Wildflowers, creativity and wild wise elders

The wildflowers are in bloom here, even though it has been a remarkably chilly, wet spring. I found these beautiful blue flowers on a walk up in the watershed above Ashland about a week ago. Now if it would just warm up enough to make a visit to the swimming pool at the hot springs seem feasible....

The promo CD for our musical revue A New Wrinkle has been engaging us at Dave Scoggin's recording studio. With no musical education or training, I am out of my element. But that doesn't stop me from enjoying the whole experience as Laura Rich and Dave work together on creating the right sounds and feeling. Dave is using a synthesizer to create most of the instruments. We're bringing in a live violinist though, because even though a synthesizer can do a lot of wonderful things, it just can't reproduce the sound of a violin well at all. We will add the voices last. It's exciting that this project is progressing. Even though I wish it were done yesterday or even 6 months ago. My mother always used to tell me that patience is a virtue.

I gave a talk titled "Let's Re-Imagine Aging" at the Ashland Library yesterday, which was a rainy, chilly Sunday. I discussed our society's toxic stereotypes about aging, noting that ageism affects older adults both physically and psychologically. With so many demeaning and scornful images and stereotypes proliferating, some older adults appear to become apologetic as a way of life. Some in my audience yesterday seemed shocked when I compared this to the kind of shuffling apologetic behavior that characterized stereotyped portrayals of "blackies." Any type of prejudice results in its subjects developing feelings of inferiority. People internalize the prejudice, often unconsciously. Caricatures start to have a life of their own.

I can get pretty passionate about why ageism needs to be eradicated. It is such a blight on all of us, not just older people. And it keeps older adults from fulfilling their potential, holding them back on many levels.

Of course, I also spoke about age as a valuable stage of human development, discussed current research about the mature mind, the relationship between creativity and well-being, and the opportunity to continue to learn and grow and deepen as we age. The conversation after the talk was enthusiastic and ranged over a wide variety of topics. Older adults just do not have a lot of opportunity to talk together in this way. It was a very interesting couple of hours. I hope I did inspire and provoke some positive change. Afterwards, I had some tea with someone I've known for many years, though we have never spent any time together. It made me happy to hear about her life and get to know her a little better.

I read a wonderful article the other day in the New York Times about Bel Kaufman, author of Up the Down Staircase, a novel about the challenges and joys of teaching in New York City; the book remained on the New York Times bestseller list for 64 weeks. Ms. Kaufman, now 100, is an adjunct professor. She just taught a course at Hunter College on Jewish humor, which may be in her blood, since she is the granddaughter of the great Yiddish storyteller Sholem Aleichem. She likes dancing the mambo and the tango, and she seems to be surprised that people make such a fuss about her age, though she does acknowledge that she survived a lot.

Since I began writing this blog, I have featured a variety of wonderful elders, including dancer Anne Halprin, explorer Anthony Smith, yoga teacher Tao Porchon-Lynch, sculptor Vollis Simpson, poet Maya Angelou and track star Olga Kotelko, among others. All of them are at least 70 and some over 90. What do they have in common? Each of them is inspired. They have a sense of purpose. They are passionate, whether it is about writing poetry, dancing, sailing across the Atlantic on a raft, teaching, or making immense sculptures out of welded metal. (If you want to catch up on reading about these wonderful folks, check out past entries of this blog.)

My artist friend Betsy was telling me the other day that she thought I should write a blog about chaos. But today is not going to be the day for it. Sorry Betsy. Even though tomorrow is a full moon.

I do agree with Steve Martin when he says,

"Chaos in the midst of chaos isn't funny, but chaos in the midst of order is."

I like what Bob Dylan said, too.

"I accept chaos, I'm not sure whether it accepts me."

Happy full moon!

For a Limited Time Only

"Come on sweetheart
let's adore one another
before there is no more
of you and me."

Mevlana Rumi

When Melanie gave me the photograph of this ancestral oak tree in North Carolina, she wrote a note that said the tree was between 500-1500 years old. That's old.

Old. A worthy state of being. Not only for trees, but for humans. "What's old sustains the heart somehow," as I wrote in one of the songs in my play A New Wrinkle. In his wonderful book The Force of Character and the Lasting Life, James Hillman notes that what's ancient or old evokes deathlessness. Ancient cities, old trees, ancient forests, old gardens, old statues. The depth of the mysteries of antiquity and oldness. I wrote about the value of reclaiming old in one of the first posts of this blog, and it's a subject I contemplate often.

I contemplate impermanence often, too. A natural subject for a Buddhist. And for an older human. I will not last as long as that beautiful oak tree has lasted. Like George Bernard Shaw, "I want to be thoroughly used up when I die."

I'm preparing for a house concert that's a week away at Melanie's place. Its title is The Wisdom of Lived Experience. I'm going to be offering spontaneous wordless singing that I call Ancient Voice because it puts me and the listeners into a more spacious, timeless experience. Is it because of the long breathlines, the absence of language or the qualities of the voice itself? I cannot really say. Others have to reflect back to me their experience for me to get a look at it even after more than 30 years. But I do know how rich, nourishing and powerful it is for me to give voice in that way.

I'm going to sing one of the potent songs of the Tibetan yogi Milarepa, too. And I will share a beautiful poem from the Gnostic gospels and two real life stories about synchronicity and the experience of divine presence that blessedly visits us humans at times.

Last night, I had a healing session with Valerie and Edeltraud. I have experienced the work of many healers over the years. To me their work is right up their at the top of my list. I wondered at the end of my session with them what it would be like for them to work with/on me just before and at the beginning of a performance gathering. What would the voice be like? What would emerge? I believe we are going to set the stage for this to happen. I'm sure it will be a very interesting experience for everyone involved. Healing and creative expression are very linked in my heart/mind.

Yesterday, I went to the open house of Kagyu Sukha Choling, a beautiful new Buddhist center in Ashland, guided by two American women who are lamas or teachers. When I arrived in Ashland over 30 years ago, I was the only Buddhist, period. I feel moved and very fortunate to have lived long enough to see such a flowering of Buddhism here.

Of course, too much happened outwardly and inwardly even in the past two days to write about it. I saw The City of Your Final Destination--wonderful. Talked with many friends, applied for consideration for an Oregon Literary Fellowship, mapped out the next steps toward producing my play. I sat with a friend who had a stroke a week ago. I read a book about the development of the English language. I put a prayer up on the fence near the garden of potted flowers and herbs. It says:

Friend,
May you be blessed.
May you be happy.
May you protect
and care for
all that lives and grows
in the garden of your heart.

Sage's Play Website is Live!

I am happy to share the news that Sage's Play now has a website describing its perspective and programs. Thanks to everyone who contributed to its development, especially those whose photos and art are part of the masthead. These include Alice Matzkin, who painted the beautiful painting of Beatrix Potter, Myrna Jacobs, who took the great photo of blues singer Freddie Cunningham, artist Charu Colorado and dancer/choreographer Robin Bryant.

"You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation.” --Plato

And that's the truth.

I invite you to visit my new website at
Sage's Play

Let's play!

Art and the Deep Song

"The artist appeals to that part of our being... which is a gift and not an acquisition, and therefore more permanently enduring."--Joseph Conrad

On a gray autumn morning, with the trees gold and red outside the windows, I'm thinking about the gift of art, its heightened gestures and how it connects us to the deep song, the song of our heart, our essential self.

Art whether in the form of dance, music, singing, poetry, literature, painting, sculpture, film, theater gives us a way to move out beyond static, habitual perception and experience.

Suddenly we find ourselves in the midst of some kind of astounding beauty, heartbreaking in its immediacy and fullness, and it's vibrating, cascading, pouring through us in the stillness of our focused attention.

What rites of passage, nourishment and initiation art proffers, what gifts it brings. This is certainly as true for the artistic process as it is for experiencing the finished work. Creating art reveals you to yourself.

When I was a child, I took incredible delight in reading the dictionary. On any page, some words stood out more than others. I was attracted to those words; they opened up beautiful worlds of feeling, color and meaning. And then I discovered something that seemed even more magical-- from those disparate, exotic, tasty, brilliant, moving words I could create, through some type of magnetism, concentration and ecstatic discovery, whole streams of words that formed a poem and told a story.

Creating art occupies me with the same sense of delight and discovery many decades later. It presents beautiful challenges and allows me to share myself with others in ways that so-called ordinary life does not always afford.

When I was in my early 50s it began to dawn on me that if I lived long enough I would grow old. Then I noticed the vitality of older artists--among them dancers, painters, blues singers, classical musicians. It's beautiful--and it makes sense not to retire when you are so richly immersed in what you love to do, and what brings such joy to others.

That's something to pay attention to, I told myself. Pay attention to the vivid links between creativity and well-being; pay attention to the generous nourishment and rejuvenation that art provides. Pay attention to the joy of offering up the deep song.