|Posted by Nancy Elliott on December 4, 2020 at 10:00 AM||comments (0)|
There are those days when a person can do nothing right. When the best thing to do is nothing at all, then it does not have to be redone later. Not a bad attitude, mind you, merely a realization of all my years of experiece of fighting those days like a horse kicking a stall. For what purpose? To prove I can overcome all odds? ( insert laughter here )
No, 'tis better to get a book and read. Take a walk. Take a nap. Grab paper and pencil and say it does not matter what lands on the paper.
When nothing right goes on for too long, take a vacation. Go far away. A couple of days drive to a place where internet does not exist, or requires a climb to a very high place. A place where American Bison pass camp every morning and evening. Where Indigo Buntings and Cardinals flit and sing and play around an ancient windmill in a side canyon by a mostly dry river. There, in that place, is quiet and peace and wind and grey skies which do not threaten. High mesas and buttes of rusty red dirt striped with gypsum ribbons of pink, purple, blue and silver.
There, in that place, is a starless sky under which my true love and I sit wrapped together in a Pendleton against the cold, 3 a.m. wind as we watch lighting streak the horizon and make sillouhettes of the pines. We whisper about where we will walk the next day, wonder if the sun will shine, if the Indigo Buntings will come back to the canyon so we can see them again.
There, in that place, I don't worry about getting it right. Nor about the state of the world, or even the universe. It does not matter.
And, when I get home and have one of those days when nothing I do is right,when for reasons unkown the work of my hands is not blessed for this day, I take a walk down a red dirt road worn so deep into the mountain side the walls are far over my head. I watch for the Bison on the trail, for the Indigo Buntings overhead, for their delicate feathers like bright jewels on the scrub sage.
And, for the smile in my true love's eyes when he sees them.
|Posted by Nancy Elliott on February 23, 2019 at 8:50 PM||comments (0)|
February 23, 2019
Has it really been September since I last made an entry?
There is so much to catch up on.
Tall Tree kept me very busy for the last few months and I am not sure things have slowed down much at all yet. The mailing out to DJ’s has begun and also seeking out new Radio Stations out side of where I had been sending music for the last ten years or so. I am sending out to stations with more Folk inclinations and less of the Cowboy/Western side of things. I hope that makes a difference in how well received my album is, that Tall Tree falls into the right hands to get this music out to the hearts who are waiting and listening for this music. I do not have the words to express how pleased I am with this record, with the artists who contributed their skill, how blessed that Ismael heard that something in my music that made him want to work with me to create the South~Western Americana sound. But, I gush, and gushing is not very becoming.
I have made mild threats over the last couple of years to leave social media. I find many of the posts in my news feed, especially on Facebook, are merely re-posts of something found to be clever, or profound but essentially are quite empty. They are the personal opinion of someone who, while they have every right to their opinion and their feelings, has fallen prey to the false idea driven by social media that one should say everything one thinks.
There is another good lot of posts that are deliberately antagonistic, and people cannot seem to see through this as a means of bringing attention to self. It is one thing to poke good natured fun at a person or situation, it is another to make an effort to hurt. I have come to believe that social media is at the top of the list of social engineering groups and no, not one of us is exempt from being engineered no matter how well you think you have it all figured out. My perception is that everyone thinks they are wearing sunglasses and, therefore, will not be caught staring. That as long as the screen is between the typist and the world permission is given to disregard civil interaction and there is no need for respect of another person, their station or even their feelings. That mis-belief has transferred to human interaction off the screen. But, the cold, harsh, sarcastic way of speaking began to be presented to us as humor thirty years ago with Television. I did not watch shows like “Friends” and the new “Saturday Night Live” then for the same reason I do not appreciate biting sarcasm now. The only good thing I have discovered by witnessing this behavior on social media is that it clues me in about the apparent cruel side of people who I interact with personally, face to face. Quite an eye opener. Startling and off-putting. I do not want to see it or be part of it or “understand” it. Delete, you say. Un-follow, you instruct. Well, that takes time and energy I do not have or want to waste.
Here is that threat, again. Maybe you will see me here and there, maybe in fits and starts, but find me less directly on social media and more indirectly by posting there through the music website. I am not afraid of missing out, I’m just fine with being left out.
Maybe, you will miss me and come looking for me. I’ll be just over here, busy with this living, you all are welcome to join me.