The pink daffodil is an exquisite creature. This was the only variety of daffodil I ever planted with any lasting success, at the foot of a woodland path at my childhood home. They lasted for years there, consistently putting on their enchanting show every spring. Hybridizers have come a long way since then, as most of the color I remember in the cups was salmon or peach – there are not distinctly pink versions. This one falls somewhere in-between, and it was a forced pot in the local market. Still magical… on with the weekly recap.
Our pool, closed since last fall, has begun to show signs of life. It’s shifted from shades of gray and black to blue and green – vaguely echoing what might have been the primordial ooze of the birth of the planet. Algae appears and begins its bloom – green cels divide and expand, inspiring other organisms to follow in their wake – life nudging life into life again after a sleepy winter. Soon the insects and bugs will be gliding across the surface of the water, while others will be twisting and turning in the shadows below that surface.
On the afternoon these photos were taken, the wind and therefore the water were both still, allowing for distinctive reflections, which I then turned upside down to give a new perspective, showing the trees in their upright form, but as they are reflections there is something off-kilter about them. Together, they create a dream-like visage, fitting for the spring theme, with muted hues and the fading, drowned leaves of the bare trees below and behind the reflection. Layers upon layers of meaning and images give a deeper resonance to something that outwardly may feel muted and subtle. Just look closer. A good lesson for life.
While I do not believe in banning books, there are certain titles that should not be in my possession, for the betterment of the world at large. Case in point is this one, entitled “The Courage to be Disliked”. Nobody in their right mind thinks I need any more courage to be disliked, and giving any more encouragement for what comes so easily and naturally to me seems ill-advised at best, and downright destructive at worst.
With the removal of the winter gates from this park in downtown Albany, spring has officially arrived. Whenever this sign goes up in November, my heart sinks a little at the daunting prospect of how long it feels until spring. Then, in a flash, it’s suddenly here.
We’ve made it through the winter wilderness, and while I fully expect winter weather to linger for a bit, we can turn the page – just keep the scarf and shovel handy.
In ‘Simple Prayer for Complex Times’ Lara Downes provides the perfect accompaniment for the first Sunday of spring, when I have chosen to embrace hope and possibility instead of fear and dread. There will be moments to fight and illuminate, but for now, for this morning, I listen with a heart that is open and willing to find the reasons for gratitude. There are many if you think about it – like this park, once again open for walking and sitting and spending a lunch time in quiet contemplation of the luck in being alive.
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.” ~ Martha Graham
“I was pirouette and flourish, I was filigree and flame. How could I count my blessings when I didn’t know their names?” ~ Rita Dove
We have reached one of the first fissures of ‘The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale’, where the easy and light escapism gives way to something dimmer and more disturbing – a dark ballet indeed. A certain amount make-believe and imagination is a necessity – and largely lost in todays world, so this may have less power and import than it did twenty years ago, when those things were still activated at a young age. Now, our imaginations, and the way a child can live within their own mind, has been supplanted by phones and online machinations. Society is already so much worse for it.
Twenty years ago, however, there was a danger of living too much within one’s imagination, and getting lost in the forest of that space. That’s the moment we are arriving at in this fairy’s tale, and it sets the stage for darker paths to follow…
Flitting across the snow, feet frozen through satin shoes, he cuts a figure akin to some preciously-early sakura blossom gliding along the winter landscape – a dainty wisp of a thing, almost ethereal rather than real. Not made long for this earth, anyhow. Tricked by the sun then smothered by the snow, a bait and switch of the cruelest kind, this tiny ballerina has but the briefest life – and it lasts as long as the dance…
‘The Divine Diva Tour: A Fairy’s Tale’ picks up where it left off – in flights of fancy and fantasy, all pink tulle and voluminous tutu and feathers in one’s hair. This sugar plum ballerina moment is silly and ripe for ridicule, but I learned a valuable lesson from all of it: tights and a tutu do not keep a package warm in the winter. We have reached the point where things may not be all sugary fluff and fun, but it’s not entirely clear yet, so we keep dancing, refusing to look over our shoulders at whatever menace may be lurking.
If you want something more profound, may you find it in the words below of those far more talented than me.
“To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking.” ~ Agnes De Mille
“A dancer, more than any other human being, dies two deaths: the first, the physical when the powerfully trained body will no longer respond as you would wish. After all, I choreographed for myself. I never choreographed what I could not do. I changed steps in Medea and other ballets to accommodate the change. But I knew. And it haunted me. I only wanted to dance.” ~Martha Graham
“The one important thing I have learned over the years is the difference between taking one’s work seriously and taking oneself seriously. The first is imperative and the second disastrous.” ~ Dame Margot Fonteyn
“Fine dancing, I believe like virtue, must be its own reward. Those who are standing by are usually thinking of something very different.” ~ Jane Austen
“Dance can reveal everything mysterious that is hidden in music, and it has the additional merit of being human and palpable. Dancing is poetry with arms and legs. It is matter, graceful and terrible, animated and embellished by movement.” ~ Charles Baudelaire
“Think of the magic of the foot, comparatively small, upon which your whole weight rests. It’s a miracle, and the dance…..is a celebration of that miracle.” ~ Martha Graham
“If I could tell you what it meant, there would be no point in dancing it.” ~ Isadora Duncan
“So many dancers feel that what they look like is more important than who they are. This is a real danger for dancers who focus for years on appearances and think of themselves as merely a body. The choreographer can’t work with them in the realm of ideas. It’s a huge problem if they haven’t been connecting internally. If they’ve decided that what’s inside is of little value, they can only try to approximate some kind of look. ” ~ Alonzo King
“Dance is for everybody. I believe that the dance came from the people and that it should always be delivered back to the people.” ~ Alvin Ailey
From the moment she demanded us to “Strike a pose!” I have been enthralled and recaptured by Madonna’s song ‘Vogue’. Released thirty five years ago (sweet baby Jesus how old does that put us?!) it remains an epochal and iconic song that has stood the test of time, surviving and thriving in the various iterations Madonna has performed on tours and halftime shows. For me, and for many gay men of a certain age, it has always meant a little bit more than meets the superficial eye.
Thirty-five years ago I was a freshman in high school. In our small town in upstate New York, the closest I could get to any sort of gay culture or lifestyle was Madonna, and ‘Vogue’ offered a glimpse of a world in which I sensed I might belong – a world of beauty, glamour, freedom, and dance-floor abandon. At a time when the AIDS epidemic raged and eradicated great swaths of the gay community, this was a space and a place to get away, even if the fabulousness and fantasy existed solely in our minds. Sometimes that had to be enough to get us through.
Our theme for the season is Spring Dream. It goes perfectly with this dreamy doo-wop bop that sees us into the first evening of spring. Greeting the green season is this fluffy bunny doing double-time and preparing the way to Easter. The world awakens with life and possibility.
Life could be a dream Life could be a dream Do do do do, sh-boom!
Life could be a dream (sh-boom) If I could take you up in Paradise up above (sh-boom) If you would tell me, I’m the only one that you love Life could be a dream, sweetheart Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hopin’ we’ll meet again, boom (ba-boom)
Life could be a dream (sh-boom) If only all my precious plans would come true (sh-boom) If you would let me spend my whole life lovin’ you Life could be a dream, sweetheart (do do do do, sh-boom)
Every time I look at you Something is on my mind If you do what I want you to Baby, we’d be so fine
Oh, life could be a dream, sh-boom If I could take you up in Paradise up above, sh-boom You’d tell me, darlin’, I’m the only one that you love Life could be a dream, sweetheart Hello, hello again, sh-boom and hopin’ we’ll meet again, boom (ba-boom)
Every winter Andy and I wait for the bedroom lamp on his side of the bed to throw its rainbows against the wall, as it signals that spring is almost at hand. We’ve been watching these rainbows grow in strength and saturation the past couple weeks. Soon, the oak leaves will obscure the sun, meaning that summer is almost here, and the rainbows will go away until another winter.
Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you
Birds singin’ in the sycamore trees
Dream a little dream of me
Say nighty-night and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me
While I’m alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me
For now, spring has arrived, and the rainbows are here again. A covenant, a promise – just like spring itself. A feeling, a romance, a memory – and all in a song. While Andy eagerly plans the opening of the pool at the first sign of any stretch of warmer weather, I play the music that brings the season of hope to mind.
Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Leave the worries behind you
But in your dreams, whatever may be
You’ve gotta make me a promise, promise to me
You’ll dream, dream a little dream of me
This spring, the light and loose theme for the blog will be that of a dream. Especially in the earliest days of the season, there is still a winter haze that hangs over the cold nights and mornings, offset by the thrill of warming days and the bursting of spring bulbs through the wet earth. It is a dreamy sort of crux, where winter and spring do their awkward hand-off – one not quite ready to leave, one not quite ready to arrive. And us, not quite watching somewhere, all averted eyes and downcast gazes. The sheepish, happy conundrum of spring. Welcome…
One of my favorite date nights with Andy was when we got to see an advance screening of the HBO version of ‘Grey Gardens’ in a Boston movie theater. It was a magical spring evening, and we stopped for a night cap at a Copley bar that would only be around for a season or two. We walked back to the condo on a perfect April night, slower than usual, not wanting the spell to dissipate.
You cannot guess
What loveliness
Belongs to you
If you would dance
We’d have a chance
To share it too
On this last night of winter, I find solace in the springs we’ve had, and the one about to arrive. In dreamy entrancement, there is a giddy sense of possibility – the greatest gift that spring provides.
I am not gay enough
To share a waltz
Tonight I boast
One of my most, unhappy thoughts
I dream too much
But if I dream too much
I only dream to touch your heart again
What lovely thoughts as we see winter gently out the door, and what gratitude I feel for a winter that did what winter was supposed to do. She kept her chill, blanketed the gardens with a healthy cover of snowfall for most of the coldest days, and provided us the slumber needed to barrel through the rest of the calendar year. Winter, we bid you farewell, knowing you will come again when it is time.
Saw this online somewhere and wanted to hypocritically share it with you – you, who are actually good enough to be visiting my website if you are reading this now:
That warning is as much for me as anyone else. We have been scolded. What we do about it now is entirely in our hands. (Come back for a pre-spring song in a few hours.)
