December 20, 2016 – The light of Christmas

Bo and U cozied by the tree on Sunday afternoon.

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I am more seriously tempted this morning to “re-run” a post than I have ever been. At this time last year, I wrote one I called, “Being Christmas” that received quite a bit of appreciation. I just re-read it which has me wondering what I can say about Christmas that is any better. I could take it easy today and just re-post it. But I’m not. I’m going to see what is here to say this year – which feels like an entirely different time, in which to celebrate Christmas.

We’ve decorated the house and have put up one of the prettiest trees, I think, than we ever have. We had a Christmas party for Joe’s men’s group this past weekend. Our niece Leigh is here from Brooklyn – it is always so special to get to spend time with her. We will gather with my family for Christmas Eve and host Joe’s family here on Christmas night. I will get in the kitchen this week to make some Christmas goodies to share. All the circumstances of celebrating Christmas are here. But there is something missing for me – something like a kind of purity and innocence that I expressed in last year’s post.

I wrote: For me the magic of Christmas is all of this – it’s light in the darkness – (I especially love colored light), it’s the generosity of life – feasting and making offerings to each other, it’s feeling an open-hearted, joyful spirit and wishing each other goodwill. To me, this is all part of celebrating the birth of the Christ spirit, that lives in all of us – in all of life, really – whether we are “Christian” or not.

There are several people close to me who are navigating extreme challenges: my other mom’s first holiday season without Dad – after 63 years of marriage, the lovely person who keeps our accounting in good order is bravely recovering from major surgery, my Godmother is struggling as she does life while caring for the love of her life as he gets older. In the face of this, what “reason” do I have to have such a heavy heart? But I know I’m not alone. There is a darkness that has been revealed that brings with it enormous uncertainty for what will happen to us all.

When I left the grocery store yesterday evening, I ended up in a conversation with the guy who was ringing the bell for the Salvation Army. He was black and we had a gentle conversation about living lives from inside bodies, with different “complexions,” as he called them. Then the conversation moved to his very dark view of things: money, politics, race, conspiracy. He reads a lot, he told me, and it seems he reads a whole lot about the dark forces that some say are in play in our world. I won’t repeat what he told me – spreading darkness is not what I’m here to do. But I walked to the car shivering with fear, at the possibility that what he says may be true.  I will not indulge my curiosity by investigating the veracity of what he said – and, yet I do acknowledge that darkness exists.

My compulsion to expand my understanding and capacity to hold life’s circumstances as it evolves is alive and well – especially in the past several weeks. I want to have context – to attempt to assign meaning to what is happening. It’s like I can’t survive this fear if I’m untethered to some bigger picture. I keep feeling like human life is on the cusp of a transformation – like the times I’ve lived through – when personal upheaval was the catalyst that led to the next version of me. In these times though, I was completely untethered. There were months and months that I had no idea what the future would hold or how long this would last. Regardless of how much I want to be able to, I don’t think it’s possible to think our way through real transformation. We can’t figure it out. We must sail away from the shoreline of the old version of reality before we reach the shores of the new.

In the face of this I’m living these questions: How do I – as a person born to express with color and light – stay connected, to all that is good in the face of this darkness? Where’s the place between head-in-the sand and lost-in-despair? What does it mean for the feminine to value itself, as I wrote about last week? And what does it mean to celebrate Christmas from this place – which feels more like post-resurrection-Easter Saturday than it does celebrating the advent of the Christ-spirit?

I’ve been thinking about that first Christmas post-divorce when I spent Christmas Eve all alone in my new little house. Dressed in a big baggy sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows, latex house paint in my hair, I sat on a rolled up piece of carpet in front of a Duraflame log in the fireplace. I feasted on a glass of Chardonnay and a Marie Callendar’s chicken pie. And I was blissfully happy. It was a stripped down celebration. Simple. If that were how I spent every Christmas Eve, it would be sad. And it was what felt right that year. We suffer less if we do what feels congruent to our lives at the time.

This year I have zero motivation to go Christmas shopping. I’ve been cleaning out closets and culling away unused belongings – I’m responding to a feeling that we are drowning in “stuff” in this house. So I can’t imagine gathering more of it for others. I’m even resisting sending out emails to you all reminding you of the ways that you could give gifts of my wares – the art, mugs and calendars – even though they provide light and color to the world.

What I still do want to do is paint – my creative life is my haven – along with a gentle inner-reminder to take tender care of myself. There’s so much harshness; tenderness is in order. I’ve gone to bed before 9:30 twice in the past week. The deep sleep that follows going to bed this early is a miracle for my body and soul. What does feel right to me is to do less, read less, rest more.

On Saturday, I got a call from my dear friend Julia. She called not because she needed anything, not because she had a question or any particular purpose, except to say she was grateful for me in her life and that she loved me. This feels like Christmas to me. As we talked, we found ourselves exploring Christmas spirit – the sparkly magic of Christmas morning – what I feel in wishing someone a “Merry Christmas” that isn’t there in “Happy Holidays” or worse “have a good holiday.” Julia said “Christmas is for everyone.” This kind of Christmas does not require you to believe in anything.

I read once that the time of births of great people – like MLK Jr and Abraham Lincoln aren’t widely celebrated until they’ve grown to live lives that have had enormous impact. It’s a retroactive thing. The real impact of the birth that was the “First Christmas” wasn’t known until that baby grew to show the world what it means to love each other in a revolutionary way. As we witness the darkness, the horrors of refugees, of assassinations of diplomats, of drug-addicted people living in the streets and those who grieve the loss of someone they love, in the face of this we still find it in us to connect and share our love for each other. What comes to me now might sound trite. But things become trite because they are said over and over – which means they must contain truth. I am holding on to this: the light of Christmas is eternal, ever-present human connection – the light of Christmas is love.

Merry Christmas. Love,

Cara

December 13, 2016 – Watching for miracles

“The background is in and I’m now ready to start on the scraggly leaves.”

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I woke up really early Sunday morning – something like 4am – with the thought – I have no idea where the tickets are – the tickets for tonight’s Chanticleer Christmas concert with my husband’s family. I’ve been the one who has ordered them the past several years – but in fact Joe and I did it together in September. We got a ticket for Dad, with the tender hope that he’d still be here to enjoy it – one of the highlights of the year for him. But, I didn’t remember running across them since. Joe asked me the same question after we got up. I had to confess I had no idea. He said that he had given them to me, asking me to put them someplace safe – what did I do with them? I had absolutely no clue. What ensued was not at all in the spirit of Christmas: anxiety, upset, as we searched all the safe-keeping spots. Nothing.

Everyone was looking forward to this – counting on there being tickets. We do this every year. We had dinner reservations. I was melting down inside. Menopause was blamed for the complete lack of memory. What could I have done with them??? I might have stashed them in the top drawer at his office. I jumped in the shower, grabbed everything (including my blow dryer and brush) for the Paint Our Prayers in Larkspur. With wet hair and no makeup, I headed out the door to go see. They weren’t there either. And neither was there evidence anywhere, that we had actually purchased them – not in our ticket accounts online or credit card statements.

Then the spirit of Christmas crept back in. There were seats available for the second show. We flip-flopped dinner and concert, and all was well. Plus we didn’t have to get Dad a ticket – he’d be there without needing one. Things settled down, apologies came. We recovered. When I picked up the tickets at Will Call before the concert, they checked for me to see, if we were on the list for the first show. We had indeed never actually bought the tickets. I didn’t misplace them – they never existed. I’m not losing my mind. He must have handed me the tickets to Madame Butterfly, the opera he took me to on my birthday, two weeks ago. But what has reverberated in me since, is how readily and how willing we both were, to assume that the missing tickets were my fault.

I had a conversation with my mom about it yesterday, which expanded to what is going on in our world – with masculine and feminine – to a much bigger level, than a moment in a marriage. At the end of the conversation, I said something that felt important. I said, not only is there a need for there to be more feminine at play in our world, and for the masculine to value the feminine, but also, for the feminine to value the feminine. Those of us who embody and express beauty, compassion, empathy, cooperation, connection – who see from the eternal perspective – are called to live and operate, knowing how vital what we bring is. Why would we value the feminine though? It’s the masculine that is in power, that sets the rules of the game, determines what’s important. And since, as I’ve learned from Alison Armstrong, it is feminine beings who are – for very good reason – more adaptable, we’ve adapted ourselves to be more masculine – and we believe that doing so, makes us more valued.

A quick note: In some ways, the language of masculine and feminine can be in the way – as it gets linked with male and female and that one is better than the other. We do need both. But, I use it, because it’s shorthand for qualities and modes of being – which we all have capacities for.

Last night, thanks to a Facebook post by my coach Lissa Boles that pointed me there, I dove into some of the recent articles, written by Charles Eisenstein. (This one, written two days after the election, is amongst the most helpful I’ve read on the election aftermath, BTW). He’s a deep and insightful thinker, writer and speaker. His take on what is going on in our world, is stunning to me in its brilliance and forward thinking. Though he’s not using this language, he’s absolutely talking about bringing in the feminine in our interactions. To give you an idea, one of his books is called, The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know is Possible. I ended my evening with him, by watching a TED talk, in which he talked about miracles. He said this: “A miracle is not the intercession of an external divine agency in violation of the laws of nature. A miracle is something that is impossible from an old understanding of reality – and possible from a new one.” We are in, he says, a period where our understanding of reality – of what is real – is radically changing.

I see that it is the old understanding of reality, to engage with those we are in conflict with, from a place of anger or hatred – to lash out at them. At the end of the article I link to above, Charles Eisenstein says: “Instead, we can engage them empowered by the inner mantra that my friend Pancho Ramos-Stierle uses in confrontations with his jailers: “Brother, your soul is too beautiful to be doing this work.” Since reading this last night, I’ve been asking the question: what gives him the capacity and presence of mind, to speak from his heart to his jailers instead of lashing back? It must be some kind of inner capacity. It’s my guess, that he must not feel harmed, must not be taking their actions personally, he must be holding himself differently than those who respond defensively.

In this whole deal with the tickets, I did respond defensively and it wasn’t me at my best. And in a way, I’m grateful for it – because want to be able to not be. I want to be able to allow those in my life, including those I love most, to be upset, even upset with me and not abandon myself as I did and then abandon us in how I communicate.  Somehow these things feel related. In that, it takes a new reality – for me to have and act from a new understanding of who I am and how I am of value – especially my feminine qualities – that allows the miracle of communication at this level to happen. Part of this is also not getting triggered as easily by someone else getting triggered. It’s an on-going endeavor. And one that I’m not giving up on.

Looking out into my life and the world with this definition of what a miracle is, my guess is that they are everywhere. Every shift of awareness, everything we learn or discover, enables us to redefine what is real for us. Before ever putting a brush to paint to paper, the thought of being able to make paintings, is impossible. There is a piece of me that feels this impossibility, at the start of every new painting. Even with the detailed road-map of a photo for inspiration, I cannot know what the painting will ultimately be. This uncertainty is inherent in the process of creation. And each finished one, does have the feeling of miracle in it.

It feels like we are living in a new world, as we come to the end of this year. There is so much fear, grief and anger at how things have unfolded. And so much darkness that has been given license. It seems to me, that this exactly where we’ll find miracles though – there’s no need for them when things are sunny and bright. I think of the story in the faith tradition, that is the closest to my heart – the birth we celebrate at this time of the year. In a reality where a poor couple unable to find shelter, bring their child into the world in a lowly manger, amongst the animals, and there is born a person – human and divine, just as we all are – who brings an understanding of another reality – one of beauty, compassion, empathy, cooperation and connection. We’re still talking about bringing this reality in, 2,000 years later. There’s no giving up hope in me. I’m going to be on the look out for these miracles. You too?

With my appreciation for the miracle you are to me – and with my love,

Cara

December 6, 2016 – All the light we can and cannot see

I’m still working on a little painting I’m calling “Reverence” – and have started this larger one too. I wanted to paint its imperfection, beauty beyond what is generally seen as its prime. And, of course, there is that light.

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Last Friday, one of the artists asked me, if I’d thought about leading any more art trips to Europe. Her question brought back up for me, last year’s Paris Pilgrimage and how hard it was. My response to her, was that when I had just come home from Paris last year, I was determined that the challenges would not be the end of the story – that I’d do it again, after having learned and grown from it – but this year, I’m thinking it very well could be the end of the story. Then I realized what I’d said – and who was in the room. Two of the pilgrims on the trip were there. This had me consider the Pilgrimage from their perspective – which, even given the challenges, they said was wonderful. I re-lived with them, the spectacular day in Giverny to see Monet’s garden in early fall, the evening on the Bateau Mouche to see the lights of Paris, the gorgeous baroque concert in Sainte Chapelle, and the friendship that formed between three of them – who hadn’t know each other before – that continues even a year later.

I then started recalling the bright spots in my experience, that I had let fall away. Alicia brought me big bodacious pink hydrangeas, to brighten my room when I was in sick in bed; our apartment host had provided her doctor’s contact information, without which, I’d have had no idea where to start to get medical help. European medicine is skilled – and affordable. My visit and three prescriptions were less than 100 euros! The day – after I’d spent two in bed, so sick I was frightened – I traveled to outside of Paris effortlessly, in the “pink bubble”, we created for ourselves (it really worked…). And then there was, ultimately, my resilience. I never threw in the towel, I rebounded and was able to function, for the final two days until late at night. And, throughout it all, my French-speaking skills never let me down. I have no business being able to speak it as well as I do. I lived there 20 years ago, and I almost never speak it here at home.

Though, looking back more than a year now, the brightest light for me – is even deeper. I realize that what I took on was enormous. Conceiving, planning , promoting, supporting, financing, leading, holding the space for an international trip like this – all on my own – no one apart from the other pilgrims to lean on, and, without any experience doing anything like this before – was huge. I realize both how courageous it was, if a bit foolhardy (I am a Sagittarius). And, how the way I went about this, asked too much of me. I am a graduate of a Co-Active leadership program, where we are taught the power of two – and how compassionate it is for everyone concerned – everyone – for there to be two leaders – not just for backup, but for range and increased creativity. No one leader can bring everything. Plus I am a woman, a feminine being, and I have never been happiest, operating on my own.

The light that shines from this trip for me, is the knowing – the kind of knowing, that I wrote about last week – that what I have to offer, is more precious than organizational efforts. I am a spiritual space-holder and explorer and guide, for the participants’ deeper experience. So, if I were to take on something like this again, I will have support, really solid support. I will work with a tour company or some other person or organization, to share the accountability of the trip with. If I look back, I cannot imagine having this knowing, without having lived through the trip as it was. It took the experiences I had – in all their difficulty – for me to see this. I’m different, my consciousness, my awareness is expanded, and I feel my value – and more solid inside.

I am witnessing a lot of people around me in darkness. Not only feeling the effects of the current state of our national politics and social culture, as so much ugliness, that has been mostly hidden, is being revealed – but on a more personal level too: death, aging, illness. I’m feeling it. There is a heavy weight to it. We are living through times of dis-integration. My reaction to this has been, to attempt to find the bigger picture, the reason we are going through this. I’ve been compelled to understand why and how, and what this all means! I’m recently realizing that this is a coping mechanism, to avoid my own fears. Just as I could not access the light from the Pilgrimage to Paris until much later, we can’t know how we will grow from this, until far down the road. We do, just have to hold on for the ride.

Dark times in my life have all been fruitful. And in them, light has always arisen. Dickens started The Tale of Two Cities with: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” I wonder if this isn’t just how it is, in living a human life. There is always light hidden in the shadow – like those who are bravely bearing the danger and their own emotions, sifting through the burned out warehouse, for the victims of the fire in Oakland. But, the brightest light also casts the darkest shadow. We all have blind spots – and they are worse when things are too good, too bright – like looking right into the sun. Times of darkness reveal what we could not see. I’ve not discovered my blinds spots in any other way! Then – what ensues, is nothing less than our evolution.

So what do we do besides hang on, besides just “hang in there?” My Donna has taught me to feel it, to let it sear my insides – to develop the capacity for my own suffering. This is what matures our hearts and grows us as people. It’s also what keeps us from passing our darkness on in hurtful, violent ways. I love what Father Richard Rohr said, in his interview with Oprah: “We must transform our pain or we will transmit it.”

We also must stay awake and attune our attention to the points of light – they are everywhere. There’s light we feel with our hearts, and light we see with our eyes. Those of us who have the privilege of having the inclination, the time and the ability – we create. Some may be called to create the darkness – to give those who suffer, the consolation of being seen and known. I’m called to paint the light – and to shine mine as much as I am able, and still stay true. In order to paint the light, I must see and paint the darkness too. It is the contrast, the two next to each other that take our breath away.

The other thing that happens in dark times, is connection – or at least the invitation for it. We instinctively huddle up, gather together and care for each other. I’m holding space for this on Sunday. It’s December’s Paint our Prayers. If you’d like to come in person, I’d love to have you join. Here’s the signup. And if you want to join over the World Wide Web that connects us all, send me an email to send you the link.

As I come to write every Tuesday, you are with me. As I type, I’m aware of you out there – I literally write this to you. It is this connection with you, that has drawn these posts from me every week, for over two years and two months now.

With my gratitude and love,

Cara

November 29, 2016 – Trusting yourself

This is “Eve” a painting I did earlier this year – for the simple reason that I loved the image – in all its pinkness and light. And I painted it despite the fact that this kind of art is so not in style these days!

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A few times a year, I offer a hands-on demonstration at Riley Street, our local art store. This past Saturday was one of them. I gave a “tour” around my palette – the paints and pigments I use, which are my absolute favorites and why. One of the attendees asked me a question, that was somewhat complicated, about artists she’d heard of using specific color combinations, such as a cool yellow with a cool blue or a warm blue with a warm red. She wanted to know how I combine colors and what rules I follow. My head was sort of swimming with the details of her question; I find it really convoluted, to combine the process of making art with the idea of following “rules” like this.

My answer came in two parts. The first has to do with using the terms “cool” and “warm.” I find it can be useful to use these words, when describing groups of colors. Warm colors are well understood, as those we associate with warm things, such as fire: yellow, orange and red. In the same way, we call cool colors: green, blue and purple. But when it comes to using “warm” and “cool” to describe individual colors, the meaning can be really ambiguous. What the heck is a warm blue? I think the custom is that a warm blue is a violet-leaning blue. But to me a green-blue feels warmer. Using warm and cool in this way, is not intuitive. So, instead I always refer to them according to the color they lean towards – a greenish yellow, an orange-yellow, a more violet-red, etc.

Then there was the second half of my answer, which to me, is the more important part. As I combine colors on my paintings, I choose the colors that appeal to me, that are inspired by my reference image and that, when I put them together on my painting, please me. My desired result doesn’t always happen on my first attempt – it often doesn’t – but, it’s what I’m striving for. Even when I first began painting years ago, I knew what I liked and didn’t like.

I phrased this response to her question from my own perspective – when I combine colors on my paintings… And today, I’m saying this to you – to offer permission to you in your life and painting. Mix whatever colors you want! Whatever is pleasing to you. Everything about our expression is unique to us, to our own particular and individual view and filter. The colors we choose to mix together, are part of our expression – they are part of our visual voice.

I really appreciate the movie reviews in the San Francisco Chronicle, written by the senior film critic, Mick Lasalle. His reviews reveal a perceptiveness, that amazes me time and again. I always read his Q&A column, in the Sunday pink section. This week he was asked a question, about how he rates films with multiple directors, such as Paris je t’aime. I found his response helpful in what I’m writing about here.

Rather than use some kind of scoring system, he evaluates these films as he does any other. He says, “It’s just intuitive, because it has to be intuitive. In the end, there cannot be a system for reviewing movies, because art doesn’t yield to systems.” He’s right, art is intuitive. Our response to it is intuitive and making it has to be intuitive.

As we learn, it can be helpful or even simply interesting to learn “rules”, such as putting colors that are opposite each other on the color wheel to create visual excitement, or putting colors together that are adjacent to create harmony. But what’s more important to forming our own visual voice, is that we observe these effects ourselves. You can be told that putting orange next to blue makes for contrast, or… and… you can just paint orange next to blue, and see how your color perception interprets these two together. My sense is that we need both: to learn to the skills of our craft enough, so that we aren’t always focused on the how of making art. And, we need to trust ourselves, give ourselves the permission to follow our intuition, our inklings, our inspirations and allow our preferences.

There is no formal curriculum in our weekly groups. All the teaching that I do, is drawn out of me, rather than my pushing anything on to those who come paint with me. I do all I can to foster the individual intuitive senses, of the artists I’m working with. You are in the driver seat with your own art and the direction it’s headed in. I can’t get inside your head to see your vision. My job is to help you with the obstacles in getting it there, based on what you can describe to me.

The word-nerd in me looked up the origin of the words “intuitive” and “intuition.” Their Latin roots mean to “look at or watch over”, but an early meaning was theological: “insight, direct or immediate cognition, spiritual perception.” Our intuition is a form of spiritual knowing – and it comes from simply observing. My friend, Joanne LeBlanc, uses the expression: “I know it in my knower.” I think this is what she’s talking about. Sometimes we do just know things. And this intuitive knowing, is where our art comes from.

This comes down to the idea of trusting ourselves – trusting what we like and don’t like, trusting our intuitive sense, even trusting the way we paint. I’ve seen enough art emerging, to realize I could write a Dr. Seuss book about artists – there are fast ones and slow ones, there are neat ones and messy ones, there are bold ones and soft ones, there are those who love detail and those made crazy by it. Part of the journey as artist, is to embrace the way our art comes through us.

I do know of self-doubt too. I made a big trip to New York in 2009, to show my work at a big art trade show, it was a big swing out and costly in several ways. I had my light and color-filled paintings on display, across from an artist from Paris, whose walls were filled with these dark and spare images of one lone jug on a table or a city street, with just a bit of light coming through the buildings. Her art felt lonely and desolate to me. After four days of the show, she had just about sold out and I’d sold just one piece at the last minute. I was left feeling like my art was trivial – not as “important” in some way. I had to remind myself that this was just not my audience.

I’m here to say, that the desire you and I have to make art is sacred – and the art that our intuition sends through us, is our souls on deck. If there’s anything that is needed in this world these days, it is expression that reveals that which is genuine and real. I promise never to paint anything else, regardless of what’s in fashion, or follow any rules for their own sake. And I won’t let you either. We’re here to paint our love.

With my love,

Cara

November 22, 2016 – Nourishing others – and a recipe

“Zintopia” – My newest – just finished on Sunday. Zinfandel grapes from the hills above the Alexander Valley at the Rink Ranch.

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I spent my birthday at the end of November in 2005, on the first day of a 10-month-long leadership program. It was a great way to celebrate being another year older, as by the next birthday, I became a very different person. CTI Leadership has brought me forth more than any other experience in my life. As part of the program, we stayed in a residential retreat center in Sebastopol, for four week-long retreats. There we were fed scrumptious and healthy meals by the retreat center staff. Cathryn Couch is one of the chefs, who prepared these meals for us. Over the course of the program, she and I discovered an overlap in things we cared deeply about – an appreciation of food and its place in our lives, and its connection to our relationship with our bodies, our planet and with each other.

Part way through the program, the two of us began meeting to explore what we might create together. In June of 2006, we led a weekend retreat that was the fruit of that exploration. We called it, “The Delicious Journey” – an invitation to re-frame our relationships with food and our bodies. Cathryn is a powerful person. I was a teeny bit intimidated and a whole lot honored, that she saw value in partnering with me – as I had just barely begun to see my leadership capacities, and was not yet realizing that I could have impact. It was a wonderful experience – both what we created with the women who participated – and for me as a budding leader. It was our intention to offer the Delicious Journey again, but life had other plans for us. Early the following year, I committed to showing my art in Marin Open Studios for the first time, propelling me on this odyssey as an artist and teacher.

At the very same time Cathryn was asked by a friend to teach her teenage daughter to cook, which began an even more epic odyssey for her life. They prepared meals for 3 families with illness — one a family of 4 where the mom had stage four metastasized breast cancer. The next spring Cathryn started a one-day a week volunteer project in a local church kitchen, preparing meals for 4 families with 6 teenagers.  What began as a few people cooking in a local church kitchen has grown to touch thousands of lives, provide tens of thousands of meals, cooked by teen chefs for people who are suffering from life-threatening diseases – many of them with cancer.

The organization that their efforts grew into, is called the Ceres Community Project. (Ceres is the Roman goddess of agriculture, grain crops, fertility and motherly love.) The thing that is so special about Ceres is, that the benefits are multi-layered and have a lasting impact. Not only are people who are sick – and their entire families – fed nutritious meals – for free – but teenagers are learning about healthy cooking, and eating and stepping into leadership. Their lives are oriented towards service, through the experience of making a tangible difference in others’ lives. Then there is the transformational power of belonging – for all involved.

Ceres now has locations in Marin and Santa Rosa, as well as a half-acre garden – also operated by teens – who are learning how to grow food too. Communities from across the country have asked for guidance, to set up programs in their communities, resulting in seven affiliates and four Ceres-inspired organizations across the US – so far. The latest big news, is that Cathryn has just been named a CNN hero! The video CNN produced is just beautiful and so worth a few minutes of your time.

It has been an enormous privilege to have witnessed the growing of this organization, this movement and the evolution of my friend over the past decade. It’s taken tremendous faith, hard work and commitment on the parts of the many people involved. And the results have been extraordinary. We all want to know that our lives matter, that what we do makes a contribution. There’s no doubt that my friend Cathryn is that contribution – but in addition, Ceres has created the opportunity for many others to experience this too.

There are many worthy organizations, who ask for our financial support. Often I feel obligated to contribute, but Ceres is different. Not only do I know its founder personally, and appreciate greatly the impact they have in all the ways they do, but I am moved by what they do at the most basic level: they feed people beautifully prepared food to heal their bodies and spirits. This is an incredibly intimate thing. The message in the food they provide is: here, we made this for you, so you can heal and so you know you are not alone. I am so grateful Ceres exists – supporting it makes me happy!

The up-ending of things for many of us in the world in the past two weeks, has inspired a wave of contributions to organizations, whose work is based in care for each other and the world. This is one of the beneficial side effects, of what has been a difficult turn of events. Today I’m sending my support off in an envelope to Ceres. And I’m going out on a limb, to ask if you’d be willing to take a look – see what Ceres does – and see if their mission is something you might be moved to support too. I’d so appreciate it.

This is the week here in the US, when we gather to feast and offer our thanks, for all the ways in which we are blessed. I am grateful for so much. One of them is having access to plenty of wholesome food, to nourish my body and the bodies of those I love. I am also grateful for people in my life, mostly my dad, mom and grandmothers, who have taught me how to prepare it well. Food is meant to bring us pleasure, in addition to nutrients.

Below is a recipe from Cathryn. We served it at the Delicious Journey retreat. It’s meant to be eaten mindfully, enjoying all the different flavors and textures. It would be a great way to use leftover turkey.

Wishing you a Happy Thanksgiving.

With my love,

Cara

Sex on a Plate

Please make this salad! Make it for a lover or for a friend. Make it for a party or just make it to eat all by yourself. Can something this good really be this easy? – Cathryn

• 3/4 lb. smoked chicken or turkey, shredded or cut in strips
• 1 mango, peeled and cut in wedges
• 1 avocado, peeled and cut in wedges
• 1/2 English cucumber, seeded and cut in ½ moons
• 1/4 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
• 1 carrot, peeled, cut in half lengthwise and thinly sliced on the diagonal
• 1 stalk celery thinly sliced on the diagonal
• 3 radishes, very thinly sliced
• 1/4 – 1/2 c. toasted cashews
• 1/2 c. cilantro leaves
• 1/3 c. apple cider vinegar
• 2 t. minced fresh ginger
• 1 t. Dijon mustard
• 1/4 c. honey
• 1/3 c. canola oil
• 2 t. curry powder
• 1/8 t. cinnamon
• 1/8 t. ground cloves
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. pepper

Directions:

Whisk together apple cider through salt and pepper and set aside. Place smoked chicken through cilantro leaves in a large bowl and toss with the dressing. Serve immediately and be prepared for moans of delight!

November 15, 2016 – Dancing in the dark

The “Eternal” feminine as she came through me in this painting.

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It’s a whole new world. Last week I wrote about how much we wanted the election to be over. Now for many it feels like the nightmare has just started. The world is a swirl of emotion, much of it being intensely expressed. So much has been written in the past week, that I’m faced this morning with the question: what is there for me to say – what is mine to add to it all? I’ve read plenty and the responses by Richard Rohr, Cynthia Bourgeault and Jonathan Fields, are those that I find the most resonant and helpful – in case you are still looking for wise words. But what I want to say feels more personal.

Early last Wednesday, just after midnight, my head on the pillow with sleep not anywhere close to coming (and it didn’t all night), I felt something within me rising in the dark – the dark of the room and the dark inside me. “We must PAINT ON!” I got up and brought my laptop back to bed, and wrote an email to the artists in our community – those who come to paint regularly at 537 Magnolia in Larkspur. I had the distinct intuition that the turn of events last Tuesday, was a catalyst – to re-commit to bringing what matters to us – light, loveliness, reverence – into the world around us. I spent Wednesday attempting to sort out what the deeper message was, how to understand it in a larger context. Where was the toe hold to lift us towards some positive gain? Then on Thursday, I woke with my heart feeling like it gained 50 pounds. I heard Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” driving in for the Thursday group and tears streamed down. The voice in my head said these are dark days for the feminine – not just for girls and women, for females, but for the energy and expression in all humans that is feminine: gentleness, care for each other, the capacity to receive – to listen.

Then by the wonders of perfect timing I had signed up for a retreat day on Sunday, called “The Heroine’s Quest,” about re-membering the feminine into the world. I learned how much of the story of women, of the feminine, has been one of being literally and figuratively dis-membered. We have re-membered ourselves over and over and over and OVER again – across all of time. So we are again now. I learned of a three part initiation into transformation that starts with lamentation – grieving for all the pain of the world; sacred tears, crying on behalf o those who cannot access theirs. The next step is dancing – dancing in the dark specifically. We dance with our bodies, with our brushes, with our musical instruments – we make beauty in the face of the demon, that would destroy us. Then comes transfiguration: water into wine. We take the mundane, the ordinary, and exalt it to the ecstatic. Which ends us up in another dimension altogether.

I learned that during the Crusades in Europe, when the biggest, most powerful institution – the Church – was brutalizing, cutting people to pieces, it was also the time when two shining examples of the feminine arose – light in the dark. One was the life of St. Francis of Assisi. He turned away from the structures of the church. He saw the church as all of God’s creation. He held sacred: the sun and the moon, the stars, the earth and her creatures. Franciscan spirituality is newly important in our world today – with the first pope, to take his name and preach love and care for those who need it most – including our planet.

It was also during this dark time that the final Cathedral in Chartres, France was built: Notre Dame de Chartres. There are many churches given the name Notre Dame in France – but this one was dedicated to the feminine – there are no noblemen, no kings or bishops buried within it. Before the workers started each day they gathered together in prayer, so they would have peace in their hearts, before they put their energies into building the structure.

Notre Dame de Chartres also has a labyrinth, that has been replicated all over the world. I learned that the labyrinth – a symbol of the twisting turns our journeys take – is associated with Ariadne in Greek mythology. Ariadne is also associated with dancing. The details of the myths are intricate and involved, and I don’t recall anything close to all that I heard, but I left the day knowing that we are in a cycle that has been repeated many times over in human history. No matter how many times it has been tried, the feminine is inextinguishable.

In the early hours of last Wednesday, I wrote that every dark time in my life has eventually revealed itself to be meaningful and purposeful. In time, I found those foot holds that took me on to a dimension that was unimaginable from where I stood before the dark took me over. For all of you who have a favorite painting of mine – Paris Roses, Twin Dahlias, Mid-Summer Zin, Blush, Douce, Firelight, Hallelujah, Eternal – know that none of these paintings would have come through me had I not been put between rocks and hard places by life. Had I not wanted children of my own so much, and had been denied them – both, I’d not be living this life.

I hold that this time has us all between a rock and hard place. The invitation is to go deep – into the dark – to weep if there are tears in us – then to find the gift in there and dance it – so we can bring it back transformed. I’m listening very closely to my intuition – for the messages that it might have for me – this is how the feminine speaks to us. We don’t know yet where this will lead us. But it is catalyzing something for us – individually and collectively.

In the meantime, I’m finding the place between reverence and irreverence that feels the most right. Reverence is needed even more this week than last. At the same time, I refuse to revere all the ugliness – my heart is broken that manipulation, bigotry and hate have won the day. But there would have been many others who would have felt angry and betrayed, had the results gone the other way. There was no real winning here. I didn’t wish upon myself to be a childless woman, and I don’t wish this division and derision upon any of us. But it is here now. And the opportunity is to use its transformational power.

And in the meantime, I continue to paint color and light, and to hold the space for those who come to paint on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. We start with paint, paper and water and with our brushes, bring forth new life – these paintings that have energies of their own. You are welcome to come join us if your intuition says that watercolor paintings are in you, and that learning the skills to bring them out now, is what’s needed. In any case, surround yourself with whatever might bring you back to hope, whatever reminds you of what is real, and what you will stand strong for in the coming days, weeks and months.

Thank you for reading – now especially – there is so much that is being put out to take in – I’m grateful you made space for me today.

With my love,

Cara

November 8, 2016 – What the world needs now

“One of the paintings I’m working on – almost done with the background.”

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You’d have to have been on a sojourn to some other part of the Universe, to not feel the tension, and have experienced the negativity of this election season in the United States. It has to be the thing most people can agree upon – that we cannot wait for this to be over. It will be – today. But we have the opportunity to choose not just who will be our next president, and those who will hold other offices, we also can choose how we will go forward – whether we live in fear and dread, or will have faith in the future and in the goodness of people, who are our fellow citizens. Regardless of how many of us wish, that everyone who doesn’t think like we do would ex-patriate – we are the United States of America – an amazingly diverse country that has – for 240 years – held us together as Americans. We are not the same country, unless it includes all of us.

It’s said, that we live in post-modern times. I’m not a social scientist and am not well versed, on exactly what is post-modernism. But a cursory look into the definition, added to the experience of living in our culture, and what I see is that, as I heard our president say last night, we live in cynical times. Being cynical is wrapped up as smart, informed, prudent, realistic. You see it on both sides, especially at the extremes. But no one is immune. And I can see why – cynicism is useful; it is a really good protector. It keeps us from having to realize, that we actually do care – and even more, how much we care. Because caring exposes us, it’s risky as hell. Cynicism shows up in comments on posts and in tweets and cable TV news shows. It is dismissive, objectifying, emasculating, de-humanizing, polarizing, disconnecting. It is a really effective tool of the shadow.

A post about the need to resurrect reverence, has been brewing in me for a while now and this seems like the right time for it. I looked up this word too. Its definition is pretty straightforward: reverence simply means deep respect. It doesn’t necessarily mean being religious, as in worshiping or idolizing – nor does it in any way, require that we set aside what matters to us. It means finding within us, a genuine positive regard for someone or something else. I think we do have the choice – to be cynical or to have reverence – about a person, a group of people, the political process or our country – we can even have reverence for a situation. I also know that regardless of our capacity to do this, being human means, that there are always times when our instincts take us over and we protect ourselves. We can come back, though. In fact “seeing again”, is the root of the word respect – literally, to take another look.

• Reverence gives us the capacity to experience beauty. When we have deep respect for something, we see its beauty. And we cannot see beauty without it.
• Reverence requires connection – it’s impossible to have appreciation for something we are disconnected to or not connected to on some level, at least.
• Reverence requires conscious awareness – we must be present, truly awake, in order to see what is really there.
• Reverence requires us to have an open and receptive mind and heart. If we are affixed to seeing things one way, our way, the view is clouded by what we believe, by our own agenda and pre-conceived notions.
• Reverence asks us to be willing to be changed. We can’t have reverence for something, unless we let it touch us – and this will change us.

When I look around, I see so many opportunities for reverence to be conjured up. I know I can have a whole lot more of it for myself – especially my body and, say its need for water. When I look at the list that I wrote above, I see the opportunity for reverence to be the antidote. When what I see is ugliness, when I feel disconnected, when I have fallen asleep in my life, when I am closed and rigid, I can choose to find something about what is to respect and appreciate.

And like anything, it is a practice. In an argument with Joe a few months ago, I found myself saying to him – in a really upset voice – that I’d never loved him more, and I was so incredibly angry at him – at the same time. This hasn’t always been the case – mostly when I’ve been angry with him, I’ve had zero access to the part of me that appreciates and respects him. This is how I experience transformation in my life.

It was inspired by something I heard Alison Armstrong say. When she and her husband – or anyone else she is in partnership with – “blow up the laboratory” (in other words, get in a big conflict) – it is her commitment to stay with it, teasing out the understanding behind it, until she’s so fully on the other side of it, that she’s reaped the benefits of the upset and is glad that it happened. She said, her prayer was to be willing to have him break her heart over and over again. She just wasn’t willing to have it be for the same thing more than once. To do this requires real reverence – for her husband or partner, for herself and for their relationship.

Life in Full Color is reverence to me. It is exactly why and what I paint; it is exactly my intention when I lead my watercolor groups. It’s not edgy. It’s not very cool. But it’s what I’m here to do and who I’m here to be. Painting gives us an opportunity, for us to make real our experiences of reverence. And then it expands into the world. We see something as beautiful, we capture it and bring it to life anew in a painting; all the while we are seeing it again and again, as we find its shapes and colors. This then brings greater appreciation for it – more reverence. The resulting painting is a reflection of our reverence, which then others can see, thereby receiving the transmission of appreciation and beauty.

I know we cannot have a steady diet of only reverence – it’s sort of nauseating – even to me – to think about a life with too much of it. Irreverence, disconnection, discord have their place too, otherwise we are all in one gooey soup of connectedness. But the reason we all want this election over, is that there’s been too much of the latter and not enough of the former. Something else I’ve learned from wise ones in my life, is that whatever we feel is lacking we need to bring. If I’m feeling like I’m not being appreciated, if I then bring appreciation, all of a sudden, I’m experiencing it coming to me. It’s like magic.

Those of us who paint, who have a creative practice of some sort, have a way to easily bring reverence. We do our art. If you don’t, I’m certain there is a way that connects you to beauty and appreciation, for what is. If you are a voting US citizen and you’ve not already done so, please vote today – voting shows our reverence for our form of government. And for all of us, today and as we go forward, please find a way to bring more reverence. Our world is waiting for it.

With my love,

Cara

November 1, 2016 – Touched by the Sun – on permission and risk

The painting I named after Carly Simon’s song – Touched by the Sun

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These past few weeks, I’ve been asked to take a closer – and more gutsy – look at my work and the impact that it has. The effect is that I’m suffering a big attack of “just who do you think you are?” These attacks, if they are severe enough, are pretty paralyzing. There is a part of me today, that is refusing to “go there.” I’m not writing about my own visual voice – that still seems out of reach from where I sit right now. There’s an internal shift to make, in order for that part to loosen its grip on me, so that I can.

In an exercise in Julia Cameron’s follow-on book to “The Artist’s Way”, called “The Vein of Gold,” she asks us to name five favorite movies – and then to look at the themes among them. Two of mine are, “My Fair Lady” and “Dangerous Beauty.” The themes that thread through the films on my list, have to do with the feminine and the masculine, power, privilege and freedom. Seems I’m working out how to reconcile these two energies within myself – and well into mid-life, I’m still sorting it out for myself. I’m guessing that on some level, this is a life-long endeavor. The question that came to me over the weekend (to which I do not yet have an answer), is how do I live with sovereignty/strength/confidence, and still be feminine? I wasn’t raised with this modeled for me – and looking around, there isn’t much of it in our world now. I have a sense of how this might look intellectually, but down in my bones, it’s illusive. And, to go there, feels really risky.

“Touched by the Sun” is a Carly Simon song, that has become somewhat of an anthem, for this life of mine. I’ve listened to it, singing my heart out, at times when I was taking a big step – or wanting to – like when I was driving on the way to my new little house in San Anselmo, the day I moved in – a home of my own, as a newly single woman. She wrote the song in 1994 for her friend, Jackie Onassis, who had died that year and it came into my life, when I left my first marriage and was sorting out what life on my own might be. I listened to it sometimes so loud, it drowned out my own voice, screaming the lyrics out like my life depended upon it. I love this song!

As I headed out on my hike yesterday with Bo, I my energy was low. I felt troubled, at odds and a bit lost. I had my phone with me and had the thought to infuse myself with something, that might help me find a way through. There it was – this song – in my iTunes. Good thing we were alone on the hill, so I could listen to it playing out loud as I huffed up the fire road. I needed to hear and sing these lyrics:

If you want to be brave
And reach for the top of the sky
And the farthest point on the horizon
Do you know who you’ll meet there
Great soldiers and seafarers,
Artists and dreamers
Who need to be close, close to the light

And the next verse:

But deep down inside I know
I’ve got to learn from the greats,
Earn my right to be living,
Let my wings of desire
Soar over the night
I need to let them say
“She must have been mad”

After hearing it, it wasn’t like presto-change-o, I’ve now risen above – all my questions are answered. But it did reconnect me with a part of myself – those wings of desire. When I first heard this song, I had started to paint only a little, and there was no way I could see myself as an “artist.” I had paralyzing stage fright; I would never have dreamed there was teacher or a writer in me. No one had any clue, that I had all I this to share with the world – except, I can see in retrospect – that the hidden part of me that reacted to this song so strongly, must have.

In this latest phase of self-doubt, I have more perspective than ever. I see that we live change in cycles of desiring, fearing, risking, growing and coming to a new place. Yesterday in the office, I was sharing my crisis of confidence with Carla, our bookkeeper for my husband’s business. Always so supportive and kind, she said she wished that I didn’t have to go through this. I know! Me too! And, I found myself saying to her matter-of-factly, but we must – because as the saying goes: everything we really want, is just outside our comfort zone.

I think some of us are born with the permission to swing out, to risk revealing ourselves. I’d bet that many of the people we call superstars, have this kind of permission factory installed – an innate confidence – for no good reason. Either that or their wings of desire must be gigantic! I don’t know the life story of the glass artist Dale Chihuly, but he sure has permission. When I saw his exhibition at the DeYoung in San Francisco several years ago, I was struck by the creative force, that he allows to come through him. It’s so big it takes a team of dozens of people to make it manifest. He’s just one person, just like you and like me. It seems most of us, though, have a road to travel to set our desire to create free. The only thing that I’ve known to support this, are people with whom we are safe – we provide each other with what’s needed to take flight.

The song goes: I want to be one, one who is touched by the sun. As much as belting out these lyrics puts me in touch with my desire, these words have always felt a bit helpless. There isn’t one single person on this earth, who isn’t touched by the sun. Because we are living in a physical body on this planet, we are bathed in the light of the sun, fed by the energy of the sun, warmed by the heat of the sun. It’s these words that tell of the risk: I need to be in danger of burning by fire! What is that fire? Is the fire being judged, ridiculed, criticized? Or is it as Maryanne Williamson says, we are terrified that we are powerful beyond measure?

Power is an interesting place to come to, at the end of this post. The biggest power source in our cosmic neighborhood, is our sun whose energy is freely given to all of us in equal measure (weather not withstanding). In human terms power is the capacity to act and to influence. It’s used enormously to harm, which is what I think many of us are afraid of. But it’s also used to heal and support life and further the arc of evolution. Art plays a real part in this. Look how one song has supported my evolution. Risking, giving ourselves the permission to claim our power, means painting, singing, dancing, writing, song-writing – and next week VOTING – our love. This is our voice (visual or otherwise), it is our soul on deck, it is what we are built for.

With my love,

Cara

October 25, 2016 – Your visual voice

A Google images search for my work reveals these images … I sure do love color!

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I’ve had another morning, feeling unclear about what to write about. I’m in the midst of a big inner tussle, about my work and my art and its purpose and mine. But it’s not time yet to share it; it’s still too messy and murky. The idea came to me, to get really practical and share a tour of what is on my palette – which paints I use and why, but I was uncertain about the overall interest in that – some of you aren’t in the nitty-gritties of painting, and this could be too technical. Then I remembered a call I received a few days ago, from one of my coaching sisters (as we call each other), Maralyn. She had missed our last group call and in listening to the recording sometime afterwards, had heard me say something that she wanted to point me to. What a gift to be part of a group like this! To have someone else looking out for what’s precious in us – not just our coach Lissa, but each of us – for each other. So, thank you, Maralyn, for listening so attentively, for caring enough and for taking the time to pick up the phone and point this out to me!

So, I just went back and had another listen myself, to find out what I said. I’ve transcribed it here to share with you. The context is that Maggie, another of our sisters, had shared that she had been taking photos, of the changing landscape in New England in the autumn – a new exploration. In response to her I said this:

“About taking pictures and sharing them, I’ve come to see, in working with people in a creative process, (and we almost all start with photographs) is that our consciousness, our perspective, our filter is in everything we do, everything. And to see your filter, my vote is “yes!” If you have an inkling in you, this is God – and I’m here to support that. And what will happen, is that people will start to see you in your images. They will send you images that look – to them – like images you would have taken, and they’ll say “I thought of you when I saw this.” It’s amazing. You will have a voice, a visual voice in the world – one that will be recognizable. So, jump in – with all of you.”

What Maralyn pointed me to, specifically, is the phrase, “visual voice.” Her sense was that, it was something for me to pay attention to. In hearing what I said two weeks ago, it’s not new to me, but that it’s coming up now, seems right in line with this struggle I’m in. I am attempting to put words to what my visual voice is. It’s easier for me to see this in others work, so I thought I’d share with you the “visual voice” of some of the artists in our weekly groups.

Heather: I often have “painting envy”, when I see what Heather is working on. Her work reflects her grace and elegance – it is so clearly feminine – something I keep reminding myself – that I am too! A former professional ballet dancer, classical dance seems to appear in her art. Her colors are transparent and clear. Her backgrounds are soft washes, she’s not compelled to portray extraneous detail. Heather’s paintings remind me to surround myself with loveliness.

Win: Win’s paintings reveal to me her tenderness and strength. In her many years on the planet, life has brought much to Win: heartache and loss, as well as and joy and fulfillment. Her blues and greens are soft, not strident, they don’t insist. Win has been painting for the longest of any of us, but she questions the process as much as any of us. She remains humble in the face of the creative process we all deal with. Win paints her heart and her paintings remind me that the heart endures.

Susie: Susie loves red! And yellow. Not afraid of a challenge, Susie is an adventurer. Though she lives a pretty normal life of home and family and grandchildren, there’s something in this artwork that is coming through her that is fearless, and solid – unambiguous. Susie’s work reminds me life is to be lived!

Paulette: Paulette’s work spans from bold and earthy to a lilting grace. Not afraid to take on a challenge and always interested in a unique perspective, she has an appreciation for classical aesthetics. She shies away from intense greens, but is in love with reds of all sorts in her palette. Paulette’s paintings remind me there’s a time for both reverence and irreverence.

Marilee: The art that comes through Marilee is often filled with fun and play. She paints with a full spectrum of clear colors, that bring us alive. She can take on a subject with plenty of detail and can balance careful observation, while not suffering by laboring over her work. Marilee’s paintings remind me that life can be filled with pleasure and is meant to be enjoyed.

I’m compelled to say to the rest of you who paint with me regularly, that I’d love to go through this exercise for all of you – especially those of you who have painted enough to build up a body of work – as it seems to take that for our voice to become clear. In an effort to actually publish a post today though, I’ve “listened” to five of your voices – as a start. If you are really curious what I “hear” in your work, please ask me! I’d be happy to let you know.

At the start of the year, I was contacted by a publisher asking permission to use my work in an upcoming watercolor instruction book. The book is published and I’ve gotten myself a copy of it. It’s a beautifully produced book. I’m in great company – it’s filled with wonderful watercolor paintings. I’m happy to own and use it for my own painting process, as well as in helping others who come to paint in our groups. Looking at my art (which is on the cover as well as on six pages inside) in a book like this has increased my curiosity as to what is the book that I’d like to write – or I’m meant to write – there are so many books on supplies and technique – I just can’t see adding mine to the list. What occurs to me now is that a watercolor book I’d write would have to do with how we teach ourselves to paint and how we teach ourselves to see, really see – and that these are both in service to finding and expressing our voices – our visual voices in watercolor.

It’s a basic human need to be seen and heard, to be gotten. I believe that we also want to make a contribution to others who matter to us – and by doing so, we can realize that we are a contribution. It is my experience – in my own life – and for those who I spend a day a week with, who have devoted themselves to their painting lives – that for us, making these paintings fulfills this need. It all starts with desire. Each of us realized at one point, for the first time, that we wanted to know how to paint in watercolor. I’m pretty sure none of us knew that behind that was a voice that wanted to be heard. And it occurs to me that it’s probably better this way. The innocence of the pure and simple desire is best left to come forth in its own time and way. And if it does, when it does, it’s no less beautiful or necessary. I keep coming back to this, but there’s no better reason to prioritize our desires to create.

Let me know if there’s some way I can support yours.

With my love,

Cara

October 18, 2016 – My other dad

“Bob and Evelyn looking jovial when they came to see me at the Healdsburg Art Festival several years ago.”

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Joe woke me up sometime about three in the morning last Wednesday.  “Dad is gone.”  Crumpling into tears I got up to take a steamy shower to try to clear my head and chest of the congestion from this bug I’ve had – while he caffeinated himself.  Just like his dad, he can’t jump right from sound asleep to behind the wheel of a car without assistance!  We arrived sometime after 3:30 am at the Redwoods in Mill Valley.  Joe’s sister Anne was there already, keeping Mom company, while Dad’s body was still in his bed in the other room.  The end of a life had come.

Bob Greenwood was, as he called himself, my “Dad number two” and we shared a very sweet relationship.  We met under really unusual circumstances – in the out-patient surgery waiting room at Kaiser Hospital in San Rafael – without Joe there to introduce us.  I said I was Joe’s “friend.”  To Bob, and Joe’s mom Evelyn, I was someone their son had just taken to dinner for the first time less than a week earlier. I can imagine how they’d have been a bit wary of me – especially with my shoulder-length, permed-wet-look dark hair, tight jeans, ankle boots and black leather jacket – my single, city-girl look.

But we quickly won each other over.  The incredible circumstances of the beginning of my relationship with their son called for me to show up in a way that I hadn’t ever before.  After being diagnosed with lymphoma on that day I met his parents, two weeks later Joe moved into my house in San Anselmo – so he’d have someone to care for him as he underwent chemotherapy.  A couple of months later Bob sent me a note in the mail to tell me he felt like their family had been – like a TV show he watched – “touched by an angel.”   I wasn’t feeling very angel-like, I was just head-over-heels with this amazing man and I was doing all I could to help him get better. But his note touched me and showed me a whole lot about the kind of guy Bob was.

I became close – forming a unique bond with my guy’s parents when went to the San Francisco Ballet together.  We saw the entire season for several years – just the three of us.  I was still working in San Francisco, so I’d meet them after work at a restaurant near the Opera House for a bite before the performance. New to the ballet, I learned about the dancers in the company, the pieces in the repertoire that thrilled me – and not.  And I learned who these two were as people – not just in-laws at family dinners.

By the time I came into this family, both of them were retired, so I have no direct knowledge of their working lives. I’m told both were exceptional teachers.  Bob was legendary as the music teacher at Tamalpais High School for something like 40 years.  In sharing his love of music, he opened a world for the thousands of students who took his classes.  Many of them went on to successful careers as musicians – among them are some well-known names:  Bill Champlin, George Duke, Grace Slick.  In an interview of Bill Champlin I found online, he had this to say about Dad:

“So he didn’t just teach what the book told him to teach.  He teaches what the student looks like he needs to learn.  I had a natural affinity for music but he managed to get it across to where I could actually see it mathematically and it served me really well for a long time….Look at most high school choirs.  They’re really tame.  This guy took some serious chances and pulled out some really outrageous music.  You know, Stravinsky and stuff like that, things that you wouldn’t ordinarily hear in a high school choir.  He found some of the more avant-garde choral arrangers and we took a shot at it.  And there was nothing but flat nines all over the place and it was great.  He really opened our eyes to where music CAN go — not that you necessarily WANT to go there — but it showed you where you can go.”

And he was more than just a music teacher.  Posts on his Facebook page tell of how he provided support to former students who were struggling with personal problems too.  In the last weeks of his life he received many visitors – people who wanted to touch in one more time with this man who had inspired, supported, encouraged them in their lives.  The Thursday before he died, he had a visit from a man who Bob had taught in the early 50’s in his first year teaching, in Corning – a town in the Central Valley – where he taught for one year before coming home to teach at Tam.  Bob had touched this person so much that more than 60 years later, he was compelled to reconnect.  He shared on Bob’s Facebook page something Bob had said in that visit:  “He reminded me that we aren’t really teaching music–we are teaching PEOPLE, through the lovely medium of music.” As a new teacher, I’m thankful for Paul Bostwick for having relayed these words from Dad to me.

On my first date with Joe he asked me about Christmas.  What was Christmas like when I was growing up?  I didn’t realize this, but I was being interviewed!  Because Christmas is important to him – and this is because of Dad.  The stories I’ve heard reveal Dad as a magic-maker.   He decorated every room in the house for Christmas – even the bathroom!  He set up all the toys brought by Santa, staging them around the tree for his three kids to greet them on Christmas morning.  At Easter he left trails of jelly beans leading the kids outside to hunt for eggs.  Evelyn has told me that when the kids were little and they got cranky, he packed the family into the car and took them on a “trip to the Moon.”  This meant a tour around the three bridges: the Golden Gate, the Bay Bridge and the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, with a stop at an ice cream parlor somewhere along the way.

The culture of the Greenwood family has this kind of make-believe magic in a way that mine so does not.  We Browns are pretty literal bunch.  There is a sense of play, an enchantment, a twinkly sense that life can be more than it appears, that has enhanced my life since I’ve become part of this family.  Bob brought this to his family and I have to believe that it had to have been in his teaching too.  He believed in striving for excellence, taking risks to see what might come of it.   He brought so much to many people – and in doing so he lives on in them – and in us.

He leaves behind his beloved Evie – the love of his life who he proposed to two weeks after meeting her – who he always referred to as his “dear darling wife” whenever I called there. They were married 63 years and he could not have lived the life he did without her – without the support she offered him that gave him the freedom to be who he was out in the world.  May we all be blessed with her continued good health so we can keep making family memories.

Dad, your body didn’t last you to make one more holiday season with us as we’d all hoped. But, rest assured that when we feel the magic – the tree farm, the “happy” lights, the punkin pie, the goosebumps we feel when hearing of the music of Chanticleer – we’ll know it’s you.

With all my love,

Cara