You know who you are.

When that piece of music you really adored and on which you began earnest work gradually transforms—weeks or months down the road—into the sound of fingernails scraping down a chalkboard.

Because dysfunctional relationships are not limited only to humans or to animal predators in the wild. Oh, no—I am here to tell you that dysfunctionality and eternal star-crossedness in relationships between the musician and the music can be quite common. It can depend on the piece of music, how much caffeine has or has not been consumed, how much sleep the musician has had, under what fortunate (or unfortunate) circumstances the piece was last performed or heard, how many other things in a musician’s life have been put on indefinite hold for this *&^% music, and how much single-minded devotion has been devoted to said piece for days, weeks, years, or even decades.

In some cases, the unrequited love can lead to permanent personality disorders (have you ever been to specialty music festivals—early music, rock, or Romantic-era festivals—and observed the humanity present? I rest my case.)

But perhaps the love isn’t unrequited after all: the piece and the musician(s) are a hand-in-glove fit. However, their publicly-torrid love affair is destined never to be because due to family demands, day job requirements, career choices, physical health, and financial means, the musician can never have a future practicing, becoming, and performing this piece that is the love of their life.

So the musician and the piece sneak away in the dead of night in order to be together. (This way no one will ever know or judge the sour notes, the missed rhythms, the era-inappropriate ornamentation choices, the lack of legato, the inconsistent internal tempi, and so on that would occur should the unpracticed pair meet in public.). Indeed, their affair is carried on in profound secrecy—their spouses, their bosses, indeed everyone else in their lives—will never know or guess the all-encompassing connection between the music and the musician.

Outwardly all is well with their lives.

But inwardly, the single-minded fixation on their musical mistress never lets up for a moment. In flashes of weakness and of the full moon, in moments when their Dearly Beloved unexpectedly plays on the rock radio channel or the classical station, the musician desperately hangs on…to the knowledge that they only have to make it through this moment. Just one moment at a time…

Because after all, they’ll always have Baroque Bach Mountain.

It’s pretty simple for us, really:

For those of you who view the Super Bowl differently than Maxine and me, happy Super Bowl preparations! : )

Do you remember how you didn’t believe them? Not really? And how you couldn’t fathom there would ever be anything in the world it would be better not to know?

And then you grew up…and somewhere along the way you began to realize that there are so very many things in life you’d rather not know. Things like genocide, oppression, child soldiers, global inequality for women, sex trafficking, abused children, racism…oh, the list can seem endless.

But part of being a grown-up is having to deal with all kinds of situations and realities—as best you can—in a very broken world. So you put on your big-girl panties (or whatever your gender’s equivalent of that is), and do the best you can to not pretend that all is well in the world when it so clearly isn’t.

But every now and again, you are reminded of the joys of that childhood innocence—that blessed ignorance of all the ugliness and evil in the world—and for just one fleeting moment or two, you luxuriate in that rose-colored space flavored with spiced gumdrops.

In some strange way, the wonderful Muppets comic below reminds me of that all-too-brief time in our lives. And I want to shout at Kermit, “No! No! No! Say no! You have a wonderful life as a puppet—so just say no! Walk away from that X-ray! Resist this coming-of-age moment with everything you’ve got!”

But of course, whether we’re ready or not, life inevitably hands out the X-rays, and once we’ve seen the X-ray, the effect on our lives is permanent. We can never go back.

I am grateful for innocence wherever I may find it, so in the grown-up world in which I live, I am thankful that Kermit the Frog still doesn’t know he’s a puppet yet.

And I hope he never finds out. : )

You just never know…you can find friends in the darnedest places sometimes!

This photo beautifully celebrates those most unlikely, most completely unexpected, and dearly welcome friends~

Most of us have been accused of this at some point in our lives, and some people get informed of this judgement considerably more often than others do, but still, I suspect almost all of us have had such an experience.

What I find most fascinating is that whenever I am being told I think too much, it is almost always by someone who disagrees with my viewpoint. In fact, I can’t ever remember being told that I “think too much” whenever I’m agreeing with the viewpoint of the person making such judgements.

For some strange reason, we are much more likely to be told we are “thinking too much” if 1) we are not buying into the perceived party line with unquestioned loyalty or 2) we are asking questions of someone else’s firmly-held dogma.

Either way, it seems very important to folks who are gravely terrified of “overthinking” to not answer whatever questions have been raised, but instead to dismiss all questions by labeling them as the product of an over-used, inappropriately-processing brain.

This is a very convenient solution.

Since it can be hard to remember not to “think too much,” I came across this helpful educational graphic. If you use it faithfully, it can serve as a visual reminder for  you to stop asking inconvenient questions, to buy into the status quo, and to work harder on not committing “thought crimes.”

I know you can do it. (It is not working for me so far, but I’m going to keep trying—I’m sure it will kick in eventually.)

Try to keep from having too much to think today!

Often {nowadays} the role of a pastor seems closer to that of church cruise director than to the traditional roles of spiritual friend and counselor~~Adam McHugh

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter~~Martin Luther King Jr.

Practicing good character has a way of stabilizing us and keeps us from pining for the things we don’t have. Having good character means cleaning up our inside world, rather than filling it with more stuff like an emotional pack rat. In the end, having character is about settling. And I firmly believe one key to the happy life is settling…Having good character means settling for what little I have, and participating in life rather than trying to conquer life.~~Donald Miller

It’s good to do uncomfortable things. It’s weight training for life~~Anne Lamott

Life is truly known only to those who suffer, lose, endure adversity and stumble from defeat to defeat~~Anaïs Nin

Discernment begins with description~~Lauren Winner

There is no power on earth that can neutralize the influence of a high, simple and useful life~~Booker T. Washington

Here’s a reminder that no matter how intimidating or frightening, every journey still begins with only one step, and you are the only one who can take that step for you:

And finally, here’s some shamefaced inspiration if you’re in need of alternatives to therapy because cash is tight, or because you managed to go running after all and found that your joints already did all the (highly inappropriate) shouting for you:

May your running get done after all, may your feet stay gripped to your balance beam, and may you find a happier therapy alternative that *doesn’t* involve screaming (much easier on the vocal cords).

Have a great last weekend in January, everyone!

I had planned to post this on Monday, but without Internet access, it is difficult to post. (Grr…)

My unfortunate husband has been on the phone today with various techs from around the globe as he attempted to find out why our service had not yet begun from the company-which-shall-not-be-named…service that was imperative to start by today due to his work responsibilities.

But it was apparently not to be, for reasons which are very difficult to understand, let alone articulate. And apparently the customer-service people of various continents with whom he spoke shared this inability to understand or articulate that there was any problem, let alone a solution.

Indeed, the trouble with trying to find solutions to these issues is that it doesn’t matter from which country the customer-service representative happens to hail: it seems that almost all of them are very fond of circular scripts…scripts which eventually recycle all the prior question-and-answer material after a time to a beyond-exasperated would-be customer. Sigh…

In the meantime, three cheers for my husband, who has come up with brilliant stop-gap measures for now while we wait for the service in question to begin.

And finally, here is the three-days-delayed, for-modern-times-condensed edition of that famous poem by Edgar Allen Poe: “The Raven.” (And yes, I promise it was worth waiting for.)

I am usually very grateful for modern-day technology. But even so, every now and then I’m grateful it wasn’t around back when some of the great magnum opi of the English language were written. This insightful comic reminds me that quite a few college English literature classes might have a list of very different assigned readings if those magnificent authors of the past had had the distractions of today’s 24/7 technology to write up against.

Might Poe’s “The Raven” have looked a lot more like the graphic below had he been tethered to his work cell, personal cell, laptop, work computer, Kindle, Twitter account, Facebook updates, and eBay auctions, to name only a few?

We can only speculate, and so I’ll leave that to you to decide.

Long live Poe’s Raven, in whatever form we may find him!

I hope to be back next Monday.

Thanks, all~

It also so happens that none of them have yet reached the age of 12.

In addition, they produce the most interesting fan art to go along with their opinions of the books they’ve read.

(It so happens that their graphic-art abilities far outstrip my own, so I won’t be giving them any competition in that arena, either.)

But please take a moment today to read the latest book reviews of the Bookie-Woogie kids—Grace, Lily, and Elijah—and their dad, Aaron Wenz.

You will find them—and their book discussions, artwork, and favorite books—here.

Enjoy! I surely do.