Life and death,

a twisted vine sharing a single root

A water bright green

stretching to top a twisted yellow

only to wither itself

as another green unfolds overhead

One leaf atop another

yet under the next,

a vibrant tapestry of arcs and falls

all in the act of becoming.

Death is the passing of life.

And life

is the stringing together of so many little

passings.   ~ Rabbi Rami M. Shapiro

We watch September skies become a deeper blue, and feel a new edge in the wind. We are keenly aware that Summer’s party is nearing an end. The gradual and beautiful decline of our full-leafed trees keeps our eyes ever upward, taking in the vibrancy of color.

Autumn. Such a symbolic time. Everything in nature is dying, only to return again next Spring. Rejuvenated and yet, not quite the same.

This is the time to contemplate what is “dying” inside of us. For some, what is dying is unplanned and undesired. My friend, Rob, for example, has just been notified that he has lost his job as Executive Director of an organization he was devoted to heart and soul. Another friend, B.J., is recovering from the loss of what to many women is the essence of her femininity with the radical removal of a cancer-filled breast.

For these friends and many like them, there is little choice in the situation. Only how best to deal with it. And they deal — perhaps bravely or with hand-wringing, with faith or fists raised, alone or through the help of friends.

For the rest of us, we have a choice in this season: We can choose to intentionally “die” to the thing that no longer serves us, in the act of becoming.

What no longer serves you? What do you know deeply in your heart that you must walk away from?

We ALL know our own opportunities — the mind chatter of our 2AM restlessness reveals them to us.

Is it medicating away our stress (call it fears) through the happy haze of martinis or beer?

Is it hanging on to a relationship that only drains us and turns us bitter?

Is it neglecting our holy bodies in sessions of binge eating?

Is it as simple as telling ourselves small lies so as not to stand up for what we believe?

What is nudging you for resolution?

The Importance of Ritual

If you feel the readiness to surrender that thing that no longer serves you, congratulations! This is a courageous act. One that begs for ritual to signify its importance.

I use rituals all the time. They help to solidify my intent. For example, when I realize I am in a work-related funk (of whatever sort or cause); I leave my office for the kitchen, and make myself a cup of Sweeten the Mind tea.  [It happens to be the byline on the Vanilla Almond flavor made by The Republic of Tea.] In this small act, I am filled with intent — to shift and reframe my mood to one of calmness and sweetness. And no surprise the power of intent — it works!

I invite you to consider a form of ritual to honor and solidify your letting go process.

Exercise:

Carve out some time for yourself and simply stop the doing of things. Just be still in contemplating what it is you wish to let go of. Be in an appreciative space in thinking about the behavior, issue or situation. Think about how it has helped you learn and grow. Now take a walk outside. Sometimes the splendor of nature can help us in our letting go process. My friend, Anne Fitzgerald would say, “when you feel heavy, give your heaviness to the rocks because they can carry that heaviness.” Find something that can be symbolic of your letting go (examples: a decaying leaf or twig). Blow into it what you want to let go of. Journey to a stream, the ocean, or even a high place without water. Release your symbolic object — with silence or a word or chants or screams — whatever feels right to you.

As the beautiful poem by Rabbi Shapiro suggests, “life is the stringing together of so many little passings.”  This season of decay and dying, as colorful as it is, a will result in a stark landscape of grays and browns. Dying is necessary in order for the cycle of rebirth to continue in spring. Dying is necessary in order to make space for something new. Something better. More aligned with who you are now, or who you are becoming.

One day after performing for a large crowd at a Christmas concert, “Embrace the Season” sponsored by the United Baptist Church in Saco, Maine. I am keenly aware of the musicians with heart who comprised the “& Friends” portion of “Jennifer Comeau & Friends”.

I decided to share my introduction notes with you. I hope you can imagine them jamming in our final songs, “Go Tell it On the Mountain” and my own, “3AM Blues“. Their music is still ringing joyously in my ears.

Heartfelt thanks to these very good teachers and Friends!

Jen’s Notes from the concert:

These talented musicians make my job so easy – and lots of fun. Please help me show my appreciation for them. Mickey Roache on lead guitar (among the many instruments he plays) is not only a huge talent, but he has a gentle heart and has been a guitar mentor for me. Maker of flutes and now, of beautiful silver jewelry; suburban farmer, and knower of all things music, the multi-talented, Mickey Roache!

Michael McNerney – the man behind those drums – is not only a classically trained percussionist and great friend, but he owns Port Media recording studio and co-produced my CD, “Feed the Tribe” The man makes me laugh, helps hold us in tempo better than anyone I know, and is a great friend – Michael McNerney!

“The “rock”, as we call him, John Comeau is on bass. He is a multi-dimensional man of intellect and heart. “Holder of my kite string” and man of my dreams, I’m a lucky girl. And I can’t tell you how much fun it is to share the natural high of music with him – together learning, together finding new ways to express our joy. Thank you – John Comeau!

Wiley Beveridge is a man who has exacting musical standards when playing piano and yet has an amazing ability to be loose and fun in his delivery. That is a sign of a true professional who someone you definitely want to make music with. It is Wiley’s beautiful song, “You Are Welcome Here” that I listen to over and over just before a concert. His music comforts, inspires and makes us grateful to be in his world. Wiley Beveridge!

I am grateful to have my friend, talented vocalist and Union Church leader, Ada Goff “in the house” tonight. You know in the intensity of seeking to create the best song arrangements, it is not only talent that I seek. It is a certain kind of spirit. A spirit of genuine appreciation for music, of kinship and mutual respect and most importantly, a recognition that something HOLY is at work in the making of music. The belief that music transforms everyday moments into magical ones. Ada Goff is a personification of this spirit. Thank you, Ada Goff!

I am delighted to welcome Mary Kennedy to this event. Mary is the real deal — continuing her extensive musical training in Flute and Saxophone with a Masters Degree from Longy School of Music in Cambridge and is being mentored in jazz improvisation by the great Charlie Benacus. A therapist by day, Mary has certainly provided the coolest musical therapy to our group. Thank you, Mary Kennedy!

I am sure these musicians would love to hear your comments and posts about the concert. In a few emails and phone calls today, I have heard:

• We’re all still high after last night’s concert performance! Fantastic job!!!
• The concert was fabulous! You all did a fantastic job and can be immensely proud of yourselves. Thanks you for all the had work to put this together, it seemed effortless to all of us (but we know it is really a lot of work!) KUDOS to all of you.
• Your voice is a great pleasure to listen to.
• It was great!
• That Mickey can make a guitar sound like no one else!
• Peter came home with raves!!
• We thoroughly enjoyed your concert. It was worth the wait! Just consider us among your “groupies”. Wherever you play, we will show up.
• Mary Kennedy was on fire! What a talent!
• Your concert was so much fun!! The songs you write are beautiful, and the voices and instruments blend so well together. Thanks to you and “your friends” for great entertainment.
• Wiley Beveridge is like a tuxedo with tails for your group - high class!

Note: To listen to the song One Constellation.

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of spending a weekend camping with girls 5 - 16 years old as part of a local Maine Girl Scout “camporee”. I was the staring attraction for Saturday evening, with tired but expectant girls arriving at a large campfire just as darkness descended. Mind you, I couldn’t compete with the traditional “smores” that were planned, and tried to keep my guitar away from all that — GOO — while 60-some girls went to and fro the roaring fire with marshmallows in various darkened stages. It began to be funny, this “keeping the guitar safe”, with the scout leaders joining in and forming a wall of safety.

At long last, satiated by sweets, the girls settled in to soak up the warmth of a fire and share song and story.

I began with some songs everyone knew. For example, “The Bear Song” (”The other day, I met a bear. A great big bear, in the woods out there….”) I fear those of you who know this song will not be able to sleep tonight as it will be playing over and over in your head. Sorry! Others: “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”, and “On Top of Spaghetti”….

Next, each troop offered a song of their own. Quite a delight.

Finally, my troop leader contact, Karen Hinchliffe, began to ask me some questions about the art of songwriting. “Which comes first, the melody or the words?”. I turned it back to the girls and asked them: Have you ever made up a song in your head? Which comes first? As with many things in life, it is never predictable and always different. Sometimes a phrase haunts me for days and then suddenly emerges as a melody and song. Sometimes a melody pops into my head seeking words. (I’ve been working on one dynamite blues melody that came to me — still don’t *feel* the emotion enough to convert to a song with lyrics!)

Next, she asked me, “Can you help us write a song?”. Why yes! I said, swallowing hard. Why not? And so I described that all songs are fundamentally written about “what you know”. In that approach, lies authenticity and truth. So, given this weekend’s theme of Astronomy, I asked them to think about what they’ve done or learned that they might want to write about.

And so it began. One girl boldly offered that “We’re all stars in the sky.” So, I strummed some common chords: G, C, D. Then, I advised that most songs, though not all, rhymed. So, we want to rhyme with the word, “sky”, I urged. From the fire lit darkness I heard a voice, “How about, ‘One Constellation…um, uh, … ‘ And then another voice, “Way up high!”.

And in that moment, a song began. It is a simple song, exactly the right kind for sitting around a campfire. But the theme — about each of us being different in our own special way AND at the same time being a part of One Constellation — carried with it a wisdom greater than our own. The experience of creating something unique in the world was enchanting. So much so, that the Girl Scouts decided they wanted to record the song. And so, we now have a beautiful version — recorded at Port-Media, with Michael McNerney, the co-Producer of my own CD, Feed the Tribe.

I leave you with a note from my good friend and wonderful scout leader, Karen in her email to the troops:

72 degrees, balmy beautiful

Oh glorious day!

your blue jean skies and sapphire seashore

glittering like a New Year’s gown

your racing plovers chubby from summer’s feast

and warm white sands littered with dried kelp;

your stony, tidal islands

protecting us from ourselves.

A lone seagull stands

sentry at my blanket

as I count five last boats–

a vestige of summer’s crowds.

Rhythmic waves pause in meditative breath,

slipping noiselessly to shore.

When Mars was close in our late summer skies

and I depleted from hosting hordes,

September dawned

a glorious chapter

in the long book of my life.

A Meditative Walk at the Franciscan Monastery in Kennebunkport

I stroll to an outdoor shrine

in honor of Our Lady’s visit to Lourdes.

Two elderly women occupy

space on the sun-bleached benches, lips

moving, eyes closed.

I ease down in the front row

and gaze upward at Mary’s white marbled

likeness. The serenity here penetrates

instantly. I begin

to relax as tears of release spring

from my eyes.

On a woodland path I pass

an Erma Bombeck look-alike in pink;

big sparkly cross dangles

below her breasts. She emits

a shy hello, her heady perfume

trails along like a bride’s train.

Mushrooms – honey and golden, sculpted

like stacks of pancakes — rest

atop nature’s platter, made punky

by last week’s rains.

To the coastal trail

I go where mosquitoes

cannot fly in the quickening salt breeze.

In the sun

now on a grassy point, absorbing

the heat from a green wooden Adirondack chair

I watch a blonde in her canary yellow kayak struggle

against these stiff winds. I am facing

west

my most auspicious direction says the ancient

Chinese Bagua. I conclude

a friar must come to this sacred

spot each evening, to watch

the sun slip below the trees

(at least that’s what I would do).

If I close my right eye

and squint my weak left, the inlet

looks like a razzle dazzle Christmas light show

that never

never

ends.

Kylie’s Chance motors by chock full of sightseers

listening to the helmsman’s steady cadence

of interesting tid bits about The Port.

Grebes paddle this way and that

sucking the grasses near the rocks. A pair

moves near me as if to visit; and then

away again.

Hinckley’s, Zodiacs, Boston Whalers and the double-masted schooner Eleanor,

cruise by with colorfully dressed

families, happy

against a deep blue sky. A waft

of fried clams drifts over from Arundel Wharf.

Ummm. My stomach responds.

But

I make no move

to leave. I feel

deliciously pinned to this spot,

to this

stillness.

My body and spirit have been

waiting for this

moment for an eternity.

On the way out I stop at the statue

of Kateri Tekakwitha, ‘Lily of the Mohawks’.

Beneath a granite rock on her alter

I place a note, a declaration

of my state

of mind: “I am drenched

in Your grace and it slows

my pace.

I know

I know

I know.”

Suggested Practice: Meditation Walk

Carve out some time to meander in a favorite place.

Have no destination in mind.

Simply allow whatever catches your attention to guide your pace.

Move when you become aware that it is time to move.

Pause when an inner *something* asks that you pause.

There is nothing that needs to be accomplished.

Notice what happens to your breath; your mind; your body; your spirit.

Inspiration for this walk: Sabbath ~ Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives, by Wayne Muller, ©1999, Bantam Books.

©2008, Jennifer Comeau. All rights reserved.

Last week I got 1,800,000 links when I googled “Chinese opening ceremony girl singer”.

It has been all over the news, with Chinese and international voices crying foul over the “lip syncing incident” at the beautiful opening ceremonies of the Olympic Games in China.

Yes, it certainly seems “unfair” and “disingenuous” to show a “perfect” (the Chinese have used that word a lot) Lin Miaoke singing “Hymn to the Motherland”, rather than the real singer, Yang Peiyi.

The Chinese have a saying: ‘Gold and jade on the outside, but just cotton on the inside’. Hmmm. Is that applicable here? Perhaps. What strikes me is how quickly the world jumped to criticism and what appears to me to be hypocritical judgment about this incident. This happens everywhere. Obese people are continually discriminated against. A study published in the June 2004 Journal of Applied Psychology demonstrates that tall people make more money. (“The results suggest that tall individuals have advantages in several important aspects of their careers and organizational lives.”) The plain fact is that in spite of pithy sayings like, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts”, the world’s current definition of success seems to give merit to physical qualities more often than what lies beneath.

David Cooperider, founder of Appreciative Inquiry states: “We grow in the direction of the questions we ask”. With that in mind I ask the question: What is possible if each of us were only to see the beauty inside?

I look into his youthful 71 year old face as he says, “The hardest part is getting quiet, isn’t it?” This, in response to my informing him that I too am a creative type: A singer-songwriter with a debut CD, Feed the Tribe. A CD only weeks off the injection molding replication machines.

Oh yes, Martin. Over and over again it’s the hardest part. He reaches into his knapsack and carefully selects a poem: Blue Lesson.

An excerpt: “how to come home again and again with what look like empty hands, the gift – and there is one, even when I don’t see, don’t listen – how to hold this nothing, loving its flavor, the scent”.[1]

Thank you, Martin Steingesser for your gift of beauty and insight.

On the heels of completing the artistic accomplishment of a music CD (a huge undertaking), and what by many accounts would be considered a successful launch – sold out CD Release, songs played on four local radio stations, and press galore – I am asking, “Now What?” And experiencing unsettledness, a lack of certainty about the ways my music is manifesting for some greater good. In short: I have to get quiet and BE, letting go the drive to DO for just a little while.

One would think I’d be better at getting quiet after experiencing the richness and honesty that emerges as a result. Songs have poured out of me at times like these, where I am simply holding the pen and staying out of the way. Why is it always a struggle to get to that wellspring, I muse. Because your mind fears what your inner voice will say. It doesn’t have control over that source. Bingo!

Perhaps it is because I crave the wisdom that lies there – in spite of how difficult it is to receive at times – that I host a retreat workshop entitled, “An Exploration with Women at the Edge”. It is a time-out-of-time experience with women who are pushing their own comfort zones; women who are changing the world in the way they uniquely can.

During the workshop, we explore what it means to hold the nothing — the not yet manifested — with intent and allowing. With grace. Or at least we TRY! As a host, I am also a full participant. Like the lead climbers on Himalayan mountain expeditions, I still have to do the work myself, even though I’ve done it before and I have a map of the terrain. Sometimes I’m better at it than others. One thing is for certain: I’m still learning to get quiet, to love the flavor of nothing.