Angel Moments
Sitting in a Larchmont living room, I listen with one ear open as my daughter and her piano teacher walk amidst the fine details of a Bach piece and talk of that most musical of all birds, the nightingale. My mind flies away on wings to The River Song in Pound’s Cathay collection,
And I have moped in the Emperor’s garden, awaiting an order to write!
I looked at the dragon-pond with its willow-colored water
Just reflecting the sky’s tinge
And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly singing
And thence to the light winged dryad of Keats’ Ode who sings through the tender night.
Suddenly Keats pulls me further and I tumble into the poem my daughter is currently memorizing. The fragile beauty of the present moment is sharply apparent and I gaze with the long dead poet up at the night sky,
‘When I behold upon the night’s starred face
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance’
I could spend hours gazing; the voices murmur and the piano plays. Sitting in on lessons such as these, watching as a truly talented individual imparts knowledge to our daughter, free from agenda or fashionable constraints, never fails to awaken a sense of fierce gladness that we still possess the freedom to create such situations.
We‘ve segued into the relaxed pace of the half term holiday here at The Manjushri School this week. In all the years that our son spent toiling in the American system I failed to fathom the structure of the Fall Semester. In some cases it stretched from mid-August until late November with a couple of weeks tagged on, which the pupils limped through until Christmas out of grim necessity. To align my own school with the English system of holidays, as well as curriculum and teaching methods, was a decision made free from any second guessing whatsoever! We have been back within the framework of comforting autumnal symmetry for three years now and order has long been restored.
The past few weeks have been a busy time inside and outside of the schoolroom. When I wasn't lost inside my books, filling a certain young mind full of facts and wonder, I managed to sneak a couple of days away with my husband to celebrate a birthday and a twenty year wedding anniversary. It seems only yesterday that we were sitting in Manhattan celebrating our tenth! I suppose that is the trick of time- to gallop faster, just when we wish we could press the slow motion button.
We debated the location of this quick getaway for hours, at one point even entertaining the notion of flying to San Francisco, before realizing that the rather inexpensive hotel prices there were simply harbingers of the fate of this once great city. Instead we opted for a swift drive with our old Californian friend, the 405, and found ourselves in San Clemente a charming beach town and the location of Richard Nixon’s ‘Western White House’. Political shenanigans aside, it has that sleepy, rather innocent old time feel that many of these places in SoCal have.
We stayed in an apartment on the beach surrounded by my favorite palette of blues and aquamarines with a delightfully grey spot of morning mist thrown in. The buildings were a sparkling white and one could almost imagine oneself in some momentary Mediterranean location before remembering that the vastness of the Pacific signified that we were at the edge of the world.
We took in a very loud and high energy gig on the Sunday evening at the Belly Up Tavern, a classic Southern Californian venue in Solano Beach. Amongst others, John Lee Hooker and Toots and the Maytals played there. We saw Jakob Dylan and the Wallflowers on this particular occasion. Standing right next to the stage is something I haven’t done for many moons and I had the ringing ears long after the music has stopped to prove it. Unlike the sturdier old timers we failed to come armed with ear plugs!
Dylan and this incarnation of the Wallflowers were on great form. Their sound put me in mind of the Heartbreakers several times during the evening, which I’m sure was exactly Dylan’s intention. Anyone who has seen his documentary Echo in the Canyon will have seen the love and affection he has for Tom Petty. The encore choices of American Girl and The Waiting were excellent. However the keyboard player stole the show with a mesmerizing performance, so much so that I went searching for his name amidst the jumble of the internet. He’s one Aaron Embry and I’ve been enjoying discovering his music. Right now I’m listening to his 2012 album Tiny Prayers.
We drove back up to LA as swiftly as we had departed, jumping back into the roles briefly put aside. The past few days have been a maelstrom of planning, calls and preparation as we prepare for the visit of Lama Jampa Thaye. There’s been a bustling and happy energy at the centre and everybody is excited. With the rhythm of the year resuming its customary pace after the frozen horror of recent time, it seems that we are once again picking up our instruments and assuming our places in the dance.
