A Website of My Own

Pulling on my big-girl pants, I step into a whole new adventure--my very own Word Press website! Thank you to web designer extraordinaire, Blake Webster (really, that's his last name) at Media Design. I'll be posting from the new site, so please join me over there: jolauer.com

Thank you for following me these last several years as I stumbled and splashed my way into the world of blogging. I hope I've provided you some moments of entertainment, inspiration, reflection, or just a short escape. There's a Comment feature on the website, so feel free to stay in touch that way.

Remember, I firmly believe that we are all unique expressions of the creative spirit. Shine on!

jolauer.com

Virtual Choir

One of the joys in my life is singing with approximately 80 other beings of light in the One Heart Choir (see left) through the Center for Spiritual Living in Santa Rosa, CA. Occasionally, I step off the beaten path and into spontaneous gatherings where music is being made—a group that travels to rest homes and hospitals and sings old tunes from the 30ies and 40ies, or a flash mob that breaks into song at the local mall.

Not having been born into an era where the technological concept of virtual space was common, I find things like the video (URL below) spine-chilling (in a good way). Eric Whitacre’s amazing virtual choir puts a whole new spin on singing in a choir. Please enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7o7BrlbaDs&feature=player_embedded


My great-grandma Godlove could never quite grok the idea of the automobile. Perhaps it’s genetic coding, but I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around the miracles of the computer. I’m working on it.

Travelers Through Time

Happy new year to all. May your best dreams come true.

December was a musical month, singing, composing, playing with the muses who drop tunes on me like rain from a passing storm cloud. I’ll never get used to that hit-and-run feeling of being left with a snippet of tune, or half a line of lyrics, and a lingering sense of some ethereal being saying, “Okay, see what you can do with this,” before blowing on out of here. Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful, but it’s always shocking.

I knew I’d have an excess of free time in December, with clients away for the holidays, or saving their money for gifts, or down with the winter flu-bug. I had every intention of using my downtime to work on my novel—it’s coming along nicely. I’m already on Part 2, and I didn’t even know there was going to be a Part 2! Even my editor was okay with ending the story where it ended; but no, my characters weren’t finished.

“You can’t just leave us hanging, homeless,” they clamored.

“O. Henry did it all the time,” I retorted. “He was known for cliffhangers.”

“O. Henry was published,” they jeered.

Really, what can you say to that? Anyway, as the fates would have it, I didn’t get much done on my novel. A new song, a trancy little tune, found its way into my consciousness, and another song I’d written—a blues piece—begged for two more verses and a bridge. What’s a girl to do?

Travelers Through Time (click on the picture above to enlarge it) speaks from that part of me that knows we are all just passing through, from somewhere else to somewhere else, touching down briefly in these earth-bodies before moving on. If you read music, I hope you’ll play this and let me know what you think.

Now For Something Different

What are these unsuspecting folks, just grabbing a burger or a taco at the local food court of the Santa Rosa mall to sustain themselves before launching back into frenetic Christmas shopping, about to experience?

My post on Dec. 2nd (scroll back a little ways), dealt with the disappointment of a dream interrupted. Sometimes in life, we’re lucky enough to have what we refer to in therapy as a corrective experience. I had one of those.

Like many great ideas that catch on and spread like wildfire, someone posted a “flash-mob” (a pre-arranged, but impromptu-appearing gathering of a bunch of people for a particular reason—sort of like guerrilla theater back in the 60ies) on YouTube of Handel’s Messiah. These folks gathered at a mall and broke into song to the delight and astonishment of shoppers milling about.

Michael, a local DJ in Santa Rosa figured if the east coast can do it, surely we--out here on the west coast--can pull it off. Word spread through various choirs throughout the city; it spilled over to random singers in the community. We were told not to refer to it as a “flash-mob” for obvious mall security reasons, and began referring to it as Project Messiah. It was a well-guarded secret that couldn’t be contained due to the enthusiasm it created. Word spread, and spread. It leaked to Facebook. “Just show up at the food court at the mall at 2:20; don’t ask me why,” was a common buzz phrase about town.

I dug into my music file and extracted the Hallelujah score. I carried it, along with a huge amount of excitement, to the Monday rehearsal preceding the big event. We reached the last page, the last stanza, the last measure, and—what? No highest note? Surely there must be a mistake. I didn’t miss anything the first time around? At all? What a revelation, and how strange to feel let down by something I didn’t miss.

Regardless, the rehearsal sent the hundred-plus singers gathered in the music room sky high. It was amazing, and promised to be even more amazing when we (and others who would join us) appeared interspersed amongst the crowd of shoppers and munchers to sing one of the most beautiful pieces of classical music ever composed.

Saturday afternoon around 2pm, familiar faces appeared in the mall, hanging out, trying to look casual. Many of us, myself included, just don't "do" mall. That much energy in one place makes my teeth itch. We glanced at each other, gave quick nods of recognition or conspiracy, or a brief smile as we melted into the crowd. My friend Trudy was among the throng and agreed to video the event. I’m sure the food court has never housed so many people milling about, not eating.

It was wonderful when, on cue, we all burst into song! Even without that elusive last note from the past, this was a highlight of my holiday. The very best to you and yours as this Christmas season unfolds.

Music as Creativity

In my Sept. 4, 2009 blog, I wrote about my journey as a song-catcher—how words, images, tunes come to me in a way that I just have to stop whatever I’m doing and write them down. I’m convinced an ancestor has found me and decided I would be the vehicle for her/his thwarted musical expression.

The song, Sundowner (if you click on the picture above, it will enlarge), came first as a title. When I lived in Berkeley several decades ago, I read a lot of Doris Lessing. It was a phase. They were always having sundowner parties with cocktails and friends chatting. I loved the word, sundowner. One afternoon last year, it just popped into my mind as a song title. So where’s the rest of it? I asked of the muses (ancestor?) that occasionally mess with my head. Silence. No fair! I complain. I sense a smirk from somewhere in the ethers.

Months pass and I’m on my computer checking e-mail. A tune drifts into my mind. Hmm. Where have I heard that before? I search my memory for bits and pieces of music from my personal history, tunes from childhood, etc. We were a musical family prone to singing obscure songs none of my other friends knew, like K-K-K Katie, and Doodley Do. But, I can’t place this tune.

The tune repeats itself. Oh—right; this is one of those run to the piano moments and write down the notes. I transfer my pencil scribbles onto music notation paper and grapple with the math of getting four beats per measure including rests. Why does music often come to me in a key with four flats? I change keys and try again. One sharp—that’s do-able. The music takes one and a half stanzas. Well, it’s a start. I wait. I wait some more. I give up and go back to my e-mail.

Weeks pass and I’m vacuuming the living room. Just another sundowner light inspired song… I turn off the vacuum and listen. Do these words go with the tune I wrote down last month? I go to the file I keep on my piano and search through the bits and pieces of paper. There it is, Sundowner. The lyrics fill exactly two measures and one note of the music, leaving over four measures of music wordless. Looks like I’m going to have to effort to fill in the lyrics for the remaining notes. Then of course I’ll need more notes—lots more notes, and more words. Oh, my. The photo on the right shows a few incarnations the song went through on its journey.

It was a long journey stretched over the better part of a year of adding music and lyrics, a little here, a little there. Some of it was provided (thank you honored ancestor), some of it was just plain elbow grease. I took my finished song to my very skillful mentor, Melissa Phillippe, for a tune-up when I’d done as much as I could. “It needs structure,” she said. “Songs have a structure.” She proceeded to draw a chart illustrating verse, chorus, bridge, refrain and how they all fit together to create a song. Sheesh, who knew? Back to the drawing board.

What I wound up with is a short song that I actually like enough to share with you. It says a lot about my spiritual philosophy without being overly wordy. Is it structurally perfect? No, (although it’s less embarrassing than when I first showed it to Melissa) but that wasn’t my goal. Did I feel completely immersed in creative flow while I worked on it? Absolutely. That’s what lights me up. That’s what’s important: Do what lights you up.

Post Script: There is a good chance this song will actually be performed in October in a Talent Showcase format, sung and played by jazz musician/singer extraordinaire Randal Collen. I ask you, does life get any better than this?

PSS: check out Melissa's website at www.MelissaPhillippe.com