and ended with the leaving of Chaco Canyon by its inhabitants, climaxed by the shattering of pottery:

"Breaking pottery is an act of purification and offering, a prayer of release to the afterlife." 

Program note from Symphony Chaco: A Journey of the Spirit

This took me back to two final days in my rooted home: 

Just Stuff. I got a little teary-eyed re-reading this just now.

Mazel Tov! A reader took me to task for what I did. I have no spiritual regret for my action. It felt fitting. I do confess to a bit of a cringe at the materialistic loss.

With last night's Symphony Chaco, it seems I was just carrying on an ancient tradition.           

Missouri: Some Gospel Music on a Sunday Evening

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Dan Fankhauser.

Although I'm not a Christian, I do love gospel music.

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Brian Smith.

A Jefferson City church hosted the Mid-Missouri Christian Choir last night.

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Julie Rollins.

This choir is good.

Like Proud Mary, the song above starts off nice and easy and then it gets to rolling, rolling.

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Jeannie Sneller. 

I think of some other gospel music concerts I've had the good luck to attend:

• El Paso: Gospel Explosion
• Antigua: Praise the Lord and Pass the Chocolate Kiss
• Opelousas: A Holy Ghost Party
• Toronto: Toronto Mass Choir
• Tbilisi: University Choir

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Tracy Tackett.

 

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Brian Smith.

Mid-Missouri Christian Choir, Jefferson City, Missouri. April 2018. Dan Fankhauser.

Missouri: Three Creeks Hike

Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

I joined a hike at Three Creeks Conservation Area hike, hosted by the Sierra Club.


As winter continues to hang on, the morning began overcast and chilly. Begrudgingly, it did lighten and warm some as the day grew.

Nevertheless, petite wildflowers made a showing. Two adept identifiers, the hike guide and one of the hikers, named spring beauties, wake robin (trillium), sweet william, wild plum (tree), pussytoes, toothwort, lousewort, Dutchmen's breeches, bluebells, false rue anemone, [true] rue anemone, yellow violet, common violet, large bellwort, and a couple I'm forgetting.

Wake robin (trillium). Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

We saw the foliage for future blooming may apples, wild ginger, wild geranium, and colombine.

Paw prints. Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

It wasn't just wildflowers. I added two carcasses to my carcass collection: 

Dead frog. Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

A video:

And a fossil. 

Crinoid parts. Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

And a prosaic hiking sight, poop. (I so love how such a pretty, poetic word as prosaic describes something ordinary.)

Poop. Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

 A fruitful walk.


Below, a slide show:

Three Creeks Conservation Area, Missouri. April 2018.

St. Louis: 100 Boots Poetry

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Through an El Paso writer, I learned about the 100 Boots Poetry Series at St. Louis' Pulitzer Arts Foundation. The intel hit me just in time to attend the final event in this year's series.

Layli Long Soldier, 100 Boots Poetry Series, Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

The final event highlighted poets Layli Long Soldier and Douglas Kearney, authors of Whereas and Buck Studies respectively.

Douglas Kearney, 100 Boots Poetry Series, Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

I'll return to the poets, but first some remarks on the Pulitzer Arts Foundation interior design.

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Pulitzer Arts Foundation, St. Louis, Missouri. April 2018.

Clean, industrial. Hard, but softened by colors. Strong, but giving way to the art it holds.

My notes on Ms. Long Soldier

Soft speaking, nighttime-soothing voice, unhurried pace.

"My belief is not a legend." Referencing how Native beliefs about how we all came about are as legitimate - as real - as Biblical (and other) beliefs about how we all came about.

A student asked her once what to write about, and she replied: "Whatever is or was missing in one's life - and start there."


My notes on Mr. Kearney

Smooth voice
Sings a song poem like drum beats
Many voices like changing radio stations frequently
I think of Tourette's Syndrome, his sounds, voices, movements


I've discovered that, as with songs, I often hear the sounds of poetry, but not so much the words. This was the case with Ms. Long Soldier and Mr. Kearney.

This is neither a reflection on the poets nor on me as a listener.


To meet two writers new to me, to hear their words from their mouths, and to enter into the space of the Pulitzer Arts Foundation building .... I am one lucky goose. 

St. Louis: Castlewood State Park: Spring Signs

Castlewood State Park, Missouri. April 11, 2018.

A slow walk on a Castlewood State Park trail on a sunny, warm Wednesday.

The trees haven't leafed out yet, but there are several varieties of wildflowers waving in the breeze - deep purples, some flashes of underside-fuschia, white, periwinkle blue.

Dismembered carcasses of trees pounded by last year's flooding lay atop the grasses.


A sweet, breezy video below of white wildflowers:

Portable: Exercise

Resistance bands

Not long ago, my mother spent time at a rehab center. The physical and occupational therapists introduced her to resistance bands. During my mom's sessions, I'd sometimes do the resistance band exercises with her.

Hoo doggies! I loved how effective they were at flexing the muscles, how easily I could change the amount of resistance for a stronger or gentler workout, and, of course, how portable they are.

I bought my own set of bands. The different colors have different levels of stretch resistance, with green the strongest and red the gentlest.

Although I get a fair amount of exercise with dancing and walking, which gives my legs a workout, I've really neglected my arms. The resistance bands are perfect for building muscle strength for these sad appendages, and I've been using the bands every day since I bought them.

Being a nomadic sort of gal, they are perfect for my rootless lifestyle.

Ferguson: My Living Room

Living room. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

It surprises me sometimes the wash of pleasure I feel from color and clean lines.

My living room refreshes my spirit with its vivid simplicity.

Thanks to family members and secondhand stores for this daily gladness.

Some other nomadic living spaces:

Living space, El Paso, Texas.

 

Living space, Opelousas, Louisiana.

Living space, Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Ferguson: Spring Gone Missing

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

Oh, where is Spring?

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

It snowed on Easter.

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

 Unacceptable.

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

I had to take matters into my own hands.

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

On Monday, I picked up a bouquet of Spring from the local grocer. I put it next to the long-ago deflowered paper whites from official winter, which I clip every once in awhile to create the illusion of Spring to come.

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

 No, no, no, no. I am finished with winters in cold lands.

Bringing Spring home. Ferguson, Missouri. April 2018.

I am already planning my next annual home. It will be a warm and sunny place.

In the meantime, these yellow and red-cheeked tulips sustain my spirit.

St. Louis: History Museum: #1 in Civil Rights Exhibit

#1 in Civil Rights Exhibit, Missouri History Museum, St. Louis, Missouri. March 2018.

I learned about the #1 in Civil Rights Exhibit at the Missouri History Museum through the Readings on Race Book Club at the Ferguson Municipal Library.

Although I'm not much of a museum person, the exhibit captured my attention for about an hour.

I plucked the bits that I ingested on the spot or that I will investigate more deeply in the future.

#1 in Civil Rights Exhibit, Missouri History Museum, St. Louis, Missouri. March 2018.

Harriet Scott?! Why had I only heard about Dred Scott all these decades of my life? Here is one story of Harriet Robinson Scott's adult life. In this account, we learn that Harriet Robinson was only 16 when she married Dred Scott. This suggests another story, untold. Further, because the legal status of children of enslaved persons followed the maternal line (i.e. if the mother was enslaved, then her children were also enslaved), one could argue that Harriet Scott's name should have been the more prominent one on the Supreme Court case, as the futures of their two children depended on the outcome of the case.

#1 in Civil Rights Exhibit, Missouri History Museum, St. Louis, Missouri. March 2018.

It was only a few weeks before I visited the History Museum that I learned about the East St. Louis Massacre. The confounding range of estimated killed between 40 and 200 reminds me of the similar obliqueness about the Opelousas Massacre.

#1 in Civil Rights Exhibit, Missouri History Museum, St. Louis, Missouri. March 2018.

 The above quote by William Wells Brown countered the mealymouthed exhibit on slavery in the state capitol's history exhibit.

St. Louis: A Korean Lunch

Korean lunch, St. Louis, Missouri. March 2018.

March 2018


I have enjoyed the pleasure of working with several Korean students.

St. Louis is home to many Korean-Americans. I don't know how many people make their home here, but there are at least seven churches that serve the Korean-American community.

And  "St. Louis is home to a 'shockingly high number of [Korean] restaurants,'" according to the managing editor of the magazine Sauce, according to this piece on St. Louis Public Radio in 2017.

I went to one of these restaurants.

My eyes lit up like Oliver Twist's at the sight of all the dainty plates of banchan, or side dishes, that accompany an entree.

I ate every single bit of every single plate.

Oh, and the sizzle of the spicy pork dolsot bibimbap:

Creative Life: On Cold and Flame

Runge Nature Center, Jefferson City, Missouri. December 2006.

Wintry in Missouri.

My hands are cold, but another's vengeance drip, drip, drips a molten sludge of thick poison into my gullet, seeking to liquidate my spirit.

My hands are cold, but my gut twists from a dull, yellow ember of acid fear that seeks to burn.

My hands are cold, but my heart constricts from a subterranean rage that seeks to consume it.


Come soon, spring.

Icy serviceberry, Jefferson City, Missouri. December 2006.

St. Louis: Come to Me, My Pretties

Jícama on the Nazca figure vessel, "The Harvester," ca 100-300 CE, St. Louis Art Museum, St. Louis, Missouri. February 2018.

I finally found a source of fresh and juicy, affordable jícama. It's at the China Town Market on Olive Street in University City. The produce truck comes every Thursday.

Come to me, my little pretties. I will gobble you up.

The Tajín I get at Aldi's.

Learning to Dance: Swing, Part 1: Remember the Curve

Swing, Toronto, Canada. Summer 2016.

One of my goals when I moved to Louisiana was to learn to dance. I wrote a series about my Louisiana dance-learning experience:

Learning to Dance, Part 1: Solving for X
Learning to Dance, Part 2: The Tao of Following
Learning to Dance, Part 3: The Pause
Learning to Dance, Part 4: Signals
Learning to Dance, Part 5: Anticipation

Swing, Toronto, Canada. Summer 2016.

When I moved to El Paso, I intended to learn salsa, and I made some attempts at getting into the dance scene, but it didn't happen.

One of my St. Louis goals was to learn swing dancing. This post inaugurates the story of my progress.

Via a meetup group I joined, I began weekly swing dance lessons at the Moolah Shrine in one of St. Louis' bajillion cities that cluster around actual St. Louis: Creve Coeur. Or maybe Maryland Heights. Or Bridgeton. It's a toss-up.

West County Swing Dance Club hosts the Tuesday-night dance, which includes an hour-long lesson before the dance begins. There are different lesson groups, which range from beginner to advanced.

I began at Level 1: Beginner. In fact, I did three weeks at the beginner level before moving on to Level 2, which is where I am as I write this post.

Swing, Toronto, Canada. Summer 2016.

On learning swing, I am re-learning lessons I thought I knew, both in dance and life:

Learning a new dance means making mistakes, looking stupid, feeling lost, feeling impatient with myself. I must remind myself that this is normal. I'm supposed to make mistakes, look stupid, and feel lost. I don't need to feel impatient with myself. Instead, I must remember the cardinal rule of dance: Have fun!

My tendency to move too quickly, to forget the importance of the pause - the importance of letting a process unfold rather than push toward the destination, to relax into the moment, to savor the act - remains.

Word of the Year: Courage 2: A Poet Familiar With Fear

Audre Lorde. Art credit: Harriet Faith.

An author friend recently introduced me to the works of the poet, Audre Lorde.

Ms. Lorde had a few things to say about fear:

“I want to write down everything I know about being afraid, but I’d probably never have enough time to write anything else. Afraid is a country where they issue us passports at birth and hope we never seek citizenship in any other country. The face of afraid keeps changing constantly, and I can count on that change. I need to travel light and fast, and there’s a lot of baggage I’m going to have to leave behind me. Jettison cargo." 


“Your silence will not protect you.” From Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches



“When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.” From The Cancer Journals


“and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid
So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive”
― Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn: Poems


"Sometimes we are blessed with being able to choose
the time, and the arena, and the manner of our revolution,
but more usually
we must do battle where we are standing.”
― Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches


All Word of the Year: Courage posts here.