Almost a Fantasy*

The polished keys on the piano- a contrast of black and white-glide effortlessly under the calloused fingers. The instrument itself is beautiful, perfect and the notes it produces seem to provide a perfect balance of melody and harmony—creating the classical music we have come to know and love. But there seems to be more going on between the notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

A story is being told.

A story of confidence and power and its struggle to find a balance with a lighter, pure melody.

Under the cover of darkness and the illumination of moonlight, the notes dance off the keys and begin their interchange.

A pattern develops between a steady beating of a heavenly tune but is momentarily paused by a louder, bolder note—one that seems to resonate throughout the entire piece. This note is flat and a bit unsettling with the rest of the melody.

It’s paradoxical in its nature.

While it jolts the soft melody it also propels it—allowing for the listener to experience the same effect.

It’s mysterious—captivating—necessary.

The sonata doesn’t give us what we want. It tells us what we want. We think we want order and patterns so we can predict the next move. But in reality, it’s the darker, flatter notes in our lives that provide a brilliant contrast to the beautiful, softer tones.

*Beethoven included the title “Quasi una Fantasia” (Latin for “Almost a Fantasy”) in his sonata partly because it didn’t follow the traditional movement pattern.

I Drink My Tea from a Broken Cup

I am really enjoying writing along with my students these days. Today, I gave them the quote "I drink tea from a broken cup" and they had to either explain the quote in a paragraph or use it in some type of creative piece. Here's mine:

You want perfection.
Smooth, soft, hard, glassy.
You expect it. You demand
From me a goblet--gold, jeweled, sparkling
in the light.
As if the wine will taste better that way.
As if my cup--simple, small, fragile, an
Heirloom from long ago,
Would tarnish the flavor.

Keep your wine.
Keep your goblet--with its pretentious
Weight and cold touch.
You fail to see the beauty in imperfection.
I drink my tea from a broken cup.

I am

I had my students write an "I Am" poem today, so I wrote one too:

I am ready to live and love.

I wonder what life would be like without you.

I hear your bird-like truth, fluttering outside my window.

I see your light and feel its warmth.

I want to walk in you—to never feel lost again.

I am ready to live and love.

I pretend that I can sometimes do it on my own.

I feel nine and eight and seven—maybe five too.

I touch the sky—hoping to not get burned by the sun.

I worry that one day the little bird won’t fly.

I cried when I was in the dark.

I am ready to live and love.

I understand it won’t be easy.

I say it, but sometimes can’t fully believe.

I dream my dreams will come true.

I try to stay grounded—

I hope that I don’t.

I am ready to live and love.